"I can't fucking believe this! I just can't believe it! How in the name of all that is holy did you manage to drop my daughter eighty miles away from the target area, you idiots?!" Abigail Griffin roared at the cowering Command Center staff, who were wilting rather pathetically in the face of her titanic fury as the banks of monitors behind them showed static, grainy images, or nothing at all. "Its not like the target was a fucking mountain or anything! You didn't even drop her on the right side of Washington!"
"The course change resulted from a harder-than-expected transition between atmospheric layers, it was impossible to predict!" one of her verbal victims piped up bravely, his coworkers nodding eagerly in agreement, looking remarkably like bobble-heads. He was right, of course, as atmospheric reentry hadn't been performed in over a century and certainly not with such…unmaintained equipment. In all honesty, they had been surprised (and deeply gratified, happy, etc. of course) that Clarke's pod had survived reentry in the first place, given their inexperience, and the age and decrepitude of the aforementioned pod. Not that any of them were stupid enough to voice that fact to Clarke's mother, who might actually go ahead and shoot them all if they did.
Or so they thought, anyway.
"We've already confirmed that the pod didn't break up during reentry, and that the parachutes deployed! A better result couldn't be asked for!" another chimed in, only to find the rest of the team immediately moving away from her as the Head of Medical seemed to swell with incandescent fury. Smart enough not to mention the probability of Clarke dying in reentry, perhaps, but obviously not smart enough to avoid saying something that was arguably even stupider.
"A better result couldn't be asked for? Is that really what you just said? Because I can think of several better results than this one!" Abby growled, taking a step of fell intent towards the woman in question, who visibly thought through what she had just said and paled rapidly. "Since you're so confident in your skills, perhaps you should be the next one sent to Earth! Strapped onto an actual derelict satellite with my foot up your ass and those last words of yours taped to your chest!"
"Doctor Griffin, if I could perhaps have a word with you?" Marcus Kane, who was (purely by coincidence, of course) often found in the general vicinity of Abby these days, asked politely from the door. The fulminating glare he received in response didn't seem to do much, as he merely tilted his head at the hallway with a bit of sternness in his eyes. Looking profoundly unhappy with having her lecture interrupted, she leveled a stern glare at the staff.
"I will be back after I talk to Marshall Kane, and I expect that you will have some manner of good news for me. Now, I don't care what it takes, I don't care how many shifts you have to pull, but I want eyes back on the Homeworld and radio signals being monitored again. Go." She barked, before stalking over to the patiently waiting Kane. "What do you want, Marcus? I'm a little busy at the moment!"
"Mmh, yes, I can see that, Abby. Hard at work terrifying the hapless Command staff into gibbering wrecks, which will naturally make them more capable of performing tasks that they've never even trained for, never mind done 'live'." The Head of Security jested lightly, earning him another dark look, though he could also see that his words had at least some effect on his colleague.
"They dropped her eighty miles from where she was supposed to be, Marcus, and I can't help but wonder if it was actually an accident at all." She bit out, casting a suspicious glance over her shoulder at them. "So far away from any sort of supply and safety, not to mention any method of getting in contact with us! Tell me, Marcus, she is supposed to accomplish her mission like that?!"
"I doubt Thelonious was purposely putting her in a position to get killed. He has no interest in being in charge of a kingdom of corpses. He wants Clarke to succeed just as much as we do, he wants humanity to survive. You know that as much as I do." Marcus pointed out in a mildly chastising way, which (while distinctly unappreciated given her current mood) was true enough that Abby was forced to nod in acknowledgment. Thelonious was a bastard, not doubt about that, but she had never doubted his commitment to the survival of the human race. He was obsessed, if she was going to be honest, to an almost disturbing degree. It was personal for him, she had always thought, despite how little sense that made to her. "So, why don't we acknowledge the fact that the crew did the best that they could given their inexperience and do a little praying for Clarke's success, hmm?"
