"So," Santos said, once Octavia was seated in the chair across from her. "How have your first few days been?"

Octavia was silent. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked around the little room. The décor was neutral, calming, generic- nothing personal. It was clearly a room used by many people for many different purposes. She hated it.

"Hey," Santos said gently, drawing her eyes back. "We're here to talk, remember? You don't have to, but it will make things easier."

"Easier for you, you mean," Octavia snapped, feeling like fighting. The last few days had been horrible- people were always whispering about her whenever she entered a room, and kids teased her to her face and behind her back. She didn't know any of the unspoken rules and was terrible at picking up the subtle cues of body language and innuendo. Her only reprieve was her growing friendship with Quin, and the safety of her cell, but she hated that she was yet again restricted to one kind person in one safe, tiny, suffocating space. Octavia was miserable.

Gently Santos interrupted her thoughts, "Easier for both of us. The more you talk, the more I can help you."

"Help me go home, right?" Octavia said, her voice clipped and challenging.

She nodded, forever calm. "That's the plan."

"But when?"

Santos was silent for a long moment, and then she asked, "When do you think would be a good time?" She was always doing that- answering questions with a question. It was incredibly irritating.

"Today," Octavia told her frankly. She compromised just a little and added, "Or tomorrow, at the latest."

"Well, see, I disagree," the woman said, shaking her head a little. "You might be ready- arguably, mind you- to go home, but that's not our aim. Our aim is bigger than sending you back to your brother, back to that room you grew up in. Our aim is to send you into society, and do you really think you're ready for that today, or tomorrow, or even next month?"

Octavia was quiet, knowing she couldn't argue with that, but wanting to- desperately. Finally she tried, "I could learn. Bellamy could teach me."

"He could try," Santos said patiently, nodding her head. "But do you think your brother knows a lot about how to fit into society himself?"

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Well, he may not have been locked in your quarters like you were, but from the way you've described how he looked after you, I get the sense he spent quite a lot of time in there. And maybe even when he was out- at school, say, or at cadets- you have to admit that even to those he was closest with, he would have had to keep the biggest part of his life a secret. His relationships, his behaviour, have never been authentic."

"He's authentic with me," Octavia protested.

To her annoyance, Santos smiled. "Exactly. You were the centre of his world. Right now you're both going through an adjustment to a life you've never expected- one that doesn't include one another. I know it's traumatic."

Octavia let out a long breath, feeling a deep pang in her heart as she thought of Bellamy, of what he might be doing right now. Was he okay without her? She squirmed a little in her seat, not liking that train of thought. Would it be better if he was okay without her, or better if he wasn't? Which would hurt less?

"Remember how we talked about rehabilitation?" Santos asked her gently, once more drawing her from her thoughts. "That's where we prove to the council that you can be a productive member of society on the Ark. Up to now, you haven't been- that's how they see it. But I happen to believe you have an incredible amount of potential."

"Meaning what?" Octavia asked suspiciously.

"Meaning that despite the fact that you've never gone to school, you scored pretty well on those aptitude tests I gave you the other day."

Shrugging a little, Octavia said, "Like I told you, I used to do homework with Bellamy."

"Which is impressive in and of itself," Santos said with a nod. "Considering your age difference."

All of the compliments were making Octavia uncomfortable and she couldn't help but think it was some kind of trap. "Yeah, well, we'll see when I start school next week," she said, trying to deflect.

"And how are you feeling about that?" Santos asked her, rolling with the topic change as she always did. "Nervous? Excited?"

She shifted a little, of course feeling both of those emotions, but also about a thousand others she couldn't necessarily put her finger on. So she just shook her head, saying nothing.

Gently Santos told her, "Half of school is about learning, and half of it is about getting to know other people. You have a good start with Quin, but there will be a lot of other kids there. Lots of different personalities."

Again she couldn't help but think of the overwhelming differences she'd already been introduced to- differences in shapes, sizes, colours, mannerisms… she could only imagine the extent of the varying personalities Santos was talking about. She expected it to be overwhelming, and she was sure it would be.

"It'll be okay," Santos said gently. "Just take it slow, like everything else, and remember to breathe. Some of it will be scary, and some of it will be great. But you have to be patient- nothing happens overnight."

"I'm not good at patience," Octavia complained.

"Are you sure about that?" Santos asked her, with a curious tilt of her head. "Living in a tiny room without much entertainment for almost sixteen years shows an impressive amount of patience, by my estimation."

