𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 | bellamy blake¹

↬ | chapter ten

010.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━

   If someone random walked in on what was going down in that third level of the drop ship, they probably would believe an exorcism was being performed. Endless straps and chains had been tightly clinging to Lincoln's body for when he woke back up.

   "We have to stop the bleeding and get the bullet out," Clarke spoke medically, causing Bellamy and Magnolia, who were tightening the seatbelts on his legs, to look up. "Hold his leg down. Keep him still, Maggie."

   Small groans began to leave his mouth. The shit show was returning. Lovely. Octavia shushed him, bringing a bottle of water to his lips in hopes of keeping him hydrated. But when Lincoln spat it back up at her, a small scream left her lips out of instinct. 

   "I'll get some more," the girl tried to remain calm, but Gray could visibly see the hurt in her eyes. Closing the lid of the bottle, she stood up and went to leave the drop ship. Bellamy blocked his sister, and the two girls chose to not listen in on their conversation. Not everything was their business.

   As Maggie pressed his legs to the floor, the freckled boy sat back down, now holding the one with the bullet in it, leaving Maggie to just keep him from moving too much. Clarke began to extract the wound, and the other girl on the third level held a flashlight up so the lighting made the process more doable.

   "What?" the brunette couldn't help but ask, seeing as Bellamy was staring at her with an uneasy expression.

   He gulped at the remark, being snapped out of his gaze. "Y-your neck," he pursed his lips together, looking back down at Clarke, who was using some leftover moonshine to clean the area of the laceration.

   Her hand lifted off of Lincoln's leg, being as he wasn't thrashing about as much as anticipated. With her calloused, scarred hands, she grazed the nail marks and hand-shaped bruises that Lincoln had left. No prominent colors had formed quite yet, but as Maggie examined her fingertip, dry blood was noticeable.

   Much to their knowledge, the procedure hadn't taken as much time as expected. "Your mom would be proud," Bellamy muttered to Clarke, who was just finishing up the bandaging part.

   "My mom would know how to save him," she addressed, seeming frustrated that she wasn't positive of what to do in the scenario they were in.

   The hatch of the drop ship startled the leaders (or, once leaders). Following Octavia was a large, brawny-looking man with piercing ice-blue eyes. Bellamy's ordinary overprotectiveness kicked in, causing him to hold a rifle up in a matter in seconds threateningly.

   Octavia then stepped in front of the Grounder, "Bellamy, don't. He's Lincoln's friend and their healer." 

   Abruptly, gargled sounds left Lincoln's mouth— causing everyone to snap back to the main importance at hand. "He's seizing again."

   White liquid frothed out of the boy's mouth and started to run down the side of his face. All of the girls had been kneeling at his side once again, waiting it out. There was nothing else they could do. 

   The Grounder that had accompanied the younger Blake into the drop ship, Nyko, unraveled a plethora of tiny bottles. It vaguely reminded Maggie of the antitoxins and poisons that Lincoln had the day Finn had been poisoned. 

   "What is that?" Clarke questioned, observant to how Nyko held one mystery liquid.

   "Yu gonplei ste odon," he murmured in the Grounder language; Magnolia couldn't repeat what he said in English if her life depended on it.