"I'm scared, Marcus. I cost her Jake, and in the same breath put her in the position where this was her only recourse. I can't lose her now, not before I have the chance to make it up to her. To make it up to him." She admitted, more vulnerable than most of The Ark could ever imagine seeing or hearing her, and he grimaced slightly as she looked down and hugged her own abdomen tightly. He doubted the guilt over her choice to tell Thelonious about Jake's plans would ever truly fade, and he doubted she would ever forgive the man who had once been family to her.
"Clarke is by far the most impressive person that I have ever trained. Expert markswoman, good enough in hand-to-hand to take on any three people in ArkSec, stubborn, moral, intelligent, quick-witted and savvy. She's well-equipped, even before we talk about that portable cannon you call a family heirloom. There's not a damn thing on the Eastern Seaboard that can survive a hit from that, provided any animals survived the war in the first place." Marcus lay a hand on her shoulder, enjoying the way she relaxed at his touch and hating himself for it. "And let's not even get into her motivation or the fact that she got herself what amounts to a Cult of Personality without any of the negative connotations. Most of the Skybox thinks she walks on water, the rest are as terrified of her as they are impressed, and most of the adults adore her. The tragic hero whose father was murdered by an oppressive regime that was led by her father's treacherous best friend, who imprisoned her and threatened her with death for staying loyal to his memory. Once what she did gets out into general population, she'll be lucky if she doesn't get canonized."
Abby snorted at that, mouth twisting wryly in both acknowledgement and bitter pride. Humans were susceptible to 'hero worship', and her daughter was prime material for it. Clarke had been raised right and had more heart than most of the Ark put together, in addition of course to all of the praise Marcus was heaping on her, but that only worried Abby more. Marcus wasn't exaggerating about how the majority of humanity would react to what was happening, and part of her was terrified of what that pressure would do to her only child. People loved their heroes, but she didn't want her daughter to be a hero or an icon.
Heroes rarely died of old age, after all.
"So, why don't you and I get some lunch, and we leave the Command Staff to go over their data and figure things out? They'll stand a better chance at evaluating their mistakes and brainstorming solutions without their higher-ups looming over them anyway." He encouraged her, gesturing broadly with one hand down the hall towards the cafeteria, and she bit her lip before giving a deep sigh and nodding slightly.
"Alright, Marcus. I'll leave them be for now, but I was serious when I said I needed eyes back on the planet. We have no idea what's going on, and if Clarke can't get a radio signal out, she might try to make some sort of flares or the like. If we can't see that happen…" she rubbed her forehead tiredly, giving him a serious look. "Do you have any idea how badly she would react to a population reduction at this point? We'd be lucky if she didn't lead a revolt!"
Marcus winced, looking around furtively at her words, really wishing she hadn't said that out loud. That was exactly the sort of thing that scared the Council senseless (not that they had much sense to begin with) and had them wanting to use Security to keep an even closer eye on the population for 'fractious elements.' Yes, his people kept the peace, but all too often they were thought of (deservedly, to his bitterness) as a secret police. A Gestapo in all but name, with himself as the Himmler. Yes, he had taken many people to their deaths, and yes 'I was just enforcing the law/following orders' wasn't much of a defense, but if there was one thing that he agreed with Jaha on, it was that Humanity didn't have the numbers for a laissez-faire approach to their lives right now, nor did the Ark have the resources. Once they were back on the Homeworld, things would change, though perhaps not quite to the point of the Old World. They had been a little too loose on the proverbial reins, in his opinion.
As he escorted his friend and sometimes-ally off towards the cafeteria, neither of them nor any of the staff within the command center noticed the face in the shadows of one of the (broken down) vents, nor did they hear the muffled movement and exerted breathing of its owner as she made good her escape with the information she had collected.
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"Well, it's confirmed. Clarke made it to the ground in one piece, but she's eighty miles away from where she should be. She'll have to cut through what's left of Washington and some suburbs to get there, never mind the forests, but she can do it in the time she has with plenty to spare." Raven, eavesdropper extraordinaire, told Octavia as they lounged in the older girl's room. While they had spent a great deal of time in the one Octavia shared with her brother, his sullen attitude over his firing from ArkSec and his (to them) inexplicable dislike for Clarke had quickly led to them here. It wasn't as if Raven's mother was around all that often, and on the occasions that she was, she was generally blackout drunk.
