"Jasper..."
Clarke's voice had that horrible mix of strained politeness and pity, but Jasper couldn't hear it. His eyes were still fixed on the video screen and the two empty chairs that kept flickering in the static. In another minute, the Franks would be sitting there, and it was Clarke's job to make sure it was their daughter that greeted them, not the paralyzed teen in front of her.
"Hey, Jasper," she coaxed again, this time giving his shoulder a soft shake which seemed to finally break him from his daze.
"Right, uh, all yours," he replied abruptly, getting up from the chair with an utterly excessive degree of haste. He brushed past Clarke with a suspicious lack of eye contact and made a beeline for the door. He was nearly there when a tell-tale tone made him stop.
"Jasper wait up," Clarke called after him, barely getting the red-head settled into her chair before catching up with him. He stopped, but pointedly refused to turn around. He had a reputation to uphold, and somehow, crying over a phone call with his parents didn't quite fit into that image.
"Yup?" He found himself engrossed in a scuff on the dropship floor, rubbing his worn boot against the mark as if the entire ship wasn't covered with them.
"Everything all right?" she prodded, tilting her head to catch his eye but the floor was just so damn fascinating.
"Yup."
For a second, he thought that would be it. That she would let him walk away and forget the whole thing, but even Jasper had the brains to know that's not how Clarke operated. She didn't try to refute his answer, but she wasn't moving either. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see she was giving him a look. The look. His mother used to give him that look.
"My dad's just gets really emotional, that's all. Cries over nothing all the time," he amended and Clarke was gracious enough to ignore the sharp sniff that punctuated his words.
"I mean, one time, he found this record of some stupid town that got blown apart by a volcano. All the people just hollowed out ash statues and dust. I thought it was kind of cool, but he totally lost it." He recounted the story with a roll of his eyes, not even realizing he had turned to face Clarke.
"Your dad cried over Pompeii?" she asked with an amused smile. She couldn't help but remember her own father's incomprehensible love affair with Tesla. If materials hadn't been so scarce on the Ark, she swore he would have built a shrine. Maybe it was a requirement for fathers to have weird obsessions.
"Yea, pathetic right?" Jasper let out a short laugh, but his smile didn't reach his eyes.
"You know it's okay to miss your parents, right?"
Clarke knew. She knew what it was like to miss his laugh. To pose questions to the air and let memories fill in the answers. To concentrate on his face each night so she would never forget it. She knew what it was like to miss a parent, and for her, the feeling would never go away. Jasper was silent for a moment, letting her words sink in as he returned to the ever important scuff mark on the floor. He couldn't quite bring himself to admit what Clarke was thinking.
"Are you kidding? My mom's a total hard ass. Man, when she gets here the moonshine business is definitely going under," he complained.
"I'm sure you and Monty will find a way," she joked, deciding for now her work here was done. You could only drag someone so far out of denial before they had to climb out of the hole themselves. And he would, eventually.
"All right, well I'll be away for a bit today. Keep an eye on Octavia, would you?" she asked, glancing upward to where the girl was undoubtably waiting below the third floor hatch.
"Sure thing, but I mean, isn't that Bellamy's full time gig?" Jasper responded, hesitant to argue with any activity involving Octavia. He was happy to takeover but he found the request odd.
"He'll be away, too. We're just going on a quick supply run. We'll be back before dark," she explained, cautious not to go into too much detail. With that, she made her way towards the door, hoping to avoid any questions, but of course, Jasper was already asking.
"Wait, Clarke." She turned around slowly, regretting that she mentioned the trip at all. She had hoped to just slip away from camp, just this once.
"When do you think I could, uh, you know, call the Ark again?" It hadn't been the question she expected, but she was glad to see him climbing out of his hole faster than anticipated.
"There's a hundred kids Jasper. Well, a little less now." They both tried not to think about the statement too much as she continued, "Look it might take a while, we still need that channel for information from the Ark." She was just being honest, yet she couldn't help but feel guilty as she watched his shoulders drop in disappointment.
"But not everyone wants to see their parents," she added, trying her best to hide the bite in the back of her tone, "So who knows, maybe a spot will open up sooner than expected. I'll see what I can do." Just as the brunette perked up, another one came barging through the door. And this one didn't looked pleased in the least.
"Are we going on this trip or what, Princess?" Bellamy demanded more than asked as he threw her an impatient look.
"I was just reminding Jasper he's on food duty. We're leaving now, okay?" she responded curtly, ignoring his exasperated sigh as she headed towards the door.
"Make sure you guys get those packs sealed. We need that stuff to last through the winter," Bellamy stated with an authoritative nod towards Jasper before following Clarke out the door. For some reason, he seemed anxious to leave, but Jasper didn't have time to contemplate why.
"Right, thanks. And be careful," he called after them, giving a short wave after their retreating forms. He hoped she was right. Just a quick supply run and then home for dinner.
After all, someone needed to assign him chores.
When the secrets finally came out, life on the Ark changed for everyone. Many turned to faith, others to anger, but most turned to work. With the knowledge of their dwindling oxygen supply and the heavy burden of others' sacrifice on their heads, it was double shifts for everyone. Everyone except the parents of the 100 that is.
No one really knew what to do with them. No one even knew what to call them. Some pitied them; others envied them. After all, their child had made it to the ground. There was an ironic certainty in the future of the guinea pigs while the scientists suffocated in their lab. No one could decide if the parents were blessed or cursed by the fate of their child.
Jaha had been more resolute in his response and granted them all an extra free hour in their day, a rare commodity that was not given lightly, especially in these times of crisis. Perhaps it was out of empathy, or perhaps it was because he could not fathom an apology complete enough to right the incredible wrong that had been done to them. To him. And so while other toiled away, the 200 were given time. They had lost their only child and now they had an hour to contemplate it. A blessing and a curse.
The Jordans knew exactly how they would spend their hour, and they had eagerly accepted the invitation to the broadcasting room. But their fifteen minutes had gone by too quickly, and the remaining forty-five seemed like an eternity.
When they returned to their living enclosure, a heavy silence fell upon them. There was an absence in this room, one that they had felt for the past year, and yet never so keenly as they did now. Cameron paused by the center kitchen chair, hovering above its untouched surface before quietly taking a seat in it, careful not to brush away the memories that clung to its surface. Charlie was surprised to see her sitting in their son's chair, but it was her next question which caught him off guard.
"Am I a terrible person?" She didn't meet his gaze as she spoke, addressing the room as much as her husband.
"Of course not, I have great taste in women," Charlie replied, and was rewarded with a small, fragile smile. He always loved to make her smile. But this one quickly shattered, and he could see she soon would, too. Her hands wrapped tightly around the metal edges of the chair as she gently rocked forward.
"Hey there, it's okay. We're okay," he soothed, taking her hand in his own as he pulled up a chair beside her. "How in the world could my beautiful wife think she was terrible, huh? What's wrong?"
"I want to live." The confession seemed so innocuous, and yet Cameron's eyes held a deep shame that Charlie had never seen before.
"I was thinking that would be fun, too," he joked, light-hearted as always. "It's been pretty good so far, you know, this living thing. I especially like the part where I get to live with you."
"Not everyone gets to live," she replied flatly, still looking down at his hand as it gently caressed her own. "These days I wonder if anyone is going to live," she added.
"Don't say that, you heard what Jaha said," he began, but he was quickly interrupted.
"There are people lining up to die, Charlie." She looked up at him with a desperate intensity, eyes rimmed red as she continued, "And they are going to have to keep lining up. People are dying for us. Laying down their lives because they think everyone else should have a chance. That's what they are thinking about: everyone else. And you know what I'm thinking about? I'm thinking about how to get on the next damn drop-ship." She paused, letting out a shaky breathe as she tried to compose herself.
"I want to live. And I am willing to let a hundred more people die so I can," she finished, leaving the statement to hang in the air the way three hundred and twenty souls hung upon all their heads. Charlie was silent, patiently rubbing circles into her palm as he waited to see if she was done. After a minute passed, he spoke.
"You know, I can't say for sure if I deserve to live. Last week, as I watched all those people line up, I thought maybe I should join them," he confessed.
"I know," Cameron responded, remembering the sinking feeling she had the night of the Culling.
"Of course you did," he said with a small, affectionate laugh as he shook his head. She always knew.
"I thought I was willing to die for you, but I didn't do it. I couldn't bear the thought of losing you, but I couldn't bear the thought of you losing a son and a husband in one week. I've gotten the impression you're a bit fond of me," he continued, giving her a soft nudge.
"Oh just a little," she admitted, still unsure of how their collective selfishness brought any respite to her shame.
"And so maybe you don't think you deserve to live either, but I do. You see, I know this kid. He's a pretty decent kid, though he has has a real knack for getting himself in trouble. And that kid, that kid deserves a mother," he explained, resting his other hand beneath her chin as she ducked her head to hide the tears she could no longer contain.
"You, my darling, are a fantastic mother. And there is no shame in that." He pronounced each word with purpose, holding her gaze with such conviction that she found herself believing him just for this moment. She felt the guilt slide away behind a fond memory, a name that would break her.
"So you live. If not for me, for Jasper. He's going to need you down there."
"And you," she managed before words stopped forming in her closed up throat. His embrace held her together and her body anchored him to their sinking ship.
For once, they were glad for the extra time.
Author's Note:
I got really attached to Jasper's entirely fictional parents, so here's another installment. Thanks for the support, it gives me an excuse to write more of these two.
Apologies for the style change, I wanted a slower pace for this chapter. Feedback always welcome.
