Quinn awakens to the sight of Clarke hovering over Jasper, Monty's hand still in her own, and she immediately breaks off from him and elicits distance. Her eyes never leave the sight of the blonde and the brunette. Before too long Monty is seating himself near a lantern aside a pile of bracelets, albeit with reluctance, and she is pressed against the wall as she looks over Clarke's ministrations.
"His pulse is 380," Clarke mumbles, all eyes on her watch. Calls of complaint echo up towards where they are from the ground, and she leans in towards Jasper, the fall of her hair masking her lips, but Quinn can hear anyway.
"Don't listen to them. You're gonna make it through this, okay? Promise." Her knuckles brush against the small of his temple, and Quinn smiles softly at the sight. It leaves some sort of warmth in her chest that she's worried for him, determined to get him through this.
It seems that Clarke can tell the two of them are awake and listening, as she turns towards Quinn and Monty in a hesitant manner.
"I'm gonna get clean water; you both keep an eye on him."
Without another word she descends the ladder, and Quinn is left to recall breathing techniques as she presses against the wall. Her sleep has been fitful, and hasn't left her much rested. She's sure Monty knows, since he's been inside the dropship the whole time. If she's mumbled or turned in her sleep he's sure to have heard it.
Quinn settles in next to Jasper's bed, reaching out to brush back strands of hair from his forehead. With her other hand she grips his own, continuing to run her fingers through his hair as she begins to hum. Something remotely hopeful and comforting, and she doesn't realize her volume increases in tandem with Jasper's painful groan.
Monty stills in his seat, torn between wanting to join the two and give them space. After a full minute of Quinn's humming he stands upright, seating himself next to her. She doesn't look over at him.
"Quinn, he's going to be fine." At this point he doesn't know whether he's saying it more for himself or her. "You need to relax, get some rest."
Her brown eyes look over Jasper once more before coming in close to Monty's gaze, still not meeting them for a second.
"How can I?"
He's spared an answer by Clarke coming back up the ladder, hints of sunlight peeking out enough to illuminate sections of wall below. She kneels beside Jasper, slowly taking off his bandages with a tight line across her lips. At her side Quinn does nothing but offer silent company, watching as the poultice is removed achingly slow. She knows basic first aid but nothing close to what her mother undoubtedly knew.
A confused noise escapes Clarke's lips. "The grounders cauterized the wound, saved his life."
The injury isn't bleeding, like Quinn had thought initially; instead there's a fine layer of ooze around angry, singed skin. From everything Clarke had told her it was a miracle the spear hadn't just gone straight through to his heart.
"Saved his life so they could string him up like live bait."
Finn paces across the room and Quinn curls her fist. If he's going to be pessimistic he can leave; there's no reason for him to be in the room aside from the blonde at her side. Monty says nothing, simply resuming his work with an irritated grimace on his face.
"This is infected. It could be septic." Clarke notes before looking over at him. "Any progress on the wristbands?"
He's silent, and when Quinn looks up at him she realizes he's staring off towards Jasper's wound, eyes unfocused and hands slightly trembling.
"Monty!"
"...That would be a firm no."
Clarke lets out a frustrated sigh, gritting her jaw before turning to Quinn. At the same time Wells enters the room, looking as worried as Quinn feels.
"Do you know of any native plants with antibacterial properties?"
"The only ones I'm somewhat confident we'd be able to find are different lichens. Fruticose moss is an antibiotic, Sphagnum moss is an antiseptic. Though I don't know how effective they'll be; I know plants, not medicine."
When she looks up at Clarke she realizes that most of the words that came out of her mouth probably sound like gibberish to anyone but Monty, but the blonde simply nods to herself before sucking in a breath. Surprisingly, the next person to speak is Wells.
"Quinn and I can take a look at the poultice, see what we can figure out." He inclines his head at her bewildered expression. "You're the plant expert here but I also aced Botany in Earth Skills."
Clarke cuts in abruptly: "As long as you can identify the moss, Quinn. For now, I need you here...to help hold him down."
