There was a sharp pang in the back of Harley's head, like someone had stabbed her in the same space again and again. She wanted to groan in pain, but she found out she couldn't because of the gag in her mouth. She winced instead, racking through the ache in her head to try and find an explanation of how she ended up here. Harley squeezed her eyes shut, trying to move her hands, only to realize her wrists were bound tightly together. She could even feel the binds dig into her skin, leaving deep red marks.

Harley breathed in and out shallowly a few times, tense from the pain and sudden heat she was feeling. She let her eyes flutter open, looking down first. Her jacket that she was usually always in had been stripped, along with her shirt. She only had on her undershirt, a dark maroon tank top, but it didn't stop her from sweating. Harley picked her head up, finally observing the area in confusion she was stuck in.

The first person Harley sees is Bryan. He's sweating through a dark blue shirt, in the same state as her in what she could only identify as the air lock chamber. On his right is Harper and on his other side in Monty and Miller, all with frightened features, arms behind their back and gags shoved in their mouths. She made a confused noise, trying to form some word in question, but a shoulder from Harley's side gently nudges her. She turns her head to see Jasper, shaking his head, unable to speak.

Harley wanted to kick her feet and pull her hands until they were free, but she was stunned in more fear than confusion. A muffled shout has her turning her head to the other side, seeing that Octavia was hanging by her wrists. She had one boot firmly planted on the wall and was grunting as she attempting to pull against the binds hard enough to set her free. Tears welled up in the corner of Harley's eyes, suddenly more scared than she thought, her mind whirring with questions full of terror.

Who put them here? What was happening to them? Why was this happening?

It was quiet before very heavy footsteps were filling the dead silence. Harley's heartbeat sped up, leaning forward like it would help her see who was coming their way. Jasper made a small grunt of protest, shaking his head, as if telling her to stop. Harley's terror wasn't settled when the stranger appeared, Raven slung over his shoulder. She was unconscious, limbs swaying loosely before he plopped her down roughly on the other side of Jasper.

While Raven was being tied up, Harley studied the stranger's face. She's sworn she's never seen him before. He had a short buzz-like cut, almost a square jaw with unshaven hair, and cold eyes that had her feeling goosebumps crawl up her skin. But Harley still couldn't think of where she had seen him. So why was he doing this?

Harley wasn't sure what was done to Raven, but she stirs as he walks in a slow circle around them, almost taunting. She was reminded of a predatory animal that taunts their prey before finishing it. She couldn't know what she, or any of them, had done to him for them to deserve this. Harley wanted to cry out, but the gag kept her from doing so. She instead positioned the flat of her boots on the ground in frustration.

Another thought crosses Harley's head after all the unanswered questions. Where was Bellamy and Clarke? Surely they must have saw that all their friends were missing by now, but she didn't know how long she's been out. There had to be a reason for all of this.

As if Harley's thoughts were being sensed, the radio clipped to the man's belt let out a static noise before Clarke's familiar voice spoke into it seriously. "Emerson, I know you're here. We need to talk."

Emerson, Harley repeated in her mind a few times. She still couldn't figure out how he knew them, but at least she knew his name. Emerson unclipped the radio, raising it and responding. "I don't need to do anything." His next words come out much more lower, almost threatening. "You should've killed me when you had the chance."

"And now you're here to kill me," Clarke pointed out. "Is that it?"

Emerson waits this time, taunting again, before replying. "Something like that." He seemed amused by the conversation, making Harley truly see how sick he was.

"Than let my friends go," Clarke requested. She sounded like she did back at their time in the dropship, prepared to sacrifice herself for her friends. "Do that and you can have me."

The offer had Emerson surprised, but he must have expected the offer. "You're brave, Clarke. I'll give you that," he comments. "They're lucky to have a friend like you. Come to the airlock, no weapons. Right now."

The wait following is agonizing. Harley grows more stiff from the pain in her head and the way her muscles were twisted to be tied down properly, but she's too terrified to focus on the ache. She's frightened for not only herself, but her friends here, including Clarke. This couldn't end well, Harley knew it wouldn't.