"At least she was alive when she made landfall. I never doubted her, but I damn well doubted the people running this shitshow of a station. With good reason, it seems." Octavia grumbled in response, shaking her head in exhaustion that was as mental as it was physical. She hadn't exactly slept well of late, as one might understand given the circumstances, and she had enough stress that she felt old. "Any word on how the Skybox kids are handling it? Zoe keeping things under control?"
"Zoe is going to announce it tonight, she'll have someone fill us in on the results tomorrow. I don't think there will be too much trouble, some complaining at most, but Zoe knows what she is doing. If she frames it right, the kids will see causing trouble as a betrayal of Clarke's trust, and that wouldn't fly to well in there. Besides, everyone knows that when Zoe speaks for Clarke." Raven sounded supremely confident in her assessment, and with good reason. Zoe was well-regarded and probably Clarke's highest-ranking follower in the 'Box, and everyone knew that ignoring Zoe or causing her trouble meant a personal visit from Clarke to point out why you were a moron shortly thereafter.
The fact that Zoe could get information in and out of the Skybox wasn't worth mentioning, of course, any more than it was worth mentioning that Clarke was popular with both the free and the imprisoned populations. Water was wet, space was cold, people loved Clarke and did what she asked. Some things just didn't need to get remarked upon, they just were.
"And will she mention…?" Octavia asked leadingly, and Raven grimaced, though not at Octavia so much as the question's implications. She knew what her friend was talking about, of course, she was the one who had told the younger girl that the Council was quietly having a full-sized dropship evaluated and slowly repaired. Whether Clarke succeeded or not, the Council wasn't intending to abandon their previous plans involving the Skybox kids, one of the very things that had pushed Clarke into volunteering for a solo drop in the first place.
After all, it wasn't as if the Council would risk anyone important on a mission to Earth, like an adult that had already lived most of their life and gone through menopause or something. No, it was a much, much smarter idea to send the dastardly criminals that constituted a significant majority of the next generation down instead. That certainly couldn't have any negative repercussions on the survival of the human race or anything, and it certainly wouldn't cause any negative reactions amongst all their parents either.
Honestly, sometimes Raven wondered if the Council was collectively high on some sort of potent hallucinogen, because that was the only way some of these decisions made any sort of sense at all.
So, when Raven had reported to the Cult of Clarke (she smiled at the memory of how the blonde princess reacted every time she heard that name) that a dropship was being repaired in Block Fifty-Four, on the very hush-hush with only senior engineers assigned, Clarke had quickly realized exactly what was intended: to risk the Skybox population in a Hail-Mary mission to the homeworld. She had been able to used that knowledge to negotiate on Octavia's behalf, offering herself as a sacrificial lamb to lead the way.
"Zoe will see how the crowd is reacting to the news about Clarke. She'll have to strike the balance between entrenching them further onto Clarke's side, and making them too fervent for their own good. Whatever suits the situation best is what she will do." Raven responded at last, confident that the person who so often spoke on Clarke's behalf would prove more than capable to striking the very balance of which she spoke. "The important part is making sure that we keep monitoring the situation on the ground, keep appraised of how Clarke is doing and what the Council is planning in regards to the population."
Well, that went without saying, really. The Council couldn't be trusted to do something so simply as choosing how to dress themselves every day, never mind running the operation to save the human race on their own. Sure, the two of them were pretty biased against the entire group, but that didn't change anything particularly fundamental about the discussion. Still, it stuck in Octavia's craw to sit up here and do nothing, to wait quietly and hope for the best. It reminded her far too much of the literally hole in the floor where she had spent so much of her life.
For the second time in the same number of days, Octavia thought back to the night she met Clarke for the first time, at the Unity Day Dance…
"Come on, gimme a dance! You're gorgeous, you don't have to play the Ice Queen to get my attention." a boy that Octavia would have considered incredibly attractive if not for the fact that he seemed more interested in grinding himself all over her than anything else said in a wheedling tone, for what had to be his seventh attempt at getting his hands on her.
"No thanks, I'd rather stay here and enjoy the food. We never get to eat this kind of thing, you should be doing the same thing." Octavia responded with a calm that was distinctly frayed by the need to constantly refuse this moron, and the others that had tried their luck before him. She indicated the table laden with what passed for junk-food on the Ark: cookies, pies, sliced shaves of potato that were the best attempt at recreating the 'potato chips' their great-grandparents had been able to enjoy just so much.
"The food looks amazing, but you look better." He countered shamelessly, ignoring her in favor of trying to sidle closer with what he seemed to think was subtle grace. She rocked back on her heel, furiously repeating her mother and brother's mantra that she could never be discovered to keep herself from punching the pushy prick in the face as hard as she could.
"You causing trouble again, Finn?" a cool voice broke in, and the boy -Finn, apparently- rolled his eyes with a low groan as they both turned to look at the speaker. She was an older teen, probably a year or two older than herself, with golden-blonde hair and bright, sky-blue eyes. She was also gorgeous, despite the censorious frown she was currently levelling at Octavia's 'conversation partner'.
"Ah, c'mon Clarke, it's a dance. It's for having fun, not hanging out in the corner. Some people just need help breaking out of their shells, you know? So they can loosen up and have some fun with the rest of us!" Finn protested his innocence, no sign of his irritation with the other girl showing on his face. Clarke simply raised an eyebrow behind her black mask in response, looking unimpressed with his argument.
"Well, I know Jasper and Monty are looking for you in regards to whatever insanity they've devised now, so perhaps you should leave any such coaxing to me and find them?" she 'suggested' sweetly, eyes gleaming slightly in the dimmed lights in such a way that looked almost predatory, and Finn squared his jaw mutinously for a long moment before deflating slightly and swaggering off. Though it honestly looked more like the stomping departure of a petulant child than the confident swagger of a young man. The two girls watched him go for a moment, before those sapphire eyes turned to Octavia, who blushed slightly behind her own mask. "So, what's your name?"
"Octavia." she stammered slightly, immediately cursing herself for being honest. Octavia wasn't a common name, not a typical name. If she had said something else, she could have faded into the crowd, been another Lisa or Sarah or Hope, but as Octavia…
"A beautiful name for a beautiful girl." The blonde complimented her smoothly, batting nary an eye at the unique name and moving on swiftly lest she be mistaken for a female Finn. "So tell me, Octavia, what of our feast is your favorite so far?"
"Ah…" Octavia blinked in surprise at the question, before frowning slightly as she put some serious thought to the question. It was (almost) all so good, the sort of thing that she had never had before, even with Bellamy sneaking her his dessert rations. "I'm not sure. I haven't even tried everything yet, but so far I guess I would have to say that I like the cupcakes the most. There is something about them that makes me feel like a child, almost carefree…"
Clarke had laughed (not giggled, the Princess didn't giggle in public) at that before explaining just how appropriate Octavia's impression of the baked confections was. They had chatted for a while more, about any number of casual subjects, before disaster had struck. It could have been avoided, perhaps, if she hadn't been enjoying herself quite so much. She would have been home and hidden again before the power had been lost. Instead, she had lingered and been discovered, her mother floated before her eyes, her brother disgraced, and then she had been forced to sit and listen to the fucking Council discuss imprisoning her until they could execute her legally. Sinclair and Griffin had spoken in her defense of course, protesting the absurdity of executing someone who had never committed a crime in the first place, but Jaha had been doing frighteningly well swaying the rest with dire warnings about parents sacrificing their own lives for the sake of having more children. A population boom that would doom the Ark was inevitable, he declared, if an example wasn't made.
Octavia had never been more furious and fearful in her life.
Then Clarke had swept through the doors, brushing aside the guard's attempts to impede her with confident strength that had left the man bewildered, and began to lambast the Council with a fury that was as cold as space and as unyielding as iron. Hardly allowing them to get a word in edgewise, she had shamed them for their cowardice and their foolishness, appealing to their fear and desire for control by describing in exquisite detail exactly what another execution without cause, so soon after that of her father, would result in amongst the general population.