A knife is in her hands, an apprehensive look on her face, and as she presses it to the small fire to attempt to disinfect it Quinn casts a stern nod to both Finn and Wells. She moves to lay Jasper's head on her thighs, kneeling forward so she can press down on his shoulders. The boys take their respective positions, and Clarke hovers the hot blade over the wound on his chest.
"I have to try and cut away the infected flesh," She breathes, talking more to herself than the others.
"You can do this," Quinn replies, injecting as much confidence as she can into her voice.
Clarke gives her one grateful glance before slowly pressing the blade into Jasper's skin, and immediately he begins bucking and screaming underneath their hands. If the camp didn't hate his sounds before they certainly do now, and Quinn knows that they'll be permanently etched inside of her brain. She doesn't have time to be sad, though; it's taking a considerable amount of force for her to keep him still enough to let Clarke do what she needs to do, and she bites her lip as tears spill from Jasper's eyes onto her pants. Even if they had something handy for him to bite down onto it won't do any good; he's not even lucid and there's the very real threat of him hurting himself or damaging his teeth.
She begins voicing reassurances at him, hoping that somewhere in his subconscious he can hear them.
"Stop it! You're killing him."
Octavia has flown into the room like a whirlwind, sprawling down beside Clarke, and Quinn grips tightly to Jasper's shoulders as he sinks back to unconsciousness and the knife is removed.
"She's saving his life," She says, ashamed of the way her voice cracks on the last syllable.
"She can't."
Of course Bellamy's decided to show up and be a dick, she thinks, and Quinn gently lays Jasper's head down before going to stand up in his path.
"You can't fight me in your sorry state," He says coldly.
She grips the hilt of the shiv in her pocket in response. "Watch me."
"He's a lost cause, and he's making people crazy. It's time to make the hard call, since nobody else seems capable of doing it."
"And if it was Octavia lying there?"
He pauses, eyes darkening. "She's not."
"It's the same thing to me. Get out, before I make you regret it."
There's only white hot fury running through her veins, and she briefly registers that Wells has gotten up to stand beside her, ready to mediate should things turn violent. She's not in top form, not anywhere close, but Quinn's not going to stand idly by while Bellamy boldly threatens Jasper's life.
"This isn't the Ark," Clarke adds in. "Down here every life matters."
Bellamy shakes his head before heading towards the ladder, giving Quinn one last, heavy look.
"He's a lost cause. If he's not better by tomorrow I'm killing him myself. Octavia, let's go."
The brunette doesn't move, or even look away from Jasper's face as she responds. Whatever's going on between her and Bellamy makes Quinn somewhat thankful, because it's shown that despite the line being drawn she's on their side. On Jasper's side.
"I'm staying here."
A decent chunk of the tension in the room is sucked out as Bellamy slips out of sight, and Quinn presses a hand to her head, fingertips massaging her temples. All the adrenaline and anger has already started to brew a headache, and the fact she hasn't slept hardly at all is not helping matters. Wells returns to his place, and Quinn turns at a warm hand on her shoulder, coming face to face with an absolutely livid Monty.
"Power-hungry, self-serving jackass. He doesn't care about anyone but himself." He pauses before glancing at Octavia. "No offense."
"Yeah, Bellamy is all that...but he also happens to be right."
Quinn, entirely done with the bullshit that's gone on in the last twenty four hours, marches right up to Finn and drags him up by his shirt collar before pushing him towards the ladder. She shrugs off the few hands that try and pull her back, chest heaving as she takes in deep breaths.
"Out, Finn. I'm at the end of my rope here."
She says nothing else, small tremors coursing through her body from anger, and squeezes her eyes shut. Finn takes a look around the room before silently obliging. Nobody speaks for a few minutes, until Monty hesitantly presses a hand against her back, morse code dotting with his fingertips.
"Quinn, you need to get some rest." Clarke's words leave no room for debate. "You're worn out. Take a look at the poultice and then sleep."
