A/N: Why did I choose Monday...
I'm aware the clexa in this chapter is subpar. There's not much left to write about in the bomb shelter and I had to wrap up a few side-plots with Octaven, but I can assure you next chapter will bring far more clexa-ness (: Happy clexa week, anyway!
It took a while for Lexa to fine tune the radio's channel until the indiscernible sounds turned to choppy words and phrases. But when Clarke was finally able to tell that there was an actual human talking on the other side, she couldn't stop her heart from pounding against her ribs.
The two girls sat shoulder to shoulder on Lexa's bed, which Clarke had officially decided she liked better than her own bed (not because it was comfier, but because sitting on it almost always meant she was closer to Lexa), and listened for any audible words that they could string together to make sense. Even the smallest noise caused hurried glances to be sent between the two, and always ended in awkward eye contact and the occasional short laugh.
The voice was low and raspy, but somehow still sounded feminine. Clarke found herself trying to put a face to the voice, which was quite silly, considering she'd heard a total of two whole words from the radio.
It was a boring, yet exciting process. Lexa would turn the dial (that Clarke assumed was used to tune the channel), a few sputters of sound would follow, Lexa would turn it farther, and the sound would stop. Rinse and repeat. Clarke was sure she would explode from anticipation if something didn't happen soon.
A full twenty minutes of attempting to separate static from words, and they were doing no better than when they had first started.
"This is useless," Lexa tugged her hand from its entanglement of wires and ran her fingers through her hair. "The signal is too far away for us to pick up."
"Let me try." The blonde suggested, earning a look from Lexa that made her wonder if she had two heads. The blonde stared back, trying to maintain her confidence. Hesitantly, Lexa handed the contraption to Clarke, still sporting a doubtful look.
Clarke stood from the bed as soon as the radio was in her hands and turned the dial until broken words spilled from the speakers. When she was sure the device was tuned to the right station, she lifted the radio high above her head, standing on the tips of her toes to reach maximum height.
The static cut out momentarily (and Clarke almost thought he had broken the thing), but instead of starting again, only words came through.
"I heard... playing... puddle. Must've been... water."
Clarke gasped and sent an excited look towards Lexa, who was picking at her fingernails unhappily. This voice was different than the ones they had been hearing previously; higher pitched and less raspy. But before Clarke could comment on the discovery, a much more familiar voice came on the radio.
"Outside?" The words were clear as day and sent a wave of goosebumps down Clarke's arms. They were talking about the outdoors. And that had to mean something.
This seemed to grab Lexa's attention, and the brunette left her spot on the bed to stand next to Clarke.
"How-" The speaking abruptly stopped and replaced itself with the well-known white noise, making Clarke's eyebrows pull together in bewilderment. (For a moment, she even wondered if Lexa's negative energy had jinxed the progress.)
That couldn't be all that they would get from the machine.
"See? Useless." Lexa muttered, crossing her arms over her chest, probably more from the cold air than from her obvious annoyance.
Clarke didn't think her urge to yell at the girl could grow any stronger. Still, she refused to lower the machine from its position in the air, no matter how much her arms shook from the strain.
"They were talking about going outside." The blonde's voice was monotonous and she thought she felt tears starting to fill her eyes, though she wasn't sure if they were from happiness or sadness. She forced them to stay put, nonetheless.
"That doesn't mean-" Lexa started to say, but stopped when the radio decided to sputter back to life.
"You heard... folks... got the meds... cure radiation. So if you notice... spiderwebs... bring yourself... Arkadia." It sounded, static muffling the voices on the other side. It didn't matter, though. Clarke had heard everything she needed to hear.
Medication to cure radiation.
Arkadia.
If her memory served her, Clarke was sure Arkadia was about fifty miles north, give or take. If they left right then, they could probably make it in a couple days.
She turned to Lexa with determination in her eyes, only to see the brunette had already returned to her bed.
"We can leave," Clarke stated, still in awe over the last few words that came from the radio. "Arkadia's north of here." Lexa tucked her hands under her blanket and sighed heavily.
"You really want to do this?" Her eyebrows were raised suspiciously- or maybe nervously, Clarke couldn't tell. She nodded either way, an involuntary grin spreading across her face.
Surprisingly, Lexa mimicked the expression, though it looked as if she was trying hard to suppress it.
"Can't we stay one more night?" The grin disappeared as quickly as it appeared and replaced itself with a brief look of sadness. For a moment, Clarke wondered if leaving the shelter was a lot harder for the brunette than it seemed.
Thinking back, Clarke had always had a reason to want to leave. Whether it was to find out if her mother was alive, or to get back to life as it used to be, Clarke always had a strong motive to get out of there. And she wondered if Lexa didn't share that same will. Perhaps the brunette knew there was no one waiting for her on the other side. Or maybe it was her plan to stay in the shelter until something- starvation, most likely- took what was left from her, too.
