He wakes up, and it's quiet.

Jasper lays there for a moment, realising that there's an actual mattress beneath him, and a real pillow. He breathes in the antiseptic air, feeling the cooling chill of air being artificially pumped into the room, and registers the fact that he's not in his own clothes.

Then, his eyes open to see white—and everything goes wrong.

He can't smell burnt flesh anymore, and his skin is strangely devoid of grime and old blood. The roof above him is startlingly white, and it looks so familiar and shocking at the same time. The whole situation feels surreal, like Jasper's missed some vital chapter of the story, and he flips out.

A scream rips out of his throat, and it feels like it's strangling him. The noise is brutal and foreign in the sterile environment, but he can't help it. Jasper launches himself off the bed, wound so tightly with sudden adrenaline and pent-up fear.

All reason is drained out of his mind, as he lands on the freezing ground, his feet seizing up against the harsh temperature, but he feels like a trapped animal.

Maybe that's all he is.

Jasper can see at a glance that he's alone in the room, that there's only a blank white door with a tiny window to provide him with any answers—and he's still shrieking at the top of his lungs. He's not even screaming any words, just tortured sounds that he's been keeping inside him for weeks.

The exertion of exercising his lungs so thoroughly sends a blast of pain through his spear wound, but it's never really stopped hurting anyway—so Jasper just bares his teeth in a predatory manner, and continues to howl with everything he has left inside.

When he charges towards the door, he feels a twinge of tearing skin, and looks down to see an IV dangling behind him and a trail of blood.

That doesn't stop him though, and he hits the door with such force that it almost puts a dent in his screams. Almost.

His fingers scrabble at the window, which has chicken wire laced through it to keep him even more confined, and slams his shoulder, face, fists against the unrelenting surface. Jasper feels primal, and raw, because he's got nothing else to lose, and he knows it.

It's sometime around that moment when he realises that he's lost his sanity.

And Jasper just can't bring himself to care.

Eventually, his abused lungs can't produce any more sound, and his screams are strangled into silence. But his rage is still fuelled by such deep and undeniable emotions that Jasper continues. He scratches and bashes at the door until his fists are bleeding, and the stark whiteness begins to look scuffed.

He turns, and rips the lone picture down from the wall, offensive in its range of colours, snaps it across his knee. He overturns every single piece of furniture in the room, and kicks at it like he's been done a grave disservice by the couch.

Jasper is fairly sure that he's going through a mental breakdown—but he's never felt more alive.

He doesn't know who he's most angry at, the people on the ARK or the ones who've imprisoned him for the second time, or the Grounders who speared him and mutilated his body with tribal symbols. But he does know that he feels rage, hot enough to fuel him forever.

Ripping up the starched bed linen to shreds feels like the best decision he's ever made, and he lets out a whoop of demented joy as he flings the pieces across the room.

He picks up the IV stand like a bat, and starts swinging wildly at the walls. The muscles in his arms are developed and strong, after weeks of surviving, and he begins to lay into the sink on the wall with a manic joy. Jasper beats at the sink again and again, until the ceramic begins to crack, and then finally chunks of it crash to the ground, sending bits into his bare feet and drawing blood.

Water sprays up from the decimated sink, completing the scene of complete chaos.

There's a small security camera above the door, mounted up high so Jasper can't get at it, but he looks right into the lens and grins slowly. There's blood on his hands from his assault on the door and furniture, and he smears it all over his face, his eyes wide and glinting dangerously. He thinks about the strangers, just watching him from behind the camera lens, and it only serves to make him angrier.

He bends down slowly and picks up a hunk of ceramic sink, testing it in his grip for a split second. Then he hurls it at the camera with such force that it draws a violent laugh out of him, one that sounds deep and unnatural because of his hoarse throat. The camera drops to the ground, no longer functioning, and Jasper begins his assault on the door anew, with the heavy projectiles that now litter the white floor.

Jasper is done keeping everything locked up inside him, and he wants his captors to realise it.

.

He wakes up in a white room, and he can't remember losing consciousness.

The room is immaculate again, and there's another IV in his arm. Jasper swings his feet over the side of the bed again, this time in a more controlled manner, and notices that the blood has been cleaned off his hands and face.

Jasper looks up at the security camera, and cocks his head to the side. Is this a challenge?