If any of them are expecting resistance they're surprised; Quinn simply nods before pressing herself against one of the walls. She slides down, pulling her feet up close to her chest. Monty gives her one last worried look before heading back over to the bracelets. There's a few seconds of silence before Wells seats himself beside her, worry written plainly across his face while he holds the poultice before them.
"She's right. How much sleep have you gotten in the last two days?"
Quinn lets out a half-hearted snort, feeling somewhat embarrassed as Clarke joins, albeit a larger distance away from Wells.
"Less than eight, cumulatively."
Instead of sitting back to listen to chastising from the both of them she takes the poultice, running her fingers over the plant matter embedded. It's obvious in seconds it's not lichen, like she's originally suggested. Nostalgia hits her hard, and she wants to laugh as memories of her first meeting Jasper and Monty come back like a ton of bricks.
"Rhodophyta seaweed," She says weakly, slamming her head back on the hull of the dropship.
"Seaweed?" Clarke repeats in confusion.
Wells looks over the poultice before nodding in agreement. "No root structure. The water it's in is probably more red than green."
"I know where we can find it."
Clarke gets up to leave, but before she can storm off Quinn frowns and waves a hand in Wells' direction.
"Take him with you. He knows what it looks like, and honestly you were right; I need to sleep."
The blonde hesitates for a moment, obviously torn between having to spend time with Wells and her concern for Quinn's wellbeing. In the end she shoves down her spite, simply nodding before walking out with him in tow. With most of the people in the room vacated it's easy to feel the fatigue weighing down her limbs, and Quinn lets out a sigh and presses her head back against the metal, completely oblivious to the pointed look Octavia is trying to shoot Monty. He ignores it completely.
It's after barely a few hours when she wakes again, a hand holding out her sachet of water, now full. She's wondering if she's still dreaming when she notices it's Octavia.
"I hope you feel better than you look," The brunette jokes, and Quinn grimaces.
"A bit. How long was I asleep? And how is he?"
She doesn't have to clarify who; Octavia glances back over at Jasper.
"Only for a couple hours...and, still kickin'."
"He better be."
Monty has moved from his seat near the bracelets, now doing his best to mop up the sweat that Jasper seems to be producing constantly. Clarke and the gang must not be back yet, else Quinn's sure there'd be a lot more bodies in the room. She downs half of the water, trying to shake the sleep from her limbs, and stills when she notices Octavia cracking her knuckles nervously.
"I'm sorry about my brother."
It's an apology that's meant to encompass all of Bellamy's actions so far; the single glance at Quinn's temple confirms it. After a heavy sigh through her nose the ginger gets up on two feet, wincing through stretches.
"It's not your fault. I'm sure somewhere in his brain he's doing what he thinks is right." She hesitates. "Still, I'm not letting him or anyone else kill Jasper."
Octavia nods. "I know, and I'm right there with you."
Quinn's words of relieved thanks are cut off by a torrent of people flooding into the room, hastily closing up hatches and making everything nearly airtight. Amidst fitful coughs Monty looks up, panicked, and asks what's going on.
"The air got thick, everybody's skin started burning."
Octavia casts a wild look at Quinn, concern and panic building up. "Bellamy's out there."
"Hey," She grabs the brunette's arm. "He's going to be fine, okay? He may be stubborn but he's smart; he'll find cover. We're all going to be fine."
Despite the comforting tone and impassive face, Quinn is actually beside herself with worry. Partially because Clarke and Wells are out there, but mostly because there are now too many bodies in the room, and she has no idea if Bellamy's idea of putting Jasper out of his misery has spread throughout camp.
Her shiv is still in her pocket, and despite being battered to hell she can at least land a good elbow or kick. She's thankful Octavia woke her when she did.
Many anxious hours later Quinn is pacing around the room while Octavia tends to Jasper, Monty on the level below to get a drink. Most of the others are down there as well, driven away at the sound of Jasper's pained moans.
There's no way to tell if the fog's cleared, or exactly how much time has passed, and it's making her so on edge she wants to scream. They can't open a hatch, otherwise it'll get in. There's nothing to do but wait.
