Unique.

That's the word people would use to describe Jasper. That is, when people noticed Jasper, which was less than he would like, and when people could be bothered to comment on the strange boy, which was even less.

Unique was one of those not so complimentary compliments that left one feeling uncertain more than anything else. But there really was no mystery to how he attained such an epithet; it was all in the DNA.

Charlie Jordan and Cameron Gill were an unlikely pair, brought together by circumstance, luck, and a mutated potato. His father had told him the story of their meeting the way other parents tell their children goodnight tales of knights and princesses. Only Charlie had been the damsel in distress and the dragon had been more hairy than fiery. After years and years of retelling, the story had been etched into Jasper's memory as legend, and Unity Day became a sideshow to his parents' anniversary.

That's what his father was best at: retelling stories. Professionally he was known as an Archiver, but Charlie liked to call himself an historian. The problem was, there simply wasn't much history left to record. Life on the Ark was an endless series of reruns, a constant recycling of life where the only stories to tell were the old ones. It was as if human existence had collectively paused, waiting until they returned to solid ground before creating anything new.

His mother, on the other hand, excelled at creation. Officially she was a Chemist, but her boys preferred to call her the Mad Scientist of the Ark. Far from it, Cameron was unquestionably the most level-headed of the Jordan family and could some days hope to balance out their antics with a bit of common sense and maturity. But she had a soft spot for radioactive chemicals, slap-stick comedy, and Charlie; all three could crack her severe exterior with a subtle smile. Most assumed the chemist was humorless, but they simply didn't know where to look. His mother laughed with her eyes; Jasper knew that. He just didn't realize he would miss it so much.

She didn't laugh for the first six months of his incarceration. She didn't even visit for the first month.

"She's still mad, isn't she?"

"No...no, it's not that-"

"Raised voice, clenched fist, that scary thing she does with her eyebrows...Dad, I'm pretty sure that was mad."

"Well yes, but that was a month ago, now she's just-"

"Mad."

"Jasper..."

"What? I don't care. She can be mad. I've made a 'horrible, irreversible mistake that will follow me to Earth.' I got it, she's mad. Monty's mom is mad, too. She even comes around to yell at him sometimes..." he trailed off, shifting uncomfortably in the too-small chairs they provided in the visiting room. Apparently the seats were made to accommodate kids eighteen and under, but Jasper was convinced only six year olds could fit in these.

Everything in the prison ward was too small. The rooms. The beds. The rations. Jasper may have been narrow, but he certainly wasn't lacking in height. He curled up in a ball every night just to get the blanket over his feet. But prison wasn't all that bad, not for minor offenders like himself. They still went to classes, had three meals a day, and even some free time. With Monty in here with him and their parents out there, it was like a vacation. At least that's what they had said in the first week.

"Jasper I'm telling you, she's not mad. She's just worried. The Mad Scientist will never admit it, but I think this place scares her a bit. Or rather, you being in this place scares her a bit. A lot. You just scared her, that's all. She's not mad; she'll come and visit soon, I'm sure of it. Just hang tight," Charlie assured, giving him a wide, optimistic grin that Jasper felt guilty for not returning.

"Whatever," he shrugged, wrinkling his nose at some nonexistent smell and letting an awkward silence fall over them for a moment.

"So did you want to hear about the entries I found? Genuine, digital copies of Pope Urban II's crusader speech. It's pretty cool..."

Charlie always came with stories. Sometimes old ones that he knew by heart, and sometimes new-old ones that he dug up in his research lab. Jasper couldn't help but love them all, no matter how ancient and repetitive they were. He'd rehash them with some creative license to Monty later. The poor kid would never pass a history class in his life because of Jasper's imagination.

Eventually his mother did show up, but she didn't bring stories. She brought homework.

"How did you do with the trigonometry questions?"

"Aced them."

"And what about bio-med?"

"Nailed it."

"And chemistry?"

"Crushed it."

"All right, we'll see. Hand them over." With no further comment, she accepted the small tablet passed to her. Her eyes flickered across the screen with expert speed, but her expression remained unreadable as she checked her son's latest work. While she evaluated the results, the boys began business as usual.

"So did I tell you about the one with the hermit?"

"And the spear?"

"Under the temple?"

"With the fiery death?"

"Yea...that's a good one." Charlie chuckled to himself with fond nostalgia while Jasper tried to sneak a peek at his mother's expression.

"So..." he started, trying his best to determine if that was her pleased or not-so-pleased face.

"So," she returned, "'Crushed it' was a bit of an overstatement. But, you are making progress. You have a chance of getting into the ninety-fifth percentile with more practice. And you know what that means."

