Hi everyone!
Yes, I know I should be working on 'Miss Me Princess?', and I still am, but another little idea popped into my head for another Clarke/Murphy story and they are just so darn cute that I couldn't ignore it. So here you are, and I hope you enjoy it...
The Boy Next Door
Chapter one
They had lived in space for several generations now, but it had always been made clear to the citizens of the ark that this way of life was only temporary. They learned about the earth; they gazed at it through their windows; they thought about it. They dreamed of earth. In a way, they were almost homesick for it, for somewhere that now - 97 years on - none of them had ever actually been.
Of all the things that she had learned and imagined about life on earth, recently, it was the thought of days that enthralled Clarke the most. The brightness of the daytime with the sun lighting up the atmosphere as it arced across the sky, followed by the darkness of nighttime, like the blackness of space. A period of light and then a period of dark, a repeating sequence marking the passage of time in a steady cycle. It wasn't something she had ever thought about much before…
Before now.
Before everything changed.
Before her father was floated and she was locked up in solitary.
There were clocks, and watches, and screens, and computers, all over the stations to tell you the time in a digital display, as well as schedules for work and school and meals, and curfews and lights out. But in isolation, removed from a daily routine, Clarke lost time. Time became an abstract concept out with her grasp. The arrival of her meals was the only distinction but they didn't seem to follow a timed regiment. Or maybe they did but Clarke was just too dazed and disoriented from months of isolation to realize it.
The bang of a door swinging open at the end of the corridor startled Clarke out of a day dream. She blinked repeatedly, wondering how much time had passed since she finished her last meal, had it been dinner, or maybe breakfast? It felt like minutes ago but the stiffness in her limbs suggested she had been sitting there for a long time. She tried to suppress the pang of fear that that realization caused. Imprisonment was affecting her much more than she could have imagined.
She moved to the door of her cell, her muscles which were tight and weak from lack of use stretched painfully with each step as she moved to press her ear against the cold metal. Clarke listened, strong to hear what was going on outside. The stomp and shuffle of boots could be heard accompanied by grunts and curses. The noises were muted and indistinct but Clarke could hear enough to tell that there were at least three people making their way along the corridor, their movements were jerky and stumbling and punctuated by thumps and scuffs. An icy shiver stole over Clarke as she realized that she was listening to the guards detaining a prisoner. Her thoughts instantly jumped to the worst possibility – a floating. Bile rose in the back of her throat. Her heart pounded as visions of her father being escorted to an airlock chamber by two guards flashed before her eyes. She held her breath as they came nearer and listened carefully. But they didn't pass her cell, instead the cell next to hers was flung open. There was a thump followed by a pained groan, then the door was slammed shut and two sets of boots marched away back down the corridor. Clarke released the breath she had been holding with a sigh of relief.
"Hello?" Clarke called out hesitantly in a voice that was hoarse from lack of use. Stepping away from the door and going to stand at the wall that separated her cell from the one next to it. The cell was so small that it only took her three steps to cross to it. She stood directly under the air vent and leaned close with her ear cocked towards the wall.
Nothing.
Then a soft shuffle and a sharp gasp followed by a groan of pain.
"Hello?" Clarke repeated.
"Is someone there?" a male voice croaked out faintly.
A spark of excitement ignited in Clarke at the sound of a voice other than her own.
"Yes!" Clarke answered giddily. She reached a shaking hand out to touch the wall between them. "I'm in the cell next to you." She slid her hand up the wall until her fingertips reached the air vent, and she tapped it making the grate rattle. "Here."
"Oh." Was his only reply.
Her head was spinning, it felt like she was fully awake for the first time in months, as though everything else had just been one big long trance and this person was the splash of cold water on her face, wakening her up and sharpening all of her senses.
"What happened?" Clarke questioned. There was a pause before the answer came through in stunted sentences.
"Got in a fight." There was more shuffling and a moan of pain. "Stupid guards came." He gasped for breath. "Dragged me off to solitary."
"Are you ok?" she asked "You don't sound so good."
"Hurts." He groaned back.
"Shit." Clarke swore softly as a sudden panic seized her. He didn't sound good at all. And Clarke knew that the useless guards wouldn't do anything about him anytime soon. She tried to think. "Can you tell me what hurts?" she called out, trying to keep her voice as calm as possible.
"M' face. M' head. M' side" he slurred out.
"Are you bleeding?" she questioned. The only reply was an ambiguous hum which sharpened into a moan. "Hey!" Clarke shouted banging her hand against the grate. "Stay with me…what's your name?"
"John." Came the mumbled reply.
"Okay John. I'm going to help you but you need to stay awake for me. Can you do that?"
"'kay."
"Good. Are you bleeding anywhere John?" Clarke wasn't sure where the question came from. Her mind was a blur of thoughts and feelings that were all speeding by too fast for her to focus on any one. She wasn't used to having to think but her mind was up and running faster than she could process so she let instinct take over.
"Yeah m'head is bleeding."
"Okay." Clarke struggled to think what to do. "Okay, you're going to need to stop that. Do you have a blanket in there?"
"No."
"What about…" she paused for a moment, thinking. It was a conscious effort to think. She had spent too long giving into the isolation and getting lost inside her head in a constant day-dream. But she needed to pull it together now, someone needed her help. She could be useful again. "A jacket! Do you have a jacket or a jumper?"
"Just wearing a t-shirt." Came the reply. Shit. Thought Clarke. That wasn't good, the ark was cold at the best of times and these cells were some of the coldest places without enough body heat to warm them. Ok think. Think, think, think.
"John I want you to take off one of your socks and hold it against the cut on your head. Can you do that?"