She's tried to focus her thoughts on planning -gathering different materials to aid in building and fortification of a wall, what types of plants she can harvest seeds from based on what she's seen already. Gathering sand and charcoal to make filtration systems for the water. Quinn's already run through them a hundred times at this point, and now she's biting her fingernail and probably digging a rut where she paces.
Much-needed distraction comes finally, but not in the way she expects: Monty is climbing up the ladder as fast as he can manage, shuffled sounds from beneath him.
"Murphy's gonna kill Jasper!"
Quinn's there in seconds, hefting him up the rest of the space into the room, and between her and Octavia they slam the lid of the hatch down, a sick cracking sound emanating. Murphy bellows, withdrawing his hands from between the metal as quickly as he can, and Quinn presses all of her weight onto the hatch.
"You broke my goddamn hand, you bitch!"
"Monty!" Quinn calls. "Find something to wedge in here; the lock's on his side."
From below Murphy continues to yell. "I'm gonna kill you, Quinn! And both of your friends!"
Monty is having some trouble trying to extricate a piece of metal piping from the hull, and after a brief glance up Octavia rushes over to aid him. The lid is bouncing up down, and it finally lifts up enough that Murphy's unbroken fingers are able to clamp down on Quinn's thigh, right in the space where the river monster wounded her. She lets out a pained yell, ignoring the way the fabric of her pants is once again slick with blood, kicking furiously below as he tries to pull her down. One kick lands, boot meeting flesh, and it's enough that she can hoist herself back onto the level and begin trying to slam the lid back down.
In seconds Octavia is there as Murphy peeks his head up, bloodlust in his eyes, and she repeatedly kicks the boy back down to the level below. Once the latch is shut Monty rushes over, sliding the metal through.
"Open this fucking hatch right now!"
The three of them let out a collective sigh, Quinn grimacing at the pain in her leg.
"What a day," She says weakly, and both Monty and Octavia let out half-hearted chuckles. "I need some cloth to rewrap this."
Monty immediately heads over to a corner of the room, and Octavia helps Quinn sidle out of her pants, frowning at the sight of her leg. Under normal circumstances Quinn would feel somewhat embarrassed (an understatement if there ever was one), but in this moment she just thinks about the fact she doesn't want to get sepsis like Jasper. Monty drops the shreds of fabric, and between Octavia and him they're able to get a tight binding around the wound, enough that the blood is fairly halted.
With a loud exhale Quinn rests her sweat-slicked forehead against Monty's shoulder, and unbeknownst to her Octavia shoots him a small thumbs up.
While he does give her back a smile, he doesn't feel hopeful. Quinn's always been one for physical affection, from both him and Jasper. It doesn't change things and it doesn't make them different. For him, right now, the more pressing matter is her wound reopening.
Later, after the fog has cleared and the rest of the delinquents in the dropship are outside tending to the camp, Quinn sits alone with Monty looking after Jasper. Octavia has left to keep an eye out for if Clarke or Bellamy have returned, and the pipe is still affixed in place. He glances over at it before resuming his work on the bracelets.
"You know, when my grandmother told me stories about Earth," Quinn begins softly, adopting a joking tone. "The last that I expected was acid fog, native inhabitants, and giant snakes."
"Life finds a way," Monty replies. "And so will we. Once I get these bracelets able to transmit, and Jasper's better, and you're not a walking punching bag everything will be fine."
Quinn doesn't know if he intended for it to sound like a dark joke but she laughs anyway. It's a hefty list, one that feels heavier the more stupid things happen. She wishes there was moonshine to help take the edge off, though she reminds herself that if they make an established base it'll come with time.
Wrangling her hair back up into a bun she smiles softly, cleaning up Jasper's face with the rag once more.
"He better be okay soon; I need my hair braided and for it not to look like shit."
Monty smiles warmly at her, and despite how rough the entire last few days have been Quinn feels tears well up in her eyes from happiness.
Quinn finds Wells exactly where she expects him to; seated on the outskirts of camp, in close proximity to where Atom's body is buried. He's staring up at the stars, tensing up upon hearing the footfalls, but after realizing who it is he just settles back. There's a small smile on his face. Quinn seats herself next to him, brows raised.
