warnings: this chapter contains descriptions of injury grief, isolation, and feeling trapped. reader discretion is advised.
forty seven | forty eight | forty nine
By the third day, the walls were starting to close in. Or maybe it just felt that way – too much space could be just as suffocating as too little.
The estate was endless, cavernous, yet somehow claustrophobic. Every hallway looked the same, every door shut, every shadow carrying the weight of silence. She wasn’t used to stillness like this—forced stillness, where she couldn’t go out, couldn’t work, couldn’t even walk further than the front lawns without someone shadowing her.
Most often, it was Logan who kept her company, the one who made it bearable. He popped up so often it was like he’d been assigned as her shadow, but with enough mischief in him that it didn’t feel like surveillance most of the time.
He was the one who’d insisted on giving her a tour the first afternoon, narrating as though the place were some grand museum, rattling off room names with a straight face that she knew he had to be making up. “That’s the west drawing room—don’t ask what they draw in there, no one knows.”
He was the one who snuck her contraband from the kitchen — gourmet truffles hidden behind tins no one else seemed to know existed. It was Logan who matched her slower steps when she had to go out for her prescribed “gentle movement” and “daylight.” He made their walks sound like missions. Operation Vitamin D, he called it.
It was on one of these walks when she first discovered them – clusters of peonies blooming in perfect rows along the carefully landscaped gardens, bright and lush against the muted greens. They should have been beautiful, all of them pale pink, heavy-headed, swaying in the breeze.
Instead, her stomach turned, and she tore her gaze away.
“I’m already starting to go crazy,” she muttered instead. “I have nothing to do, nowhere to go, no one to talk to–”
“You’re talking to me,” Logan pointed out, grinning like that fixed everything.
She shot him a look. “That doesn’t count.”
“Rude.” He tucked his hands in his pockets, unbothered as he glanced at her sideways. “You’ll learn to like it here. Just give it a chance.”
“I don’t want to give it a chance.”
He nudged her shoulder gently as they walked. “If you’re stuck here, you might as well have fun with it, yeah?”
She scoffed.
“C’mon,” he insisted. “I’m sure there’s something for you here.”
As they came to a lull in conversation, they turned a corner on the gravel path and there they were again: rows of the prettiest peonies she’d ever seen, nodding in the breeze.
Logan followed her stare, but was confused. “You don’t like flowers?”
Her jaw tightened. “They’re fine.”
“Fine?” he echoed, chuckling. “That’s a strong opinion.”
She didn’t answer.
He let it go, though she caught the way his eyes lingered on her face a moment longer before he shoved his hands back in his pockets.
They walked on in silence until he tried again, lighter this time. “You know, there are worse prisons. At least this one’s got chocolate truffles.”
She almost smiled, but the flowers in her periphery soured it.
The first few nights at the estate, she didn’t dare leave her room. The house was too big, too silent, and though Logan’s boyish charm kept her from completely losing her mind during the day, the nights stretched long and empty. Eventually the brewing restlessness got the better of her.
So she picked a night, late enough that the halls seemed deserted, and crept out. Bare feet against polished wood, hand trailing along the wall for balance. Every creak sounded amplified. She half-expected alarms, guards, someone to catch her wandering. But nothing came – just the echo of her own steps down the wide corridor.
The kitchen was farther than she thought it would be. It was easy to follow the faint scent in the air—garlic, onions, something rich and simmering. When she finally pushed the door open, she froze.
The lights were on. Pots clattered, steam curling up into the air. And at the center of it all, sleeves rolled to his elbows, stood a man she recognized only vaguely from the periphery of her hospital haze. He was broad-shouldered, focused, a dishcloth thrown carelessly over his shoulder. A cutting board just beside his hip was littered with herbs and peels, while a pan hissed on the stove.
Carlos stood at the front end of the kitchen, sleeves rolled, wooden spoon in hand. He looked up when she entered, brow arched, but didn’t seem surprised.
“Can’t sleep?”
She shook her head, still hovering at the threshold like she’d been caught somewhere she didn’t belong. “Didn’t think anyone would be here.”
“Yeah, well.” He stirred the pot. “I get ideas for recipes I want to try. Don’t like waiting till morning.”
The counter was cluttered—ingredients half-used, notes scrawled on a pad, a pan just a little too scorched in the sink. But it was a good mess, the kind that was a side effect of the alive and living, and unlike the sterile kind of order the rest of the house carried.
He turned back to stir whatever was simmering. His accent clipped the words, dry, practical. “Hungry?”
“...Maybe.”
He gestured at a chair without looking. “Sit. I make something for you, hm?”
Tentatively, she took a seat at one of the chairs behind the island, facing toward the stove where Carlos stood. Perhaps it wasn’t the wisest decision to eat something made by a stranger, but at the rich aromas wafting through the place, her stomach grumbled and whatever resolve she should’ve had weakened.
The smell was even stronger now that she’d entered the kitchen—herbs, butter, something savory and warm. She watched him move, economical in the way he worked, even his knives and pans handled with an engineer’s precision.
She cleared her throat. “So, uh… Who are you?”
He smirked faintly at the bluntness, but didn’t stop working. “Carlos.”
“Are you like… a criminal or something? Or a cook?” The words sounded ridiculous out loud, but she couldn’t help herself.
That earned her an actual glance, the faintest glimmer of amusement. “Eh, it depends on the day. Today, you are lucky.”
She tried not to laugh, but it slipped out anyway.
“How do you know him?”
“Lando?” Carlos set down the knife, wiping his hands on a towel. His tone was matter-of-fact as he leaned against the counter, arms folded. “I am an engineer by trade, but for him I work as… a sort of strategist. For me, I have to think ahead, plan. This way, he doesn’t have to look over his shoulder every second if I’m doing my job right.”
It wasn’t sentimental, but it was something deeper. She caught it in the way he might as well have added so Lando doesn’t have to.
“You look out for him,” she noted quietly.
Carlos didn’t answer. Instead, he just busied himself plating what he’d been making, as if the observation warranted no further discussion, no reply. When he finally set the dish in front of her, it was a simple, hearty thing—pasta tossed with a thick sauce, steaming, a slice of bread on the side.
Comfort food.
“Eat,” he said, as casually as if it were an afterthought. “You are too thin. You need your strength, ay?”
He said it without looking at her, without any softness in his tone. But the plate was still warm, set down with more care than his words admitted. So she picked up the fork, and for the first time since stepping into this fortress of a house, she didn’t feel quite so out of place.
Here, every sound echoed — her footsteps, the creak of old wood, even the faint rustle of the curtains catching whispers of the late autumn winds.
Her encounter with Carlos had been… fine. Decent, even. But Y/N reminded herself not to take that as proof. Just because her encounter with Carlos had turned out alright didn’t mean that applied to everyone else. She reminded herself that these men weren’t her friends. It would do her good to remember that regardless of whatever charm or humor or warmth they let slip through, it didn’t erase who they were — criminals.
Probably murderers.
Despite this rather inconvenient fact, Y/N couldn’t help herself. Sheer boredom infected her with restlessness, and so she slipped out of her room once again.
She padded through unfamiliar corridors, each turn opening into something new. A gallery with oil portraits whose eyes followed her down the hall. A music room with a grand piano polished so smooth it reflected her face back at her. She found a sunroom lined with glass so carefully fractured that it refracted light, causing the whole room to glimmer like a kaleidoscope.
She moved slowly, her hand brushing along the cool walls as she explored. The east wing was full of grand, unused spaces: A library with shelves so tall she had to crane her neck to see the top, the scent of old paper thick in the air, another drawing room where an enormous chandelier hung over furniture that looked like no one had touched it in years.
After a while, her breath began to grow thinner as her lungs wheezed under the strain, stitches pinching in protest, but she couldn’t really be bothered to care that much.
That’s when she heard it — a steady, rhythmic thudding.
Her heart leapt to her throat. For a moment, Y/N was sure she’d stumbled onto something brutal. Perhaps someone was being beaten in one of these very rooms.
She shouldn’t be here.
But she followed the sound anyway.
The noise grew louder until she pushed open a door and found… not a victim, but Max Verstappen. He stood in the center of a stark gym, body taut with sweat, hammering fists into a heavy bag that swung violently from the ceiling. His movements were clean, efficient – each precise like the strike of a cobra. Despite being otherwise occupied, he noticed her presence instantly.
“Lost?” the man asked bluntly.
She hovered in the doorway. “Exploring.”
Finally, he pulled his fists back, breathing steady. He glanced at her, measuring her presence, sizing her up.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Max told her, voice even, not unkind.
She swallowed.
“I was just… walking.”
He grabbed the bag to still it, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm. He didn’t dismiss her, though. Instead, he simply waited.
“Uh, who are you?”
Max turned his attention to unlinking the punching bag he’d been using in favor of replacing it with a heavier one. “Max,” he stated, rather plainly.
At her look of confusion, he smirked. “Verstappen,” he clarified.
She nodded in understanding. However, she could only look at the training room for so long before her gaze met Max’s waiting one once again. The deadpan expression he wore was more bored than annoyed, so she decided to test her luck.
“So… what do you do?”
His brow furrowed, like he wasn’t sure if the question was naive or bold. Then he answered anyway, resting the angle of his fist so that his knuckles would hold the bag in place before him.
“Simple. I protect him.”
“Because you’re scared of him?”
“No.” Verstappen’s tone was flat, unflinching. “Because I choose to.”
Something about the simplicity of it lodged in her chest. While the answer was short enough, even she could tell that it was sincere. Max wasn’t loyal to Lando out of fear. Rather, it seemed that he was loyal because he truly wanted to be. Trust, not terror, was what bound him here.
Her mouth opened, then closed again. She didn’t know how to argue with that.
Max bent to grab a towel from the bench, throwing it over his shoulders. The Dutchman adjusted the wrap on his hand, then fixed Y/N with a look. His eyes flicked down to the side she was favoring, then back up.
“Don’t push yourself too much,” he said, matter-of-fact. “If you walk around a lot you will rip your stitches open.”
She blinked. “Is that concern I hear?”
“Practicality,” he muttered, turning back to the bag. The next punch landed with a sharp thud, final as a period at the end of a sentence.
Back in her room, Y/N lay sprawled across the enormous bed, eyes tracing the ornate crown molding, the carved wooden headboard, the velvet curtains drawn just enough to block the evening gloom. Everything here was beautiful, curated, untouchable.
