Hey guys! Sorry this is so late, for some reason this was a REALLY hard chapter to write. So, to thank you guys for waiting so long, I'm gonna try and get the next one posted by Monday. So hope you enjoy this one, I finally got it exactly how I want it, and be sure to leave a review to tell me what you think!
xoxo, Deara
Jasper slept for three days straight. Rachel did not; from the moment they carried their unconscious friend back into camp, she didn't even take a break to sit down. She occupied herself with helping Harper, Nate, and Bellamy plan the wall, assisting Sterling in creating and rationing tent space from the Dropship's parachute, and, when the more her more intellectually-inclined friends were busy or sleeping, physically helping Murphy and the rest of the crew build the wall, clear the brush around the camp, and carve markers into the trees on the path to fresh water. She did anything and everything she could to keep her mind off the fact that one of her best friends was likely dying on the top floor of the Dropship.
But no matter how hard she tried, her mind wandered frequently. She thought of him lying there on the cold metal floor, only the pelt of the cat Bellamy had killed keeping his wound covered. She thought of Monty, who had taken to spending his time in that room with Jasper, helping Clarke get food and water into him, waiting to be by his side the moment he woke up. She thought of Miller, who had shed tears for the first-time Rachel ever seen when he saw Jasper carried into camp by Bellamy. She thought of Clarke, who had been spending her days trying to figure out how to heal him, the first thing she had ever done that Rachel was grateful for.
"Rachel." Bellamy's voice cut into her thoughts, bringing her back to real life. She was in his tent—the first, and largest, that Sterling had put up. Harper, Miller, Sterling, Murphy, and Mbege all stood around her, staring at her expectantly.
She rubbed her forehead, trying to focus her thoughts. "I'm sorry, what was the question?"
Bellamy licked his lips, whether it was a gesture of pity or annoyance, she couldn't tell. "Sterling thinks he can only get 25 tents out of the parachutes."
"Yeah," Sterling smiled apologetically at her, "with the three chutes that deployed, and the one big safety that didn't, that's all I can get. But I think they'll be big enough for maybe three each comfortably, more… not comfortably."
"Do you think you can work out who can live with who without killing each other?" Bellamy asked.
She nodded, clearing her throat. "Yeah, but that still leaves a quarter of us without a tent, assuming we want to sleep comfortably."
Everyone fell silent for a moment, until Nate spoke up. "Not necessarily. We'll have to have some people, say ten or so, up at night to keep watch. That means some tents could have more than three in them, but no more than that actually in them at one time."
"And for whoever's left over after that," Rachel began, the gears in her mind finally, slowly starting to turn again, "We'll have plenty of extra room on the second floor of the Dropship. We should probably put the younger kids there."
"Younger kids?" Mbege asked, the first thing he had said during the meeting. "Like who?"
"Like Charlotte," Nate answered. While he had warmed up to Miller, and a few of his old gang, there was still significant tension between him and Mbege, and he addressed him much more coldly than he did the others. "She and about ten others are barely even teenagers."
"Alright." Bellamy spoke before Mbege could fire back, silencing the whole room. "This all sounds good to me. Go back to what you were doing." Everyone nodded, and started shuffling out of the tent. As Rachel lifted the flap to leave, Bellamy's hand on her arm stopped her.
She turned slightly to face him, "What?"
He paused for a second, letting his hand fall from her and locked his eyes with hers. "Jasper's gonna be okay."
"You don't know that." She responded a little too quickly. She shook her head, and turned away from him. But he stopped her from leaving again, his grip tight on her wrist.
"You need to slow down, Rachel. You'll run yourself down working like this." He pulled her wrist towards him, trying to get her to face him again. "You can't do this to yourself. We need you."
Rachel nodded tightly, and placed her hand on his, pulling it off her wrist. She kept her eyes on the trampled down dirt below her. "I just…it kills me. He's dying in there, and there's nothing I can do to help him." She wiped a stray tear from the corner of her eye before looking back up at him, "What do I do, Bellamy?"
Bellamy was taken aback by her sudden confession, by the fact that she had so quickly trusted him enough to not only confess to him, but to ask him for his help. He felt the same twinge in his chest that had caused him to hesitate asking her to take off her wristband.
He had to look away from her, from her green eyes that threatened to pull him…much closer than he wanted to be. But he felt that gaze follow him across his tent, her question burning, waiting for an answer. An answer he didn't have.
"I think…" he began, taking a deep breath to steady himself as he turned back to face her. "I think you just have to try your hardest for the people you know you can save. Harper. Miller. Monty. Everyone out there," he gestured to the door of the tent, to the noise and chattering that came from the nearly 100 people who were looking to them for guidance. "They're all your people, they all need you. I need you."
