Pawn {B.B} (1)

•19•

The Calm (11,2)

Clarke was allowed to stand up and approach the two, just from looking at Tris she could see how sick she truly was. It wasn't the typical flu she was expecting from the ground, it was something else.

Tyra tensed as Clarke came over, looking Tris from head to toe. She was painfully aware of the several weapons weighing her down in various parts of her body, her arms, her legs, her ankles, her hips. All in case Clarke made a sudden move to do more harm than good toward Tris.

"Her name is Tris." Clarke raised her hand as if to touch Tris' skin, possibly to check her temperature. But in the last second, she let her hand drop and took a step back, shaking her head profusely.

"I can't do this. I don't have any equipment."

"We'll provide you with what we can."

"Why do you think I can save her?" Clarke seemed absolutely flabbergasted at the fact that they believed she could save Tris. As if she didn't trust her own medical abilities that so far had kept a decent amount of sky people alive and well.

"Lincoln told her." Finn suddenly interrupted, looking suspiciously at Anya, waiting for her to show her true colours, which she already was.

"It was me who told her, I trust your abilities as a healer." Clarke's surprise only grew further. Out of everyone she had expected to trust her, Tyra was definitely last in line. Especially after she had practically been ready to shoot her for only helping the sick.

"Yes. Our healer is gone. There's nothing Tyra can do for her anymore. For his sake, I hope you can."

"Clarke, you can do this." That seemed to boost enough of Clarke's confidence for her to begin inspecting Tris, even while Tyra still stood behind her head at the ready to attack.

She listened to Tris' heartbeat, saw her hands and legs, looked at her eyes and neck. Almost following the exact same inspection process Tyra had gone through, only Clarke had different methods, and obvious more experience.

"Wait. What happened to her?"

"She was on the bridge when your bomb exploded. You did this to her." Anya no longer bothered in hiding the distaste in her voice.

In fact, in any other instance, Anya would've rejected Tyra's idea as soon as she had said it, but Anya was desperate enough to save Tris' life. Desperate enough to let Clarke poke and prod her second's body as she coughed and wheezed with each breath.

"She's getting worse." Tyra ignored Finn's words, feeling particularly guilty for not being able to do more for the child in front of her.

Either way, Tyra stepped forward once more, running her hands again through Tris' braided hair to hopefully calm Tris enough so she wouldn't suffer as much.

"Breathe, Tris."

"Help me lift her up," Tyra and Finn obeyed to Clarke's orders, Tyra grasping on to Tris' shoulders while Finn held her waist and Clarke her back.

With a silent heave, they turned Tris on her side, Tyra being careful that her arm would not be crushed under Tris' own weight, while Clarke pressed her ear into her side to listen.

"Oh, my God, here we go. She's not moving any air on the left. There's fluid pressing on her lungs."

"I don't see an entry wound." Tyra, Clarke, and Finn simultaneously flipped Tris back, so she was laying face up, coughing even more than she had before.

"No. It wasn't shrapnel. It was trauma. The force of the explosion, it hit her in the chest. She's drowning in her own blood. She can't breathe. I have to relieve the pressure. I need a small tube, something rigid, the size of my finger." Clarke immediate sped to work, while Anya and Tyra shared a panicked look.