Shrugging her shoulders, Octavia changed the subject. "How can I get books?"

"What kind of books?" Santos asked her, looking surprised.

"Mythology. My mother used to read it to us, and Bellamy used to retell the stories to me." She felt an ache as she said it, those memories coming back unbidden, making a lump rise in her throat. She swallowed it down and said softly, "They… it would help."

"I'll see what I can do," Santos said gently. "Okay?"

Octavia nodded, but she didn't thank her. Instead she said, "I'm tired. Can I go back to my cell now?"

"Just a little longer," Santos assured her. "Tell me about how things are going with Quin."

"She seems nice," Octavia told her. "Even though she's only being my friend because she thinks it'll keep her from getting floated."

"That's not it," Santos said, shaking her head. "I put you two together so she could help you, that's true, but her being your friend- that's something I hoped for, but not something I forced."

"And will it?" Octavia asked quietly after a moment. "Being my friend, I mean… will it help her?"

"Are you hoping it will?" Santos asked her gently. "You're hoping she won't be floated?"

"Of course I am," Octavia said with a frown. "She's my friend. And also it's just wrong to float people."

"Especially kids," Santos said, her voice soft. She let out a long breath, shaking her head. "Unfortunately, of the ones who've been under my care, I've seen more floated than not."

"That's wrong," Octavia said firmly.

She smiled, her eyes sad. "You won't get any arguments from me."

"So is it you?" Octavia asked her, unable to resist being cruel, feeling like Santos was getting too close. "You said of the kids under your care, most of them have been floated. So maybe it's your fault."

The woman's smile faded a little, and she was silent for a moment. "I often work with the lost causes," she said finally. "I volunteer to take them because half the time they've already been earmarked for floating. I consider saving any of them to be a win. Would I like to save more? Of course I would. But I do what I can… I don't give up on them. Not like everyone else has."

"So is that what I am?" Octavia asked her hesitantly, scared of the answer now. "A lost cause? Has my death sentence already been decided?"

"No," Santos answered firmly. "I wasn't lying to you when I said you have a real chance of getting out of here. I didn't take you because you're a doomed, Octavia. I took you because I wanted to make absolutely sure you had the best possible chance. You deserve it."

Octavia pulled to her feet, twisting her hands together a little, feeling overwhelmed. She paced to the wall, then turned back, leaning against it, feeling a little better with the firm metal behind her. "I really am tired," she said finally.

Santos watched her for a moment and then stood as well, nodding her head. "That's okay, I think this is a good place to stop anyway. But think about what we've talked about, and I'll see you next time."

Nodding her head, Octavia left the little office and went to the guard who was to escort her back to her cell. She kept her distance from him as they walked, still nervous around guards, wary of their motives. Mostly they reminded her of the men who'd hurt her mother, though the uniform simultaneously gave her a strange pang of longing for Bellamy. He ignored her, which she felt was preferable to anything else he might have said or done.

Once she was back in her cell, she closed her eyes, bracing herself for the click of the lock behind her. Despite the fact that she knew she was safe here, being unable to leave never ceased to make her feel claustrophobic. Once the door was locked, she pulled in a few long breaths, letting them out slowly, before she finally opened her eyes again, trying to relax herself by sheer force of will.

"You alright there?" Quin asked dryly from her bed, putting down the book she'd been reading and arching an eyebrow.

"I'm fine," Octavia said shortly, going to her bed, flopping down on the mattress. She stared up at the ceiling, at the screws in the panels she'd counted a hundred times. There were ninety-three of them. She worked her fingers together, reassuring herself with the clenching of her hands. "Santos talks too much."

Quin giggled, nodding her head. "You can say that again. Just take one of her colouring books. Then at least you can do something while she goes on and on."

"What colouring books?" Octavia asked, confused.

"She has all these books full of calming pictures and stuff all in black and white, and she'll give you some coloured pens to fill them in," Quin explained. "She says it soothes the mind."

It sounded like fun, like something Octavia might actually enjoy, but she just shrugged and said, "Well, she's never offered me one."

Quin smiled wryly at her. "She must think your mind is calm enough. Mine, however, is always spinning."

"Is that why you talk so much?" Octavia asked her, equally wry. That earned her a pillow sailing through the air towards her head, but she caught it and threw it right back, giggling a little, feeling her chest loosen the tiniest bit- feeling just a little less alone. Whatever else, it was nice to have a friend.