Rachel smiled a bit at that, and Bellamy suddenly felt himself start to stumble over his words. He paused, regaining his composure before continuing. "I know Jasper is one of your best friends. I know you love him. And I know how hard it is to be helpless to save someone you love." His voice started to crack as the memories of his mother and Octavia being dragged away from him began to resurface. "But you can't let that stop you from living your life, from saving everyone else."
The air in the tent felt warm and heavy as Bellamy waited for her to respond. He hoped and prayed that he had said the right thing. He had been honest. He did need her. Unlike her, he hadn't been raised to be a leader. This was all thrust on him by Shumway, but he had to do it. For Octavia. For himself. For all the new friends he had made since getting on the dropship.
"Thank you." Rachel's voice was so soft he almost didn't hear her from the other side of the tent. She was smiling at him; though her sadness and worrying still peered through, it was still a smile. "I'll go figure out the tents. Then I promise I'll try to get some sleep. Happy?"
He returned her smile. "Very happy."
Rachel didn't get to sleep for long.
Jasper finally woke up that evening, but was far from coherent. At the first scream, Rachel, Nate, and Harper all bolted awake and ran out of their tent and into the Dropship.
When they all reached the top floor, they found Clarke, Wells, and Monty hovering over him, trying to get him to respond to them. But he just laid there, in the same spot he'd been in for days, his face contorted with pain. They all watched for several minutes that felt like hours, but he didn't respond; they only managed to calm him down enough to quiet his screams to pained moans.
Breaking away from holding the sobbing Harper, Rachel approached Clarke. "Can't you do anything?"
"I don't know…" Clarke said, slumping back onto her knees next to Jasper. She covered her face with her hands. Rachel's frustration was almost ready to boil over into threats, but Clarke dropped her hands and sat back up before she could say anything.
"What?" Rachel demanded, following Clarke's gaze to Jasper's chest, still covered by the pelt from the cat.
Clarke ignored her, pulling the pelt back and exposing Jasper's bare chest. She placed a hand on the dried lump of shredded plants that covered his wound. Wells got down on the floor beside them, staring at Clarke. "You have an idea, don't you?" he asked.
"It's been days since he was stabbed, should be showing signs of a serious infection by now." Clarke whispered, gently lifting the plants out of the wound. "Oh my god…" she stared at the gaping hole in Jasper's chest, "the Grounder's cauterized the wound."
Nate, who had taken over comforting Harper, looked to Clarke, "What does that mean?"
"It means they saved his life."
He scoffed, "They're the ones who speared him in the chest."
As Clarke reached for a wet rag to clean the blood and leftover plant debris from the wound, Finn climbed up the ladder. "They saved his life so they could string him up for live bait." He leaned up against the wall, ignoring the harsh looks he was receiving from half the room. "Garden of Eden this ain't."
Everyone ignored him. Clarke handed the rag to Rachel before peeing into the gash. "This looks like it might be infected. He could be septic."
"I thought you said he wasn't showing signs of infection." Rachel felt her heart rate speed up as she leaned forward to try and see what Clarke had seen.
"He's not. The infection must just be starting." she turned to look at the dried-up plants discarded to her side. "The poultice…whatever it is, it must have had antibiotic properties."
Wells looked between the two girls, "So what should we do?"
"How the hell should I know?" Clark snapped, startling everyone.
Wells bit his lip and looked down, "I'm just trying to help."
An awkward silence settled in the room. Harper's sobs had quieted, and she moved across the Dropship to Monty, where the two quietly whispered about his work on the wristbands. Miller stepped towards Jasper, and settled onto his knees besides Wells across from the girls. After a while, Clarke grabbed her wet rag out of Rachel's hands, and began furiously wiping the dried blood away from Jasper's chest.
"What are you doing?" Rachel asked as she gratefully watched the blood disappear from Jasper's pale skin.
"I'm going to cut away the infected flesh," Clarke explained, tossing the rag towards the discarded plants before turning to the other girl, "I need your knife."
Rachel shook her head, "You'll hurt him." Jasper had been through enough already; she wasn't going to let this wannabe surgeon make his condition any worse.
Clarke's eyes and mouth narrowed in anger, "He'll be hurt more if the infection spreads." when Rachel still didn't respond, she pushed. "Look, if I don't do this, he'll die from the infection. If I do– he might at least have a chance."
"Do it." Nate said, the determination and sliver of hope in his wet eyes convincing his friend to reluctantly hand over her weapon to their mutual enemy.
Clarke weighed the knife in her hand for a second before and adjusting her grip and placing a hand on Jasper's shoulder. "Alright Wells, you wanna help? Hold him down."
Nate followed the command as well, both boys moving to either side of Jasper and holding down his torso. Without prompt, Rachel moved behind his head, cradling it in her lap as she whispered reassurances to him, just in case he could hear her.
Everyone in the room held their breath as Clarke made the first cut, causing Jasper to scream louder and harsher than he had when he first woke up. The screams continued as Clarke did, fortunately quieting a little ad he grew more tired.