Even this room, a guest room, was adorned with luxury most could probably only dream of affording in their homes – dark wood, velvet curtains, gold filigree that caught the gray light spilling through the tall windows.
It would have been breathtaking if it weren’t a prison.
She was tired of pretending it was anything else. The place had no warmth. No history of her own. It wasn’t home and never would be. She was tired of pretending. Tired of pacing endless halls like a guest who had overstayed her welcome. Tired of being coddled by strangers with sharp smiles and bloody hands.
Mostly, though, she was tired of him. Tired of Lando, who had locked her here and then vanished, leaving her to rattle around inside this palace like an echo.
So when Logan stopped by later, she leaned back on her pillows and blurted out,“I want a plant.”
The blond tilted his head, eyebrows raised. “A plant.”
“Yeah. Something green. Living. You know, the kind that comes in a pot?”
“Right. You’re… decorating now?
She shrugged. “I could be.”
Logan grinned. “Alright. What kind?”
“Hmm… something difficult. Rare. Maybe… a bird of paradise? Or a prayer plant!” She made a show of tapping her chin, like she was trying to come up with the most inconvenient request possible. “Something you can’t just pick up at the corner store.”
He blinked, before laughing. “That’s very specific. You don’t make it easy, do you?”
“That’s the point,” she muttered. If she was going to be stuck here, she might as well pick something impossible to get. Something that would maybe annoy him, force him to at least show his face to tell her off for her unwarranted demands.
Logan grinned like he saw straight through her, but didn’t press. Instead, he accompanied her out to their daily walk. Outside, the sky hung heavy with clouds, the air damp with the smell of earth. The two of them wandered the stone paths, her pace slow, his hands stuffed in his pockets.
Halfway around the lawn, he stopped, crouched, and pulled a knife from his boot. He tossed it into the air, spinning it out of habit before he caught it by the blade and held out the handle to her.
“What—?”
“C’mon. Throw it.”
“I—absolutely not.”
He grinned wider. “It’s fun. Promise. I’ll show you.”
She gave him a look but took it anyway, the weight solid in her hand. He set up a target — a half-decaying log at the edge of the trees — and guided her through the stance, the motion.
Her first throw barely stuck in the bark.
“Thumb here, flick of the wrist,” he said, tossing it so cleanly that it landed with a satisfying thunk in the exact center of the log’s spiral.
Y/N really was trying. It just so happened that she was also failing spectacularly.
He laughed so hard he had to brace against the wall. “Look at you! You almost killed the floor.”
“Shut up.” She grabbed another and tried again, but her second also flopped uselessly onto the ground.
By the third, the blade actually stuck—crooked, barely holding—she lit up despite herself. Logan clutched his chest in mock horror. “Prodigy. I’m gonna be out of a job soon.”
Eventually, they looped back inside, her ribs aching from laughter as much as from the stitches.
But when she opened the door, her smile dropped.
There, sitting neatly by the window, was a plant. Not just the one she’d asked for — though there it sat: a bird of paradise in a sleek pot — but others too. There was even a prayer plant with its patterned leaves, and a couple more she didn’t even recognize. Different sizes, different kinds, all clustered neatly on the table by the window.
No note. No explanation.
Just… there.
Her chest tightened, hot with something she didn’t want to name.
So that was it? He’d go through the trouble of finding all this—maybe even scouring Monaco for it—and still not show his face? Just hand it off like she was another logistical problem to solve?
He wouldn’t even face her? Not even to argue? He’d send someone else to deliver the damn plants?
As she stared at the plants, beautiful and green against the gray evening light, she found that somehow, that pissed her off more than if he’d ignored her entirely.
The next morning she found herself wandering again, restless steps carrying her through yet another unfamiliar hallway. It amazed her how every corridor here looked like something out of a magazine—arched ceilings, gilded sconces, rugs that probably cost more than her old rent—but none of it felt lived in.
During these short excursions, she’d already found a music room with a grand piano under a sheet, a gallery lined with oil portraits she didn’t recognize, even a little conservatory that smelled faintly of soil and citrus.
After leaving the conservatory behind, Y/N had barely made it halfway down the corridor when she noticed a door she didn’t remember seeing before. It was tucked away at the end of a narrower hall, darker, less polished than the rest. It bore no label.
Cautiously, she glanced both ways down the hall. It was still empty.
Without making a sound, her fingers inched closer until they wrapped around the handle. Just as she was going to turn it, however, she was interrupted by a disembodied voice.
“Sorry. That’s off limits.”
She jumped, hand flying back like she’d been caught stealing.
Oscar was leaning against the wall behind her, arms folded, expression unreadable. It was like he’d appeared out of thin air. Tall, composed, the usual faintly amused glint in his eyes.
“That’s Norris’s office,” he added, tone quiet, clipped. “M’ sure you can understand.”
Her throat went dry. She opened her mouth—half to ask what’s in there? and half to ask what are you doing sneaking up on me like that?—but he was already shaking his head, a single, subtle movement.
No.
Before she could manage to bring the words to her lips, he turned and walked away, his footsteps nearly soundless on the polished floor as he melded into the dark.
She blinked, heart still racing.
Weird.
More often than not, sleep dragged her under like black water.
Tonight, she dreamed she was back in the café. Not the warm, bustling one she knew, but hollow and echoing. The bell over the door chimed, but no one entered. The counters were wiped clean, tables overturned, and when she glanced down, her hands were slick with blood.
What? But I’m not hurt, why would I…
Before she could even complete the tought, a knife flashed, a white-hot bolt lodged in her side. She staggered back, the floor beneath her tilting, and suddenly she was choking on it again—her own blood, thick and metallic, flooding her throat, lungs seizing. She clawed for air, but there wasn’t any, only the awful weight in her chest, the wet gurgle in her ears, the creeping cold rooting itself into her skin.
Not again. Not again, not again, not–
She woke with a gasp, upright in bed, lungs convulsing as though she’d never stopped drowning. Her sheets clung to her damp skin, her heart slamming against her ribs. For a panicked moment, she was sure she’d been pulled back under—that she was still dying, that she’d never actually left that tiled floor.
Cold. It’s still too cold.
It took long minutes of shallow, ragged breathing before she could force herself out of bed.
Shakily, she slid her legs over the edge of the bed, feet meeting the rug, and stood. Tiptoeing out into the hall, she moved like a ghost she almost was, breaths shallow, stitches tugging as if to remind her she was still alive. She needed air. Real air.
The house was silent as she crept down the staircase, toes curling against the chill of the polished wood. The stairs creaked under her careful steps, each creak ringing out like an alarm, but no one stopped her. She kept moving until she reached the foyer.
That’s when she saw it—draped over the arm of a chair. A throw blanket, soft-looking, patterned in muted blues. She couldn’t remember seeing it there before.
She hesitated, eyes narrowing. But the deathly cold still clung to her, and she had always loved throw blankets. So she reached, tentative fingers brushing the fabric, then pulled it close, wrapping it tight around her shoulders.
Warmth seeped in slowly – not enough, but better. She wandered further, letting the halls guide her, until a glow pulled her attention.
The fireplace was on in one of the sitting rooms, flames crackling against the hush. Shadows bent and danced across the high ceiling, gilded frames glowing with reflected heat. She stepped closer, letting the warmth touch her face, seeping through the lingering cold still clinging to her bones.
The flames drew her in, calling her closer. She lowered herself into one of the armchairs near the fire, the blanket still wrapped tight around her shoulders. It was mesmerizing to watch the flames lick at the grate, their warmth inching across her chilled skin. She had just let herself breathe when a voice cut through the quiet.
“A bit late to be up, isn’t it?”
She jumped, twisting toward the sound. A figure shifted out of the shadows, half-lit by the fire’s glow.
Max Fewtrell.
Recognition hit slowly, fuzzy through the haze of exhaustion. He was the voice on the phone that night. The voice that had said Lando’s name, the spark that had set the whole thing unraveling.
She blinked at him, clutching the blanket tighter. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”
He lifted his hands in apology, expression faintly tired but gentle. “Didn’t mean to. Could’n sleep myself.”
If Y/N looked carefully now, she could see it—the shadows under his eyes, the lines carved into his face by too many nights like this. He didn’t need to ask why she couldn’t sleep. Men like him already knew. After all, no one lasted this long in this business without collecting a few nightmares.
“Tea?” he offered after a beat.
She hesitated, then nodded. He handed her a steaming cup a few minutes later, the warmth of the ceramic seeping into her fingers. She curled her fingers around the cup, grateful for the warmth.
For a while, silence stretched between them, broken only by the crackle of the fire. In that moment, the awkwardness was almost physical. After all, it had been his call—the one that slipped, the one that led to her finding out the truth.
Max cleared his throat, finally breaking the fragile silence.
“He regrets it, you know.”
Her laugh was sharp, bitter. “Yeah? Well he sure has a funny way of showing it.”
“Y’know, this isn’t easy for him either—”
“For him?” The words snapped sharper than she intended, slicing through the room. “What about me? He lied to me. He—he deceived me. Made me believe he cared about me, like I mattered to him.”
Max’s gaze lifted, steady and firm in a way she didn’t expect. “He never lied about that.”
The fire popped. The tea in her hands suddenly felt too hot.
Her stomach turned. Heat prickled behind her eyes, sharp and humiliating. She forced her face into bitterness, because letting the heartbreak show would’ve been infinitely worse, would’ve cracked her wide open.
“Yeah? Well, maybe you don’t know him as well as you think you do.”
The fire snapped and hissed, filling the gap between them. Neither of them spoke. Neither of them moved.
Then Max’s voice cut through, quiet but steady. “I’ve known him almost my whole life, you know.”
Her head lifted at that.
“I’ve seen him at his best n’ at his worst.” His gaze stayed fixed on the fire, eyes reflecting the glow. “Especially his worst.”
Something in the way he said it—flat, not for effect—made her sit up a little straighter, the blanket bunching at her elbows. “...What’s that supposed to mean?”
For a long moment, Max didn’t answer. He stared at the fire like it was easier to confide in flames than in her. When he finally looked at her, his expression was subdued, almost reluctant.
“You don’t know what it did to him. When you were in surgery.”
She searched his face, waiting for a smirk, a tell, something to show he was exaggerating. But there was nothing. If anything, he looked unsettled by his own honesty.
“I’ve seen a lot of people die,” Max said quietly. “But Lando? Watching him after you… ” He swallowed. “I didn’t really know until then how someone could be breathing but still not be alive.”
