In the darkness, I nod at her, even as I try not to let the tears waiting in my eyes fall. When she inches her head closer to mine in the darkness, I hold still for her, my breath catching in my chest. Her lips, lush and soft and perfect, touch mine in the barest way possible, ghosting over my own as much as touching them. I don't move, letting her take what she needs and not pushing for anything more. The girl's breath, heavy and smelling like mint toothpaste and whatever lingering scent it is she always has about her that smells and tastes like Octavia and Octavia alone, is beckoning me forward, but I stay put.
"Is there something here, between you and me… or is this just how it is between everyone else?" Her husky voice whispers, lips touching mine with every word in the dark.
I can't help but let out a huff, or maybe a groan at that. I want nothing more than to taste her lips again, but once they oblige, moving forward just that hair width it took to connect with my own, I realize that I keep going, I'd hurt her. She is laying here with stitches holding together the delicate skin between her legs that had been ripped open just this morning by a monster. If I don't control myself around her, I'll be a type of monster too, even if that isn't how she sees things. She needs to heal. She needs to be taken care of. She needs to be comforted. She doesn't need me confusing her or leading her into something she can't possibly be ready for right now.
My lips press against hers in the most careful way possible for only a moment before I inch back a couple inches and away from her. "This isn't how it is with everyone else." I finally settle on saying, almost too low for her to probably hear. "Get some rest. You need to be more careful with moving until you've had time to heal. You could rip the stitches. It's a miracle you didn't earlier."
Her breath comes out in a huff from in front of me in the pitch blackness. Annoyed maybe or flustered? I wait for her to say something, but she doesn't. When I move again, just to get more settled and comfortable, her hand grasps at my shoulder in the dark, not pulling or grabbing me exactly, but just maintaining the contact between us there. I reach up and put my own hand over her's, hoping to reassure her. "I'm not going anywhere, Octavia."
"You promise?" She asks, doubt and hope intermixing in her voice.
I sigh and lean closer to her again, re-situating myself one more time to a position I think I can go to sleep comfortably in with my body curled around the other girl. She's laying curled up once again in that same position as she's been in most of the day. It must be the least painful way to hold herself. "I promise." This time I stay awake much longer than she does, tracing little patterns into the skin on her upper arm and thinking about murder.
I wake to a gentle tapping at my back and turn, careful not to wake the girl on the side of the narrow bed closer to the wall. Her hand is thrown over my ribcage in her sleep. Slowly, I take my own hand off her shoulder and look over to where Bellamy is kneeling down on the floor next to my head. He brings his finger up to his mouth in the universal hush sign and I gently nod as I extricate myself as carefully and gently as possible. She stays asleep as Bellamy helps pull me up and we walk over as far from her as we can into the small bathroom.
"I got a message from Commander Shumway about ten minutes ago. He's ticked that I didn't show up for guard shift."
I shake my head at him, tensing. "No. My mother gave a quarantine order. Shumway knows you aren't allowed to leave for at least twenty four hours after the symptoms are gone and you've thoroughly showered to prevent spread."
Bellamy lets out a huff and shrugs. "I know, but he's saying his command overrides that. I'm supposed to report in twenty minutes with a medical mask or I'll face a disciplinary order."
My mind races. Shumway can't override a medical quarantine. That's basic structural hierarchy in the Ark. He wanted Bellamy out of here. He must be worried that he knows. If Bellamy found out what happened to Octavia, he'd go on a rampage through the Ark for Shumway. Whether he was successful or not, it'd get him killed, along with Octavia because of the investigation afterwards. Their floor trick is good, but it wouldn't hold up to a full investigation of their quarters after a crime like murder. Once Octavia was discovered, Aurora's death sentence would come quick. On the other hand, Shumway must be sweating bullets too. Bellamy coming at him is no small thing, but even in the likely event that Bellamy was stopped, as soon as Octavia is discovered, so is what Shumway did to her. The Blakes would have nothing to lose at that point, so they'd make sure to bring him down with them. Shumway would know that as well as Octavia and their mother and me.
My first instinct is to message my mom. She would certainly have something to say about Shumway trying to override her direct order. I wouldn't be surprised if she had him drug straight to the council for insubordination and knowingly exposing others to a possible pathogen- something the council takes very, very seriously. It wouldn't get him floated, but it could be enough to possibly get him demoted.
On the other hand, he doesn't know that I'm here. Not for sure, at least. Aurora saw to that and he would probably be sure she she didn't know his plan to force Bellamy from their quarters. I glance back at Octavia's curled up sleeping form in the bed. What the fuck was he planning? He couldn't possibly be planning to hurt her again after yesterday, could he? Did he see the damage he inflicted on her yesterday? Did he care? Was he planning on just threatening or intimidating her into silence?