As the Council paled and muttered to one another, Octavia realized that the pretty and kind Clarke that she had spent hours chatting with was the same Clarke Griffin her brother had occasionally mentioned in a tone that was somehow simultaneously awed and bitter. The girl he resentfully called a princess, living the high-life in her ivory tower as the only daughter born to members of the Council, and the most popular two members of said Council at that.
Eventually the Council had agreed that Octavia would not be held responsible for her birth, but she was required to make a station-wide statement condemning her mother's behavior and her support for the punishment that had been meted out, and her brother had been kicked out of ArkSec and forced into janitorial service.
"Keep watching the Command Room then, and keep your ear to the ground with the Engineering crew. It's only a matter of time before something else happens, and we don't want to get blindsided. I'll keep chatting with the Skybox parents and make sure messages are flowing properly." Octavia finally agreed, giving Raven a warm hug before getting to her feet and stretching. "I'll see you later, Rae."
The mechanic gave her a heartfelt farewell and the pair separated to their duties, both public and private, each thinking of the future of their people and praying for the safety of their friend.
############################################################################
"Zoe, it's time." Harper said softly from the door, and Zoe Monroe opened her eyes and regarded the darkness of space outside 'her' window. With Clarke's departure, Zoe had moved to this room, a minor but still significant act to reinforce her authority and the fact that she spoke on Clarke's behalf. Tonight's meeting would be a hard one, she and the other lieutenants knew, with the potential for significant unrest on behalf of their brothers and sisters in imprisonment, but control would be maintained. Clarke had entrusted the Skybox to herself and Harper, and she wasn't going to let the girl she adored down.
Yes, Zoe Munroe loved Clarke Griffin. As a young woman and as a follower, she saw Clarke as an idol to worship. There had always been something special about Her, something that set Her apart from everyone else around Her. And despite what some might say, it wasn't because She had been raised by the Powers-That-Be as The Founder's great-granddaughter. No, it was something real, even if Zoe couldn't identify its origin or quantify its results.
Getting to her feet, she turned and looked to the door. There stood Harper, her sweet Harper, her constant companion and the girl who held the half of her heart not ruled by Clarke. They had been the first to join the golden-haired girl when She had been imprisoned, the first to hear Her words of wisdom and strength, the first to throw off the shackles of apathy and narcissistic depression in an effort to become more.
Harper had found her place easily, a gentle and compelling voice to deliver Clarke's words whenever She could not do it herself, when direct intervention would be counter-productive or when She was busy with greater issues. When Harper spoke, people listened, because she made them want to hear. Made them understand Her wisdom, Her righteousness, the truth that She gave to them.
Just like Clarke did.
Zoe, though, had never possessed such charismatic traits. Her strength lied in strength itself, of spirit and of body. If Harper was going to be the velvet glove that sweetly coaxed those willing to listen, then Zoe would be the iron gauntlet that would enforce Her will on those that were not. Oh, Clarke had never used her talents directly, never sent Zoe to crush the disobedient, but neither had She chastised Her devoted servant for visiting punitive retribution on those who broke Clarke's rules or harassed Her followers.
Such displays were rarer, now.
Moving with the balanced grace She had taught them, Zoe stepped up to her lover and tilted the other girl's mouth up to meet her own. The kiss was soft and sweet, neither claiming dominance nor trying to impose it on the other, each pair of lips caressing the other with a familiarity that would never grow old or unappealing.
"Mmh, as much as I enjoy this, if we keep going we're going to leave the rest of them waiting. Octavia and Raven have trusted us with this information, we need to share it properly." The shorter girl murmured after a moment, breaking the kiss and pressing her face into Zoe's neck to suck lightly on her pulse-point. Rather counter-productive if she was trying to cool things down, but then again she knew that Zoe had iron-clad control over herself. She was The Stoic, after all.
"You will visit me tonight." Zoe told her, neither a question nor a command, but a simple statement of fact. They spent every night together, as they had since their relationship had started a few months into their incarceration, planning for the future and gently loving one another. Both looked forward to the day that they showed Clarke everything they had learned with one another over the course of all those nights. When her lover nodded, Zoe hummed in pleased acknowledgement and squeezed her shoulders tightly for a moment before releasing her and heading out onto the balcony with Harper a half step behind her.