Every second that he stays still is another second that the tide of anxiety and fear rises up within him, and he will not lose himself to that again. He spent weeks being terrified on Earth, after nearly dying, and the throbbing in his chest was a constant reminder that he wasn't safe.

He refuses to become that scared kid again.

There's a rising pressure that's beginning in his chest, and Jasper clenches his fists as he gets to his feet. The red IV is left on the bed behind him. He stalks over to the door once again, and stares out the window, seeing nothing but a blank corridor. There is no one in the cell opposite him—and that fact boils his blood.

Jasper needs the others.

He longs for Monty, who always knew how exactly to calm him down when he got so agitated during those first few weeks – who held his hand tightly as he sobbed in their makeshift tent from the brutal agony left over from the spear, days after Clarke had 'released' him from the drop-ship. He feels the loss of Clarke with a sharp stab in his heart, the one who'd sewn him back together, and fought so damn hard for his life. Jasper thinks of Finn, the guy who'd called him "buddy," and been so kind and considerate to everyone.

Inevitably, he begins to think of Octavia—of her strong spirit and personality, and then panics when he realises that he has no memory of seeing her during those last few vital minutes before they'd all crowded onto the drop-ship.

Faces rush through his mind; Bellamy, Raven, Monroe, Harper, and dozens of the other kids.

"Where are my people?" Jasper screams up at the security camera, his whole body tensing with the force of his worry, "What have you done to them?" What have you done to me?

He screams and yells over and over again, demanding to know something, anything, about his friends. The longer it goes without a response, the more agitated he gets—and eventually, Jasper can barely think though the throbbing in his head.

It forces him to his knees, until he's just a gasping, wheezing mess of pain and anxiety. Jasper pounds his fist against the floor with as much strength that he can muster, and drags in a breath through the mass of agony that is centred in his chest.

"I'll kill you all," He spits out through gritted teeth, "I'll make you pay."

The world melts away then, into fractured moments of fear and intermittent rage—but this time he sees the pink gas filter out of the vents, and recognises it for the root of all their problems after the drop-ship explosion, before he pitches forward onto the freezing floor and passes out.

It's more of a mercy this time, though, because the Grounders had started creeping in on the sides of his vison, and that never ended well.

.

Jasper wakes up, and spends a few seconds deciding how he wants this round to go.

He needs to get out, out into the sun and wind and rain – but for that he needs a plan. He can't just keep destroying the room every time, and hoping that things will turn out differently. An ebb of panic and paranoia washes over him briefly, but he rides it out, and tries to think of Monty and all his calming techniques.

Monty. He needs Monty.

So Jasper tugs the needle out of his arm for the third time, and rips a piece of the white shirt off quickly. He ties it around his mouth and nose in some simple defence against the gas, grabs the IV stand, and lays right into the window on the door again.

It takes a few hard slams, but a crack appears quickly, around the same time that the gas starts pouring through.

He's frantic by this point, and abandons the metal pole the second a small hole appears. Jasper digs his fingers into the glass, struggling to pull it out from the door, and manages to get his bloody fingers wrapped around the chicken wire that's laced through the glass.

There's no movement in the corridor outside, but he screams anyway, muffled through the strip of cloth. He stretches his hands further into the blood-stained glass hole, and wriggles his fingers through the wire, slicing them further.

"Monty!" He calls out desperately, "Clarke! Octavia! Finn! Bellamy!"

Jasper can see the swirling gas rising towards him from his peripheral vision, and he jams his stinging fingers though as much as he can. His legs start failing him then, turning to jelly and dragging his body down with them, and his mind turns sluggish as well.

He hooks his hands into the glass and wire as much as he can though to keep himself upright, and ends up hanging limply from the smashed port-hole window, surrounded by glass.

.

He wakes up, and realises that he hasn't eaten in days.

They must be feeding him somehow, because while his weight appears to have dropped significantly, he isn't dead. Jasper stares curiously at the IV, as if seeing it in a different light, and wonders what exactly the fluid bags hold. Nutrition of some sort, and hydration for definite.

Jasper traces the bruise on his arm, surrounded by older pinpricks, and studies the liquid flowing into his veins. There are no labels on the IV bags, no indication of what they could be giving him.

He eases the needle out from beneath his pale skin, and darts over to the door quickly. The needle fits in between the crack between the door and the doorframe, and he jiggles it around frantically—to try and trigger the lock mechanism.