"Go." I finally look back up to Bellamy to tell him, knowing that if he knew any part of what is going on here, he'd never forgive me. For a moment he looks at me questioningly, like he senses something more is going on, but just doesn't have all the pieces to to it together. He isn't dumb, after all. Octavia is just a damn good actress when it comes to covering her pain in front of him. I wonder what he's thinking behind those eyes. The color is so dark that they're almost as black as the pupils, so different than his sister's. Where hers are mischievous and spirited, his are warm and protective. Bellamy must have gotten his eyes from their mother.
"Is something wrong, Clarke?" He asks me softly, his tone gentle, as his eyes stare into mine, as though he could see the fear simmering right under the surface of my own. He loves his family so much that he'd go to his death, if I told him the truth, without a second thought. He deserves better than me lying to him, really, but he deserves to live even more. Still, he's not dumb. The longer we just stand here, with him searching my eyes, the more likely it it that he'll find something he shouldn't.
I do the only thing I can't think of and kiss him. As my lips surge forward to meet his, my arms wind around his neck. For the shortest moment, he freezes in surprise, but then his lips are moving against mine and his muscular arms come up to hold me, at first on the shoulders, then the waist, as they slide down my ribcage, exploring and searching. His mouth takes my breath away and I gasp, giving him access to my mouth and he takes the opportunity to slide his tongue inside. He tasks like toothpaste and nothing at all like anyone I've ever kissed before…warm and indulgent and nearly reminiscent of the chocolate I had once years ago. Before I know it, he has me pushed into the doorframe and is devouring my mouth for all it's worth, his grip on my hips needy and tight. I moan involuntarily as our tongues dance and his huge frame pushes into mine. I can feel the muscles through his shirt on his no doubt chiseled chest and it's got my body responding involuntarily to his in a way that feels sinful as my underwear quickly become slick.
My hands hold his face, grab into his unruly curls, run back down to his muscular shoulders, but none of it feels like enough. I feel like a woman possessed with no idea what the hell I'm doing, let alone thinking…at least beyond the feel of his growing hardness at my stomach and the desperate need to find some friction in my core. He must be on board with that plan though, because the next thing I know he has me lifted by the ass until I'm wound around him and I can feel his hardness right where I'm craving it next. God, he might not have any plans to ever marry, but he must have had his fair share of experience with girls from somewhere because this man has skills like no one I've ever kissed could fathom. He tastes nothing like his sister— oh God- his sister.
I tear my face away from his and he leans forward into my chest to catch his breath as I try to breathe. His hot breath is making my skin prickle right through my shirt but I feel like I've had a bucket of cold water dumped on my head at the realization of what I was doing and the multiple people that I was apparently doing it with.
Shit…just shit. Octavia could probably even hear us if she's awake yet. What is she going to think about this? What is Bellamy thinking? What are we doing?
The horror must show on my face, as I look up at Bellamy, who is now staring at me in confusion and I can see both us reflected in the mirror over the sink…along with one very awake Octavia Blake standing just outside the doorframe. Even as I try to untangle myself from her brother as she watches us in the mirror, I can see her smirking and rolling her eyes. I've never moved away from another person so quickly.
"O!" Bellamy huffs smoothing his hair out and leaning back into the wall to give me more space. "Seriously? Can't we get just a little bit of privacy in here?"
Octavia raises her eyebrows and actually chuckles at him. I know the shock must be written all over my face as she quite literally waves the convoluted situation off with one arm like it was the most normal thing in the world to expect and Bellamy squirms past her in the narrow doorframe.
"Not when you're blocking the bathroom. I need to go." Bellamy finishes getting out of her way at that, but I'm still frozen in place. Octavia walks the rest of the way into the small room and smirks up at me again, shaking her head at me. "Figures I'd have to share you with Bellamy. Story of our lives though, I guess."
Until that moment, I didn't think it was possible for my eyes to bug out any bigger than they already were, but I was wrong. I can feel my jaw go a little slack and I know I should say something to her- to both of them, but no sound will come out and every word I've ever learned seems to disappear in my throat.
"Come on, Clarke." Bellamy finally says gently, pulling me from my place so that Octavia could use the bathroom without an audience. As soon as the door is shut, he turns me to face him and holds both of my hands in his own bigger ones gently as our eyes finally connect. "You don't have to decide anything right now. We can talk when I get home from work."
My jaw opens and shuts several times until I finally manage to pull it together enough to speak, even if it does come out as more of a speak than anything else. "You- you…this is okay with you?"
Bellamy takes a breath. "Well, it's not what I would want in a normal…but no matter what at least one of us would be alone…so I guess if you're willing…". He takes a deep breath in, clearing thinking hard even as he glances at the time and cringes. "We can talk about this later. I gotta go."
