Chapter Four
"Wait, wait….he said what?"
Miller is inside med bay with Jackson. There are no patients and Abby's not around. Miller's on duty and anytime his "rounds" bring him near med bay, he stops inside just to see Jackson. It's been pretty calm inside the Ark in the five weeks since Praimfaya. The biggest fight was between two young students, but Bellamy and Randall broke it up.
"I was giving a medical massage to Aaron. Like I've been doing for anyone who wants one," Jackson explains calmly. "He keeps asking me to go lower. I'm confused because I'm running out of room. Then he flips over and asks if I'd…touch his privates."
"Oh hell no!" Miller says, his hands launching into the air.
"I told him that's not what massage is for and he needs to get out of med bay," Jackson says, his voice firm but also perhaps amused. "And to not come back for a massage ever again."
Miller takes a breath. It's just been a bad few days for him. He had thought he'd accepted his father's death, but every time he closes his eyes lately, he's been thinking of him. He hears his voice. He hasn't wanted to or been able to cry over his loss. And he doesn't talk about it because almost everyone here has lost both their parents and countless other loved ones. He hasn't even mentioned it to Jackson because he knows Jackson has had it harder, having lost his mother back when he was only 13.
And everything has been upsetting Miller lately. This morning at breakfast, Jackson, Abby, and Clarke had a prolonged discussion on the subject of molecular biology, and Miller could only listen and feel frustration. He knows he should have paid better attention in school. He hates that he has no idea what they were discussing and absolutely nothing to contribute to the conversation.
Lately Miller has just been filled with fury, and without an outlet. So he's not thinking clearly when he hears the slight bit of amusement in Jackson's voice and allows it to irritate him. And he's not thinking clearly when he says, "Maybe these…medical massages were a bad idea. I mean, there's always going to be someone who thinks it's an invitation for more."
Jackson stutters a bit. "I-I mean, I think most people understand that it's not meant to be sexual. There are medical benefits to it."
"Well maybe they just don't get it," Miller says, crossing his arms over his chest. "You could just stop doing it. I don't even get why you did it in the first place."
Jackson opens his mouth again but closes it. Miller doesn't like the hurt look Jackson's giving him. Perhaps it's fortunate when Major Costa radios and says he needs Miller in the mess hall.
"That's Major Costa," Miller says to Jackson. "I gotta go."
"Do we have time to talk before you go?" Jackson asks, taking a step closer to Miller and tilting his head. "You seem upset."
"Later," Miller barks, as he leaves the room.
Major Costa. Just another reminder that my dad lost a spot here for this guy, who's now my boss. And another reminder that no one questioned why my dad didn't make the list instead – including Jackson because he worships the Griffin women for some reason!
"Well, that was stupid of me. I gotta make this right, don't I?" Miller is sitting next to Bellamy inside the library. It's as good a hang-out space as any, and Miller knows that Bellamy is often here during his spare time. He wryly notes that Bree is never here and he wonders if Bellamy goes here partially to get away from her.
Miller has arrived here after following Costa's summons to de-escalate a shouting match between the two people working on dinner prep. The task has given him some time to reflect and he knows he made a mistake in med bay today. So he made his way to the library, hoping Bellamy would be there.
"Well, yeah, you do," Bellamy says quietly. "But maybe first just figure out why you got so angry. Are you really jealous that someone…propositioned him? Or is there something else going on? Something else that you're hurting over?"
Miller takes a breath and looks to the side. He doesn't want to meet Bellamy's eyes just yet.
"What's the point of going through all that?" Miller finally asks. "Can't change the past and can't bring dead people back to life."
"No," Bellamy says insistently. "But we can face our pain. Instead of letting it simmer until we lash out at the worst times."
Bellamy's words irritate Miller as much as everything else has today. He scoffs. "Bellamy, come on, you're not exactly the role-model when it comes to dealing with pain. Sleeping with Bree because you can't have Cl-"
"It's called friends with benefits," Bellamy cuts in. "Not exactly a shocking concept. Who made you the sex police anyway?"
Miller is ready to lash out again before reason finally sinks in. He doesn't want to get the two people who care about him the most completely ticked off. He knows full well how his dad would tell him to behave right now, and that this is not it.
"I'm sorry. I've been in a shit mood all day," Miller admits solemnly.
"It's okay. We all have those days." He pauses. "What do you think you need to do, about having snapped at Jackson today?"
"I need to go talk to him," Miller says, with a slight groan, not masking the fact that he doesn't look forward to it.
Bellamy smiles. "Just do it. You'll feel better when you do. Talk to him about what's been on your mind. I bet he'd like to know that."
"Yeah. Yeah, you're right." Miller looks down. "And, uh, sorry I sounded like the sex police a second ago. If it works for you and Bree, then it works."
"Works well enough," Bellamy says, sounding much more closed off than he did a second ago.
"I didn't mean to be judgy. I'm one of those weird people who can't just fuck someone without getting attached to him. Er – sorry, I said 'fuck'."
"It's okay," Bellamy laughs. "I'm not the language police."
Jackson is beyond relieved the next time he and Miller talk. He lets Miller stammer out the apology and doesn't interrupt him.
"I'm a mess," Miller is saying. "I think I miss my dad a lot more than I can handle right now, and I'm a total mess. I'm sorry I snapped at you."
Jackson looks at Miller. His heart is overflowing with tenderness for the young man who has lost his father and who, Jackson believes, is truly doing the best he can.
"You don't have to apologize," Jackson says softly. He takes a step closer to Miller and puts his hand on his shoulder. "And you have my full permission to…to be a total mess in front of me if you want. You've been through a lot."
"But so have you!" Miller insists.
"That doesn't make your pain any less valid," Jackson says. He takes a breath and decides to say the words that he has been meaning to say for a little while now. "You're a caring human being who has suffered a big loss. It's okay if you need to vent or of you're just not feeling good on any given day. I love you, Nate, and I accept you as you are."
He has said the three words. He's told Miller that he loves him. He's been wanting to do it for a short while now, but hasn't been sure when to say it. He's never said these words to a boyfriend before. Jackson holds his breath and waits for a reaction.
The reaction is swift. Miller's mouth opens slightly, and then he pulls Jackson in for a kiss.
It's been five weeks since Bellamy has taken up with Bree. Training in the gym one afternoon after assisting Randall in the school, he asks himself if it has made him feel any better. He thinks that maybe it has. Hooking up with Bree has served as a necessary distraction. And he likes the fact that neither pretends to have feelings for the other. No entanglements. He doesn't have to worry about passing Bree in the hallway and wishing he could hold her hand, as he does with Clarke. No glancing at Bree as they observe the algae farm and wishing she'd smile at him, as he does with Clarke.
Stop.
And then he blinks as he sees a blonde woman enter the gym and it's not Bree. It's Clarke.
Nothing odd about that, Bellamy tells himself. People train here all the time and Clarke has been doing combat training regularly along with everyone else. In fact two days ago she beat both of her opponents, not that Bellamy was observing or anything.
Bellamy finishes up his match and decides to take a break. The fact that Clarke is standing on the sidelines and sometimes glancing sideways at him does not influence his decision to go on break, Bellamy tells himself. And then a moment later, Clarke is at his side.
"Hey. Can we talk somewhere in private?" she asks.
"Sure," he says.
As they walk down the corridor towards her room, Bellamy hopes he's not too sweaty and hopes his hair isn't too messy. He debates running a hand through it and almost starts to make the gesture, but then puts his hand back down at his side. He and Clarke are both quiet during the walk, the walk which seems to go on forever. He knows his heart rate is higher than it should be. If Miller asked to speak with him in private, his heart wouldn't be pulsing quite the way it is now.
At last they reach her room and enter it. Bellamy hasn't been inside of it since their talk before Praimfaya. A few new drawings adorn the walls and he wishes he could study them – but now is not the time. Bellamy focuses his attention on Clarke.
"What's on your mind?" he asks, hoping there's a small chance his voice might sound casual.
"I've noticed something that I needed to bring up," Clarke says, and Bellamy almost hates the way she sounds cold and factual, like when she's delivering a report to the Council.
"What is it?"
Clarke takes a breath. "I've noticed that Octavia often takes her meals to her room. I know there's no rule about that but – I've also seen her sometimes slip food into her jacket. A piece of jerky or a potato or pieces of dried apple. And – and I don't care, but this morning I saw Jaha eyeing her as she did it."
"Okay," Bellamy says, fighting to keep his voice neutral and reminding himself he was a fool for hoping that this conversation might've been about something else entirely. "I mean, I don't think it's weird that she prefers to eat in her room. She's told me that she usually just isn't hungry in the mornings. She told me if she could pick her mealtimes, she'd make both of the meals a lot later in the day."
"Which is fine, and I myself don't care. But," Clarke looks down for a second before meeting his eyes, "there's something else. I just finished combing over engineering reports. There's a blip on hers. Apparently the toilet in her room flushes more often than others on average. Not a lot more often, but a little bit more often."
Bellamy is silent as he mulls this over. He recalls once during the past few weeks he saw her enter the restroom near the school. And come to think of it, another time he saw her exit the restroom near the gym. During one of her few visits to his room, before she left she unabashedly said, "Gotta pee all of a sudden," and used his bathroom. He remembers feeling that was a bit…odd, especially considering her own room was just a five minute walk from his.
"I wonder if there's…something wrong with her?" Bellamy speculates. "Something causing her to not be that hungry and to…need the bathroom a lot."
"She has lost weight," Clarke says. Her voice, Bellamy notes, is funny. The way she intoned that sentence seemed to hint that Bellamy should keep thinking, should go down a path.
"I can ask her to see your mom or Jackson." He smiles, but it's forced, "Neither one of them is that busy. In fact, I might ask Jackson to give me one of those medical massages," he says, reaching a hand to rub at his neck.
"Could it be something else?" Clarke asks. Even though they are alone inside her room, she has dropped her voice to just above a whisper.
"Something else? Like what?" The words are out and Bellamy's mind is whirling. His eyebrows shoot up. "What? You think she's hiding someone?" He is whispering too now.
Clarke shrugs. "Think about it. Eating meals in her room and losing weight. Her toilet flushing a little more than average."
"And," he swallows, "she changed her room. Right around Praimfaya. She switched to our old room, which has that hiding spot."
Clarke nods grimly. Looking at her, Bellamy can tell that she has already arrived at this conclusion.
"But…who?" he asks. "We-we accounted for everyone." He starts to pace "We did a count before we….brought people to the stockade. We did another count after the guards did their sweep of the Ark. There definitely were 358 people in the stockade." He takes a breath. "I know she and Jasper used to be sort of close." He shakes his head and then looks down, as the terrible memories assault him once more. "But I remember carrying Jasper and putting him onto the cart myself." He shudders.
As Bellamy continues to pace, Clarke is still. "Maybe a grounder? She was close to some of them."
Bellamy blinks. "Like Indra?" He shakes his head. "I can't imagine she'd be happy living inside a room."
"Grounders are survivors like we are." She spreads her arms. "All of us have done things we didn't want, to stay alive." Clarke furrows her brow. "But it would've been hard for Indra to get in here. We guarded Arkadia so closely. I don't know any grounder could've gotten in."
Bellamy gasps just slightly, and Clarke meets his eyes at that exact moment. He can see the light bulb go off in her head at the same time as his.
"Niylah?" Bellamy whispers. "She did stay with us for a while." He shakes his head. "I don't really remember what happened with her. Did…did you say she wrote a letter and then left?"
Clarke nods. "A couple weeks before Praimfaya, I think. One day I found a letter from her saying she'd gone back to her people. And honestly, with so much going on then….well, it's not like I could've gone after her. She wouldn't have gotten one of our spots anyway. You remember how it was then."
He does. He wants to take her hand and hold it. Being a leader during those agonizing days…..it was grueling. But it had seemed like it was bonding them too, until Clarke pulled away. Until it was too much for her. Bellamy forces himself to focus on the issue at hand.
"Okay," he exhales. He is still whispering. "So there's a chance that Octavia is hiding Niylah. So what do we do? You-you wouldn't tell on them would you?"
"Absolutely not," Clarke says firmly. "I only brought it up because I saw Jaha watching her slip food into her jacket this morning. And I'm sure Raven's noticed the blip in her bathroom water usage." She pauses. "So we need to figure out what to do to keep this a secret."
Bellamy feels a few mental cobwebs clearing out. As worried as he is for Octavia, he has to note how good it feels to be discussing something with Clarke, and Clarke alone. Good to be her thought-partner again, for lack of another term. Something broken suddenly feels as if it's starting to be mended.
The gears inside Bellamy's mind continue to turn. "Do you remember…the night before Praimfaya? You and I were with Raven, just walking the halls because we couldn't sleep. Your mom comes up to us…"
Clarke nods. "She asks Raven if the Ark could hold one more person. Jackson had…done something drastic to try to save Miller. And Raven says that sure, it could hold 101 or 102, but that we decided to draw the line at 100."
Bellamy follows along. "So if they do get discovered…." He lets his voice trail off.
Clarke places a hand on his arm. The touch, even through their jackets, just feels so comforting and warm and even life-giving. He knows that none of Bree's touches have ever, or will ever, feel like this. "You and I are two-fifths of the Council. And my mother's on it. And Kane has been….very reasonable and fair. If Octavia and Niylah get discovered, I think we can make the argument that the human race is down to 100 people, and since we do have the ability to sustain one more, there is no reason to do anything drastic. To either Octavia or Niylah."
Bellamy nods. Although he can't consider his mind to be at-ease now, those facts do help him. He and Clarke continue to discuss their options and next steps. They consider whether or not to ask Octavia if their assumptions are true, and they decide not to do so yet. There's no need to rock that boat at this point. They debate finding other ways to sneak food to Octavia – and thus to Niylah - but can't find an easy solution. Food is guarded here more heavily than anything. (Bellamy does plan to occasionally say his stomach hurts and give some of his food to Octavia. He knows he probably can't get away with it too often though, without raising eyebrows). They agree that they need to take Raven into their confidence so that she can bury or alter any report that flags the water usage in Octavia's room. And they do discuss the possibility that their assumptions are all wrong and that Octavia is ill. They agree that Bellamy will just casually mention going to Abby or Jackson for a checkup and ask when Octavia plans to do the same.