Nothing happens for a few minutes, and he can almost hear the hissing of pink gas, but when he flinches around, there's none to be seen—yet. He twitches slightly, and then returns to his task.

When he feels the needle hit what could be the lock, he bites the inside of his cheek in anticipation, but then his ears detect the definite sound of the vents opening. Jasper works fast, slamming his fist against the crack and trying new ways to force the needle between the mechanism, but then he feels the needle snap.

He drops the broken IV needle in anger and disappointment, and punches the door in frustration. Then he topples over onto the floor, unconscious.

.

Jasper wakes up, and there's a Grounder with a spear standing directly beside the bed.

A jagged yelp erupts out of his body, and he jerks to one side, tumbling off the bed and landing on the floor in a tangle of limbs. He scoots back to the opposite wall, chest heaving with panicked hyperventilation, and is frozen for a precious few seconds.

The figure that haunts his nightmares is suddenly in front of him, snarling and terrifying him without sound. He screams silently, and some part of his mind wonders why his captors aren't stopping this. Surely if they "care," enough to knock him out and clean him up every time he gets bloody, they wouldn't want a Grounder to kill him in his own cell.

His lips start to move quickly then, and Jasper finds himself begging silently for mercy, to be spared from the brutal death that he'd so narrowly escaped the first time. There are tears welling up in his eyes, and his vision is going both blurry and sharp at the same time.

He still sees the menacing figure raise the spear, and throw it directly into his chest.

Jasper slams into the wall anew and his hands come up to scrabble against the spear embedded in his chest. They meet empty air, and through the agony coursing within him, Jasper looks down to see nothing protruding from his upper body.

There's no spear, and when he snaps his head back up, there's no Grounder either.

Hallucination, Monty's voice speaks helpfully in his head—and Jasper knows he's right. Before, he'd always had others around him to help him distinguish between reality and the imagined, but now he's all alone. Jasper is losing his sanity.

And he doesn't know how to get it back.

.

He wakes up, and goes on another rampage.

This time, they gas him before he can get started on destroying the bed again. Jasper runs from wall to wall of the white room, howling, before the gas forces him to his knees. He coughs hard as he inhales the reddish smoke, and his eyes burn as it surrounds him.

Jasper notices that they've wrapped each of his cut fingers up carefully, as his head sinks towards the ground, and he resents them for that.

"Watch me tear this room down," He slurs before he hits the floor, out cold.

.

Jasper wakes up in the white room, for the tenth time, and feels sluggish.

They've started to drug him, he's noticed, and he throws the IV bags so hard against the wall that they burst, and the mystery cocktail slides down the white paint. He smirks up at the security camera, and struggles to stand unaided.

Maybe he's finally beginning to be seen as a threat, that they've had to resort to such measures.

Jasper paces around the room a few times, certain that he's been moved several times while he was under. He regains his balance and clarity of mind during those laps of the space, and he rolls his neck slowly, cracking the small bones loudly.

"You'll never break me," He says clearly, just as the shadows in the corner lunge at him. Jasper flinches back from them, kicking out savagely, and waits until his hallucinations melt back into the blank whiteness. He stares back up at the camera again; neck craned and eyes wide, "You'll never break me."

Neither Jasper nor the silent figures that follow him acknowledge the fact that he's clearly already broken.

He doesn't have nightmares, because he doesn't sleep anymore—just drifts from consciousness to unconsciousness, all depending on a red gas. So it seems logical that his fears would haunt him in his waking moments, while he tries to bring the building down around him.

Jasper gets as far as breaking the window again, and landing a bloody handprint on the outside corridor before they bring him down again. He hopes that it's someone's job to clean his blood away, every time he makes it that far.

He wonders who has to haul him off to a new, clean room each time.

.

He wakes up, and is struck by sheer loneliness.

Jasper still hasn't gotten used to the isolation. He's been incarcerated before, back on the ARK, but there had been communal meal-times then, and his cell had been surrounded by dozens of others. This time, this prison, is painfully different.

There hasn't been sight of another soul in weeks, and the only voice that Jasper has heard is his own. He sees people all the time, but those are Grounders or dark figures in the corner—and Jasper is almost sure that they're not real, so he hasn't been counting them as actual people.

He spends a long time curled up on the floor, thinking about his friends. The fear is crushing, this time around, and he bites down on his lip and breaks the skin.

