Chapter Text
When Clarke finally regained consciousness, a searing pain throbbed against her skull, as if it had been pierced by a blunt object. It was only one of many things she perceived immediately. She heard the roar of waves breaking far too close; something gritty was wedged under her fingertips; wet strands of hair were plastered across her face.
She let out a low groan, realizing her mouth was completely parched, her tongue was leaden, and opening her eyes proved to be an agonizing feat. She was instantly blinded by the sun, high and fiery in the sky.
She saw only white and was forced to squeeze them shut immediately lest she burn her retinas. She had to squint several times and shield her face as best she could. After a few attempts, she finally managed to bring her surroundings into focus.
She was lying on a spit of sand - the first thing she saw, against her cheek, beneath her palms, stretching out before her for hundreds of yards. She blinked rapidly and pushed up on her arms to sit up; it was the first of a long series of difficult movements. She was in pain everywhere; every slight shift was followed by a moan.
Finally, now that her vision had adjusted to the blinding light, she managed to look around. She was—evidently—on a beach. The sea lapped its placid, calm waters just inches from her feet. Before her lay the ocean in its immensity. Judging by the clarity and the almost perfect way the seabed was visible, the water must have been very shallow, at least for twenty yards or so.
Her memories were quite foggy, and she raised a hand to her head, massaging her temples with slow, circular motions. She remembered the flight; the flight attendants handing her lunch, asking if she happened to prefer the vegetarian option. Raven, at her side, who had burst into laughter at the mere sound of that question:
RAVEN!
She bolted to her feet in a sudden jolt that sent her staggering amid the dizziness.
She braced her hands on her knees and inhaled a few times, rapidly. Her lungs burned every time her diaphragm contracted. She began to walk along the beach, looking around desperately.
Slowly, the memories began to resurface.
The turbulence, ordinary at first, then strangely too violent. The explosion on the right side of the aircraft, the engine on fire, thick black smoke billowing powerfully. And then the nosedive, in the dead of night, in the middle of the ocean.
The pilot had managed to ditch the plane, and this had averted a catastrophic impact and the immediate death of all passengers, but the aircraft had begun its descent into the abyss almost immediately. She recalled the screams, the panic of the people, the staff urging passengers to put on their safety equipment. They had scrambled into their life jackets with hands shaking so much that it was difficult even to secure the gear properly. Clarke had taken her best friend’s hand and they had raced to the emergency exit, where the crowd had begun to shove. Before jumping, Raven had unbuckled her belt and used it to tether Clarke’s vest to her own, so they wouldn't get lost.
And when they jumped into the water, the impact was brutal. It was night; the water was black; people thrashed around them; smoke enveloped the top of the plane. They had swum away quickly because, once it went down, the massive iron hulk would drag everything nearby with it.
That was a moment of fear and anguish. As they swam away, they had indeed encountered several lifeless bodies. They had watched, helpless, as the plane sank after two interminable hours. They never let go of each other’s hands, even though the belt still held them together. If there were islands or strips of land nearby, it was impossible to see anything in that darkness.
Neither ships, helicopters, nor other planes could have seen the dozens of people screaming in the sea in such dark conditions. There was nothing to do but wait for daylight to understand how dire their situation was.
Clarke was terrified.
She felt her heart hammering, her lips trembling - and no, the cold water had nothing to do with it - her legs felt numb. The fear of dying in this catastrophic scenario, like one of those thrillers she loved to watch with her best friend, had become more real than ever before. She had looked at her traveling companion and seen the same terror etched on her face.
Then she had lost consciousness; everything had gone dark. She had woken up on this beach and Raven was not with her. She had no idea how much time had passed since the disaster; it could have even been days, judging by how weak she felt. But her only thought was to find Raven immediately and make sure she was okay.
She certainly wasn't the only one washed up on this strip of land, and the proof was provided by the debris floating and lying along the beach: suitcases, wreckage, clothes, life jackets. The current must have carried a lot of things there. She prayed not to find bodies as she labored to put one foot in front of the other.
She prayed Raven was alright. She stifled a gag when she saw the body of a man floating a few yards from the shore; her eyes filled with tears, and holding them back was difficult. But her body was already dehydrated enough without her actively contributing to it, so she forced herself to blink them away. Her lips burned, likely cracked due to dehydration and the sun.
