The 100

12 Clarke

Clarke sat in the dark infirmary tent, watching nervously as Thalia tossed and turned in her sleep, restless from the fever that set in as the infection grew worse.

“What do you think she’s dreaming about?”

Clarke turned and saw Octavia sitting up, staring at Thalia wide-eyed.

“I’m not sure,” Clarke lied. From the expression on Thalia’s face, Clarke could tell she was thinking about her father again. She’d been Confined for trying to steal medicine after the Council had weighed against treating him; with limited medical supplies, they’d deemed his prospects too grim to be worth the resources. Thalia still didn’t know what h a p p e n e d to him—whether he’d succumbed to his disease after her arrest, or whether he was still clinging to life, praying that he’d get to see his daughter again someday.

Thalia moaned and curled into a ball, reminding Clarke of Lilly on one of her bad nights, when Clarke would sneak into the lab so her friend wouldn’t have to be alone. Although no one was keeping Clarke from helping Thalia, she felt just as frantic, just as helpless. Unless they found the medicine that had been flung from the dropship, there was nothing she could do to ease her suffering.

The flap flew open, flooding the tent with light and cool, pungent air, and Bellamy tumbled in. He had a bow slung over his shoulder, and his eyes were bright. “Good afternoon, ladies,” he said with a grin as he strode over to Octavia’s cot. He stooped down to ruffle her hair, which was still secured with a neatly tied red ribbon. He was close enough that Clarke couldn’t help but notice the faint smell of sweat clinging to his skin, blending with another scent she couldn’t identify but that made her think of trees.

“How’s the ankle?” he asked Octavia, making an exaggerated show of squinting and examining it from all angles.

She flexed it gingerly. exed it kMuch better.” She turned to Clarke. “Am I ready to leave yet?”

Clarke hesitated. Octavia’s ankle was still fragile, and there was no way of making an effective brace. If she put too much pressure on it, she’d sprain it all over again, or worse.

Octavia sighed, then stuck her bottom lip out in a pleading expression. “Please? I didn’t come all the way to Earth to sit in a tent.”

“You didn’t have a choice,” Bellamy said. “But I certainly didn’t risk my ass coming here just to watch you get gangrene.”

“How do you know about gangrene?” Clarke asked, surprised. No one would ever have developed that kind of infection back on the Colony, and she doubted many other people read ancient medical texts for fun.

“You disappoint me, Doctor.” He raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t take you for one of those.”

“One of those what?”

“One of those Phoenicians who assume all Waldenites are illiterate.”

Octavia rolled her eyes as she turned to Bellamy. “Not everything is an insult, you know.”

Bellamy opened his mouth, but then thought better of it and folded his lips into a smirk. “You better watch it, or I’ll leave without you.” He adjusted the bow on his shoulder.

“Don’t leave me,” she said, suddenly serious. “You know how I feel about being trapped inside.”

A strange expression flashed across Bellamy’s face, and Clarke wondered what he was thinking about. Finally, he smiled. “Okay.

I’ll take you outside, but just for a little bit. I want to try hunting again before it gets dark.” He turned to Clarke. “That is, if the doctor says it’s okay.” Clarke nodded. “Just be careful.” She gave him a quizzical look. “Do you really think you’ll be able to hunt?” No one had seen a mammal yet, let alone tried to kill one.

“Someone has to. Our nutrition packs won’t last a week at the rate they’re going.”

She gave him a small smile. “Well, best of luck.” Clarke walked over to Octavia’s cot and helped Bellamy lift her to her feet.

“I’m fine,” Octavia said, balancing on one foot as she clutched Bellamy’s arm. She hopped forward, pulling him toward the flap. “Let’s go!”

Bellamy twisted to look back over his shoulder. “Oh, by the way, Clarke, I found some debris from the crash when I was out in the woods. Any interest in checking it out tomorrow?”

Clarke inhaled as her heart sped up. “You think it could be the missing supplies?” She took a step forward. “Let’s go now.”

Bellamy shook his head. “It was too far away. We wouldn’t make it back before dark. We’ll go tomorrow.”

She glanced at Thalia, whose face was still contorted in pain. “Okay. First thing in the morning.”

“Let’s wait until the afternoon. I’ll be hunting in the morning. That’s when the animals are out looking for water.” Clarke suppressed the urge to ask him where he’d learned that, although she couldn’t quite mask the surprise on her face. “Until tomorrow, then?” Bellamy asked, and Clarke nodded. “Great.” He grinned. “It’s a date.”

She watched them lumber out of the tent, then went back over to Thalia. Her friend’s e s fr/p>yes fluttered open. “Hi,” she said weakly.

“How are you feeling?” Clarke asked, moving to check Thalia’s vital signs.

“Great,” she croaked. “Just about ready to join Bellamy on his next hunting expedition.”

Clarke smiled. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“I was. Off and on.”

“I’m just going to take a quick look, okay?” Clarke asked, and Thalia nodded. Clarke pushed the blanket aside and lifted Thalia’s shirt. Streaks of red radiated out from the oozing wound, suggesting that the infection was making its way into her bloodstream.

“Does it hurt?”

“No,” Thalia said hollowly. They both knew she wasn’t getting any better.

“Can you believe they’re really siblings?” Clarke asked, purposefully changing the subject as she replaced Thalia’s blanket.

“Yeah, it’s crazy to think about.” Thalia’s voice grew slightly stronger.

“What’s crazy is pulling a stunt like that on the launch deck,” Clarke said. “But it was really brave. They would’ve killed him if they’d caught him.” She paused. “They’ll kill him when they come down.”

“He’s done a lot to keep her safe,” Thalia agreed, turning her face away from Clarke in an attempt to hide a grimace as a new wave of pain washed over her. “He really loves you, you know.”

“ W h o ? Bellamy?” Clarke asked, startled.

“No. Wells. He came to Earth for you, Clarke.”

She pressed her lips together. “I didn’t ask him to.”

“We’ve all done things we’re not proud of,” Thalia said, her voice quiet.

Clarke shuddered and closed her eyes. “I’m not asking anyone for forgiveness.”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.” Thalia paused to catch her breath. The effort it took to speak was wearing her out.

“You need to rest,” Clarke said, reaching over to pull the blanket up over her friend’s shoulders. “We can talk about this tomorrow.”

“No!” Thalia exclaimed. “Clarke, what happened wasn’t your fault.”

“Of course it was my fault.” Clarke refused to meet her friend’s gaze. Thalia was the only one who knew what Clarke had really done, and Clarke couldn’t bear to face that right now, to see the memory reflected in her friend’s dark, expressive eyes. “And what does it have to do with Wells anyway?”

Thalia closed her eyes and sighed, ignoring the question. “You need to let yourself be happy. Or else, what’s the point of anything?”

Clarke opened her mouth to launch a retort, but the words disappeared as she watched Thalia lean over, suddenly coughing. “It’ll be okay,” Clarke whispered, running her hand through her friend’s sweat-dampened hair. “You’ll be okay.”

This time, the words weren’t a prayer but a declaration. Clarke refused to let Thalia die, and nothing was going to stop her. She wouldn’t let her best friend join the chorus of ghosts in her head.