And that thought was enough to make Clarke's breath catch in her throat and break her heart a little in the process. One more night suddenly seemed a lot more doable.
"One more night."
"Raven, you were supposed to be up an hour ago!"
Raven knew that, but the warmth of her blankets and the current quietness of her leg convinced her to go back to sleep. She groaned and pulled the blanket past her eyes, thinking that if she couldn't see Octavia, the younger girl couldn't see her, either. Flawed logic, but it bought her enough time to doze off momentarily before Octavia was yelling again.
"Don't make me drag you out of bed." The girl warned, her tone conveying the endearment that she had obviously tried to hide.
Raven knew Octavia too well to believe it. Because she knew the younger girl would never do anything to hurt her or her lame leg.
She was right, and instead of being pulled from the bed, Raven only felt her blanket being tugged from her face.
"Ten more minutes," Raven mumbled, instinctively covering her eyes with the crook of her arm.
"If you want my help walking to the medical bay, you've got two minutes." Octavia glanced towards the clock on the wall as she zipped a jacket over her chest.
It was a tempting offer. Tempting enough that she propped herself onto her elbows and squeezed one eye shut, allowing them to adjust to the brightness. Her eyes locked on Octavia, who was tying her hair back in a messy ponytail and trying not to roll her eyes at Raven's laziness. The room around her was empty, indicating everyone had already left to start their duties of the day. It never failed to send a warm feeling through Raven's chest when she noticed that Octavia had waited for her.
"You're gonna be late, again." The older girl pointed out, slowly but surely finding her way into an upright position that caused the least amount of pain to spread through her upper leg.
"They're used to it. They might as well start writing my shifts at nine." She huffed and made her way to Raven's side.
"Would that mean I could sleep in until ten?" Raven tested, jokingly. Octavia did roll her eyes, then. The smaller girl grabbed onto Raven's good leg and gently swung it off the edge of the cot, her bad leg following close behind, with a few hurting groans from Raven.
Octavia had been living at the army base long before Raven arrived. She had enlisted in the Navy and was on the brink of finishing boot camp when the base was opened to the public. Considering her primary talents were in combat and war training, two skills unnecessary for the maintenance of a bomb shelter, she was assigned a job as a janitor. Not exactly the most dignifying work, but Raven never heard her complain.
After a compilation of aches and pains, Raven was standing and using Octavia's shoulder as support.
"If you would use your crutches, like you're supposed to, this wouldn't hurt so much." Octavia reminded her, as she did every morning. Raven never listened. She refused to look any more crippled than she already did.
With Octavia as a balance, Raven stepped forward slowly, biting her tongue harder with each movement, in hopes that it would distract her from the discomfort in her knee. She was already wishing she was back in bed. Wishing the beads of sweat would stop forming on her forehead. All before her foot even touched the floor. And when it did, she hopped forward and started again. Definitely not the most efficient (or preferable) method, but it worked for her.
Four minutes later, Raven was at the door. Ten minutes later, she was outside the medical bay. Octavia unwrapped her arm from around Raven's shoulder and patted the upper part of her back, as to silently congratulate her for doing the simple task. But all Raven felt from the gesture was pity.
"I'll see you at lunch. Don't walk back to the room alone." Octavia mothered, which was something Raven had just grown used to since her accident. The taller girl raised to fingers to her forehead and saluted the shorter girl away, using her other hand to push the clinic's door open.
Immediately, she was greeted by a flock of nurses, all doing their best to help her to a bed. She felt like yelling at all of them to leave her alone, but refrained, knowing she couldn't make it to a cot without help.
When she was finally laying down, she was ready for another full night of sleep.
Her usual nurse, Eric Jackson, appeared at her bedside after collecting a hoard of medical supplies to treat her with. He pulled a chair up to her bed and sat down, folding his arms and trying to read Raven's expression.
"You've been taking your antibiotics?" He asked, and all Raven could think was: what a hell of a greeting. She nodded, staring towards the roof to avoid eye contact. She knew what question was coming next. "And the pain meds?"
Unsure of how to respond, she decided that remaining silent was an accurate portrayal of the answer. A stressed sigh came from the nurse and he didn't bother to protest, probably knowing that Raven was far too stubborn to take anyone else's advice. Instead, he took to undoing the brace around her knee, revealing a heap of bandages and tape going up her thigh. She usually tried not to look, but the line of dried blood peeking through the top already gave Raven the answer she had been dreading.
The wounds were still open. She didn't even care what the condition of the injury was, because in her head, open wounds meant she wasn't cleared to go outside, and an infection would have the same consequence.
Jackson continued anyway, unwrapping the cuts and cleaning them with alcohol and ointment.