More footsteps ring in Harley's ears before she hears Clarke's voice again, sending her eyes widening. "I held out my part of the deal," she calls out. "Your turn. Let my friends go."

"Tell Bellamy to show himself first." Emerson says it so casually, it was like he somehow knew Bellamy would be covering Clarke.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Clarke responds calmly.

Emerson's lower lip curls before he moves quickly, pulling a knife out and holding her head back while pressing the glimmering blade to her neck. Harley jolts forward, a pained noise coming from the back of her throat at the same time Bellamy appears with a shout. "No!"

"Okay," Emerson says calmly, despite the sharp blade held at Octavia's throat. He seemed confident enough that Bellamy wouldn't shoot with the risk of his sister's life. "Take out the clip and throw it down the hall. Put the gun on the ground and get inside."

"Please," Clarke desperately interrupted before Bellamy could comply. "You wanted me. I'll get inside once you let them go."

If Emerson could become anymore cold, he did. "I was talking to Bellamy," he droned out darkly. He dragged the knife against Octavia's skin, sliding the skin, and drawing blood that dripped down to her shirt. Harley muffled out a cry again, the high pitched rumble coming out as a plead to stop.

Bellamy, who could speak, shouted; "Okay, okay! Just stop!" Emerson paused, but still kept the blade pressed.

"Don't do this," Clarke begged Bellamy, but he refused to listen. Harley sniffled, trying to calm herself as she listened to the clicks made from Bellamy's weapon as he took out the clip before sliding the weapons across the floor. Harley watched as he appeared in the opening of the airlock with his hands held up in defense while staring at his sister in concern.

Nodding to a pair of hanging handcuffs, Emerson informed him with a tilt of his head. "Those are yours."

Too compliant, Bellamy steps to the handcuffs and slaps them on his own wrists. Harley looked from Octavia to Bellamy, seeing how he still remained calm despite the threat lingering. She couldn't understand how he could be now.

A pistol identical to Harley's is yanked from Emerson's belt and he points it directly at Clarke. Harley bites down on the gag, equally as unsure of what would happen to Clarke compared to them. "Get on your knees, Clarke," Emerson demands. There's a small thud as Clarke complies obediently. "Put your hands behind your head."

Clarke must have done so, as Emerson steadily paces towards her with his gun still held up until he's out of the airlock. Before Harley could blink, he's stepping to the side and slamming his fist on a button from the control panel. The airlock doors slide shut, completely locking them inside. Harley pulls weakly at the handcuffs, watching in horror through the window as the scene unfolds.

"No, you can do anything you want with me. Just let them go!" Clarke exclaims, unafraid as Emerson circles her before holding the gun to her temple. He pulls her into a choke hold, pressing her against the door firmly.

"You murdered three-hundred and eighty-one people," Emerson snarls loudly. "You took the lives of my children, my brother, my friends." Clarke reaches up, clawing at his arm. "Did you really think that I would be happy with just one life in return?"

Before Harley can process what she hears, Emerson hits another button. The airlock room flashes red, and a robotic voice speaks to them through the speaker. "Airlock five. Oxygen venting."

The tears once pooling in Harley's eyes start streaming down her cheeks. We're all going to die, she thinks to herself, making strained cries that can't conserve air long enough. She can feel herself hyperventilate when Emerson growls to Clarke. "I want you to feel what I felt like. Beg me to stop it!" When Clarke says nothing, he shoves her. "I told you to beg!"

Harley can hear Clarke's sobs over her desperately trying to keep breathing. "I'm begging you," she whimpered. Harley joins in her sobbing, feeling the air thinning. Her chest is tightening with both panic and lack of air; her lungs squeezing painfully.

"Louder!" Emerson demands.

"Please!" Clarke screams out.

Harley had been close to death herself. She remembers being cut at the dropship and nearly bleeding out. She remembered the terror then, but it was nothing compared to now. Her lungs feel like they're on fire now, and her head falls back with a bang. Harley inhaled once more in a thin gasp, barely satisfying her chest, before it's gone completely. She can't cry now. She glances up, her eyes landing on Octavia who wasn't kicking anymore. Everyone in the airlock room is falling slack, chests no longer rising and falling.