I nod, still breathless and flustered and shocked at both siblings, even as my mind races for what Shumway might be planning to do as soon as he's gone. "O?" I ask, my voice hesitant through the door, walking that careful line between being loud enough where she might be able to hear without risking the neighbors hearing me as well.
The door to the bathroom opens and I'm greeted with the younger Blake sibling brushing her teeth and looking at me expectantly. She's dressed in the same loose threadbare dress and legging pants she wore yesterday and to bed and her hair is unbrushed and messy from sleeping and she's standing under the unflattering florescent lights on the tiny bathroom, but she's gorgeous. The kind of gorgeous that doesn't need decent clothes, or her hair styled, or any type of lighting that me and pretty much any other human needs to look at all appealing. I suck in a deep breath through my nose to calm myself, needing to concentrate.
"Shumway might be trying to make a move. He's trying to cancel medical orders now to get your brother to come in."
Octavia leans over to spit the toothpaste out and rinse her mouth out. "He's nervous. Do you think Bellamy is safe?"
The hairs on the back of my neck rise up at the question. It didn't occur to me that Shumway might try to go after Bellamy, but it's possible he could orchestrate some sort of 'accident' on duty. I bite my lip, considering, before deciding to send a quick message to my mom telling her about Shumway ordering Bellamy to defy quarantine. I have no doubt it'll get her attention, but this is also her day to do elective procedures- cataract surgeries, implant removals, anything that can be scheduled ahead of time. Her schedule is bound to be packed and it could be hours before she even sees the message on her tablet to know.
I need a plan. But I need to document what he did first, in case things go south. "He'll be okay. Shumway's already going to be in trouble as soon as my mom sees this message, but I need to document what he did to you before, just in case things go south. Push comes to shove, it will guarantee that he can't take you down without taking himself down with you.
Octavia clenches her jaw and sucks in a big breath through her nose, but nods, moving to take her clothes off as quickly and efficiently as possible. I avert my eyes while she does, trying to be as respectful as possible, even though she shows no sign of being afraid of me. When it's all off, I kneel down, taking pictures of each bruise- both the nearly healed ones and the new, ugly dark ones- on her hip, her thigh, her collarbone and the tiny infected puncture wound on her butt cheek that nearly took her life.
"What was it that made that puncture wound?" I wonder aloud.
Octavia turns her head to look down at me over her shoulder. "The metal tongue on his belt buckle. The asshole slammed me into the floor and just unbuckled it, but didn't pull it off, so it kept digging into my skin. When I almost got away, he slammed his hips into me and the metal cut into me at the same time. Didn't even notice until he was done and there was blood on it. Bastard."
My eyes go a little wide at the incredibly unwelcome visual that invades my brain at the explanation. I wanted to kill him before, but if there was any question about it, I'm quite sure that I'll be able to sleep just fine knowing that I murdered that man afterwards. I grit my teeth and nod, not trusting myself to reply to something like that. She doesn't need me making her feel worse and I have nothing reassuring to say, just anger, even if it's directed at the same person hers is.
I motion for her to move her leg, needing to get a picture of the actual stitch site to leave absolutely no room for argument as to what happened. She obliges, but I don't miss the shakiness that comes over her as soon as she's exposed. I get the picture as quickly as possible and stand back up, handing her back her dress and backing up to give her space.
She's looking past rather than at me as she takes the dress, robotically pulling it on over her head and shifting it into place. Her face gives nothing away, loosening into an expression I can only describe as numb. I want to give her a hug...do anything to comfort her, but I know Shumway could barge in any time and I need get this uploaded now before it's too late.
Feeling incredibly uneasy, I pull out my tablet once again and open up an old medical file under a man's name who's been dead for sixty-three years, uploading the photos of Octavia's abused body into it. Once they're safely uploaded, I quickly type in descriptions and notes on each to leave no room for argument or interpretation. Then I delete the photos from my tablet, where they might be subject to search otherwise. Next, I send a message to Aurora Blake with the name of the dead man and the words "He'll back you up. " I want to explain it more thoroughly to her. She'll likely have no idea what to do with the name alone, but I can't risk it. Messages are always open to searches under any suspicion of a crime and Shumway is one of the most senior guardsmen. To think he isn't watching her messages when he's nervous enough to try to override a quarantine would be delusional. Fortunately, even if he reads the name, he'll only pull up the dead man's standard file, not his medical file. Medical files are one of the few things on the Ark not open to search. Only doctors can access those and my mother has never liked Shumway anymore than I have. He'd have a hard time getting one to do anything for him.