The first questions arose: Was it wise to go into the water and try to salvage the floating objects?
Would her clothes dry before night fell?
Maybe she could strip... but...
At first glance, the island was surrounded by coral reefs.
She didn't know much about the environment or geography, but she knew it was as much a blessing as a curse. It was good because there was surely fish, a possible food source. It was bad because there could be sharks or other dangerous animals. Maybe entering the water wasn't such a brilliant idea...
She continued, dejected by an infinite list of negative variables that were presenting themselves one after another now that she was trying to take stock of the situation. She was surrounded by water, but she couldn't drink it. In that water, there was undoubtedly food, but there were also mortal dangers. She had no medicine, no first aid kit, no makeshift tools. And this was only what came to mind on the spot; she was certain that if she kept reflecting, that list of problems would grow infinitely. After all, she had survived a plane crash.
She saw a body lying on the beach a few dozen yards away and narrowed her eyes to try and focus. She recognized Raven’s blue shirt and began to run without even realizing it.
"No" she whispered, clenching her teeth. She knelt over her and noticed immediately that she wasn't breathing. She began a desperate round of CPR.
"Raven, damn it, breathe!" she screamed, while pressing against her chest with both hands "You can’t leave me here alone!"
She pinched her nose and sealed her lips against Raven's, blowing into them.
One, two, three times.
Raven’s body suddenly jolted back to life; she coughed, spitting out a large amount of water. She opened her eyes, gasping from the effort, while wiping her mouth with her arm and pushing back her black hair.
"Clarke" she moaned, focusing on her friend and gasping for air.
"Thank God" Clarke took Raven's face in her hands, as if to make sure she wasn't a mirage, and embraced her.
"Where..." Raven looked around "Where the hell are we?"
"I think it’s an island" the blonde replied, sitting beside her to catch her breath "I regained consciousness a few minutes ago"
"Have you seen other people?" the brunette asked. She shook her head.
"I’ve seen bodies" she explained with a trembling voice "There are remains of the disaster everywhere, but I haven't gone far from where I woke up; I had to find you"
Raven nodded, looking around. She noted her torn shirt, scratched arms, and a few bruises framing that picture of despair. Clarke was in pretty bad shape as well.
"Right" she said "We need to figure out what to do"
"What to do?" Clarke studied her through her blue eyes.
"The sun is almost at its zenith, it must be noon" she began to explain "We have a few hours of light left, and we need to find water, something to eat, a way to start a fire, and a shelter, or we’ll freeze to death"
"There could be other survivors" Clarke was worried "We need to do a scouting mission" she said.
"We will, Clarke, but I’ve told you what our priorities are" Raven took her friend by the shoulders "If we find someone during our search, all the better, but first we need to drink and search through the debris for anything that could be useful, alright?"
The young woman nodded and pulled herself up, followed closely by her friend. They began to walk along the beach, casting their gaze greedily over everything that might be of use. They spent about half an hour scouring the beach inch by inch. Their haul included a pair of glasses with only one lens, a whistle, a size-twelve combat boot, and a hat. They piled those worthless - and of questionable utility - objects at the foot of a tree that Raven marked by placing five rocks in a circle, so she could find it easily. Then the brunette looked up, and her eyes shone.
"My God" she said.
"What's happening?" Clarke looked at her impatiently.
"They're coconut palms!" she replied, jumping on the spot and smiling for the first time since they had arrived "They’re full of water, Clarke, we’re saved!"
"They’re thirty feet high, Rav" Clarke ran a hand through her blonde hair, now dry "How are we going to get up there? And how do we open them?" she asked, exasperated.
No sooner had she said it than a coconut fell with a thud at her feet, sinking into the dry sand.
"A little faith, Griffin" Raven picked it up and grabbed one of the stones – the sharpest one - she had used to mark the tree.
She began to hammer the coconut with the pointed end of the rock as if her life depended on it. After five minutes, sweat was pouring down her neck and she was about to give up on the task when a pop made her reconsider: a crack had opened and the coconut’s shell was about to break. After another couple of blows, she realized she had made a hole. She smiled again.
"Cheers" she said, lifting the nut and bringing the hole to her mouth. She took a sip, careful not to waste a single drop, then handed it to her friend.
Clarke drank and felt immediately better.