Her breath caught. “What– What are you talking about?”
Max set his cup down, rubbing his thumb across the porcelain rim as though the memory itself weighed too much.
“He sat outside the operating room for… hours. Wouldn’t eat, wouldn’ drink. He had your blood on his shirt, literally dried stiff, and no one could get him to change it. He– He just sat there, like, rocking like he was trying as hard as he could to hold himself together somehow. Every time the doors swung open, he would flinch, because he thought it might be them coming to tell him that you didn’t make it. And when the surgeon finally came out…”
Max’s jaw tightened.
“He, like, crumpled. Just, fuckin’, dropped his head in his hands like the floor had given out under him. It didn’t matter who saw. And when they let him see you after… he begged you to wake up. Not loudly. ‘S more like—” Max’s voice grew quieter. He stopped, shook his head, as though the image itself was hard to say out loud. “He just whispered it over and over and over like he was trying to make it happen if he just wanted it badly enough. I don’t think he’s ever been more afraid in his life.”
Something in her sternum felt like it had fractured, cracked down the middle, breath catching in her throat. She pulled the blanket tighter around herself, wishing it could shield her from the rawness of it.
The fire crackled, sparked and fluttered. Y/N stared at it, the picture he’d described so vivid she could almost see it. Lando, hollow-eyed in some too-firm hospital chair, clutching at the side of her hospital bed like it was a lifeline.
Like when she woke up.
“I didn’t know that,” she whispered.
Max smiled faintly, though there was no humor in it. It was sad, if anything. “Well, now you do.”
Then he rose, picking his cup up from beside him. The air shifted, heavier as he turned to go.
“Max?” she asked before she could stop herself.
He looked back. “Yeah?”
When the words came, her voice was smaller than she meant it to be. “...Why did you bring him that night? At my apartment?”
Max’s answer came without hesitation. “Because he needed you.”
And then he left, his footsteps fading down the hall, leaving her with the fire and the ache of truths she wasn’t sure she wanted.
a/n: sorry for not getting this out sooner - the draft i originally had made me want to hit my head into the wall, so i basically scrapped it and had to start over for a lot of it. hopefully this makes more sense! as always, please lmk what you think (really, feedback is what keeps this monster going)!!
also a very very happy birthday to @clovermoters!! thank you so much for every comment and ask - it's readers like you that make writing worth it. i hope you have the most wonderful day :)
You, with your hoodie pulled tight around your face and your eyes semi-bleary from all the work you had been doing lately, blinked at her and smiled. Eunji giggled at the two of you.
Anna ordered in Korean and you watched her, proud.
“I can’t wait until I get to that point in my class.”
Eunji put her hand on your shoulder. You put your hand on hers and pretended to cry.
“Not in public,” Anna laughed awkwardly.
You stopped.
You and Eunji found a table that was pretty out of the way. On one side, it had a partition that was all fake leafy plants with some kind of soft fencing stuff that the plants disguised. You poked at it for a moment before Eunji stopped you.
“Sorry,” you laughed.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’ve just been super busy painting.”
“Have you used any of the poses you made from me and Taeyong?”
“Yeah, you guys gave me really great material to work with.”
She smiled. “Okay, I didn’t know if you needed me to dance again.”
You laughed. “I’ll ask again next time you need a touch up.”
“You couldn’t have dressed nicely for Girl’s Day?” Anna asked and put your drink in front of you before she gave Eunji hers.
“You say that like I’m not dressed nicely.” You pulled on your hoodie strings and cinched the hood up around your face.
Anna pounced and pulled them tighter as you squealed, and tied them together. You laughed and untied them as she sat in her seat and Eunji sipped her drink, laughing at the two of you.
“Worst common law wife on the planet.” You fixed your hood so it was around your face, covering your ears.
“Why is your hood pulled around your face like that anyway?”
“My ears are cold and my hair is a mess. I’m multitasking.”
Anna shook her head. “You’re incorrigible.”
“I don’t know the meaning of the word.”
She scoffed. “Yes you do.”
“I do,” you laughed.
Anna put her drink down and sighed. “Eunji.”
Eunji’s eyes went wide. “What did I do?”
You laughed.
“You’re not in trouble. Y/n is.”
“Do you want me to change and come back?”
Anna looked at you, unimpressed, before turning back to Eunji. “Eunji, we need to get our good friend y/n to meet some people.”
“She’s met us.”
“What-- no--”
You pointed at Anna and laughed at her. Anna swatted at you. Eunji chuckled and winked in your direction.
You sipped your drink, yawned, and stretched. “You said you’d drop it.”
“You just seem strung out and lacking… I don’t know, love?”
“Why do I need to find someone new to love when I have my lovers here?” You opened your arms to encompass them and waggled your eyebrows at the both of them.
Eunji giggled and Anna sighed.
“But you’re missing a great mode of…” Anna gestured uselessly as she looked for the word, “Stress relief. You’d be less stressed than you are now is what I’m saying.”
You scoffed. “Would I?”
“Come on, Eunji, back me up.”
“Well… Jungwoo is very good at… stress relief. If that’s what you mean.” She looked at Anna questioningly.
“That is what I’m talking about. Thank you for reading between the lines.”
Eunji nodded.
“Eunji, don’t betray me like this.”
“I’m not, but I do agree that having a-- what do Americans say sometimes? A beau?”
“Are you from 1956?” You asked.
“A bae,” Anna corrected.
“Baebeau.” Eunji said.
“Boo Boo.” You helped.
She laughed. “I do agree that being with someone does have some advantages.”
“Or it can add a ton of stress. And,” you sat up, “if ‘stressed’ is what you think I am right now, then I can only imagine how stressed I’d be if I were dating someone.”
Anna moved to speak but Eunji cut her off, “Why do you say that?”
You sighed deeply. “I don’t really want to get into it… but I’ve never had much luck with dating. I-- I’ll leave it at that.”
“But you’re in a whole new country with new people.”
“True, but dates also cost money. And time. And I need to spend all of both on my studies. I came here to make something of myself, not fuck around.” You sipped your drink. “Nor find out.”
Eunji laughed softly.
“I also don’t have the emotional… capital? To spend on someone I’ve just met. Like, I’m not a social butterfly type in the first place, and I need to save all my energy for my art right now. It’s like giving birth to a child: I’m working on three children right now and I doubt you’d ask a pregnant woman to run a marathon while she’s mid-labor.”
“You’re... the most dramatic person I’ve ever known. You know that?” Anna said flatly.
“More dramatic than Johnny?”
Eunji laughed.
“He’s dramatic in a funny way. You’re just a drama queen.”
You shrugged. “Well, if I am the queen. Might as well be--” you threw one leg over the other “--dramatique.”
“Okay, Dr. Frankenfurter.”
You laughed and slumped back into your chair with your drink. “Let’s talk about something else.”
Anna sighed and Eunji nodded.
“Keep sighing like that and you’re going to deflate.”
Anna looked at you, unamused.
“Can I ask a question?” Eunji looked at both of you.
“Only if it’s a different topic,” you answered and put your drink back on the table after you realized you’d have to hold onto it in your position. You slouched back in your chair.
“If you don’t mind my asking, Anna, why do you date so much?”
Anna shrugged. “I like casting a wide net. I feel it affords me the best chances of finding someone I like being with.”
Eunji nodded. “Isn’t that a lot of effort, though? To have to do the ‘getting to know you’ part over and over?”
You nodded, fingers laced over your abdomen. “I would imagine that would end up boring after a while. ‘I like sushi, what about you?’ ‘I like sushi, what about you?’ ‘I like sushi, what about you?’ I would lose my mind if I had to do that over and over.”
Anna shook her head at you. “I don’t have literally the same script every time.”
You laughed and when Anna turned back to Eunji, you closed your eyes.
“Each relationship is a different experience, each person is different, so it doesn’t get boring. The only time it gets boring is when the other person is boring, and normally you can account for that before you ask them out.”
“Do you normally ask the other person out?”
“I think she’s asked out every guy she’s dated since we got here.” You interjected, before opening your eyes and sitting up. “As far as I know.”
“Were you falling asleep?”
“It felt like I was going to.” You chuckled and sipped your drink, “Leaf water, don’t fail me now.”
Eunji laughed.
“I think I’ve asked out most of the people I’ve dated, actually. Maybe I’m intimidating or something.”
“Really?” You and Eunji asked at the same time.
“Yeah, I don’t know. I feel like I do more asking out than I do being asked.”
“Even back in LA?” You asked.
She nodded. “Yeah. I can’t remember the last time someone asked me out. I wouldn’t mind being asked out for a change.”
You nodded. “How ‘bout I ask you out? That’ll solve both our problems.”
Anna scowled at you, you smiled a shit-eating-grin.
“Not being asked out is not a problem.”
You pointed at her. “Ha! Got ‘em!”
Anna rolled her eyes. Eunji laughed at her.
“Now you really have to leave me alone about it.”
“Okay.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“You shouldn’t. But I’ll leave you alone for a while.”
Success? Maybe, maybe not. But you sipped on your drink with whatever triumph you could get.
“You two remind me of some American movies I saw years ago, when the friend wants to get the main character… what’s the word? Laid?”
You choked. “Eunji!”
She laughed.
“Anna, we’re corrupting her. We really are horrible Americans. We really did just come here to ruin Korea.”
Eunji laughed harder. Anna smiled at her.
“You’ll conquer everyone via sex, I’ll… be moderately annoying and blatantly refuse to look nice in public. You know what? I think we can do this.”
Anna shook her head with a laugh. “That’s why you wanted to go out during the day, isn’t it? So you didn’t have to dress up.”
*Based off episode 4x03 of the 100, The Four Horsemen*
Bold Italics are in Trig!
Previously...
Lexa?
You couldn’t believe your eyes and you shouldn’t have because the moment you blinked, she was gone. No one else having seen anything. You cleared your throat, blinking your eyes a few times more as you looked around, your sights landing on the rover in hopes of what? That your deceased friend would be there?
Clarke and Bellamy started walking away but your feet were planted in place. Bellamy paused, seeing you not move. “You coming?”
You looked at him, nodding your head. “Yeah… yeah, I’ll catch up.” You told him. He didn’t say anything as he kept walking taking glances back at you.
You brought your hand up to the back of your neck, feeling the spot where the flame was inserted. The flame? Lexa? The voice?
What the hell?
---
Since Clarke’s speech, the amount of working getting done has increased, everyone wanting to help save themselves for the end of the world. It made you a little mad. When they were asked to help before the threat of death looming over their heads, all they wanted to do was relax, but now that there’s a possibility they would die and suddenly everyone wants to be useful.
Clarke and you followed Bellamy to where Raven was working, you helping push a cart with Clarke as Bellamy spoke. “Two meals a day for people working as hard as ours, we won’t make any friends.” You stopped moving the cart as you entered the room, glancing up at Raven to see sparks coming from her welding.
“If there’s one thing our people understand, it’s rationing.” Clarke sighed and you both began unloading. You handed Bellamy some of the rations, receiving a nod before he took the food from you and Clarke. “Besides, once we close those doors, it’ll be one mean a day for the next five years.”
Raven groaned as she stopped her job, turning around to look at the three of you. “Try one meal a day every other day. Hunting parties are coming back with less and less.”
“What about preserving meat?” you asked ducking your head and handing Bellamy a bag of corn. “Niylah said she’s been busier than ever.”
Raven nodded. “We’re preserving more meat than ever, but it’s still not enough.” She told you. She looked between you and Bellamy, sending you both a small glare. “Without a way to make water, growing our own protein like we did on the ark isn’t an option.” She shoved her helmet into your hands and pulled off her gloves, shoving them into Bellamy’s. “Remember that when we’re starving.”
Bellamy looked to you, seeing you bit your tongue from making your remark. “I won’t be starving because I won’t be inside.” He told you all as you furrowed your brows and looked at him.
“The hell you won’t.” you snapped at him, earning a sigh from him. “No. Bellamy stop. We both made the choice okay?” He hesitated before nodding his head, looking into your eyes as they soften. “Okay. And Raven?” you said, turning to the mechanic. She looked at you, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “Despite everything, we made the right choice. Try and see that.” She scoffed at you, shaking her head.
“Clarke, did you make the list?” Raven said, ignoring your comment as you looked to Bellamy, shrugging your shoulders bitterly. He felt bad for you, you were just trying to get Raven to stop taking it out on him.
“No.” Clarke answered quick. “What about drinking water?”
“Don’t change the subject, Clarke.” Raven objected, moving on the other side of you to get closer to Clarke and whispered. “We need to know who’s on the inside of these doors when the radiation comes.”
You listened in on them, helping Bellamy stock the shelves. “We don’t need to know now.” Clarke reminded her and you heard Raven scoff before a man came over the PA, requesting medical help at the front gate.
You all exchanged looks of worry before heading to the front gate. There was a crowd already forming, a line of guards in the front aiming guns as you and Bellamy lead the way, pushing through the crowd. The sight met in front of you wasn’t what you were expecting.
A few grounders stood there, well, collapsed on the ground as you arrived. You stayed back with Bellamy as Clarke moved forward. “Nyko?” She asked as the man picked his head up.
Miller grabbed Bellamy’s arm. “What if it’s another grounder attack like they did with Murphy?” He asked. You winced, remembering your time in Lincoln’s cave throwing up and in pain.
You looked to the grounders, not recognizing any signs of that sickness on them. “It’s not.” You told them, earning look from both boys.
“How do you know?”
“Because I know.” You ended the conversation, not wanting to explain how you knew of Grounder attack tactics to them. You pulled your eyes back to the grounders, stepping forwards to Clarke’s side. “Luna?” you questioned, recognizing the woman as she doubled over in coughing.
She looked up, meeting your eyes before looking to Clarke. “Please don’t turn us away because of what I did to you.” She plead.
“What happened?” You asked her, noticing what looked to be burns across her skin.
“The sickness.” Nyko grumbled as he looked down to the young girl he laid on the ground. “We lost 40 more on the way.”
You gasped as Abby came pushing through the crowd, Doctor mode ready as she held her bag, holding a napkin to her face as she got closer. You felt Bellamy’s presence beside you as you stared at the little girl, watching her cough violently.
Abby knelt down, removing her hand as she reached out to the girl. Clarke knelt as well, whispering to her mom. “What is this?”
Abby hesitated and turned away from Floukru, speaking to her daughter as you, Bellamy, and Raven who had caught up just before Abby had, overheard. “Fever, lesions, vomiting. It’s ARS.”
“What’s ARS?” Bellamy asked the question on both your minds.
Abby looked up and fell back on her heels. “Acute Radiation Sickness.“ The three of you who stood back shared looks. If Floukru was hit by Radiation, time was running out faster than you thought. Abby began examining the girl, checking out the burns and blisters on her face. “When did the symptoms start?” She asked.
Luna shook her head with her admittance. “Not sure. Right before the fish started dying.”
“The fish are dying?” Raven asked, wanting a clarification.
“Floating on the sea to the horizon in every direction.” Nyko told her. She looked to Clarke before Abby started standing up, pulling them with her.
“It’s not contagious. Let’s get you to the med bay.” She and Raven began leading them to the med bay. They left a girl, someone the sickness had taken as you crouched down to her, Bellamy and Clarke following you.
You pushed the hair out of the face of the girl. Bellamy watched you, hearing you sigh and close your eyes. “It’s already here.” Clarke pointed out as you nodded, feeling the fear in your stomach increase.
---
Octavia sat in Polis, right outside where she had been staying. The crowds around her separated as she looked up, seeing a hooded figure approach her before stopping. She stood up as he pulled off the hood, revealing himself to be Roan. “It’s not safe for you to be here.“ She reminded him and put away her sword. “What do you want?”
“For you to handle something for me the way you handled Ambassador Rafel.” He spoke quietly and didn’t hear Indra come outside until her boots scuffed against the ground. He looked to her, seeing her stare. “We should talk alone.” He muttered under his breath to Octavia.
Octavia denied his request. “If you can’t trust Indra, you can’t trust me.”
Roan didn’t say anything as Indra approached. He was about to leave before realizing Octavia was his best choice. “The Flame’s been stolen.” He told the two women. They knew the effects losing the Flame had on Roan’s ruling. If the Flame got into the wrong hands, everything could fall apart. “Just now. From my quarters while I was training.” He filled them in more.
“How could you be so careless?” Indra growled at him, receiving a side eye from the King.
“We need to lock down the City and search everyone.”
“We can’t.” Indra stopped Octavia’s idea. “If word gets out that he’s lost the flame, the other clans will question his rule, Trikru loudest of all.”
“Then I will be forced to answer their questions with my army.”
“Or we can just find it.” Octavia sighed and picked up her sword again. “Where do I start?”
“Whoever did this got in and out of the tower without being seen. To risk it, she’d have to care more about the flame than her own life.”
“She?”
Roan nodded. “The new Flamekeeper.”
Indra narrowed her eyes. “Perhaps you should look closer to home. You’re not exactly beloved.” Indra and Roan went back and forth
“My people want an Ice Nation King.”
“The ambassadors don’t.”
“The ambassadors are cowards and know I’d have their head. The keepers of the flame are fanatics. I’d do it myself, but my guard won’t let me out of their sights.”
“I’ll handle it.” Octavia assured him, glancing behind him and stopping her mentor and the King’s argument. Roan and Indra watched her walk away, a sour look upon the woman’s face.
“What’s wrong? You’ve made a killer.” Roan spoke in a hush tone. “In the street, they’re calling her Skairipa. Death from above.”
“I’m so proud.” Indra said sarcastically.
“You should be.” He cut her off. “One kill to prevent thousands? That’s good politics.”
---
In a cave not far from Arkadia, Murphy and Emori were pulling traps out from the woods. “You said there would be food.” Murphy grumbled, bringing in his third empty trap.
“There should be. These woods have always been good to me.” Emori moved a few longs, checking the cave ground. “Now there’s not even bugs.”
“Well, fortunately I’m not hungry enough for that to be upsetting yet.” Murphy went over to his girlfriend, taking a seat next to her and staring at their fire. “I actually kind of miss Polis.” He admitted, warming his hands up. “They had this drink there, it was sweet, made from sheep’s milk.”
Emori felt jealousy sitting in her stomach. “Ontari gave you this?”
Murphy’s jaw clenched. “Yeah.” He nodded. “I told you it wasn’t all bad.”
“You told me you were trying to survive.”
“I was.”
“What else wasn’t bad, John, sex?”
“Emori, I don’t wanna talk about this.” He told her, not wanting to relive memories of the things Ontari forced him to do.
“Fine. Then let’s not.” Ontari almost growled at him before getting up and storming off.
“I didn’t have a choice, ok? Emori!” He called after her as she stopped, turning back to look at him. “I didn’t have a choice.”
Emori looked into his eyes, lit from the fire in front of him as she nodded and moved closer, throwing a piece of wood into the fire but staying on the other side from Murphy. Murphy sighed, letting his head fall before he pushed himself up and grabbed his bag, heading to the entrance as Emori stood up. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going to Arkadia. I’m a better thief than a hunter.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“No.” Murphy denied her as she stepped forward to him. “I’ll draw less attention alone.” Emori’s face fell as Murphy cupped her cheek and kissed her goodbye. “Tonight, we feast.” He promised her, seeing her smile before he walked out of the cave.
---
“You okay?” You asked Bellamy as you both headed to the med bay. His shoulders were tense before he looked at you and felt himself relax.
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
You stopped him from blowing off his feelings, pulling his arm to stop walking. “Bellamy.” Your stern tone made him look to you. “You know Raven’s just giving you a hard time. You made the right choice.”
Bellamy nodded and bit his lip. “We made it together.” He finally admitted as you smiled, glad he was finally coming to terms with the fact he wasn’t the only one to blame. Walking into the med bay, you were greeted with coughs, someone vomiting up blood as you paused in the doorway with Bellamy. Abby and Jackson were across the room, talking about taking medicine from Raven’s lockdown supply.
Scanning across the sick, your eyes landed on Luna reaching for a bucket, spitting up black blood as you rushed over. She let you grab the bucket and pull her hair back as she spit up. Bellamy helped you, grabbing a napkin to wipe her face once she was done.
She sat the bed, her legs dangling off the side as you handed the bucket off to someone. Luna looked terrible, the radiation sickening her as she muttered to you and Bellamy. “Do you think I deserve this for refusing the Flame?”
You were shocked by her question, exchanging glances with Bellamy before he shook his head. “No one deserves to suffer.” He told her.
Nodding your head, you tugged on the sleeve of your shirt. “The radiation would’ve came anyways. It had nothing to do with you.” She looked up at you.