"Does Shumway know where your hiding spot is?" I ask, turning on the feature of my doctor's tablet that's meant to be used to assist in operations, live streaming and recording based on movement, all of which will be automatically uploaded into the dead patient's file. All I have to do is push the button for it to start recording sound and visual. Every operation is recorded this way, just to ensure that any mistakes are documented, along with how much of any medications are used, and if there are any abnormalities found for future reference. I then take an extra moment to turn off and disable the sound recording.
"He knows we have one in here somewhere. He came in the first time without knocking and I thought it was Bellamy. I didn't have time to get under the floor or to do anything. That was only a couple days after inspection though, so he must've suspected somehow."
I nod at her, thinking. "Okay, go ahead and hide. I'm so sorry, but you need to stay there until either Bellamy comes here or Shumway does. No matter what happens, no matter what you hear, you can't come out. You have to wait. I'll get you out as soon as it's safe."
"What about you?" Octavia's eyes bug out a big as she asks, grabbing my elbow even as I turn away from her to set up the tablet with the angle that I'll need. I know that she's afraid then, for me more so than herself.
"Don't worry about me. I have a plan." Octavia doesn't look at all appeased.
"Clarke-"
"Shumway can't touch me." I interrupt her before she can argue and pour all the confidence in my voice that I can muster. "I'm a doctor from alpha station with two council member parents. Even he's not that stupid."
Slowly and still very clearly unsure, she nods, leaning forward to hug me tightly for a moment before moving the desk and scurrying into tight gap beneath the floor no more than eighteen inches deep and two feet wide by maybe five feet long. I feel claustrophobic as the sight as I cover her back up and move the desk to it's normal place right above her. Okay, down to work now. I prop up the tablet at an angle that will show almost the entire room, including both the main door and the door to the bathroom. Then, knowing who my audience will be, I go for maximum effect by walking into the bathroom and stripping off my clothes, placing a towel in an easy to grab place by the shower and wait with the bathroom door cracked.
For what feels like a million years, nothing happens. I just stand there, naked, with my hand on the shower knob and waiting.
He doesn't come.
I wait in the bathroom, naked and shivering, tablet posed and ready while Octavia stays crunched in under the floor with no room to move at all for hours. It's excruciating. All I want to do is put my warm clothes back on and pull Octavia out from her prison within her prison, but the knowledge that he could come bursting in at any second stops me. I only have one shot at this. I can't quite just because I'm uncomfortable and bored. As miserable as Octavia must be under there, it's still better than being raped or found out and floated. So, I force myself to keep waiting.
Hours pass. Octavia probably needs to use the bathroom. She's probably hungry and thirsty. She's probably desperate to move and stretch. But she never comes out. Never talks. Never does anything that I can perceive from my position several feet away and above. What's the longest she's had to be down there? I know she can breathe, but it's difficult to hold myself back from the instinctual need to pull her out of there.
When the door opens, every inch of my skin covers in instant goosebumps. I can actually feel the little wispy hairs at the back of my neck rise and I let out a breath and an involuntary shudder even as I flip on the shower head fast enough that whoever it is wouldn't be able to perceive that it wasn't already on before they entered. It goes against every instinct I have, but I force myself into the shower and under the still cold spray of water. This has to look convincing and that means I need to go through all the motions just like I would if I had no idea someone had just entered the small quarters with us.
The water runs down my body and I'm frozen in place, waiting. Make a move, asshole. Make a move. I'm not a guard and I'm not a fighter, but what I am is incredibly ticked off. I'm not afraid. I'm going to put on the show of my life and one way or another, Shumway is going down. All I need is that footage to look like he came in here, unauthorized, and try to grab me out of here, thinking I'm Octavia. If I can make it look like he had Bellamy called into work under false pretenses, over stepping his authority, to come here and try to hurt me, I'll have enough to hold over his head to keep him away from the Blakes for the rest of his life...along with anything else I need or want. I'll have what I need to make sure Octavia never gets caught. I could even have him forge an I.D. for her and possibly figure out a way to get her integrated into the general population. If we transfer her to a different station with the fewest ties to factory station, it's possible to slip her in...difficult and tricky for sure, but not impossible...especially if I make sure that Shumway knows that if she gets caught he will go down with her. I'll have that scumbag working to make sure she never gets caught. I'll make sure he knows what it feels like to be made into someone's bitch.
Just make a move already, I think so hard that I can feel myself actually mouthing the words silently. After several minutes, I chance the barest peak through the crack in the door. Shumway isn't there. Instead, I'm face to face with Bellamy Blake, looking like he's ready to throw up, sitting on the edge of the lower bunk, white as a sheet and just staring ahead at nothing, as if in shock.
"Bellamy?" I walk the few steps over to him and kneel in front of him, looking into his glassed over eyes. "What's wrong?"