"It’s a miracle" she sighed, handing the water back to Raven, who finished it. She widened the hole enough to extract the flesh, which they scraped out and shared.
"No" Raven countered "It’s more like your best friend providing you with food and liquids" she joked.
They laughed together before setting off again, refreshed as if they had eaten a four-course meal and drunk liters of water. They walked for several minutes, recovering a few more bits of junk, until they reached a wide rock beyond which the beach continued.
They passed it, completely unprepared for what they would see: the beach stretched as far as the eye could see before them, but this side was strewn with bodies and debris. The two women froze on the spot as their eyes took in a ghastly scene.
The current must have shifted, dragging most of the disaster's remains to that side of the island. Raven took Clarke’s hand, the same terror in her gaze, and they resumed walking slowly, avoiding stepping on corpses, trying to look at them as little as possible. It felt like walking through an open-air cemetery, but something else caught their attention.
"Clarke..." Raven’s hand squeezed her friend's convulsively "Look"
She pointed to a spot ahead of them, and the blonde followed her gaze.
There were three people about a hundred yards away: they were alive, standing, searching for something, and staggering just like them.
And so Clarke and Raven began to walk toward them, slowly, careful of where they placed their feet. At one point, the three figures also started moving in their direction and, once they were within ten yards of each other, they discerned that they were three women: one of them was older than the others, in her forties, with dark skin, short hair - almost shaved -and a stern gaze; the second was tall, with brown hair, almond-shaped eyes, a long face, and high cheekbones; the third and final woman was thin, just a bit taller than Clarke, with wavy brown hair streaked with lighter tones, green eyes, and an absorbed expression.
All of them bore evident signs of the plane crash: superficial wounds, bruises, various abrasions, and torn, wet, or crumpled clothes clinging to their bodies. They appraised one another for a few seconds until they were just a couple of yards apart. It was Clarke who spoke first:
“Is everyone alright?” she asked “I’m a doctor” she immediately explained.
The woman with the green eyes gave a slight nod.
“Indra has a dislocated shoulder” the tallest one said instead, pointing to the older woman, who shot her a look as if she had said something that should have been kept to herself.
“May I?” Clarke stepped toward the woman, who nodded, her gaze lowered.
It almost seemed as if being assisted by a perfect stranger - no matter if they were a doctor - was a dishonor, a palpable sign of weakness. She placed her hand on Indra's right shoulder and saw her jaw tighten: it must have hurt significantly.
“Can you fix it?” the Asian woman asked again. The doctor nodded.
“Don’t move” she told the woman, then braced herself against the shoulder, pulled the arm, and with a precise movement - followed by a crack and a groan of pain - Indra’s shoulder snapped back into place.
“Thank you” she finally said, swallowing her pride.
Raven hadn't opened her mouth: she had recognized those three women. She had noticed them while waiting for the plane’s lavatory to become free and had found them to be rather suspicious types. They had been talking in low voices the whole time, with serious and concentrated expressions, but when they noticed they were being observed, they had stopped. They had seemed like prison escapees, or something of the sort, but she told herself rationally that no fugitive could simply board a plane, much less an entire group.
“I’m Clarke” the blonde introduced herself immediately after “This is Raven” she said, pointing to her and pulling her away from those thoughts.
“Anya” the tallest woman said with a nod.
The woman with the green eyes scoffed.
“Maybe we should get a move on” she said with a growl “It’s about to get dark, we should divide the tasks and try to make sense of the little time we have left”
Clarke felt annoyed by her rude tone which, however, did not seem to have disturbed the others, but she decided not to create problems and held back the sharp retort that threatened to emerge.
“Alright” she said simply.
“We were washed up on the other side of the beach” Raven said, pointing to the spot they had come from “I think it’s more sheltered; maybe we could spend the night there”
The woman with the green eyes exchanged a look with her two companions and nodded.
“Indra, Anya, gather wood for a fire” she said “I’ll continue searching through the debris; maybe I’ll find other survivors or objects that might be useful” she said before setting off. She hadn't said anything to Clarke and Raven, who exchanged a perplexed glance.
They decided, therefore, to rummage through the suitcases as well, in the hope of finding something. They spent two very productive hours, and during their respective searches, they found other survivors of the disaster: a young flight attendant named Octavia, a man with long hair in dreadlocks and blue eyes who introduced himself as Roan, a tall, dark youth named Lincoln, and a woman named Ash.