“This is all my people.” She glanced back at Clarke and Abby, seeing them in a discussion. “Can they save them?”
The truth was you had no clue. “They’ll try their best.” Bellamy assured her, seeing the look in your eye. Luna didn’t say anything else and Clarke walked away from her mother, heading towards you and Bellamy.
“Tell me something good.” She sighed as you shook your head.
“It depends.” You began, seeing her raise her brow. “How much do you wanna talk to Raven?”
The three of you headed to the computer room where Raven was currently working, pulling up charts of the Radiation’s path. “This is Luna’s rig.” She pointed to the middle of the water where you and Bellamy had mapped. “If the fish in these waters are dying, basically we’re screwed.” She thankfully didn’t try to hide it, giving it to you straight.
“I thought ALIE said we had 6 months?”
“We don’t.” She grumbled back to Bellamy.
“Well then how long do we have?” Clarke asked her, looking through the computer screens.
“It’s hard to say.” She began, telling of how Radiation is carried through the currents. “Based on new data, I’d say we have two months of survivability, maybe less.”
“Two months?” You blurted out stunned. “There’s no way the Ark would be ready in two months.”
“It’ll be close. If we triple the man hours and work around the clock, we should be able to achieve a hard seal before the black rain comes.” She didn’t seem that confident as you listened. “We just have to choose who lives here.”
“We’re not talking about the list again.” Clarke cut her off.
“We are running out of time. We have to make a plan for the day the door closes, drill for it, make sure only the survivors have guns, agree on protocols for dealing with the people who are pissed they aren’t chosen.” Realizing she was almost yelling, Raven took a deep breath. “You asked me to be in charge of rationing. I’m doing it. But choosing who lives or dies in your specialty.” You were about to speak up for Clarke, knowing how difficult this decision would be for her, but the sound of a rover starting up rendered you all quiet. “No one’s scheduled to take the rover.”
Making way outside, Bellamy went first to the rover, seeing Jaha in the drivers seat and knocking on the window. “Get out.” He sighed and pulled open the door but Jaha made no move.
“I need to make a run.”
“All supply runs go through me.” Raven reminded Jaha. “And shouldn’t you be working on the patch in sector 5?”
Jaha turned the engine off and stepped out of the vehicle. “A patch to a ship that can only save a hundred people?” The four of you stood in front of him, worried of the secret getting out. “I’m an engineer. We don’t a have a way to generate water, the harder number would be 400.” He looked directly to Clarke. “Can you really sentence 400 people to their deaths?”
“We don’t have a choice!” She yelled at him. You immediately grabbed her shoulders, stepping in between her and Jaha until she calmed down. You looked over her shoulder, seeing people staring as you cleared your throat and looked to Jaha.
“What can you offer?” You spoke quietly yet harsh, needing to know whether Jaha was down to help.
“What if I told you there might be a fallout shelter, less than a day’s drive from here built to sustain thousands.”
“We’ve been through the chancellor’s files.” Raven scoffed. “All bunkers considered for the 100 were listed as compromised or unviable.”
“Those were government bunkers.” He reached back into the rover, pulling out a tablet and handing it to you who stood in front of everyone. Bellamy, Clarke and Raven looked over your shoulder as you all read the article.
“A doomsday cult?”
Jaha nodded. “That’s right. The Second Dawn.”
“They built a bunker?” Clarke questioned as you swiped through the articles, skimming over readings about 12 seals and about the arrival of the apocalypse.
“Their whole theology was based on riding out the end of the world.”
“So why didn’t you consider it earlier? Why not for the 100?” You didn’t look up as you spoke, checking the date of the article written years before the end of the world the first time.
“We couldn’t prove it existed and before now we didn’t need it.” Jaha told you, watching your thumb swipe across the screen again before pausing.
“You found it.” Your question was more of a statement as Jaha smiled. He didn’t confirm your suspicions but said it remains unsure until checked out.
You turned to Raven, tilting her head as she scoffed. “No way. We need that rover for hauling pieces of a three-ton patch we’re building.
“But think about it Raven. A bunker that could save more than a hundred, it could save everyone.”
Clarke was debating, unsure whether they could risk it. “If he’s right, we don’t need a patch.” She muttered.
Raven held herself back, looking between the three of you. “Can I talk to you guys for a second?” You nodded, following her off to the side away from Jaha. “You can’t really be thinking this is a good idea. Need I remind you Y/N, what happened last time Jaha went looking for salvation?”
“Of course, I remember Raven!” You whisper-yelled at her, running a hand over your face. You were the one having nightmares about voices you definitely never heard before.
Bellamy put his hand on your lower back, keeping you in check. “Raven, if that bunker is real, Y/N’s right, it could save a lot more than 100 people.”
“If it’s not, then we lost another day.”
“If it’s not, then I’ll make the list.” Clarke promised her. Your mouth fell open as you turned to Clarke, meeting her eye and nodding, happy she’s taking your side on this. Raven wasn’t happy, telling you all to do what you want and storming off. Once she left you turned to Clarke.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet, if Jaha fails-“
“I’ll go with him.” You assured her. “And if Jaha fails, I’ll help with the list. I’ll help you decide the 100.” Clarke seemed unsure as she looked over to Jaha standing next to the rover, watching the 3 of you.
“I’d appreciate the help.”
Bellamy wasn’t going to let you go Jaha alone. “I’ll drive.” He volunteered as you gave him a smile and said goodbye to Clarke.
---
Jaha moved around to the other side of the Rover but you shook your head, pointing to the backseat. He chuckled and climbed in the back as you sat in the passenger’s side. Bellamy drove the rover out of the camp and a few minutes later Jaha was passing the tablet back up to you, a video loaded on the screen.
“The end is coming.” The man on the screen, Bill Cadogan began. “Hear me as I say this. The end is coming and it’s coming soon.”
“He gave this speech two weeks before the bombs.” Jaha told you and you turned the screen, allowing Bellamy to see as well.
Cadogan went on, telling the crowd the world was turning on them and the only way they could be saved was to join him. “From the Ashes, we will rise.” Cadogan finished as you and Bellamy and you began getting worried.
You passed the tablet back, looking at the older man. “Please tell me you have more than this.”
Jaha swiped through the articles, finding the one he needed. “In the two years before the bombs, Cadogan sold off most of the Second Dawn’s real estate holdings, generating tens of millions of dollars.” You glanced back at him, seeing him finally settling on the article. “There was one thing he didn’t sell.” You took the tablet again. “I found this autobiography. It’s his childhood home. His father built a bunker there to save his family.”
“So, what of it?” You beckoned him to get on with his story, looking at the picture of the house.
“I think Cadogan used the church’s money to expand it.”
“He grew up there. Maybe he kept it for sentimental value.” Bellamy shrugged. You nodded, not understanding what was so special.
“His father beat him almost daily in that house. He hated living there.”
You froze at Jaha’s words, feeling Bellamy’s eyes on you as soon as the words crossed his lips. It was silent in the rover, your hand beginning to shake before you let out a breath. “I would’ve burned down the house.” You told them and put the tablet on your lap. “I think Jaha’s right. Why keep someplace like that if you’re liquidating everything else?”
“The bunker’s there I can feel it.” Jaha seemed so sure of himself. Bellamy’s eyes were looking between you and the front window, making sure you were alright before speaking up.
“This guy sounds like a religious fanatic to me.”
“Maybe.” Jaha agreed slightly. “Or maybe he was just a leader willing to do whatever he needed to save his people.” You and Bellamy met eyes before you looked down at the cottage like house, feeling the rover speed up underneath you.
---
The gates of Arkadia opened, Miller and his father taking guard before seeing a grinning Murphy.
“Look who’s back.” Miller said, putting down his weapon. “Thought you ran off with your girlfriend.”
“You jealous Miller? There’s enough of me to go around.” He joked as Miller’s face fell. “Although I’m sure Bryan would kick my ass.” Miller tried to hide his sadness at the mention of his boyfriend, their fight still fresh in his mind.
“You here to stay, John?” David asked Murphy, diverting the attention off his son.
Murphy shrugged. “Till something better comes along.” He moved past Miller, bumping shoulders with the boy who yanked his arm away. Murphy moved through the camp, avoiding everyone’s eyes as he made way to the food storage room. Raven was welding once again as he snuck in, taking his backpack off and slipping between the shelves. He grabbed some food, a few packages of meat, some vegetables, just enough where he assumed no one would notice. When Abby walked into the room, he ducked behind the shelves, peaking his head out only to listen in.
“I already told Jackson we can’t spare anything.” Raven grumbled at Abby as she pulled her helmet off. “Especially not antiradiation meds.”
“We’re talking about 7 doses.”
“That’s a quarter of our supply, Abby! A supply that had to last us 5 years on an irradiated planet.” Murphy’s spirits fell, realizing he hadn’t known about the impending doom bound to fall upon them. “We’re gonna need every one of those pills. You know that Abby.”
“You’re right. We put you in charge of the pills, it’s your call.”
“Will it work?” Raven interrupted her. “Can you guarantee the medicine will save them?” Abby stayed quiet. “You can’t because you know Delactivene needs to be used within 24 hours of exposure. It’s on the damn label.”
“The rate of effectiveness goes down, but that doesn’t mean it won’t work. We have to try.”
“No.”
“There’s a child with them. At least give me enough for her.”
Raven shook her head softly. “I’m sorry but we can’t waste our supply on a long shot.”
“If we can save one life, would you call that a waste?”
“Even if it worked and we could save them today, they’ll be dead from radiation within two months.”
“You tell yourself that if you need to, but the radiation isn’t killing that child. You are.” Raven waited until Abby was out of the room before letting a tear fall from her eyes, feeling the weight of their deaths already on her shoulders. Murphy sighed as he watched her, waiting until Raven’s blowtorch was going and she wasn’t paying attention before sneaking over to the medicine.
Abby sat in the med bay, Luna and her people were all variously wrapped in emergency blankets, coughs filling the room. She had no clue how to help them without the Delactivene and even with it, she wasn’t sure it would work.
Murphy walked in, holding the bottle in his hand and looking around the room. He shook the bottle, holding it out in front of Abby. “You were looking for these?” He said as Abby saw his offering and became confused.
“Where did you-“ she stopped herself, taking the bottle from him as Jackson walked up. “Never mind.”
“I didn’t know how much you needed, so I took it all.” Abby and Jackson just stood there. “What are you waiting for? Go. Be doctors.”