They head to find Raven next. As worried as he is for his sister, Bellamy is proud of her too. She might have saved someone's life.
And he loves being part of a team with Clarke once more.
Octavia has extra energy during her combat training today. Having been trained by Indra, she can take down pretty much any of the 100 other people living on the Ark so she has to be careful not to seriously wound anyone.
When the session is over, Octavia decides to just walk the halls of the Ark for a bit. Summarily beating her opponents today has helped her mental state immensely, because it has not been good the past few days.
Bellamy knows something is up. He made a point the other day of mentioning that he was going to get a check-up with either of the doctors. Octavia tried to word her reply as somewhere between encouraging but not enthusiastic. She herself doesn't want a physical now, knowing that she has lost a few pounds off of her already-lean frame and she doesn't want to have to answer the questions that will result from it.
And then there was the conversation at breakfast today.
"Taking your meal back to your room again today?" Jaha had asked. And of course he had to ask it at a point when conversation at their table had been at a lull. Bellamy, Clarke, Raven, Abby, Kane, Jackson, and Miller all seemed to hear the question.
Octavia had shrugged, not making eye contact. "I told you. It's too early in the day for me to eat. I don't get hungry till later." She had paused, deciding that striking back might be the best tactic. "And you're not my mother. You floated her, remember?"
The table remained very quiet upon hearing those words. Jaha answered, after a few beats, with something noncommittal like, 'Just wanted to express my concern, that's all.' And then Bellamy had jumped in with a clearly-forced question about yesterday's movie. Clarke had answered, with just a measure more enthusiasm than the movie deserved, and even Raven joined in their discussion.
Octavia continues to walk now, continues to think. She knows Bellamy too well. He suspects something. She takes a breath.
There's not much I can do. I don't have any other way to get more food to Niylah. The kitchen and the food supplies are guarded 24/7, always by more than one guard. And everyone who works a kitchen shift is patted down at the end.
Her thoughts continue to spin.
What's the play here if I have to go to the worst-case scenario, if Niylah is discovered? I can take down any guard, pretty much. I could break into where the knock-out gas is stored – if there even is any left. Find a way to get it into the air scrubbers, knock out everyone and restrain them till they agree to let Niylah live. I probably should find out if there is more gas for starters.
She takes another breath. It's drastic and it's a last-resort only. But Niylah is the last grounder left and Octavia is not going to let anything happen to her.
By the time she reaches her room, Octavia feels much better. The door slides shut, Niylah emerges from the hiding spot, Octavia puts music on, and they talk. This is their usual pattern once Octavia returns to the room.
And they never run out of things to talk about. Whether it's Octavia's recap of yesterday's movie or a story from Niylah's childhood, each one always wants to hear what the other has to say. Octavia knows she has generations' worth of grounder lore and Trikru lore specifically to catch up on, and Niylah is a wealth of knowledge. Through her family's old trading post, Niylah has interacted with so many different people and different clans that she never runs out of stories.
Today she is dancing. Octavia is still not interested in joining her, but she's taken a shine to watching Niylah dance. Sometimes Octavia just loses herself in watching Niylah dance.
She's a lot like Lincoln, Octavia thinks. Maybe that's an odd thought to have, comparing the tall, muscular warrior to the lithe, pale woman dancing before her. And yet. Both of them have such a gentleness to them, a gentleness coated with iron. A quiet inner strength.
Niylah continues to dance and Octavia's thoughts start to dance with her. Once her mind compared Niylah and Lincoln, she is continuing to ride away with that comparison. She starts to wonder if Niylah kisses the way Lincoln did. She starts to wonder whether it would feel strange or feel good to hold someone in her arms, someone who is soft and sweet-smelling, someone less muscular, less…large.
Stop! Octavia tells herself firmly. You can't have those thoughts about Niylah. Her life depends on me. So even if I wanted to…touch her and kiss her and do more…I can't. She can't give any sort of meaningful consent in this situation. And that's even if she wanted me, which she doesn't. So just stop.
When Niylah is finished dancing, Octavia searches for something neutral, something to get her mind off of where her thoughts just went. "So, uh," she begins. "The algae farm is doing well. Ben gave me another lesson on it this morning."
That's it. Octavia forces her brain to focus on algae. Instead of the delicious and terrifying places it had been a minute ago.
TBC - and please let me know what you think!