They realized that, apart from the young flight attendant, all the others were part of the same group. They saw it from the way Roan embraced Anya, from how Lincoln affectionately placed a hand on the green-eyed woman’s shoulder, and how Ash smiled at Indra. Octavia, instead, observed the scene from the sidelines and turned her gaze to Clarke and Raven:
“Don’t you find it suspicious that an entire group traveling together turned out to be survivors on a deserted island?” Raven asked her friend.
“I don’t know, but I don’t like it” Clarke replied.
“You don’t know them?” the flight attendant asked. Raven shook her head.
“Clarke and I were traveling together, we met them only a few hours ago” she explained.
They picked up where they had left off, and the last hours of light proved productive: Roan and Lincoln climbed some palms from which they knocked down dozens of coconuts; Ash and Indra built makeshift beds by layering the large dry palm leaves they found along the way. Clarke filled a bag with potentially useful objects found among the suitcases that washed ashore, including two pieces of rope, a Swiss Army knife, a diving knife, three pairs of sunglasses, a flashlight, and a fishing line.
When Anya piled the last pieces of dry wood around a large stump she had found near the shore, the sun was setting. Raven watched her sit down short of breath and wipe the sweat dripping from her forehead. She pulled out the old glasses she had found and, having piled up some dry leaves, used the lens to focus the sun's rays and ignite the fire: it took only a few moments to work and, after a first, faint smoke, the flame came to life, burning the wood around it.
The tall woman looked at her without saying anything for a while, but when she saw the grim look Raven gave her - perhaps without even realizing it - she offered a tight and vaguely resigned smile.
“You’re on the wrong track” she told her. Raven furrowed her brows.
“I beg your pardon?” she asked.
“We’re not criminals” Anya added “And we didn't hijack the plane, none of us”
Raven blushed despite herself.
How had she done that?
“I never said that-”
“But you think so” the taller woman interrupted “And since we don’t know how long we’ll be stuck here, it seems only fair to reassure you”
The brunette didn't know what to say, so she decided to stay silent. She clenched her lips, troubled by the fact that a perfect stranger had understood exactly what she thought of her and her gang in the space of a couple of hours. Fortunately, the silence didn't last too long: the crackling of the fire had attracted those present, who had taken their places on the palm leaves.
Clarke sat next to Raven; Octavia was not far from them. It seemed that no one was particularly in the mood to talk, partly due to hunger - because a couple of coconuts to scrape flesh from did not remotely constitute a meal sufficient to stave off hunger - and partly due to the idea, now concrete, that the plane had crashed, that most of the passengers had not survived, and that they were on a deserted island. It was Ash who spoke in a low voice, fearful of interrupting that solemnity:
“We should decide what to do with the bodies” she said, her gaze lost “It’s not a good idea to keep them decomposing on the beach... maybe we should give them back to the sea”
Clarke felt a lump in her throat.
“We can’t throw them into the sea” the woman with the green eyes said “We would attract sharks... and if the waters are infested with sharks, we preclude the possibility of trying to fish for something”
“We can bury them” Indra proposed.
“And waste the little energy we have digging dozens of graves?” The woman’s laugh was frighteningly sad. She shook her head as if her companions were losing their minds.
“What do you propose to do, then?” it was Clarke who spoke, almost without realizing it.
“I think we should leave them there for a while” the woman explained “They will certainly attract crabs, maybe some birds, if we’re lucky... animals that could feed us”
The blonde put her head in her hands, shaking it in disbelief.
“What else?” she asked, ironically.
An irony that the other didn't catch, apparently.
“We should find a high point tomorrow morning, climb up, and understand how big this island is” she began “Go into the forest in search of water and resources, understand if it’s small enough to return from in a day or so large that we have to go in all together... We must continue to search through the debris and the remains of the plane, try to fish for something, look for other food... figure out how to build a shelter...”
“Oh, please...”
Clarke stood up abruptly, shaken by a hysterical laugh, and began to pace the beach with large strides, turning her back on the fire, Raven, and everyone else.
Who the hell did that woman think she was?
Had she self-proclaimed herself leader of the plane crash or what? It got on her nerves.
