Alright! this takes place right where Season 1 left off. I own nothing but the words below :)

It was honestly a miracle that she hadn't already gone insane. Trapped between four spotless white walls with only her frightened, infuriated mind and hellscape of recent memories for company. It had been three days and she had already taken a complete inventory of the things in her room at least a dozen times:

A White bed Bed. Her white IV. White drawers containing clothes – all exactly the same, all a pristine white. White curtain. White toilet. White sink. Metal trash can. White sofa. A white vent above her bed that no amount of pushing or pulling could break through. The stupid Vahn Gogh painting – at times it infuriated her and at others she loved it for containing colors other than white and grey. And, of course, the camera that was recording her every move.

She had found out about the hidden camera after her first escape attempt. She had broken the sink with the trash can, and the water had gushed out, gradually flooding the room and flowing under her doorway. Then, she had armed herself with a sharp edged shard from the sink bowl - smiling wolfishly as it nicked her and some of her red blood stained its white surface - and waited in a corner. After what felt like hours (she had no way of telling time, after all), she heard a cold, calm female voice coming from just outside her room: "Put down the weapon, inmate, and none of your friends will be harmed."

Clarke's heart began to pound: how did they know what she was holding? Would they... would they really hurt her friends?

Still, she had no intention of backing down so easily. She couldn't help her friends if she stayed a captive, and a crazy voice in her head compelled her to act violently rather than staying captive for a moment longer. She... she wasn't sure if she could take life as a prisoner again. Before she could make a move, however, a very familiar orange smoke started to emerge from her vent in thick, menacing plumes.

She barely managed to let out a curse before the room before her eyes turned hazy, and she found herself falling down, down, down…

Clarke didn't remember hitting the floor. She woke up back in the white bed, exactly as she had the first time, and found her sink looking brand new, but her trash can gone.

Her second escape plan would have been to bolt during meal times – but the man who came to deliver meals wore full body armor, helmet included, and was about twice as large as her. At least the food he brought wasn't bad. It varied by day, and reminder her somewhat of how meals on the Arc had been before she got arrested. Still, most days she had to choke it down.

At 'night', her keepers dimmed the lights in her room. Clarke imagined (hoped) that there would be less people patrolling the halls during these times, because everyone would be sleeping. So, Clarke stayed wide awake during these periods, looking and listening for any movement. What she discovered was that there were usually only two people who walked the halls at, both wearing full armor. One came shortly after lights out, and the second came by just before they came back on. Closer, obsessive, inspection led Clarke to believe that both guards were the same person: he had a habit of lifting the visor of his helmet to wipe his brow every now and then. She added this information to list of mental notes she had made for when she escaped.

In the mornings, she looked through her window into Monty's room, just to see how he was doing. From what she could see, though, he wasn't handling captivity well, becoming paler and paler by the day with bloodshot eyes. Finally, one morning she found him looking back through his window at her. There was an oddly intense urgency in his eyes, and he mouthed something to her. She motioned for him to repeat himself, and then managed to read his lips, "We need to escape."

A sudden wave of jarring realization crashed over Clarke – the same one that had undoubtedly hit Monty only moments before: the cameras were right above their doors: when they talked to each other through the glass, their keepers couldn't see them.

Clarke felt the pace of her heart begin to quicken: they had a direct line of communication. How, how had she not taken advantage of this before?

She nodded back at Monty, and mouthed clearly and slowly, "We need a plan."

Monty merely shrugged at her. Then, scratching his head, he replied, "Start thinking."

Despite not having a single reasonable idea, Clarke found herself grinning as she nodded at her friend. He had reminded her that she was not nearly as alone as she felt. The rest of the surviving 100 had to be somewhere close by, and together, she had seen proven time and time again, they were stronger than anything.

"GET OFF ME! LET GO OF ME, DAMN YOU!"

Clarke's eyes snapped open, and she leaped to her feet, bolting to her door.

She had been in the middle of one of her fitful naps, when she heard someone bellowing at the top of their lungs down the hall. Now, this was not that unusual, for she heard the occasional shouting at least once a day… but not this voice. This voice turned her blood to ice and caused her insides to do back-flips from horror and joy and god knew what else, because she hadn't believed that she'd ever hear it again.

The scream left her lips before she fully realized what was happening. It was like the ground fell out from beneath her and the walls began closing in, crushing and crushing her, while the air was slowly sucked from her lungs - she couldn't breathe. Clawing at and beating her arms and legs in vain against the unfeeling door that had been holding her captive for a week now, Clarke's hoarse, ferocious howl of a voice frightened even herself,

"BELLAMY!"

Hello everyone! So, if you're anything like me, waiting for season 2 is starting to drive you a little crazy by now :P

I wrote this to help tide myself over, and may continue if other people enjoy it too. Thanks for reading! :)