It was never empty rhetoric when Tayrey had complained about not having the choice to die. She meant it. That was the final choice, for any Tradeliner in truly intolerable circumstances. She had won that choice back for herself, she thinks. Tayrey slipped from life in the night after telling Clarke the last of her secrets. Let go. Relieved of duty at long last - and found that her captor had no more hold on her. That she had the choice to die.

And, having the choice to die, she made the choice to live. To accept the contract offered, to do what it took to find the way home, knowing that no matter what lay ahead, she was no longer a prisoner. Her fate was in her own hands again.

She closes the distance between herself and Fever, reaches out to clasp the other woman's hand.

'Our mission succeeded,' she says softly. She has no knowledge of any of the events after her death, but that they're here feels like proof of that much. 'We're finally free of that place.' Her words are cautious, still, because at the very least Fever must have died to get here. Not an uncomplicated victory - but by comparison to unending captivity, or the bleak and empty terror of the Nothing? This place is one she can hold to with both hands, saying that probability smiled at last.