"Looks good. It's healing well."
Raven didn't understand how actively bleeding sores were considered 'healing well,' but she didn't have the energy to fight.
"How's it feel?" He inquired, wiping away some of the dried blood that covered her knee. Raven shrugged at the question.
"Still hurts like a bitch." She explained, doing her best not to gasp when some of the alcohol would seep into the wounds.
"I'll send your doctor in to look at this, and you'll be on your way." Again, he dodged the idea of forcing painkillers on Raven, knowing she would deny them. He pulled his gloves from his hands and tossed them in the trash, walking out of Raven's view to find her doctor.
She could feel the eyes of the other patients on her, making her wish her leg was covered up. She hated being seen as vulnerable, and when she looked towards the others, all she could see was pity. And it was driving her insane. Had it not been for the fact that her brace was still undone, she would have gotten up and left, despite Octavia's warning not to leave without help.
Raven's mind briefly flashed to her inpatient stay when her leg had become infected; when the only action in her day was when a new patient came in, or when someone would visit her (occasionally when someone came to visit another patient, as long as their conversation was within hearing range for Raven). So, she understood why they stared. Not to mention, her accident had been the talk of the base, probably more troubling than the actual world ending. Her name was well-known, but not for the reason she expected.
Had she ever become famous, she would have assumed it would be from her amazing skills as a mechanic; maybe saving the base from a near disaster with her quick thinking and exceptional knowledge. Instead, she was 'the-girl-who-nearly-died-while-fixing-a-lightbulb'. Talk about ironic.
Her doctor entered the room, donned in a familiar set of blue scrubs, gloves, and a surgical mask. Only familiar because it was one of the last things she remembered seeing before being put to sleep for surgery on her leg.
"Hello, Raven." The woman greeted, pushing the mask off of her mouth and nose so the girl could hear better.
Raven flicked her eyes to the doctor to acknowledge that she heard, but decided not to say anything. She wasn't in the mood for formal greetings, anyways.
"How have you been?" Raven was starting to think that was the only question people were capable of asking her. (And the answer she always gave seemed to be the only response she could muster each time.)
"Fine. Still the same." She said through gritted teeth, fully intending to sound irritated. The woman nodded slowly, glancing down at the wound and back at Raven.
She took Jackson's previous seat and inspected her leg, mumbling medical terms to Jackson, who was writing them meticulously on a clipboard.
"Have you been able to put pressure on it?" The doctor continued, poking and prodding at different spots on Raven's leg, studying her reactions to each movement.
"How else do you think I got here?" Raven almost regretted how insolent she was being, but felt justified with each poke to her leg that sent fire through her veins. The doctor remained silent after that, probably deciding that conversation was not a particular strong suit for Raven that day, and when she finished assessing the damage, she rewrapped the cuts and strapped Raven's brace back on her leg.
"It's healing. The larger cut is still open and bleeding, so you're to stay inside at least until next week." The words made Raven want to yell in frustration, because another week of laying in bed seemed like a death sentence. She bit her tongue, though, deciding to nod, instead.
"However, I can clear you for work, as long as you feel you'll be able to handle it." The woman explained, piquing Raven's interest.
Raven knew she wouldn't be able to handle it, but she'd be caught dead before she turned down the offer. A week inside would be much more tolerable if she didn't spend it wallowing in self-pity behind the walls of her quarters.
"I don't know if that's a good idea. She-" Jackson cut in, stepping forward as he spoke.
"I can do it." Raven stopped him. The doctor didn't have to know that it took Raven fifteen minutes to walk a total of fifty yards to the med bay. And, hell, if she would let her injury hinder her ability to start working again. She would find a way. She always did.
"I can do it." She repeated, this time turning to Jackson with a fierce glare that said 'talk again and I'll kill you'.
"Great. I'll send for Sinclair to reassess you." She pulled her mask back over her mouth and turned to leave, motioning for Jackson to follow.
Raven felt obligated to thank the woman, because she knew she was trying her best to let Raven get back to all her usual activities. And Raven had to be grateful for that. At least she had to pretend to be. Before the doctor was too far away, she called after her.
"Thank you, Dr. Griffin."
A/N: Whaaat! Dr. GRIFFIN? Where have we heard that last name before!? Ha, remember how I said this chapter would be more clexa-centric? Honestly I'm so unreliable, why do I even promise this kind of stuff? But hey! I also said we wouldn't see the new guys for a while, but look who consumed 3/4 of this chapter? I just love Octaven, okay...? Hopefully you'll forgive me 3
Side note: Octavia's "death" killed me. I've never ever cried from a TV show but when Bellamy started crying I couldn't hold it back. I know she's not dead now but I'm still bitter. Kim shumway I'm suing you for my emotional instability. Also for my tuition (;