"A higher chance of a positive decision for my Final Review day," Jasper recited with an exasperated sigh. "I got it, Mom. Look most of these guys don't even do their regular homework, let alone extra stuff. They're busy, you know, having fun," he hinted, raising a hopeful eyebrow.

He was rewarded with a fresh set of questions, and a stern look. He groaned, if only to stay in character.

It was a shame really, that Jasper never made it to his Final Review day. He had come out as top of his class in chemistry, and not too far behind in a few other subjects. He was no genius, but his mother sure was.

There were no visiting days on Earth. Too-hard logs replaced too-small chairs and hunting replaced homework. At first, it was like a vacation. He was alive, he had Monty, and they were free. But this time, the illusion lasted only a day.

He saw his parents a lot in those first few days. They cooled his burning head, held his hand when it began to shake, and mumbled soft words of encouragement as he slept. When he finally awoke, however, it was Clarke that greeted him.

Weeks later, she would be the one to break the good news to him: they had a working radio and would be streaming images within the hour. She was also the one to get him a ticket to the front of the line, right after the politics and the dead kids. Apparently nearly dead came after that.

His father was the first into view. He had done his best to sit patiently in position for the camera, but the minute Jasper's image came on the screen he nearly leapt over the table to get a closer look.

"Jasper?" he asked, disbelief and pure exuberance washing over his features.

"Yea, hey Dad," Jasper replied, giving an awkward little wave as he smiled back at his father, trying to calm the breakdown that was undoubtably brewing. As if on cue, Charlie's ear-to-ear grin began to quiver as he dissolved into a fit of poorly contained sobs. He'd done the same thing the day his son was arrested; he had always been quite the crier. His mother coaxed him back into his chair, revealing herself on the screen as she did.

"Hey, Mom."

"Hello, Jasper."

This time it was Jasper's turn to dissolve. He didn't even know why. Maybe it was the sound of his dad crying over the staticy background. Maybe it was the strange tone in his mom's gentle voice. Maybe it was the sudden release of the knot he didn't know was in his gut, but he barely had time to contain the rising well of tears before his mother spoke again.

"How are you doing down there?" she asked, poorly masked concern seeping into her tone. Jasper could only hope the fuzzy connection would blur out his own faltering smile.

"I'm, uh, good. Yea, good," he replied, clearing his throat and surreptitiously wiping the dirt from his face. His mother looked unconvinced, so he continued.

"Alive, right? Which is pretty much the biggest news of the century. So Dad, you better make sure I end up in your book, okay? And I'm not talking, like, a little name drop. I mean whole paragraph stuff. Whole page even," he prodded. His father nodded vigorously through his tears, letting laughter break apart the crushing wall of raw emotion.

"I'll write you a whole damn book!" he declared, "I'm sure I could fill one with all of your new stories." There was unabashed excitement in his eyes, and a sort of pride as well. He was already thinking of the perfect title.

"What is it like?" his mom interjected, "Earth? How is it?"

And so Jasper began to recount his last few weeks here on solid ground. They both had a million questions, and so did he. His father wanted to know more about the Grounders, his mother wanted details on the new animal species, and Jasper wanted to hear about the oxygen. So they took turns retelling their stories, each leaving out a few choice memories and softening the edges. The Grounders were more distant, the animals less deadly, and the oxygen more plentiful. The atmosphere in the room was almost hopeful when Clarke reappeared, signaling the end of their conversation.

"...so do you remember the ingredients for- oh, Mom, uh Clarke's here, so..."

"What were you asking?" she urged, the concern quickly returning to her features. Jasper had been about to ask for the ingredients to gunpowder. He had no doubt his mom knew them, and no doubt he would need it soon.

"Don't worry about it," he brushed off, realizing that he didn't need to ask her anyways. She had already taught him everything he needed to know.

"You can ask us next time," his dad offered, sensing the rapidly declining optimism in the room. "Or better yet, ask us when we get down there, yea?"

"Yea, sounds good, Dad," he replied, still sitting in his chair as he watched an officer begin to usher his parents out of theirs. He stayed glued to the spot, ignoring the gentle hand on his shoulder and the sound of another girl shuffling anxiously behind him to take his spot. He just wanted to catch one last look, exchange one more fake smile. Just before she left, his mother quickly turned back to the flickering screen.

"We love you." The statement was rushed, almost desperate. That's when Jasper finally noticed it, that odd uncomfortable sound in the back of his mother's voice. It was the same tone she had the first day she visited him in prison: she was scared.

Only this time Jasper didn't know what scared her more, him being stuck down here, or them being trapped up there.

"Love you, too."

Author's Notes:

I have a lot of parental headcanons and it's weird. Sorry! I just have a lot of feelings about the 200.