Abby passed the bottle to Jackson. “Give it to the child first and if it works, you give it to the others.” Jackson nodded, heading over to the little girl. Abby turned Murphy, hesitating before speaking to him. “I’m glad you’re back John. I was worried about you.” Murphy smiled at her, blushing as he thanked her.
Abby patted his arm before helping Jackson with the girl. She supported her head, telling her it was okay as the girl looked worriedly between the two doctors. Luna laid on the bed next to her. “Adria.” She whispered out. Adria, the little girl, turned to see Luna reaching out to her and joined their hands together. “It’s okay. You can trust them.” Luna told the girl who listened, taking the pill she was offered and downing it with water. She coughed a little but swallowed the pill down as Murphy watched on.
“What about the others?” Nyko asked once Adria was laid down.
“We’ll monitor Adria closely for the next few hours. If her symptoms improve, we’ll treat the adults.” Jackson informed him.
“Thank you.” Luna mumbled, still holding Adria’s hand. Abby smiled and put her hand on top of theirs before pulling away, looking at Murphy as Jackson chuckled.
“His father got arrested for stealing medicine to save him.” Jackson was impressed. “Who knew he had it in him.”
Abby’s smile only got wider. “I did.”
---
The street of Polis was packed like always as a woman walked through them, a mask covering her face and a hood over her head. She paused in her walk, looking around before pulling the stolen Flame out of her pocket. She wasn’t aware as Octavia watched her, following after her once she started walking again.
She headed towards the temple but Octavia was stopped on the way, a man jumping in front of her. “Where are you going, sky girl?” He snarled at her.
“Be smart and back off.” Octavia pushed him out of the way. Before he could attack her again, Ilian stepped in, glaring at the man.
“No. We’re here for the tech. That’s all.” He reminded him.
Octavia listened in. “What’s the point?” She asked Ilian.
“ALIE used tech to control us. Without it, no one will ever take over our minds again.” Octavia backed away, shaking her head as she chased after the thief. Ilian sent his people to follow her, knowing Octavia would lead him to what he wanted.
The thief entered the Temple, pulling off her mask and hood as Octavia snuck in behind her. “So, you’re the new Flamekeeper?”
“This is a sacred place, leave before you get hurt.”
“Give me the Flame and I will.” Octavia told her, reaching her hand out. The thief was taken back.
“It does not belong to you or your red-blooded King.”
Octavia unsheathed her sword, cocking her head. “I can’t let you leave with it.” The thief fired back, telling Octavia she didn’t have choice. Octavia swung her sword at her, determined to return the Flame.
The Thief was getting the upper hand, blocking all of Octavia’s punches. “Good technique. I know it well.” Octavia noticed the Flame sitting in her necklace before swinging the thief’s legs out from under her, bringing her to the ground and holding her sword in the air.
“Stop!” Indra called from the side of the fight. “Put down the sword, Octavia.”
“She has the Flame.”
“She’s my daughter.” Octavia was shocked as she dropped her sword, moving off of Indra’s daughter and reaching a hand down to pull her up. She didn’t take it, helping herself off the ground instead. The girl glared at Octavia who ignored the look, looking at Indra instead.
“I’ll talk to Roan. If we give him back the flame, I can convince him to show mercy.”
“Azgeda knows no mercy.” Indra muttered, walking to her daughter. “Give me the Flame, Gaia.”
Gaia stayed defiant of her mother’s orders, refusing to give up the flame. “It’s around her neck.”
“It’s nothing. A totem she’s worn since she joined the faith.” Indra shrugged off Octavia’s discovery. “You are interfering in matters you don’t understand.”
“Wrong. I’m a Flamekeeper. I’m honoring my faith, a faith you once believed in.”
“Don’t question my devotion.”
“A devoted follower would die before giving the Flame to an unworthy king.” Octavia watched as the mother and daughter went back and forth, arguing for their side. “You pervert our faith. Heda would be ashamed.”
“I’m doing what’s best for trikru. You would understand if you had stayed and done your duty.”
“I was called!”
“My daughter was not meant to wander the earth looking for Nightbloods!” Indra felt her blood boil as she tried not to yell. “My daughter was meant to lead armies. My daughter was meant to lead our people.”
Gaia stayed quiet, biting back tears as she turned away from Indra to Octavia. “It looks like you’ve found your daughter.”
“Roan sent me here to kill you.” Octavia told Gaia, reminding them both of the situation at hand. “If I don’t come back with the flame, he will send others.”
Gaia picked her head up. “If the spirit of the commanders deem it my time, then so be it.”
Indra didn’t want to imagine losing her daughter after how long she’s gone without Gaia. She stared at Gaia as Octavia tried to talk to her. “Indra, tell me what to do here. Without the flame, the king is vulnerable. We will need to fight to keep him on the throne. If that’s what you want me to do, I’ll do it for you.”
“I can run.” Gaia offered.
“He’ll find you.” Indra cut her off. “Don’t throw your life away.”
Gaia let tears fall down her face. “That’s what you said the day I left. You still don’t understand.”
Pounding erupted on the temple door, the three of them inside jumping at the sound. “Looters. If they find the Flame, they’ll destroy it.” Ilian led the charge outside, cheering at every push of the door. “I’ll take the tunnel.” Gaia told them.
But Octavia had a different plan.
The looters entered the temple, Ilian leading the way as he kicked open the door. His men encircled Octavia, Indra and Gaia. “Drop your weapons.” He told the women. “We just want the tech, no one has to get hurt.”
The three of them paused before dropping their weapons. As soon as they did, the men behind them grabbed them and restrained them all. Gaia grabbed the pack on her hip, trying to keep the men from taking it.
“Give me the pack!” One man yelled as he reached for the bag, but Gaia pulled it away.
“No!” Gaia yelled but he got it anyways. “Give it back!” He passed it to Ilian who barely needed to dig around to find the Flame. He held it in his fingers. “Please! It’s not tech! It’s the spirit of the commanders!”
Ilian walked past the three, placing the Flame upon a surface.
“Ilian, you don’t have to do this!”
“Yes, I do.” He mumbled. “For my mother.” He whispered before screaming, lifting a mallet in the air and swinging down on the Flame. The piece split apart, sending chunks through the air. The men cheered, the women watching on as they pushed over columns in the temple, dust and debris flying everywhere.
Octavia, Gaia and Indra waited until the looters were gone, satisfied with the job. “They’re gone.” Octavia told them as she kicked over a cabinet, the Flame box sitting underneath as she picked it up. The broken pieces still sat on the surface as Octavia brushed them into her hand, showing them to Gaia. Gaia lifted her necklace from her chest, the totem that once sat there now destroyed. “Sorry about your necklace.”
Gaia held up her hand, the perfectly intact Flame sitting in it as she shook her head. “Don’t be. It was a good plan.” Gaia smiled as she took the Flame container from Octavia. “Thank you.”
Indra watched as Gaia put the Flame back. “You got what you wanted.”
“So did you.” Gaia responded before her mother walked out of the temple. She did as well, leaving Octavia to follow after her mentor.
“Indra.” Octavia called once they were outside. She saw Indra try to hold back her feelings. “She’s family.” Octavia sighed.
“Roan will still want her head.”
“Not if he doesn’t know it was her.” Octavia walked off, heading to speak to Roan.
---
Raven took a break from her work, turning off her blowtorch and pulling her helmet off for air. As she relaxed, she noticed the medicine cabinet and the broken glass protecting it. She stormed into the med bay, ready to yell at Abby but Murphy stopped her before she could get further than the entrance.
“Now’s not really a good time.” He told her. She narrowed her eyes at him before pushing past, getting Abby’s attention who was standing next to Adria, the poor girl wheezing as she struggled to breathe.
Before Raven could get far she spotted Murphy’s bag, the preserved meat he had stolen sitting inside of it as she scoffed. “Once a cockroach, always a cockroach, huh?”
“Seriously Raven, now’s not the time.”
Abby grabbed the bottle of stolen medicine, moving around Jackson to come to Raven. “We only wasted one dose.” She told the girl and handed over the bottle before returning to the side of the dying girl. Raven watched from the other side of the room as Luna held Adria, whispering the final words the young girl would hear as she died.
“Think about the waves, my love. Can you hear them? Gently lapping beneath us. We’ll be with the waves soon. Your fight is over.”
---
It was quiet as Bellamy kept driving the rover, very little conversation being made since your first one. As soon as the rover was parked, you climbed out, using your flashlight to see past the trees. Bellamy was by your side, as you followed Jaha, leading you down a slope in the dark.
“How much farther?” You asked Jaha, shining your light all around you. Jaha stopped himself, holding up the tablet in the air.
The image on the tablet matched the dark scene in front of you enough in his eyes. “This is it.” You nodded your head, feigning impressed with the sight of nothing in front of you. “If anyone’s entitled to a lucky break, we are.” You and Bellamy didn’t say anything as you looked at him, both of you hoping this was going to work. “You hear that?” Jaha asked, making you listen but only greeted with the sound of silence. “No insects.” Bellamy and you wore matching faces, both showing worry. “What is it.”
“Luna said the fish were dying.” You told Jaha.
“What are the things that eat the insects and the fish going to eat now?” Bellamy filled in the gap.
You let out a chuckle. “So much for a lucky break.” You mumbled before walking forward, shining your light on the ground. “Jaha, what are we looking for?”
“The bunker would be at the lowest point in the ground.” You sucked in a breath and nodded your head.
“Anything structural, be careful.” Bellamy called to both of you as ventured farther away.
“Aye, Aye, Captain.” You smirked over your shoulder, seeing Bellamy smile before you continued to search.
Jaha watched the exchange, waiting until you were out of sight. “She’s lucky to have you.”
“Who?” Bellamy asked him as he furrowed his brows.
Jaha only chuckled at him. He used his flashlight to gesture to you who remained unaware of their conversation. “She’s come a long way from the young girl I knew.” Bellamy didn’t say anything, watching you search for the bunker. “A lot of that’s thanks to you.”
“No.” Bellamy interrupted him. “That’s all her. Everything she’s gone through, she got herself through.” Jaha stopped his searching, realizing Bellamy had as well to watch you.
“You keep her centered.” He told Bellamy. Bellamy shook his head, finally looking away from you.
“You’ve got it backwards.”