"Uh yeah…" He answered followed by a muffled grunt of pain and some shuffling.
"Remember to put your shoe back on, okay? It's too cold in these cells. Have you done that?" Clarke called to him.
"Yeah." John mumbled back.
"Good. That's good. Just keep the sock pressed against where it's bleeding and you'll be fine. Now I need you to stay sitting up straight and you need to stay awake." Her brain was dusting off the cobwebs of boredom and bits of long forgotten knowledge were floating to the surface now: he could have a concussion, he was at risk of a fever and possible pneumonia.
"But I'm really tired." He moaned.
"I know." Clarke soothed. "But you've hurt your head and you're going to be cold. So no sleeping."
"Fine." He grumbled.
"Where are you sitting?"
"Eh…on the floor?"
"Are you leaning against this wall here between us," she knocked on the cold metal, "or at the opposite side?"
"Neither. I'm beside the bed." Clarke briefly wondered why he would sit next to it but not on it but didn't want to waste his energy with pointless questions.
"Do you think you can move? There are some pipes that run underneath this wall between our two cells, it's not exactly warm but it takes the cold out of that part of my cell so I think it will be the same for you."
She pressed her ear against the wall and heard sounds of him shifting himself awkwardly across the floor, she could her his slightly labored breathes and his moan of pain. Then he spoke and his voice sounded much closer.
"You don't ask for much do you angel."
She laughed. He was right there. Right on the other side of the wall. Just inches away from her hand.
She laughed because there was a person right there talking to her. She laughed because she wasn't alone anymore. She laughed because she was worried about making sure he was ok and he was giving her sarcasm.
"Uh, my names Clarke." She said, feeling suddenly slightly flustered. She sat down on the floor, her hand still touching the wall in front of her and a smile still curving her lips.
It must have been about a week later when the door at the end of the corridor once again swung open with a heavy bang. Clarke was instantly alert and listening intently. This time the sound of tramping boots was accompanied by raised voices: one slinging curses and insults, and the other growling threats. She listened carefully to the stomping boots, listening to hear how close they were. The thump of footsteps stopped and Clarke heard the groan of metal as the door of the cell next to hers was opened. She could hear movement, the shuffling sounds of someone being forced into the cell and then the door was slammed shut. A curse was shouted from inside the cell, it echoed through her wall as footsteps retreated down the corridor, the angry complaints of the guard fading into the distance.
"Eh…Hello?" a male voice hesitantly called out. Clarkes heart leapt.
"Hello?" She tentatively called back. She heard a laugh through the wall.
"Waw." Clarke could hear the smile in his voice. "So I didn't dream the whole thing up?" he asked her, and she knew instantly who it was. "You're really there?" he asked again and she found herself smiling too.
"John?" she called out to him, "Is that you?"
"Yeah." He laughed again. "I can't believe you're really there."
"I…uh…yeah." She stumbled out awkwardly, not sure what else to say.
"I can't remember your name." he told her apologetically.
"Clarke." She supplied instantly.
"Clarke." He repeated. "My very own guardian angel."
"I…uh…" heat rushed to her cheeks even although he couldn't see her. "Are you okay?" she clumsily asked. "You were, well, I mean, you sounded pretty out of it."
"I'm fine." He told her. "Thanks to you." There was a pause for a moment, then he sounded more serious when he asked, "Why did you help me?"
"Why wouldn't I?" she asked in return, feeling a sudden twinge of defensiveness at the insinuation.
"Most people wouldn't have." He said flatly.
"That's not true."
"Yeah well, thank you." He didn't sound convinced, but his gratitude sounded genuine.
"You're welcome."
They fell silent. The quietness stretch and expanded, filling the cramped cell. Clarke felt a pressure building; she wasn't used to talking anymore, to having someone there to make conversation with.
"Why are you back?" She asked and then silently cursed herself for being blunt and tactless. But he didn't seem to mind, he answered her question easily.
"Because it was bugging me; I needed to find out if you were real or not."
"You really thought you imagined it?" Clarke asked surprised.
"I was pretty out of it. The Doc told me I had a concussion when I was taken the next day."
"I can't believe it took them that long to get you seen by a doctor." She scowled with a wave of righteous anger that made her feel more like herself than she had in months.
"You have met the guards here, haven't you?" He chuckled, amused by her outrage.
"Right." she answered, then a realisation hit her an she straightened. "Wait, did you get yourself sent to solitary on purpose?" Clarke asked.
"Uh yeah." He admitted sheepishly. Clarke sucked in a sharp breath. It was an unbelievably reckless thing to do – to provoke the guards of the ark in the hope that they would use solitary as a punishment. John could just as easily have been denied rations, or given lashes, or just beaten up. She shuddered at the thought. There was a pause before John spoke again, his words measured and direct.
"I remember hearing about a girl who was arrested for treason a couple of months ago." He hesitated before asking, "Was that you?"
Clarke was silent. She didn't know how to answer that. Her mind whizzed, her thoughts once again moving too fast for her focus on. Her mouth moved but no sound came out. But John spoke again, taking her silence as an affirmative.
"I'm sorry." He said. When Clarke finally spoke the words that came out weren't what she expected.
"You're the first person I've spoken to in months." She confessed in a small voice.
"That sucks." He said. It was like having a heavy weight lifted off her shoulders to be able to say that out loud to someone, to have someone know that she was struggling and it didn't sound like he pitied her. There was another pause before he added. "Well, I'm here for another night. You know…if you want some company or whatever?" his offer trailed off uncertainly.
Clarke smiled.
"I would like that." she said softly.
"Okay."
"John?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm glad you came back."
Please review with any feedback, I always love hearing from you all...