Rachel stroked his hair and whispered to him words that her grandmother had told her when she had been sick on the Ark.
"You're going to be fine, querida, I promise." Vera said soothingly as Rachel cried.
The little girl looked miserable, her eyes were red and puffy from crying, she had pulled chunks of curly hair out of her braid, and her usually smooth dark skin was paler than normal, and had taken on a yellow hue.
She leaned into her grandmother's chest, her tears forming a wet patch on her pink dress. "I'm not going to be fine, nana!" she yelled, "I'm going to die!"
Vera couldn't help but laugh at that– Rachel only had a moderate cold. But she felt bad when her granddaughter started crying harder at her reaction. "Oh my poor little one, I'm sorry." She pulled the girl off her so she could face her. "But listen to me: you are one of the strongest little girls I have ever met. You are smart enough and brave enough to face anything, and if anyone can get through this, it's you."
"You are one of the strongest people I've ever met, Jasper." Rachel whispered, tears leaking out of her closed eyes as she pressed her nose to his forehead, "You are smart enough and brave enough to face anything, and if anyone can get through this, I know it's you."
She repeated this over and over as Clarke continued to cut away at the wound. Both were interrupted as the hatch flew open and Octavia came scrambling up, Bellamy and Murphy close behind. "Stop it!" Octavia screamed, "You're killing him!"
Finn moved to stop her from pulling Clarke away, "She's saving his life."
Murphy scoffed, "She can't."
Rachel snapped her head up and scowled at him, then met eyes with Bellamy. After a moment, he broke the stare, looking down at Jasper's chest, and she could tell that he agreed with his lackey. He looked back at her briefly, as if in apology, then to Clarke. "Can you?"
"She can at least give him a chance," Rachel answered, her voice surprisingly strong and steady, considering the situation.
"Kid's a goner." Murphy muttered from behind Bellamy, "If you can't see that, you're crazy."
Clarke made one final cut, then sat back. "We didn't carry him through miles of woods just to let him die. This isn't the Ark. Down here, every life matters." She turned to Rachel, desperation painted all over her face. "I've spent my whole life watching my mother heal people–even you. If I say there's hope, there's hope." Rachel let herself smile a little, remembering the day the two of them had watched their parents argue viciously over how to best treat her cold. She nodded to Clarke, firmly taking her side.
Bellamy shook his head, staring at the bleeding wound, "If you say there's a chance, I'll believe you." Everyone relaxed for a moment. "But this isn't about hope. It's about guts. You may not have the guts to make the hard calls, to make the right choices, but I do. If he doesn't get better soon, I'll put him out of his misery myself. Octavia, let's go."
"What?" Rachel breathed in disbelief, so in shock that she couldn't stand to face him. She barely registered Octavia refusing to leave with her brother and Murphy, and those remaining in the room muttering about Bellamy.
She was broken from her trance by Nate placing his hand on her shoulder as he sat next to her.
He sighed, "I think we may have picked the wrong side."
"Yeah, I guess so." Rachel slumped against him, burying her face in his shoulder as she finally let her tears escape.
Bellamy shivered as the cold night air his bare chest as he stepped out of his tent, still breathing heavily from what he had just finished doing with the two girls still inside. He ran his hands through his hair, still unused to the way it felt loose.
The camp was still filled with the sounds of Jasper's moans, and the grumblings of annoyance from everyone else. He felt bad about what he had declared he would do, but deep down, he knew it was the right thing. If Clarke couldn't do what she claimed she could, he couldn't let Jasper die slowly, in that much pain. Better to kill him quickly than let him suffer.
As he thought, Bellamy let his eyes roam around the camp. Sterling and his team of workers had gotten about half the tents up so far, and Harper's rest had made good progress on the wall.
It was when he was scanning the top of the wall that he saw her.
Rachel, sitting on top of one of the lookout posts, arms in her lap as she gazed up at the full moon. The light of the it illuminated her, making her dark, rich skin glow with a deep shade of blue. In the breeze, her mass of curls floated around her head like a halo, and the tattered edges of her coat floated behind her. He watched as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, running his gaze over her silhouette, over her long lashes, her short nose, and full lips, slightly parted as she breathed in the fresh air of Earth.
Even though he knew she was hurting deeply, he couldn't help but notice how at peace she looked. How well Earth, and especially the moon, seemed to suit her. Suddenly, he remembered some of the stories his mother had read to him about the Greek gods. More specifically, he remembered the stories of Artemis, beautiful goddess of the forest and moon.
Outlined by moonlight, with the lush forest behind her, Rachel looked like she could be the goddess herself.
"Bellamy, what's taking so long?" Katy's voice cut into his thoughts, making him realize what he had been doing, and for how long he'd been doing it.
Realizing that made him realize something else. Reeling, he looked back up at Rachel, and knew by the way his chest tightened when he saw her, that he was well and truly screwed.