She had opened her mouth only a few times, but Clarke felt like slapping her. She spoke as if she didn't care at all; she was talking crazy. And who knows how long she would remain at the mercy of that madness, out of the world, in a dangerous place, with no apparent possibility of escape.
She walked for a good five minutes without realizing that the woman with the green eyes had followed her. She stopped near the shore, her eyes having already become accustomed to the dark - thanks also to the high moon that night - and leaned her hands on her knees to catch her breath. She felt the need to take deep breaths of air to slow her heartbeat.
“Do you mind telling me what your problem is?” She flinched and turned abruptly, finding herself in front of the woman who was staring at her with arms crossed “Did I do something to you?”
“Do you even listen to yourself when you speak?” Clarke asked her, peering at her with a sour expression “We should wait for those bodies to decompose to attract animals that we are supposed to eat after they have eaten corpses!? And you talk about exploring the island as if we were happy campers? We fell from a plane, we were at the mercy of the waves, and I don’t even believe our survival was a lucky event. And you think I’m going to follow the orders of someone who didn't even have the decency to introduce herself? Give me one single reason to do it!”
Now, finally, she felt free. She observed the woman with the green eyes who had listened to her without moving a muscle or looking away. A couple of seconds passed before she responded.
“You have no reason to do it” she said calmly, despite Clarke’s angry tone “No one is under my orders, nor forced by some strange law of the jungle to do what I say; mine is just an idea, so if you have a better one, I’m listening!”
Clarke’s silence - who obviously had no idea - invited her to continue.
“If, on the other hand, you are short on ideas, maybe the ideal thing is to try to survive until we have understood if there is even a vague possibility that someone will come looking for us” she added “There are many of us, we can divide the tasks, there are many brains that all seem quite sharp... maybe staying united and trying to collaborate is the best thing to do for the moment. You don't have to like me. But if you think differently, you are free to move, you are no one's prisoner, and I bet the island is big enough for everyone”
Clarke looked at her.
There was no malice in her words; she perceived no deceptive tone. She saw her move a few steps toward her until she was three feet away. Then, against all her expectations, she held out her hand:
“Lexa” she said “My name is Lexa”
And she waited for any kind of sign.
Clarke looked first at her outstretched hand, then at her. A few seconds passed, then she shook her hand, which she found to be cold.
“I wouldn't last two days if I went off on my own” Clarke confessed then “I’ve spent my life in books and in the hospital; I have no idea how to survive on a wild island”
“None of us do, that’s why we have to help each other” Lexa replied “If you don’t want to eat the animals attracted by the bodies... well, I understand, I don’t like the idea either... but I’m serious, we can’t throw them into the water; it’s full of sharks even without our collaboration... we can bury them, but only if we first find a good food source and something to dig with”
Clarke nodded.
Suddenly, Lexa seemed like a reasonable woman.
“Let’s hope we find some food, then” she agreed.
“We should get back to the fire” the brunette said “It’s freezing here...”
They set off together, in silence. When they arrived, the atmosphere around the bonfire was different, it seemed calmer: Octavia was talking to Raven, Lincoln, and Roan about the moments preceding the plane crash; Indra was talking in a low voice with Anya and Ash, but they seemed to be discussing a calm topic, without any particular worries.
When they entered their field of vision, Raven scrutinized Clarke with an expression that was nothing short of murderous. She waited for the blonde to sit next to her and made sure Lexa was not within earshot:
“Seriously?” she growled “You went off alone in the middle of a place we don’t know, leaving me with so many potential serial killers, just to be a drama queen and get her to follow you?”
And Clarke burst out laughing.
“I mean, do you hear yourself?” she told her “And I’m the drama queen?”
Raven also laughed heartily.
“Are you okay?” she asked her in a more serious tone.
“Better” she replied “I needed to let out some stress” she explained.
Raven wrapped her arm around her shoulder in a hug, and Clarke leaned against her, seeking shelter from the biting cold of that night which promised to be long. And it was.
Almost none of them slept for more than a few hours; it was a general and alternating light sleep, punctuated by the sound of stomachs churning with hunger. Roan was sleeping deeply, overlapping the crackling of the fire with his snoring; Indra was curled up on one of the beds, her back to the fire and, judging by the rhythm with which her back rose and fell, she was dozing.