“Still blaming yourself for that army.” Jaha didn’t need to be in Bellamy’s head to know what he was thinking. “You’ve made mistakes, but your intentions were pure. Every choice you made, you made for your people, for her. Even shooting me twice. As long as that’s the truth, you don’t need redemption.”
“You better hope so.” Bellamy said breaking Jaha’s speech.
“And why’s that?”
“Well, if you’re wrong, and there is a hell,” Bellamy paused, taking one glance over to you, “Then I guess Y/N and I will see you there.”
“Bell! Jaha! I think I found something!” You shouted, looking back at the men to see them in conversation and Bellamy looking at you. You blew off any weird thoughts you had as you beckoned them over to the bunker entrance you found.
Bellamy finally caught up, looking down at the stairs before beginning his way down. “Stay behind me.” He told you as you nodded, helping him pull the leaves and tree branches out of the way. “Watch your head.” Bellamy warned you as you ducked, seeing him having paused to make sure you were good. You sent him a grin as he kept moving, pushing through the cobwebs blocking the room.
“Is this it?” You asked moving some of your own cobwebs out of your face and off of Bellamy. You moved towards the door, Bellamy’s light on a skeleton sitting right on the ground buried in webs as he squatted.
He noticed a pendent, picking it up and dusting it before turning it over. “From the ashes, we will rise.” He read, glancing back at you and Jaha. He stood up, handing Jaha the pendent. “Not this guy.” He motioned to the dead guy as you bit your lip, agreeing with Bellamy with the tilt of your head.
Jaha turned the thing over in his hands, roman numerals written on the other side. “The 11th seal. Their faith was based on 12 seals, followers can level up by unlocking them one at a time. Only those who reach level twelve could achieve salvation.”
This was the bunker. You moved your flashlight around the room, seeing the door sealed shut. “Think that’s why they didn’t let him in?” You asked, motioning to the door.
“I was right.” Jaha whispered, quickly moving to check out the door.
“Wait, what if they’re still in there?” You asked Bellamy. His eyes widened.
He started pounding on the door. “Hey! Is anyone there?” he yelled but no one answered.
“I guess not.” You mumbled. If no one was in there, and no one came out, where did everyone go?
“It’s still sealed.” Jaha said as he ran his flashlight up and down the door’s edges.
“There’s no locks or handles.”
Jaha nodded. “That’s because it was designed to be opened from the inside.
“Right and why wasn’t it?” you asked rhetorically.
“How about from the outside by someone with a rover?” Bellamy sent you a smirk as your frown turned into a grin.
Well, this should be good.
Jaha tied the rover to the unopened door and Bellamy hopped in the drivers’ seat as you stood outside the rover. Within just a few minutes, something broke.
“Was that it?” You called out.
“I don’t know.” Bellamy told you, stepping out of the rover. “Let’s go check it out.”
You all made way down once more, Jaha leading the way and sighing when he saw the door open. “It worked!” He told you both. You followed him inside, the room far to dark to see in even with your flashlights. Bellamy pulled a flare out his pocket, lighting it up and shining it into the room, lighting the bunker up with the red light. You stopped squinting, finally able to see but you wished you hadn’t been able to. Skeletons covered the floor as far as you could see, blood not only covering the ground but the walls and dripping down from the ceiling. “This can’t be.”
“It wasn’t sealed. The radiation would’ve killed them in days.” Bellamy said, sending Jaha a side eyed glare. “This won’t save anyone.”
You stayed silent, looking up to Bellamy and both of you know exactly what this meant for your salvation.
---
The door to the Throne room opened to Octavia marching in, a sack in her hand as she marched up to Roan at the Throne. Roan dismissed his guard, leaving him alone with Octavia. Octavia waited for the door to close before dropping the sack on the ground and uncovering the chopped off head to Roan.
“He was one of the looters. You were wrong about the Flamekeeper.” Octavia lied to the King, passing this now deceased man off as the thief.
“And the Flame?”
She reached into her back pocket, pulling out the broken necklace pieces and handing them to Roan. “Destroyed before I could kill him. I’m sorry.”
Roan took the pieces, holding them in his hand before tossing them into the fire next to him. “It’ll be more dangerous now. More people will have to die to keep me in power.” Octavia nodded. “Not that that bothers you, Skairipa.”
“People fell in line behind the Flame. Now they’ll fall in line behind the sword.”
“Let’s hope your people find a way to save us before they have to.” He told her, his rule slipping out of his fingers. “Get out.”
---
Emori was sleeping as Murphy arrived back at the cave, jolting her from her sleep as she smiled at Murphy. She pushed herself out of the little bed she had and Murphy hugged her the moment he could.
“John, what’s wrong?” She asked once she pulled away.
Murphy sighed, looking down at her. “It looks like we may need my people after all. There’s a storm coming and when it hits, we need to be on the right side of that door.”
Emori’s eyes were wide as she understood. “So… we make ourselves useful.”
Murphy grinned, happy she was catching on. “Yeah. Exactly. I’ve already started working on Abby. Come on, I’ll explain on the way.” He kicked out their fire and the couple were on their way to Arkadia.
---
It was another silent drive as Bellamy took the three of you back to Arkadia, ready to break the news to your friends. As soon as Bellamy parked the rover, you spoke up.
“I’ll go tell Clarke. Help her make… the list.” You started to climb out of the rover before Bellamy grabbed your hand.
You let him pull you back into seat to look at him. “We’ll get through this.”
You let yourself smile and nod. “I know. You promised, remember.” He tried to smile, but it didn’t last long and neither did yours. Of course, Bellamy remembered the promise he made you a few days ago, the only problem is he had no idea how to keep it.
You finally got out of the rover, looking around to all the working Arkers before heading inside to find Clarke. You stopped by her room first, seeing no sign of the girl before moving onto the Chancellors Office.
Clarke was sat at the desk scrolling through a tablet with the door wide open as you leaned against the doorframe. You knocked on the door, the blonde’s head shooting up but she calmed when it was only you.
“You’re back.” She stated the obvious, picking up on your sad expression. “What happened?
“Raven was right. The bunker… failed.” Clarke stayed silent, really hoping you and Bellamy would come back with news that she wouldn’t have to make a list of 100 survivors. You looked around, seeing the mess Clarke had made on the desk and table. “Have you been in here all day?”
She nodded. “I’ve been going through medical records, trying to figure out who’s life is worth more.” The last part of her sentence obviously gave her stress as she buried her head in her hands, rubbing her temples.
“Well then. What can I do?”
She wasn’t really expecting you to keep up your offer, especially not after just getting back. “You don’t-“
You shook your head to stop her. “I put my faith in Jaha, it didn’t work. I said I’d help you, so stop being so stubborn and let me help.” She seemed to appreciate the help. “Thank you. Now what am I doing?
“I’ve been going through archive files all day, trying to figure out who’s healthy and who’s a liability.” She told you as you grabbed another tablet, taking seat on the couch. “Why don’t you go through and make a list of everyone’s jobs. We need people who have the abilities to-“
“Keep people alive?” you finished for her, seeing her send you a tight-lipped smile. You started your search through everyone’s files, ignoring the unimportant parts as you documented what they had to offer. You sighed as you headed to main list of files scrolling through for the next group. You didn’t get very far before the name of a group of files got your attention.
Floated: 2140-2142
You paused, your thumb sitting over the file. People floated between 2140-2142. That was your parents. You snuck a look up at Clarke, seeing her preoccupied with jotting down some of the 100 as you clicked the group open, names of all the deceased popping up by last names.
You scrolled down to your last name, stopping as soon as you saw your parents’ names written on the screen. You must have been still for a little too long because Clarke had looked up, seeing you frozen.
“You find something?” She asks you and you scramble to close the records, feeling like you were getting caught doing something you weren’t supposed to.
“No, uh nothing.” You told her once the files were close. “Just spaced. Long day.” You lied. She nodded, understanding for she had a long day herself.
“Well, feel free to get some rest.” She told you. You shrugged, pushing your parents to the back of your mind.
“I’m fine.” You assured her even though you weren’t sure of it yourself. For the last week, since you had slept in Bellamy’s bed, you’ve woken up quite the number of times to that same voice in your head. You didn’t know where it came from, but you assumed, from seeing Lexa, it had something to do with the Flame. You glanced up at Clarke. If anyone knew anything about the Flame side effects, it was Clarke, right? She was the one who was in a relationship with Lexa before she died. “Hey, Clarke?” She looked up at you, expecting a question about the files. Instead you sat there, regretting not thinking about the question before hand. “Did Lexa uh, ever mention voices? In her head?” Clarke was taken back by the question about her ex-lover, shifting in her seat as she thought about it. You regretted the question as soon as you asked it.
“She didn’t mention anything.” Clarke was straightforward as you nodded, adverting your eyes. “Why do you ask?”
You stayed quiet. If you told Clarke, what would she say? What’s even happening? Would she even be able to help? “I think the Flame’s messing with my head.” You blurted out, closing your eyes in fear of Clarke’s reaction.
When Clarke didn’t say anything, you slowly peaked one eye open, seeing the girl staring at you in confusion. “Messing with your head how?”
You let out a lengthy sigh. “I don’t know. I just, I’m hearing voices- well, a voice so far. I’ve never heard him I don’t think, in my life.”
“And you think the Flame-“
“There’s more.” You continued. She let you continue. “That day Bellamy and I went to Ice Nation and you made the speech, I saw-“ You stopped yourself, biting your tongue. If this was just in your head, should you be telling Clarke? Especially as she’s putting together a list of 100 people for the new world.
“You saw?”
“Lexa.” You finished. Clarke’s face hardened as she looked at you.
“That’s not funny.” She told you, turning back to her list. You were confused, watching her blow it off.
“Clarke, I’m not being funny. I saw Lexa that day, the night before was the first time I heard the voice.” You tried telling her, putting the tablet down and moving towards the desk.
She watched you, studying your actions before giving in. “These… side effects,” She called them, “They started a week ago?” You nodded. “And you didn’t tell anyone?” You shook your head. “Why not?”
You guffawed. “Oh yeah and say what? ‘Hey, remember that time we stuck a computer chip in my brain? Yeah I think something went wrong because now I can hear a man saying my name and I saw my dead friend.’ People will think I’m even more crazy than they already do.”
“You can’t hide this stuff, Y/N! Your brain is important! If the Flame is giving you side effects then you should’ve let my mom and I know.”