She waited or a moment, allowing the low murmur of voices to wash over her as she looked down on the conversing youths below her, remembering the countless times she had stood silent and stern behind Clarke for moments just like this. Dozens of delinquents filled the common space, a handful of her best trainees taking positions around the edges, with Bree and Roma watching the door to the station proper.
It wouldn't do for a surprise visit from a Council loyalist to occur during moments such as this, after all, which would reveal things the Cult would rather keep hidden from outside eyes.
A glance to the side at Harper had Her Voice stepping forward and addressing all those below them.
"Quiet please, everyone. Zoe and I have very important news to share with all of you." She said loudly and clearly, silence falling quickly as they turned from their conversations to face forward again, and Zoe resisted the urge to frown as the separation between those who followed Clarke whole-heartedly and those who listened to Her only when it benefited them became clear. Fortunately, the former was rather larger than the latter, as it should be.
"All of you have, by now, noticed the absence of our Princess from the Skybox. All of you doubtless noticed the increasing meetings with Marshal Kane and members of ArkSec over the last few months, including the brief meeting that took place not two days ago." Zoe began as their attention fell firmly on her. She looked from person to person, meeting random pairs of eyes periodically to give the speech something of a personal touch, a personal connection between herself and the listeners.
Something Clarke had taught her, she reflected wistfully as the crowd murmured lowly in acknowledgement and speculation.
"Thanks to those loyal to Her outside of this prison, we now have confirmation of what has occurred, the truth of the 'satellite' that the Council claimed was launched not long ago." She continued, and the murmurs grew as the speculation intensified, anger growing as sinister possibilities occurred to her audience. She paused and inhaled deeply, solemnly, before continuing. "Clarke is now standing alone upon the soil of our homeworld, experiencing a life that has been lost to use for one-hundred years. Living the dream which we have held dear, smelling the sea and soil, touching the trees and grass and stones!"
The crowd was instantly silenced, shocked speechless by words they had not expected to hear, and she felt a swell of smug pride and girlish adoration fill her heart. Of those imprisoned, only she and Harper had been trusted enough to know the truth. Only they had been close enough to Her to be told of the dangers She was undertaking for their sake.
"She took it upon Herself to lead the way for our return home, to blaze a trail into the dangerous unknown of Earth, a trail that we can follow to the future She promised us! A future of justice, of freedoms we can barely imagine. No more executions for minor crimes, no more rationed meals and tiny families. No more 'encouraged' marriages and strictly controlled breeding, as if we were animals put to stud!" Harper added, stepping up beside her with perfect timing, slapping the railing with the palm of her right hand and letting her passion flow from every word.
Zoe was thankful that her lover had planned out this joint announcement, and there had been no small debate about whether Harper should deliver it alone instead, but in the end the Voice herself had insisted Zoe take the opportunity to reinforce her own place amongst Clarke's Chosen. Scattered cheers rose to meet them, growing in volume and uniformity towards the end as the many young women below them expressed their joy at the idea of choosing their own future for themselves, while the boys seemed more enthused by the idea of unlimited food than anything else. Young men were simple creatures.
"Alone, accompanied by nothing more than Her courage and Her love for our people, risking a terrible death to deliver us salvation and safety! Cast down to Earth not by a fearful and foolish Council, but by Her own will and determination." Zoe continued, stoking the fire Harper was kindling in their hearts. "Yes, the Council feared Her strength, Her love for our people and the lengths She would go to in order to protect us, and yes it was their desire to be rid of Her as they rid themselves of Her father that made them agree to Her bold plan…"
She paused deliberately, expecting an upswell of discontent, and she was not surprised when it arrived quickly on the heels of her fading words. The Council was not popular amongst anyone in the Skybox, devout followers and otherwise, and the reminder of the Council's crime against Clarke's father was always a good way to solidify loyalty and resolute obedience towards Her.
"Calmly, brothers and sisters! Calmly! Remember Her words: Breathe Deep and Seek Peace!" Harper raised her hand in soothing supplication and continuing even as they instinctually murmured the words back to her. "Yes, the Council sent Her to Earth alone, but I can tell you that this was all to Her design! She entrusted many things to Zoe and I, including Her plans to force the Council to send Her alone, to act unilaterally as a scout without any interference from those more concerned with their own power than our salvation. From them she has extracted a promise, a promise to execute no one for six months, no matter their crime or age!"
The crowd erupted at that, shouting questions, cheering, or both at once. Many voices demanded to know if they would be released, if they were now allowed to speak to their parents directly, and more besides. Zoe commanded silence, the surrounding watchers echoing her calls for order, but it was a long time in coming under the circumstances.
"None of us will be released, and all our current restrictions remain in place, I'm sorry to say. A lack of executions can be excused by the need to avoid further reductions to the work-force, but releasing all of us would be far harder for them to explain away." Harper told them calmly when they finally were under control once more. "But what happens here and now is not what is important, not yet. For now, put your faith in Her. As we speak, She is sleeping on the grassy fields, beneath starry skies, seeking out the technology She needs to assure the Council that our homeland can be inhabited once more. Soon enough all of us will join Her there and step into the future She has promised us!"
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Charlotte cheered and bounced in joy with the rest of her brothers and sisters as Her Voice and The Stoic withdrew into Her room, though she was blushing brightly as well. Like the rest of the Skybox kids, she knew that the two of them were passionate lovers. With the close proximity they all had and the confident behavior of Clarke's most loyal companions in boldly proclaiming the relationship as well as their love for Clarke, how could she not be aware?
She remembered when she had first been thrown into the Skybox, having broken the jaw of a guard in a storm of rage and pain after her parents had been floated, everything that they had ever owned taken from her not minutes after she had watched them die in agony to be handed out to strangers that had never loved them like she did. She had been bitter and hateful, wanting nothing more than to try and lessen her own pain by spreading it to others, but Clarke had taken her into hand. Had counselled her, comforted her, made her sit and think instead of react and feel. Taught her that being ruled by her emotions wasn't the way to deal with her loss, but that using them to fuel her drive for success, to shame the Council with her maturity and spit in the face of their cruelty instead of justifying her own death.
It had taken a long time, and she had resisted fiercely even as those around her fell more under the older girl's influence, but even the stubbornness born of rage was not infinite. It was hard to resist the siren's call of Clarke's teachings when she saw how it affected those around her. At first, the Cult of Clarke had seemed absurd. Why should she listen to some spoiled bitch that thought being a big-shot outside the prison meant she should be in charge within its walls? Especially when she insisted that there was no Cult, that she didn't want people to put her on some kind of pedestal?
She wasn't the only one who had thought that way, either, there had been a large group of dissenting voices at the time, but Clarke's influence was persistent. It's hard to resist joining something that makes you feel a sense of belonging, a sense of family and security that was otherwise entirely absent in this place. A sense of being valued and loved that she had been sure she would never feel again after losing it. The more people who joined the philosophical debates, the history lessons, and calisthenics and self-defense trainings, the harder it became to resist doing so as well. A few of the dissenters, like John Murphy, had once called it 'herd mentality' during one of the more passionate discussions that often took place during debates. The pressure to not stick out forcing conformity and eliciting submission, but Wells Jaha (who she had tried to assault more than a few times, during her darker period) had refuted it.
No, not refuted it, but changed the meaning of the statement. Yes, he agreed, there was doubtless a feeling of pressure amongst the population. As more and more people began to listen to Clarke and learn from her, it would become more and more uncomfortable to do otherwise. However, there was no pressure being exerted by the people in charge (meaning Clarke and her Council, like Harper, or Zoe, or Well himself) to ensure that conformity. It was a choice, freely made without any coercion or even persuasion on their part. It was simply that so many had seen the positive changes within their fellow inmates that followed Clarke, and decided that they wanted the same change in their own lives. They wanted the same purpose, the same growth and strength that the others had all found. Nothing more and nothing less.
Charlotte didn't know about all that. A lot of the discussions the older kids had were a bit over her head, but she had listened eagerly all the same. All she knew is that she was so lost before she had started following Clarke, and she wasn't lost anymore. She wasn't alone anymore. Maybe that made her part of 'the herd', maybe that made her 'sheep', but looking at the others she couldn't bring herself to care. Murphy and his friends, they were still the way she used to be. So stuck in the old anger, and old wounds, that they couldn't see passed it. Suffering and unable to heal because they were unwilling to accept help.
The meeting broke up, small groups forming to chat about everything, and she soon found herself in a group with several other girls and Wells.
"…like Clarke to do something like this, though I wish she would have told me about it. I mean, I know she didn't tell me because she didn't want me to panic, and I love her for it, but I would rather be worried and aware then surprised and worried." Wells was grumbling in fond exasperation, shaking his head to the giggles of the girls around him.
"Its no surprise that The Princess wouldn't want to worry her oldest friend if she could avoid it. Besides, you would have tried to talk her out of it, and then where would we be?" one of them pointed out, and he snorted in agreement, running a hand over his head ruefully.
"Of course I would have tried to talk her out of it. I've been trying to keep that girl out of trouble since we were still in diapers, not that I've ever managed it particularly well. She follows her own convictions, always has and always will. I just wish I could have seen Dad's face during all of this, you know?" he responded, grinning a bit, and the girls all erupted in giggles again, this time with Charlotte joining them. It had become pretty to clear to everyone that Wells wasn't the biggest fan of his father, and the suggested schadenfreude was distinctly appealing. Noticing her, Wells gave her a smile and a wave of greeting. "Hey, Charlotte, how are you doing tonight?"
"I'm alright, kind of confused about how to feel about everything. It's all a bit much, you know?" the youngest Skybox inmate responded a little awkwardly with a shrug, feeling like a little kid that wasn't mature enough to express herself.
She hated that feeling, but Clarke had taught them that honesty with yourself and with others was important. For survival, for relationships, for peace of mind. Deception was a deadly pitfall, self-deception even more so. No one mocked her for it, only humming in sympathy and even agreement, and Wells nodded solemnly.
"It's a complicated issue, Charlotte, so it's only right that you have complicated emotions about it. I'm feeling the same way, you know. Proud, worried, angry, hopeful, cautious…its all a cauldron, ready to reach boiling point." He told her, loudly enough that many of the people outside of their little cluster could hear him clearly, and most stopped to listen. He started out calmly enough, sounding like his typical reserved self, but that didn't last. "I can't begin to express how hard this is for me. My best friend, the girl I've known literally my entire life, is twenty-thousand miles away from me. I can't help her, I can't watch her back, I can't protect her, I can't do a goddamn thing, and it's all because of my own fucking father! All I can do is sit and wait, praying for good news, hoping that my father's stupidity doesn't take my best friend the way it pushed him to murder his!"
Charlotte was shocked. She had never seen Wells this emotionally compromised before. He was passionate at times, yes, but very rarely swore and certainly never raised his voice like this! She had no idea how to handle it, and from the looks of things, neither did any of the other inmates around her. She thought quickly, trying to find something to reassure him, to bring him some semblance of peace. There were no clever remarks, no profound quotes, no enlightening wisdoms that occurred to her, but she would be damned if she stayed silent in the face of his anguish.
"Have faith." She said simply, earnestly, putting a hand on his arm and smiling at him as reassuringly as she could under the circumstances. They all looked at her, and she blushed at the attention, but pushed on despite a sense of embarrassment. "Clarke is the best of us, Wells, of the entire Ark. She can do this, she knows she can do this, or she wouldn't have tried it in the first place. If it starts getting to you, have faith in her. It might not seem like much, but it's actually a whole lot."
They all stared at her for a long moment, and she fidgeted uncomfortably, before Wells chuckled warmly and patted her shoulder approvingly.
"Smart girl, Charlotte. You're right, I should have enough faith in her to put my worries aside. You're a credit to her, you know, you've come farther than I ever would have believed." He praised her honestly, and Charlotte felt like her heart would burst with pride as she beamed up at him.
It wasn't as nice as being praised by Clarke, but it was the next best thing!