Lincoln was sitting a bit further from the fire, his broad shoulders leaning against a rock; he scrutinized those present one after the other with a tired gaze and seemed to study every detail. His attention was often captured by the figure of Octavia, who was dozing huddled near the fire, still tightly wrapped in her flight attendant uniform.
Raven and Clarke were lying on the same bed, back to back in an attempt to fight the cold that seeped in despite the fire. The brunette had her eyes closed, but she wasn't sleeping. Neither was Clarke; her gaze moved over everything that occupied her field of vision: Ash, sitting cross-legged, scraping away the remains of every coconut they had consumed, cleaning the insides which could now serve as containers; Anya, her back against a palm, wringing her hands lost in who knows what thought. Her surly gaze moved only to shift to Lexa, sitting not far away.
The woman scrutinized the sea, perhaps searching for some light indicating the presence of ships or other vessels nearby. Her wavy hair was shaken by the breeze from time to time, and the high flames illuminated her pale face, highlighting her slightly hollow eyes and still-dry lips. When her green eyes met her companion’s gaze, she observed her curiously, as if she were tacitly asking her something:
“It’s not a commercial route” Anya said in a low voice, but Lexa heard it perfectly, as did Clarke.
“I know” the brunette nodded “Who knows, maybe some passing fishing boat...”
“Lex...” Anya’s tone had softened.
“I know” Lexa repeated “Sorry if I haven't yet resigned myself to the idea of dying here” she laughed nervously.
“We won't die” the Asian woman said with a firm voice “We’ve seen much worse situations than this”
“Really?” the other arched an eyebrow.
“Moscow” a single word. And Lexa laughed, she laughed heartily.
Ash also laughed without looking up, as if she knew exactly what the two women were alluding to.
Clarke wondered what they were talking about. It was obvious that those people were more than simple acquaintances. Anya and Lexa seemed to be very close friends, and it was quite clear that they had experienced something very different from an ordinary life or, at least, so it seemed from their words.
Certainly, they would not add other details to that conversation that only they seemed to truly understand. And the blonde found herself thinking that that was, without a doubt, the most wrong moment in history to investigate her companions in misfortune.
Even if she discovered them to be a gang of criminals and murderers, would it change the fact that they were stuck on the same island without any apparent possibility of escape?
Of course not.
And what would change in her life or in Raven’s, knowing who those people were before landing on that strip of earth?
Nothing.
As absurd as it might seem, it was all she had - her best hope of surviving in a new, unknown, and hostile place. It had been an uncontrollable impulse of honesty that had led her to confess that she wouldn't last five minutes away from that group. It was the sad, unbearable truth.
Clarke’s priority was to survive, to learn how to satisfy her needs in a place where she certainly couldn't go to the supermarket and cook dinner. They had to find water, a true source of water: soon the heat would become unbearable, and the lack of water or an adequate protein source could be lethal.
After all, they were on an island surrounded by dangerous waters, without weapons, with the ocean in front and a still unexplored forest behind. The beach was scattered with corpses, more would probably arrive with the new tides; no planes or ships had been seen since she had regained consciousness, and this destabilized her quite a bit - not only her, from what she had heard shortly before.
How was it possible that from a route used for intercontinental travel, not even one plane had passed?
She would have liked to sit up and ask the others if they too had asked themselves the same questions. If that apparently calm air was resignation, indifference, or awareness of something she didn't know. She did nothing of the sort.
She sighed heavily and noticed, only at that moment, that Lexa was staring at her from across the fire. Her green eyes scrutinized her thoughtfully and did not stop observing her even when she realized that Clarke had noticed. If anything, she seemed to become more attentive.
Who knows what she was looking for in her gaze: perhaps understanding, perhaps trust. Maybe she expected Clarke to have some decisive idea to change the shitty situation they were in or, perhaps, she was simply looking for reassurance. Clarke opted for that last option, partly because it was the most sensible - no one in their right mind would seek decisive truths in her - partly because it was the only thing she felt capable of doing.
She offered a smile, and then Lexa lowered her gaze, almost guiltily, as if she had been caught red-handed.
Clarke closed her eyes, warmed by the fire which allowed her to finally feel a pleasant numbness in her feet. She fell asleep slowly, her head crowded with unhappy thoughts that contributed to giving her restless sleep and nightmares populated by strange creatures emerging from the water or from the thick of the forest.