Jasper looks up at the security camera that always gets fixed, no matter how he destroys it, and feels the blood running down his chin, "Just give them back. Give them back to me." It's one of those instances where he doesn't think that he can go on without someone, anyone, and tears mingle with the sweat on his cheeks.

Eventually, he drags himself off the ground, and transfers the hurt into his only talent these days: destruction.

He spends his time trying to rip the white off the walls, by scraping relentlessly at the pain with his fingernails. Jasper's seen enough white by this stage, that it gives him a sick kind of pleasure to see imperfect scarlet lines running down the walls.

After staring at the white spaces for so long, Jasper starts to see the reflections of his friends in the blurring blankness, and that makes him roar.

He punches at the walls for what feels like hours, until his hands go numb, and the scars imprinted on his hands and arms fade away in the haze of exhaustion. When he finally breaks through one of the first layers of plaster, gas is pumped out of the vents, and he doesn't get any time to celebrate.

Jasper stares at that tiny hole until his eyes roll back in his head, and thinks, I'm coming, guys.

.

He wakes up, and this time it's to the sound of the door opening.

Jasper pulls the IV out deftly, and doesn't look at the blooming bruise that has become constant in the crook of his arm, as he snatches up the metal stand like its second nature. He springs off the bed, bare feet moving along the floor that he know so well, and see Bellamy peering through the door.

"Jasper—Jasper, thank God, c'mon we have to go now."

The words bounce around inside his head, and he laughs loudly, throwing his head back manically and gripping the metal weapon tighter. The vision of Bellamy looks at him, concerned, and Jasper bares his teeth in response.

"This is what the hallucinations come down to? Imagining my own rescue?" He breathes in deeply, and lashes out with the stand to crack the sink loudly, "Pathetic!" He swings the IV stand at the walls and the bed, feeling himself breaking down all over again, like he does every damn day.

The fake-Bellamy moves closer, his hands outstretched, and face deeply worried, "Jasper, I'm not sure what you're seeing, but it's me—it's Bellamy. We have to get out of here, so that we can get the others, okay? Just, just put that thing down, and we'll go."

Jasper lets out a howl of pain at the unfairness of it all, that he would conjure up this pitiful scenario. He sobs as he swings the stand, and feels a stab of satisfaction as another ceramic chunk falls to the ground. He chucks it at the security camera, like he does almost every day, and watches as fake-Bellamy ducks in fear.

"You won't break me," He screams, "I won't be broken by you!"

The figure of fake-Bellamy rushes at him then, and Jasper stills instantly, because this always happens when his hallucinations attack him. He just has to wait another second, and it'll be gone, just another few moments of pure terror and he'll be back alone.

This time is different though, and he can feel the solidity and heat of fake-Bellamy as he tackles him into a hug, and knocks away the IV stand purposely at the same time. Jasper can smell smoke and trees on the rough fabric that is pressed against his face, and he shudders violently.

There's no coming back from this level of insanity.

Calloused hands grab his face then, and a deep voice grounds him, "I'm real, Jasper, I'm here. We need to run now, we need to get out—and then I can convince you that you haven't been broken. Monty's waiting for you; we're all waiting for you outside!"

Jasper flinches away from the touch, and begins to retreat before fake-Bellamy's hand grabs onto his wrist, "Are you sure?" He whispers, and fake-Bellamy nods seriously.

Then they start running, and Jasper finally makes it all the way through that door. The corridor is empty, but the gas is going to come soon, he knows, because the gas always comes when he makes progress. A figure jumps out at him from an empty room, and Jasper swings out with his fists, but fake-Bellamy drags him on.

"Not real, Jasper," he reassures, "But I am—I promise."

He gasps loudly as they get further and further, and thinks that maybe this time they haven't let him wake up – that all this is just happening in his head. Fake-Bellamy drags him through a set of double doors, and Jasper suddenly can't breathe, because there's dozens of people around him.

The rest of the 100 look to have been waiting around, because once they catch sight of Jasper and fake-Bellamy, they take off into a run alongside them. The part of his brain that believes this ridiculous scenario wonders why they'd bother waiting for him.

A hallucination of Monty bumps against his side as Jasper struggles to keep up, and he refuses to turn his head and look—because this is just too cruel. The hallucination doesn't say anything, and Jasper is grateful, even if he does flinch away when fake-Monty grabs at his arm in a joyful manner.

He doesn't question the apparent 'plan' that has been put into motion, just follows blindly behind all the figments of his imagination and wonders when he'll snap back awake in his cell. The pink smoke never appears, so that means that he must be dreaming.