Small black dots fill Harley's vision. She isn't sure she can feel the same suffering, but she can hear a distant ringing whether its Emerson's shout or Clarke's continuous cries and pleads. She surrenders to the fate she couldn't avoid, almost welcoming it. Harley grows still as well, her head lolling over, suffocating with her friends.

When Harley feels like this is truly it, the airlock doors slide open again. She fought the urge to fall into unconsciousness, trying to welcome the wave of air that washes over her. The red light she could see through her slit lids changed to a clear one and she felt the air being sucked through her nose grow thicker. Harley's chest rose and fell a few times as she choked along with a few gasps until she felt her lungs filling once more.

Harley's eyes open. She blinked a few times to clear her vision, seeing Clarke sprawled on the floor, watching eagerly as her friends catch their breaths. The blonde was snapping out of her relieved daze, moving quickly to grab the keys from a now dead and very bloody Emerson and unlocking the few in cuffs. Once they're free, the now four not bound move on to set everyone else free.

Miller is the one to cut the binds on Harley's wrists. She winces when it slides off her wrist, reaching up to pull the gag out of her mouth. "Thank you," she says breathlessly to Miller first. She looks to Clarke next, who's hurrying to check on Raven just a foot away. "Clarke.." Once they share a stare, Harley weakly smiles. "Thank you." Clarke only nods back.

It takes a minute to stand, but soon, Harley feels strong enough to wobble to her feet. Octavia is rubbing her wrists, completely ignoring the cut on her throat. She lurches forward, running to throw her arms over Octavia's shoulders and tightly embrace her. Harley breathes shallowly, burying her nose into the other's neck. She feels Octavia return it, her arms equally as tight when they're woven around her hips.

With one last grateful gasp, Harley pulls away, looking at the injury she sustained. "Are you okay?" She asked softly, her thumb brushing across the gash lightly. It wasn't deep, it could have been considered as deep as a paper cut, plus, Octavia could have sustained worse, but she was still worried.

Octavia nodded. "Doesn't hurt," she promised.

Drawing in a deep breath, Harley calmed her beating heart as she scanned the room. Everyone was breathing and alright, for now.

━━━━━━━━

It didn't take long for Harley's chest to stop burning, but she didn't feel anymore relieved. After everyone piled outside, they were informed that Sinclair had been killed by Emerson. The loss of a good man hurts as much as Harley expected it to. She cried silently to keep her tears to herself when watching his body be carried out of Arkadia, put in a built wooden pit they prepared for the funeral being hosted.

The next body being carried was wrapped in a white sheet. Harley pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, sniffling and keeping her sobs to herself. Bellamy was carrying him, Lincoln, slowly making his way towards the group. Octavia turns at the sound, her features dropping at the sight. Bellamy crouches, carefully laying Lincoln's body on the muddy ground to allow his sister one last good-bye.

Octavia drops to her knees. Harley watches with a blurry vision as she pulled the sheet down with trembling hands, revealing his face. She remembers watching his death, hearing the gunshot, watching the blood blow from his temple before he falls. Now her friend was here, after sacrificing himself to save innocent people that wouldn't have been spared. Harley blocked out the sound of Octavia wailing in grief, feeling her heart shattering in her chest. She took in one last shuddering breath in preparation to say good-bye.

The pyre held up the bodies of both Lincoln and Sinclair. Harley watched Raven rest a hand on the deceased engineer's shoulder, murmuring out; "May we meet again", before stepping back as Octavia walked forward.

A torch was gripped in Octavia's hand, that she lowered, passing the flames onto the pyre. "Yu gonplei ste odon," she says, dull. (Your fight is over.)

"Yu gonplei ste odon," the group repeats. Harley saying the words come out as a mutter, her voice cracking but she keeps her head held high.

The flames made of orange, red and yellow flicker through the wooden logs before making their way to the bodies. Harley didn't look away, only observing the friends she once had be burned forever. A few more tears streamed down her cheeks, forcing her to breathe in shakily, refusing to wipe them away.

"It's time to go," Octavia announces, not sparing anymore time to mourn. "I'll get the map."