You bit your lip, knowing Clarke was right and you shouldn’t have waited so long. “I know. I’m sorry. I just figured there’s more concerning issues at the moment than what’s going on in my head.” You moved back to the couch, settling down with a groan as Clarke watched you.
“Well, can you hear the voice now?” She asked.
“No, usually it happens when I’m trying to sleep. That’s why I haven’t been getting a lot lately.” You told her, continuing your work on your tablet. “Can we just forget I brought this up, at least for now, just until we finished this list?”
Clarke fulfilled your request, both of you working in silence until you let out a yawn a few hours later. You laid down on the couch completely and continue working. Bellamy had shown up eventually, grabbing a tablet and joining you as you started to fall asleep.
You started to shift in your sleep, unknown to Clarke and Bellamy that the voice was making himself known once again. Bellamy looked down at you, shrugging off his jacket and wrapping it around you. In your sleep, Bellamy’s scent filled your senses, unknowingly making his way into your thoughts as the voice quieted, letting you get in a quick nap.
Clarke was finishing up the list, 98 spots taken and 2 more remained. She looked over to Bellamy, his head falling to the side as he sat on the floor by your head, falling asleep himself. 2 spots left, 3 people in the room.
She turned to the paper, knowing what she had to do.
99. Bellamy Blake
She looked at the last spot, glancing at you before looking outside. If she put her name down, she sentences someone else to death.
She started crying, trying to keep it quiet for the two of you to sleep, but Bellamy heard her and pushed himself up. He spared a glance at you, seeing you face the back of the couch before he walked over to her.
He glanced down at the list, seeing his name as number 99 and spot 100 wide open. “If I’m on that list, you’re on that list.”
“Bellamy I can’t.” She cried out.
“Write it down.” Clarke shook her head. “Write it down or I will.” When Clarke still didn’t move, Bellamy took the pen from her and wrote her name.
100. Clarke Griffin
He hadn’t scanned the list before he wrote it, only knowing Clarke hadn’t put her name down because that was who Clarke was. Letting his eyes read down the list, he felt his heart stop.
“Where’s Y/N?” Clarke didn’t say anything, looking at the list as he asked again. “Where’s Y/N?”
“Bellamy.”
“No. Why isn’t she on here?” He tried to keep himself quiet, but like Clarke and her tears, his voice woke you up.
“Bellamy.”
“Add her. Take my name off and give my spot to her.” He looked to you, feeling his voice crack as Clarke shook her head. “Do it!”
“I can’t!” Clarke tried not to shout to loud, trying not to wake you as they both remained unaware you were listening in. “She’s a liability.”
Bellamy scoffed. “A liability? She’s a liability?” He didn’t know what to say, if anyone deserved to be in the list it was you. You were one of the strongest people he knew, he wasn’t going to let you die, especially if he had to live knowing he was alive instead.
“She’s unpredictable. She could go off and not think about the outcomes. She could create a hostile environment.” You laid on the couch, listening to who you thought was your friend list off reasons as too why you couldn’t be allowed to live. “She’s my friend and I know how you feel about her, but 5 years with the knowledge of what’s she’s done and how’s acted is a long time.”
“You don’t know anything about what she’s done or what she’s been through! I promised her, Clarke. I promised she’d make it through this.” Bellamy slammed his hand on the table and it took everything in you not to jump at the surprise. It was silent for a minute and you heard Bellamy’s deep breaths. “Just take my name off and replace it with hers.”
Clarke stared down at the list. She picked up the pen, crossing out a name and replacing it with yours.
98. Y/N Y/L/N
They both looked at the list, the recently crossed out Kim Ginsberg was now replaced with your name.
“If I’m on the list, you’re on the list.” Clarke repeated Bellamy’s words. You waited for Bellamy to object, knowing if both Clarke and Bellamy were on the last and you were on the list… you just took someone’s shot at survival. Someone who deserved it much more than you. “What now?” Clarke asked Bellamy.
“Now we put it away and hope we never have to use it.”
Clarke smiled. “You still have hope?”
Bellamy looked at you, watching you seemingly sleep peacefully with his jacket as a blanket as he smiled. “We still breathing?” Clarke looked between you and Bellamy, enjoying the soft expression on his face before he turned away from you and squeezed her shoulder. “Get some sleep.” He told her. She nodded as he left, pausing by your side for a second before moving out of the room.
You listened for Bellamy’s footsteps to disappear and heard what sounded like Clarke folding a paper. You slowly turned over, making a little bit of noise as you sat up to let Clarke know you were awake. She was alarmed when you woke up, hoping you had just woken up.
“He’s right you know, you should get some sleep.” You told her as Clarke let her head fall.
“You heard all that.” She wanted a confirmation as you nodded, making her feel even worse. “How much?”
“Enough to know that you need to take my name off that list.”
“Y/N-“
“Don’t. You were right.” You told her. “As much as it hurts to hear, you’re right.”
“What about Bellamy? He’d never forgive me.”
“He’d get over it.” You assured her. You hoped he would. He had to because there was no way you were taking someone else’s spot. You knew Clarke wouldn’t change it right away, but you weren’t going to give on it. “You’ve been in here all day?” you asked her again and received a nod. “So, you wouldn’t happen to know how Floukru’s doing?”
As soon as you brought it up, Clarke and you started towards the med bay. You decided to wear Bellamy’s jacket, finding it comfier than yours at the minute and still smelling like him. You followed Clarke as she entered first.
You both stopped as Clarke slowed down, looking at the dead all covered by blankets. You listened to Luna, hearing her speak to the recently deceased.
“From water you were born, to water you return.”
You pushed past Clarke who stopped to wake her mom as you approached Luna, careful to respect her distance. “Luna?”
She lifted her head, walking in the dark to you, but the moment she stepped into the light, you were shocked. The radiation burns on Luna’s skin were almost gone unlike the rest of her clan, she was still alive.
“Impossible.” Abby whispered once she woke up, seeing what you were.
Raven woke up as well, coming to stand next to you as Clarke stood on your other side. “We didn’t treat her.” Raven pointed out, not believing the radiation burns would subside like this.
Abby checked her over, feeling her fever go down. “Her body’s rejecting the radiation all on its own.” She pulled up a chair for Luna, letting her take a seat. “I’d like to run some tests.” Luna nodded and gave Abby permission. She called Jackson over and the man was as surprised as the rest of you all to see Luna getting better. “There’s only one variable. There’s only one thing that separates Luna from the others.”
Abby looked her daughter, waiting for Clarke to catch on. Once she did, she gasped, turning to see you with wide eyes, having figured it out as well. “Nightblood.”
You all looked at Luna, her eyes moving between yours and Clarke’s as you let out a single chuckle. “From the ashes, we will rise.” You said, repeating the mantra you’ve heard so many times that day.
---
You laid in your bed that night staring at the ceiling. The days events replayed in your brain on a loop, starting from Raven telling you there was only 2 months left before the end of the world all the way to finding out your salvation might not be a bunker or the Ark, but the blood that ran through a living person.
You tried to get to sleep, thankful the voice wasn’t coming back, but maybe that was because you weren’t tired. In all honesty, one aspect of today’s events stuck with you the most.
You climbed out of your bed, slipping your shoes on and grabbing Bellamy’s jacket you still hadn’t returned. No one was in the hallway as you stepped outside, sneaking through the halls until you arrived at the Chancellor’s office. You entered the password on the keypad, hearing the door unlock before you slipped inside. You looked around, finding the tablet you had used earlier on the couch right where you left it. You picked it up, the device powering on and lighting you up in the dark as you swiped through without a care in the world. You opened the Floated file, scrolling down once again until you saw your parents name. This time there wasn’t Clarke here to stop you.
You opened up their files and they popped on the screen simultaneously. You stared at the faces of your parents, a pair of faces you hadn’t seen in10 years. You felt yourself tear up as you fell onto the couch, bringing a hand up to your mouth as tears started down your face. You looked at their pictures just a little longer before moving onto their information. You didn’t need to, in fact the moment you did you wished you would scroll back up and see their faces again, but then something in your dad’s file caught your eye.
Infertile
You looked again, and again, and again until you read the word 100 times but it still made no sense.
The light to room, the one you left off, turned on as you jumped, looking towards the door to see Clarke standing in front of it.
“What are you doing here?” She asked you, noticing the tears in your eyes as she got closer and she began to get worried.
“Clarke? What’s this?” You turned the screen, letting her see your parents’ information on it.
She squinted her eyes. “I’m not sure.” She got closer, making out your parents’ name on the screen before she was even seated. “Is that your parents?”
You nodded your head, wiping away your tears. “Yeah. Yeah it is, but what I want to know is why the hell it says my dad can’t have children.”
“What are you talking about?” Clarke stopped you, knowing however you’re reacting right now was not good.
“I’m talking about this!” you shouted, shoving the device into her hands. You got off the couch, pacing around the room as she read the file, trying to understand. “Clarke, I’m not a doctor. I don’t know what all this is, but he can’t be infertile, right? I mean, he had me!”
“No, no, of course.” She assured you, helping calm your freak out only a little. “It could have been updated after you were born.”
You nodded, taking slow breaths before Clarke’s face fell into one of confusion, looking back at the device. “Clarke?”
“They test before that, for infertility.” She mumbled, remembering her learning of the testing before she was arrested. “If your dad was infertile, he would’ve been tested before you were born.”
You couldn’t process this. You stopped pacing, looking at your friend and talking as slow as you could. “Clarke. What the hell are you trying to tell me?”
“We should talk to my mom.” She tried to rush out of the office, but you grabbed her arm, refusing to look at her in fear letting your tears run loose again.
“Just say it.” You whispered, wanting her to just get it over with. “Say it Clarke!”
“Y/N-“ You snapped your head to her, not stopping the tears as Clarke swallowed back her fears. “Ok.” She began. “Ok…. I think- I think your dad was infertile before you were conceived. I think- I don’t think your dad is your real father.” You didn’t know what to do, you could only stand there listening to Clarke tell you the one thing you were absolutely terrified of. Clarke’s heart ached for you. “I’ll get my mom. She’ll know.” You didn’t feel yourself let go of Clarke, but suddenly she was gone and you were all alone. You could feel your breathing start to increase, your head spinning as you feel to the ground, pulling your knees to your chest and letting out every sob you can that racked through your body. You couldn’t breathe, but you couldn’t focus on that because there was one thought rushing through your head.
Who the hell were you?
A/N: I love feedback!
Tags are Open! Let me know if you want to be added, re-added, removed, or changed!