Somehow, Jasper ends up clambering through an escape hatch of some sort, one that fake-Bellamy and fake-Finn had discovered after weeks of searching, and then he's out in the open air with the rest of his hallucinations.

Some of his visions are crying, and others are laughing loudly, but Jasper just covers his face with his scarred hands and wishes that he would just wake up already. He can't take much more of this deluded hope and excitement.

But they run further into the forest, as fake-Finn and fake-Bellamy pass out crude weapons on the way back to the drop-ship, and Jasper allows himself to indulge a little longer in the hallucinations.

He draws the line when the gates of their camp are closed, and his delusions are cheering.

Jasper backs away from the dancing figures, and hunkers down in the corner, hands gripping tightly to his head. He digs his nails into his hair, and waits for the moment when he wakes up in the white room, with a clean slate again. He squeezes his eyes shut, and curls into a ball, tighter and tighter until his back aches at the strain.

Nothing happens, and he whines loudly.

A hand rests gently on his shoulder, and that only escalates the situation—because none of this is real, and he doesn't know how much sanity will be left by the time he wakes up, if things keep going at this rate. The pounding in his head intensifies.

"Why can't I wake up?" He screams suddenly, and then there are voices all around him, coaxing him carefully to open his eyes, "Let me wake up already! Let me out of this!"

Jasper lists to one side, suddenly exhausted by his constant struggle to remain somewhat together, and hands support him until he's leaning against the wall with his legs sprawled out in front of him. He doesn't have the energy to resist anymore, and he opens his eyes slowly in response to the worried requests.

He can see them all gathered around him, looking scared as he just shakes his head. Fake-Clarke reaches out to feel his forehead for a fever and check his pulse, and fake-Monty grips tightly onto his hand. Even fake-Bellamy is there, telling him that it's all real.

His hallucination of Finn leans in closer, and frowns, "When was the last time you slept, Jasper?"

"Pink gas and fighting, pink gas and fighting – it never ends, over and over. Just let me wake up again—let me wake up, and give me my real friends back," Jasper moans wearily, and a tear slips down his cheek, "You'll never break me."

A decision must have been made between his delusions, because suddenly strong arms are lifting him up, and Jasper passes out to the feeling of being carried across camp.

.

He wakes up, and he's not in a white room.

Clarke is beside him, running soft fingers over the raised scar tissue that goes from his fingertips to his forearms—too many attempts to get out through the glass window. She looks up at him with mournful eyes, and carefully slips her hand into his, intertwines their fingers.

"You're going to be okay, Jasper," Clarke says with such conviction that he almost believes her, "Try and sleep now… we'll still be here when you wake up."

.

Jasper wakes up every day in the drop-ship, surrounded by his friends, for the next week.

They take turns to talk him through this reality, and gradually he starts to believe them. Monty trembles one day when he gouges a scratch in one of his hands, to see the blood, feel the pain, and realise that it was all real—but he doesn't stop him. His friend just waits, until the blood stops flowing, and Jasper stops wondering aloud if he's hallucinating. He lets Monty pull him into a tentative hug, and breathes in the faint smell of moonshine and dirt that hangs around Monty.

He still wakes up a few times, and starts screaming and trying to destroy stuff out of a sick kind of reflex, but no pink gas ever appears. Instead, his friends deftly prevent him from smashing anything important, and wait for him to come out of it.

Eventually, he gets back to normal in his head.

Jasper starts to smile again, proper grins and not just baring his teeth threateningly, and that's when everyone knows that he'll be okay. He even laughs genuinely after the first week, at something trivial, and Monty looks like he wants to cry with happiness.

Some of the others say that they remember a manic screaming echoing through the walls, but only once. That it seemed to move every time someone noticed it, like the Mountain Men were constantly relocating the screams. Jasper admits that he lost it every day he spent in Mount Weather, and that their captors kept having to move him to different cells—because he wouldn't stop destroying them.

He gains a new kind of respect from everyone then.

When he needs to, he rubs at the scars on his fingers to remind himself that he survived, and that they didn't break him. Jasper came out of Mount Weather stronger than ever, even if it takes him a few more weeks to realise it.

Jasper would not be so easily broken.

.

Part two is coming up in the next few days. Stay tuned for a completely different version of Jasper that'll hopefully be just as shocking.