She stumbled back through the vent, wiping any residual dust and grime off on one of the other patient's sheets, and closed the vent shaft with shaking hands.
Those people, trapped in cages like diseased animals – the instant but weary recognition in Anya's eyes. Clarke felt the urge to throw up violently, but she settled for only leaning against her infirmary bed—still half frozen in shock.
It was one of those moments when she wished that she could be wrong.
There was no mistaking what she'd seen though.
The door opened loudly then, and Clarke nearly jumped a foot in the air—her instinct the only thing keeping her sitting motionless on the bed. She looked up slowly, forcing herself to stare calming into the doctor's eyes, and cradled her arm as though it was in pain.
Clarke couldn't feel anything though, not even the long line of fresh stitches holding her forearm together – that she knew should be pulsating with pain by this stage.
"I—I think that I'd like to go back to my friends now," she said in a subdued voice, lowering her gaze and doing her best to look sheepish, "I realised what a mistake I'd made—I'm sorry."
Play the role, she chanted to herself, play the role and survive. Tears prickled at the edges of her eyes, and she allowed it—feeling the moisture well up and turn her vision blurry. Clarke bit her lip, and rubbed gently at her injured arm, wishing that she could feel something.
Somehow she was escorted back to their rooms, but when she thought back on it the memory was fuzzy. A hand around her waist, guiding her, and a series of corridors and key card points. Clarke was shaking, that much she remembered, but any finer details eluded her.
Eventually, she made it back to the rooms and was left alone for a few moments—to sit silently on a bottom bunk and tremble with the realisation of her discovery.
Jasper came rushing in after a few minutes, followed by the others, and he dropped to his knees and pulled her in for a hug. Clarke felt the sharpness of the bones in his back as she shakily wrapped her arms around him to reciprocate the gesture, and realised how thin he really was.
"We were worried when they said that you'd been taken to the infirmary," Monty said carefully, as he put a hand on her shoulder, and Clarke just blinked up at him, still dazed.
In the corner of the group, Miller stood still, watching her quietly with his arms crossed.
Clarke tucked her bandaged arm into her chest, suddenly acutely aware of how little she would be able to reveal in the current setting. Jasper's words from earlier echoed in her head, and the prospect of not being believed was fleeting but present all the same, making her hesitate—but only for a millisecond.
She ducked her head down to hide her lips from any potential cameras, and spoke softly, "I saw something in the infirmary—something… something horrific. This place… we aren't safe here. Not with what they've been keeping from us—the—"
The words clogged up her throat then, and Clarke found herself stopping suddenly, hunching over even more. She felt lightheaded, and the whole room had gone silent.
Jasper took a step away from her, almost unconsciously, and she looked up at him, "Jasper—"
"No. No, Clarke, no. You said—you said that you would try. We—we're safe here, we are—aren't we?" The tone of desperation in his voice didn't go unnoticed, and Clarke felt her heart ache with his distress, and obvious panic.
They all knew how much Jasper had struggled with PTSD after the spearing, and it was all too clear that he craved the apparent stability that Mount Weather had provided. The safe haven that he'd readily accepted was being torn down around him, and Clarke knew how hard it would be for him to cope.
In the same moment that Monty moved to stand beside his friend, Miller took a step forward and sat down on the bed beside her. He pulled her into a hug then, and hissed, "What are we dealing with here?"
She leaned into the embrace, and forced the words out, "A room with Grounders in cages, blood transfusions into bodies hanging upside down, its—" Clarke shuddered violently, and felt Miller's arms tighten slightly, "it's bad."
Around them, the others were shifting nervously on their feet, a murmur of discontent in the air.
Clarke looked up then, and took a few deep breaths. She reached for her sketch book, the gift from Wallace, and said lightly, "Here, let me show you the new sketch I was working on before I cut my arm." She smiled widely, and shrugged off her 'accident' with an apologetic move of her shoulders.
The rest of the 100 moved in around her, and some even scrambled up onto the top bunks, leaning their heads down to see the blank page—and effectively blocking any view of hidden cameras.
"Wow, Clarke, it's great," one of the girls gushed falsely, despite the fact that there was nothing on the page yet.
She nodded enthusiastically, and picked up a pencil—writing jagged words across the smooth page.
SECRET ROOM OFF INFIRMARY – BLOOD TRANSFUSIONS FROM MOUNT WEATHER PEOPLE GOING INTO BODIES. GROUNDERS LOCKED UP IN CAGES TO DIE. BAD BAD THINGS—WE NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE. NO ONE PANIC – ACT NORMAL – WE CAN GET OUT OF HERE IF WE WORK TOGETHER
They all tensed up upon reading the words, but stayed true to their characters, giving praise and sounding impressed with the 'drawing.' Clarke was proud, blown away by their ability to fake it when things mattered, and it almost put a genuine smile on her face.
"I'll show you a better drawing tonight," She said, a note of happiness and relief evident in her voice, "but for now, you guys go chill out. I'm fine, really."
With some more hugs and pats on the shoulder, the majority of the others left then—though they stuck tightly together in group as they bustled loudly out of the dorms. Jasper lingered for a moment, but his face was tight, expression pinched – and Clarke didn't know what she could say.
She reached a hand out to him, but he drew back, a hint of a frown on his face. "Don't get into any trouble out there," Clarke called out in a light tone, her voice almost sounding musical. The words tasted like ash in her mouth, because even though she meant them, her voice was all wrong.
Jasper only nodded in response, and disappeared out the door.
"He'll be okay," Miller said then, his voice low, "Jasper just needs time to process."
They both turned to one of the welcome maps they'd received then, the one without any exits, and proceeded to pour over it – while trying not to look too interested. Monty hovered over Clarke's shoulder, and chewed on his bottom lip silently.
.
He walked down one of the corridors that they had access to, one with the occasional painting hung up but with hard concrete floors and pipes lining the lower parts of the wall.
There was a flash of colour at the end of the hallway, and Jasper forced a smile onto his face—he only had one shot, and he had to get it right.
"Maya!" He shouted excitedly, waving his arm in enthusiasm until she saw him and returned the gesture. He started to jog towards her, concentrating on his footing and making it look realistic. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Jasper stumbled.
It looked as though his feet got tangled together by some fluke or random bout of clumsiness—Jasper had legitimately tripped enough times in his lifetime to know how to make it look convincing. He let out a cry as he tumbled to the ground, intentionally positioning his outstretched hands so that they didn't quite cushion his fall, and then he went careening to the left.
His head made an impressive sound when it collided with the metal pipe on the wall.
Things went blurry for a moment, but then Jasper groaned, and blinked hazily to see Maya sprinting towards him, her mouth open in shock.
"Jasper! Oh my—are you okay? You're bleeding!" She knelt beside him hastily, and gestured at his left temple—where Jasper could already feel the tell-tale stickiness of blood, as well as a throbbing pain. He propped himself up on one elbow, and smiled lopsidedly at her.
Another slight moan, and then he said, "Guess that didn't really work out how I'd planned – not the smooth greeting I was going for."
She giggled, despite the circumstances, and then her face flashed back to concern. Maya helped him to lean against the wall awkwardly, avoiding any contact that might contaminate her, and frowned slightly, "That's going to need stitches unfortunately, and this whole corridor will have to be decontaminated now."
Jasper himself to smile for a brief moment when Maya turned to call for assistance, and then sighed heavily before saying, "Guess it's off to the infirmary then."
.
I just needed to write something to come after the end of Inclement Weather - it was tearing me apart. I'll probably post a second part tomorrow if you guys want to see more.
Let me know what you thought, or your predictions for episode 3!