"I think that's the first smile you've cracked since we've been down here. Maybe longer."
His smile increases, and he palms his hands together before replying.
"She forgave me."
"For lying about getting her dad floated?" At his surprised look Quinn continues. "I told you; it's obvious from the way you look at her. I'm happy for you, man."
"And how's Jasper?"
Quinn doesn't know when the last time her muscles have felt less tense, and she stretches her arms over her head. It's her turn to grin fully, and she doesn't bother hiding it.
"Woke up a little bit ago, asked for some of that whiskey you guys brought back." She laughs. "So I guess you could say he's doing alright."
The sun is coming up over the trees, the sky a myriad of pinks, yellows, and purples. She's aware how rare a moment like this is; a moment of hopefulness and respite, and she clings to the feeling. She wanted to come out to make sure Wells was alright, but now, with both of them sitting in languid silence, she's content to let it steep comfortably.
It's weird, some things. How if someone told her she'd be sitting next to the Chancellor's son, actually caring for his wellbeing, she'd have told them they were crazy. Now, in all honesty, he's ingratiated himself into the circle of people Quinn truly cares for. They do make a good team, after all. Both avoidant to conflict, born from leaders despite not wanting to take up the inherited role.
The sounds of birds and owls are broken by soft footfalls, and Quinn turns to see a small girl making her way towards the both of them. Strawberry-blonde hair is braided tightly against her head, dirt and a few scrapes across her skin. Quinn doesn't recognize her, but from the anxious look in the girl's eyes it's obviously been a nightmare that's shaken her awake, and the ginger pats the space next to her. She can recognize the look in an instant, and it makes her briefly wonder if that same expression is what Monty has seen when she's awoken after fitful sleep.
Her apprehension only manifests after the girl looks hesitant, but she seats herself down all the same.
"Hi."
When Quinn says nothing Wells offers up: "Couldn't sleep?"
"I never can. I had a nightmare."
Something about the girl raises Quinn's hackles, every nerve in her body crying out in alarm, and once again Wells speaks up, asking to elaborate on the nightmare. Even in the dim light of the forest her eyes darken, and Quinn's own finally land on a glint of metal, held so tightly by the girl her fist is shaking. She hasn't hidden it well.
"I think I found a way to make them stop."
Quinn's moving before she can even think about it, pinning the small child beneath her in a restraint, taking care to not dislodge or break any bones. Wells is there in an instant, trying to pull her off amongst yells.
"Look at what's in her hand, Wells!"
From beneath her palms the girl is sobbing and shouting that she's sorry, and the moment of quiet from Wells is all Quinn needs to know he's seen the shiv she's been holding. He lets out a disbelieving breath, palming a hand through his hair. The brief moment of blissful contentment feels hours away.
"We have to let Clarke know about this." At his hesitant silence Quinn continues angrily. "She tried to kill you."
"We don't know that for a fact."
"Wells!"
It takes a few seconds for him to inhale deeply before nodding, squeezing his eyes shut. At his side his fists are clenched shut with slight tremors making them shake, and though Quinn wants to press a hand to his shoulder or give him comforting words she can't; she's holding an attempted assassin in her arms.
Jerking the girl to her shaky feet Quinn begins steering her back towards camp, confiscating the shiv for herself.
"Let's go."
Note:
Hey, hi, hello.
I'm not dead, life's just been kicking my ass and writing has been slow-going. The next chapter is 70% done and I'm hoping to get it out within the next month. Appreciate your patience.
As is evident from this story's description, Wells lives. This is the first major divergence from canon and I'm afraid it's only going to get more off-course the longer we go. I'm excited. That being said, this chapter is stilted and not exactly where I'd like it, but I feel like I've kept y'all waiting long enough. Will probably go back through at some point and edit again but who knows.
My love and thanks to TwilightEclps and MerryLimp for the reviews. Kind of wild that this fic has 11 favs and follows despite being so young and not the typical BellamyxOC fic. I appreciate it.
Title credit goes to Maps by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs.