Chapter Text
It had been two days. At least, I was pretty sure. I lost track of time. The lighting never changed. Every now and then, the door would open and they'd bring in a fresh plate of bland food, usually while I was asleep. Boredom gnawed at my mind. At one point there was a book left on the battered couch. I waited as long as I could to not touch it, not give these people the satisfaction. But just as had happened whenever I didn't eat the food, my boredom got the better of me and I picked up the book.
Fahrenheit 451. Really old book. I'd heard a lot about it on the Ark. Apparently it was very popular with my ancestors, and as I read it, I could understand why. Books were fantastic. And I felt a bit of kinship with the main character. I too would drop everything to preserve culture - or in my case, my friends - at the cost of my life.
By the time I'd read the book through for the fifth time, I couldn't take it anymore. Out of my mind with boredom, frustration, and absolute crushing worry for my friends, I chucked the book at the door. I let out a scream, hoping it would make me feel better. All it did was make me angrier.
I rolled off the couch and turned to the security camera. I wasn't sure if they could hear me, but I didn't care.
"HEY!" I shouted, seething with fury. "HEY assholes! What the fuck do you want with me? Where are my friends?"
Of course, no one answered. I pounded on the door, just to make my point, but it did nothing. As I stared out the window, dread seeped into my bones. The door across from mine was wide open, and someone was inside, cleaning it out in a hazmat suit. My eyes widened and a torrent of horrible thoughts overtook my mind.
"HEY!" I pounded on the door, my throat going raw with screaming. The person didn't seem to hear me. "HEY! Where's Jasper? WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO HIM?"
Still, the person didn't even turn around. Wildly, I looked around for something to break the glass with. My eyes fell upon the IV stand I'd been attached to when I first woke up in here. I grunted, acknowledging the stupidity of the idea, and then proceeded to follow through. Glass shattered. Shards fell to the floor around me. I tried to clear away as much of the sharp edges as I could. I reached down and unlocked the handle, then pushed the door open.
Heart hammering in my chest, I stared at what was Jasper's room to find it closed again, and the person gone. Just to be safe, I grabbed a rather large shard of glass and gripped it tight in my hand. Adrenaline pounded in my veins as I slowly stepped out of the white room into the gray hallway. I winced at the cold touch of the stone on my bare feet. Looking up and down the hall, I decided to head to my left. Drops of blood dripped from my fingertips to the ground, leaving a trail, but I didn't care. I just gripped tighter to the glass, ignoring the stinging in my palm.
Rounding the corner, I found myself face to face with another worker, maybe the same one I'd just seen in Jasper's room. We stared at each other for a moment, and then I made my move. Driven only by the fear and concern for my friends, I raced to the person and ripped their mask off. Terror filled his eyes, and he started pleading for me to stop, something about contamination.
I shoved him against the wall and pressed the shard against his throat. More blood spilled over the palm of my hand. My own. That was too much blood, way too much. The cut was deepening, but I didn't care.
"Where the hell are my friends?" I spat, ignoring the rising guilt in my core at his terrified state. He was just a kid, no older than I, but that didn't mean he wasn't the enemy. Murphy was hell. These people could be too.
The boy whimpered, and reached for a card on the outside of his hazmat suit. Before he could grab it, I snatched it and pressed the glass into his neck, drawing a thin line of blood. I scanned his cart and saw a mop. Probably wouldn't work, but I felt I had just enough crazed rage that it would. I pulled away from him and grabbed the mop, swung it at his head with as much force as I could and he crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
Breathing heavily, I dropped the mop and scooped up my shard of glass again. It was much redder. I raced through the maze of hallways until I came upon what looked to be an elevator. Revving with energy, I felt like I was on another plane of existence, waiting for the elevator to open. When it finally did, I had no idea what floor to go to, or which one I was on, for that matter. I took a wild guess and pressed the button for one.
To my surprise, the elevator began to rise. Out of nervousness, I gripped ever tighter to the shard of glass, so tight that an explosion of pain far more agonizing than the hot stinging before erupted in my palm and up my wrist. I let out a tense scream of pain and dropped the glass. Blood poured from the deep wound in my hand, stretching down to my wrist.
Too much blood. Way too much.
The doors opened, and I found several guards with guns standing there, ready for me. I tried to fight them as they grabbed my arms, but there were too many of them. One of them raised the butt of their gun, and then everything went dark.
When I awoke, I wasn't back in my room as I'd expected. I was in a room just as bright, sitting on a bed surrounded by several other empty beds. Empty, save for one right next to me; a person all too familiar.
"Clarke?" I breathed. "Clarke!"
I nearly burst into tears. At least she was okay. I had the reassurance of one of my friends being okay. A dull pain in my hand pulled my attention away from her. I found that a tightly wound cloth bandaged wrapped around my hand. I tried to curl my hand into a fist and winced. Not to mention the fact that my wrists were strapped down at the edge of the bed, the same as Clarke.
Damn, firecracker, Bellamy's voice echoed in my head. Keep that anger under control.
I blinked away a few tears. Of course my grief would turn him into my inner voice. Conscience, no less. Ironic. He'd laugh at the idea. I smiled to myself before turning back to Clarke. Blood covered the top of her white tank-top, the same way it stained the bottom of mine. I guessed she got into as much trouble as I did.
"Y/n, thank god you're okay!" She said.
"What's going on?" I asked, keeping my voice low.
She shook her head. "I don't know. I don't trust this place or these people."
"Me neither."
Just then, the door to the large room opened, and in strolled a dapper elder man and two younger kids, flanked by doctors and guards. One I recognized as the boy I fought in the hallway. I shifted just a little, positioning myself in a protective stance in as much in front of Clarke as I could, being restrained. She may have been our leader, but I was a warrior, and I was going to make sure nothing happened to her.
"Hello, Y/n, Clarke," the dapper man greeted us, a kind smile on his face. "How are the injuries?"
We exchanged glances. How did these people know our names? Neither of us spoke.
"Not much of talkers, are they?" One woman with dark hair in a white coat said, walking past us. I threw her as much of a fiery glare as I possibly could.
"A skill picked up from the savages no doubt," the dapper man responded.
Grounders, I figured.
They stopped right in front of us, and I struggled a little against my restraints, but gave up when I realized it was no use escaping them.
"That's fine," the man continued, and gestured to the two kids who were staring at us with distaste and a hint of fear. "Maya and Jason have something they'd like to say first anyway."
The girl called Maya spoke first, talking to Clarke, her tone laced with agitation. "You were the next one to be cleared through quarantine. Another ten minutes and you would've-"
The dapper man cleared his throat, and Maya sighed.
"I'm not pressing charges."
"Neither am I," Jason said, staring at me. I narrowed my eyes at him and took some victory in the way he shrank back at my glare. Good to know I was imposing enough to scare some of these people. Which meant I could probably force my way out.
"Thank you Maya, Jason," said the dapper man. "You may receive your treatments now."
The lady with dark hair whom I assumed was a doctor guided them to two beds next to each other. I eyed them warily before turning my attention back to the man before us.
"Restraints aren't necessary," he said softly.
"Yes, Mr. President." Two guards removed the leather from my and Clarke's wrists. Slowly, I rubbed them.
"Dante Wallace," The man introduced himself and extended his hand first to me, which I didn't shake, and then to Clarke, who took his hand and looked at the black marks on his fingers. "Oil paint. That's right, you're an artist too."
Clarke stood and stared him in the eyes. "Who told you that?"
I too stood, and stepped closer to Clarke, standing slightly in front of her. Protecting her could make up for everyone I'd lost.
"Your people did. They also said you were their leader," Wallace responded, and then turned to me. "And you're the storytelling hunter."
I glared at him, but couldn't help the spark of relief. Maybe our other friends were okay. That didn't mean that I trusted these people at all, but if they were alive, then I had the right to be a little relieved.
"Where's my watch?" Clarke asked, and immediately my fingers fluttered to my hand.
"And my ring?"
"I'm sorry," Wallace said, though he didn't sound very apologetic, "but we can't let contaminated items inside Mount Weather. We couldn't risk it. Our protocol is very strict. We prioritize safety over sentimentality."
I balled my fingers into fists, ignoring the flare of pain in my right hand. They had taken the last thing I had of Bellamy because they had strict protocol? Oh, I was going to raise hell for these people.
I glanced past the President to the two kids on the hospital beds. Blood circulated through clear tubes into their chests and back out again. Suspicious.
"How many of us did you capture?" Clarke asked. Something I would have liked to know as well.
"Forty-eight including the two of you," Wallace responded, his voice laced with disappointment. "But you've got it all wrong. You're not prisoners. We saved you."
"Well in that case," I spoke up, fueled by mistrust and anger, "you won't mind if we leave then."
Clarke nodded in agreement. "If there are forty-eight of us here, we still have more people out there!"
"Patrol brought in who they could find," Wallace said.
"What about the Ark?" I countered. "It came down-"
"We saw it. There were multiple crash sites over one hundred square miles. If there were survivors, we'll bring them in too," Wallace said, and he sounded sincere, but I wasn't buying it. "You have my word."
"We want to see our people," Clarke demanded.
"Course you do. I would too." Wallace motioned for a wardrobe and opened it before the two of us. "Get dressed, and then you can join us for some dinner."
He sauntered away, and Clarke and I reluctantly sifted through the clothes. I grabbed things that reminded me of life around the dropship. We both picked up a high heeled shoe with the same idea- we broke off the heels and stuck them in our sleeves, just in case.
Sharing a tense, concerned glance with each other, we stepped out of the medical room. I let my eyes linger on the two patients, wondering about the healing process. An uncomfortable feeling overcame me. Something wasn't right here. And I was going to find out what.
We followed President Wallace through a series of depressing, gray hallways lit by flickering fluorescent lights. One room we passed through was incredibly loud, so loud and rattling I could barely hear myself think. Apparently it was the sound of their hydroponic system from their own water reserve to provide fresh water and good food. These people really had everything figured out. Which meant it was going to be difficult to figure out their secrets.
"I don't understand," Clarke said, after Wallace finished explaining how they lived. "You're on the ground. You know it's survivable. Why would you stay here?"
"It's not survivable for us."
"The Grounders seem to have managed," Clarke countered.
Wallace responded, "Natural selection works. The Grounders who couldn't survive the radiation didn't. Those who could passed on their DNA. For better or worse we never went through that process."
Worse, I would say. I would hate to have to spend my entire life inside a mountain, so close to the land our ancestors walked. At least in space, we were too far away that to dream of touching the soil was just that. A dream.
"Neither did we," Clarke said. "We've been on the ground now for...solar radiation."
"Very good," Wallace remarked. "Your DNA ran the same gauntlet as the Grounders. Only because radiation levels in space are even higher, your ability to metabolize the radiation is even stronger."
Which made sense. But I didn't like the way he said that. There was something way too shady about everyone in this place.
"Truth be told," Wallace continued, "our scientists were blown away by the efficiency of your systems. If not for that, your friends would still be upstairs in quarantine."
We stopped in front of another elevator. The president gestured for us to enter, and reluctantly, I stepped inside, followed by two guards. As the doors closed, Wallace stopped them with his hand. He stared at both of us, a small, knowing smile on his face.
"First, give me the heels."
Clarke pursed her lips and pulled her heel from her sleeve. I wasn't going to give in so easily. I kept my mouth shut, my glare hard, and pretended as if I didn't understand. But Wallace kept staring at me, and finally Clarke nudged my shoulder. I huffed and handed the man my broken heel.
"You're not fighting for your life anymore, Y/n," he said as he took my heel. "You've made it. Welcome to Mount Weather."
He smiled and I didn't shift in my steely gaze even as the elevator doors shut. Maybe I could relax. Maybe I could trust these people. But I wasn't going to stop fighting, not until I was sure. I would always fight for myself, for my friends.
Arrived, level five. A woman's voice echoed as we stepped out of the elevator. The two men flanking us led us to a group of people where a woman was explaining something.
"Your packet contains everything you need to know about Mount Weather," she was saying. "Which, I promise, is not as confusing as the map on page one makes it out to look."
Clarke and I hesitantly stepped towards the group of people.
"You came from level three, which houses our medical facility including quarantine-"
"Y/n! Clarke!" A familiar voice called out. Monty broke through the crowd and raced into my arms. A smile spread across my face and I hugged him tight, so incredibly relieved to see that he was okay. Jasper was not far behind him, and I pulled him into a hug too. Happy tears stung at my eyes and I quickly blinked them away.
After sharing hugs with them, I tentatively asked, "Bellamy?"
The elation fell, and Jasper's smile dropped. "Y/n...he uh, he didn't make it. Neither did Finn."
I turned my gaze to the ground, but Clarke put a comforting hand on my shoulder. "We don't know that. What about Raven?"
Their lack of response was all the answer we needed. She wasn't here either. Dead, probably. But I tried not to think about that.
"Welcome Clarke, Y/n," the woman who was speaking before approached us, and handed us each a small blue binder. "If you have any questions, I'm Keenan."
Clarke offered her a small smile, but I couldn't find it in me to be so civil. I just gripped tight to the binder and watched as she walked away.
I opened the binder to find a map of the mountain on the first page. There were six levels, the first near the top of the mountain. The longer I studied it, the more I realized something was off. I exchanged a glance with her, and figured she was thinking the same thing. This was a map with no exits.
Stomach grumbling, I joined Monty and Jasper at a long cafeteria table. As always, they were joking around, their dorky smiles lifting my spirits, if only a little.
"Hey!" I greeted them, trying not to be so morose. "What's up?"
"Oh, Y/n," Monty said, "you have to try the chocolate cake. So good."
Jasper eyed him teasingly. "Oh it is so on."
I smiled and grabbed a fork to take a piece of it. Though that part of me that wanted to keep fighting, to not trust these people screamed at me not to eat their food, the hunger in my stomach and the desire to feel at peace for once overruled. My eyes closed in satisfaction as I put the bite of cake in my mouth.
I moaned, trying to be as obnoxious as possible. "Oh fuck me, that's so good."
Fantastic food was another thing these people had over the Ark. I'd never tasted cake this good before in my life.
Monty and Jasper laughed, and then I shot them a challenging glare. "Hey Jasper, wanna share that pie too?"
Jasper shook his head. "Oh no, oh hell no."
I waved my fork around and went in for his pie. He stood up and moved the plate out of my reach every time I went for a piece. Despite all my worries, the bad feeling I got from these people and this mountain, I was enjoying myself, experiencing a moment of pure glee.
"Sit down and pretend you're happy to see me," Clarke said, a serious frown on her face. My smile dropped and we all took our seats.
"We are happy to see you," Monty replied, and I nodded, taking the chance to steal some of Jasper's pie. He exhaled and narrowed his eyes at me. I gave him a shit-eating grin as I made an exaggerated face to show how much I enjoyed his food.
"Clarke, you should totally have some of Jasper's pie," I offered, staring him down and he glared teasingly. "He loves to share."
Clarke shook her head. "I'm not eating their food."
I dropped my smile and licked my fork before setting it down on the plate. Clarke pulled out her binder and opened it to the map.
"Look. They gave us a map with no exits."
"Yeah, I noticed that too," I agreed.
Clarke ignored me, but I didn't take it personally. "Tell me everything you've seen. Every room, every hallway. Every way out."
"Way out," Jasper scoffed. "Look around you Clarke. There's no one hunting us here. First time in our lives, we're not hungry. Why would you want to leave?"
I agreed. But then Bellamy's face flashed through my mind again. I knew he was probably dead. That was a harsh reality. But I had hope. Hope that he was still out there, that so many of our people were still out there, and if we stayed we wouldn't ever see them again. I couldn't bear that thought.
"Because we have friends out there who need our help!" Clarke countered.
"They're looking for survivors," Monty offered. "And they're way better equipped to find them than we are."
A nice sentiment, but I doubted they were looking very hard. Again, I had a bad feeling about these mountain people. There was something else, some sort of hidden agenda, something behind all this warmth and hospitality that was successfully luring me in.
"This place is too good to be true," Clarke murmured, assenting to my own thoughts.
"You're bumming me out," Jasper sighed. "I'm gonna go get more cake."
He left, and Clarke soon followed, leaving me alone with Monty.
"I agree with Clarke, you know," I said, grabbing a roll of bread from a basket on the table. "Something is off with this place."
Monty sighed and finished the rest of his cake. "You guys are always on the offensive. Maybe you're right. I take everything with a grain of salt. But try to enjoy it for now."
"I'm trying, Monty. Really. I am." I gave him a side hug. "I said to you what feels forever ago to keep your optimism because we need it. We still do. Balance out me and Clarke."
He chuckled.
In the corner of my eye, I saw Clarke leaving the dining room, something in her hand. She had that familiar look on her face that she was up to something. And I was not going to leave her to do that something alone. I caught up to her just outside the cafeteria.
"Alright, where we going?"
Clarke glanced at me, and showed her Maya's key card. "We're getting out."
I nodded. We could escape and bring back reinforcements to get the others out.
You're gonna get yourself killed, Bellamy's voice echoed in my head. I ignored that.
Halfway down another hallway, alarms started blaring.
Alert, code five, a woman's voice reverberated throughout the hallway. Clarke and I exchanged glances.
"Not a prisoner, huh?" She said, before taking off. Adrenaline pumping, I followed her and forced myself to run ever faster as guards chased us from every direction. Feet slapping on the concrete floor, we raced into a dead end, a restricted door our only exit. I prayed that the card worked to open it, and thankfully it did.
Once through, we shoved the door closed and I yanked the wires so they couldn't follow us.
"Nice," Clarke said, offering me a smile, before taking off up the stairs. I let out a breath and pounded up the stairs after her.
At the top, there was nothing but empty space. Wildly, I looked around and saw a massive sealed door. Without hesitation, we raced for it. Together, we turned the wheel that kept the door locked shut. My muscles cried out, but I didn't relent until I heard a satisfying click. I nodded, and Clarke gripped tight to the lever, ready to pull it down and open the door.
"Clarke, no!"
Jasper and Maya broke out of the elevator and stopped right in front of us. Jasper had his arm outstretched, as if approaching a wild animal. I tried to soften my gaze, but I was wild with adrenaline and the possibility of being so close to freedom.
"If you pull that lever, these people will die," Jasper said. "Even a little radiation will kill them."
I panted, trying to figure what was the best option. Could I live with myself if I killed an entire population of people who were treating us so kindly? Maybe. Maybe if it got me back to Bellamy. But I still wasn't even sure he was alive. I exchanged a nervous glance with Clarke. Time slowed as she seemed to have the same internal debate.
Maya returned with a loaded gun, aiming at Clarke. I stepped in front of her, fire flashing in my eyes.
"Don't make me shoot you," she said.
"Wait, wait." Jasper stepped in front of the barrel of Maya's gun, and then turned to me and Clarke. I stepped aside, just a little so I wasn't blocking him from talking to her completely. "Guys, don't do this."
"I don't believe them," I said, my voice shaking. I didn't know if it was because I missed Bellamy or because I feared I would die here or because I was so confused that my emotions were just getting the better of me.
Jasper looked at me with dejection in his eyes. It calmed me down a little, enough to make myself listen to him. "Why would they lie?"
Truthfully, I didn't know. But there had to be something. They had to be lying about something.
"Listen to me," Jasper continued. "We're safe here. Because of the both of you, we're safe."
"Not all of us," I replied, choking back tears. Bellamy was all I could think about.
"I'm the one that fired the rockets," Jasper offered, as if trying to help ease the anger and mourning I felt. It did, just a little. "Should I not have done that? Clarke, when you pulled that lever, you saved lives. Don't throw that away by pulling this one."
I turned to Clarke, and saw she had the same teary eyed anger that I felt. And in that moment, I figured maybe Jasper was right. Maybe killing an entire civilization was not the right way to go about this. Slowly, Clarke released her hold on the lever.
"There they are!" Guards raced down the hallway, pushing past Maya and Jasper to us. "Hands up!"
The guards grabbed my arms and forced them behind me, roughly shoving me to the ground. I couldn't help the tears as they clamped handcuffs around my wrists. I really messed up. I wasn't sure if Bellamy would be proud or not.
If you get yourself killed, probably not, his voice echoed in my mind. That was probably true.
Clarke and I walked in silence, flanked by guards as they led us to the President's office. The cold metal of the handcuffs bit into my skin and I tried not to wince as it rubbed against my wound. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of being in pain, of being afraid.
Inside his office, soft opera music was playing. Wallace was painting on a canvas, and it was actually rather impressive. Beautiful trees, grass, sky. Looking at the painting took me back all the way to the first day we'd landed, the astonishment I'd felt at breathing the fresh, sweet air for the first time in my life.
"Lose the handcuffs," Wallace ordered, without breaking concentration on his artwork.
The guards unlocked the cuffs binding our wrists. I kept my gaze on the painting, rubbing my wrists.
"There's a blank canvas, if you'd like," Wallace said, gesturing to his left. "And a rather beautiful journal there, if you want to write, Y/n."
I let my gaze stray to where he pointed and found myself staring at a leather bound notebook, embroidered with gold decorations. I hated to admit that I loved it, that I yearned to put my words on its pages. It reminded me of the one my mother had given me, and I fought to remain as stoic as Clarke.
"I used to paint the ground too," Clarke said after a while of awkward silence.
"It's not just the ground. It's a memory," Wallace responded. My head snapped away from the notebook to the President. So he had been outside. I was right to be suspicious of these people.
"You've been outside," Clarke said, her voice accusatory.
"Yes. Fifty-six years ago for five minutes. I was seven when the first of what we call The Outsiders appeared. Before that, we thought we were all there was. Imagine our surprise."
"Don't have to imagine," I muttered.
"Ah, so she speaks." Wallace turned and gave me a small smile. I narrowed my eyes and didn't say anything more, so he continued. "My father, this was his office at the time, believed that the earth was survivable again. And so he opened the doors. Within a week, fifty-four people were dead from exposure, my mother and sister among them."
I felt bad, of course, but I still didn't trust them. I doubted anything this man said could get me to trust him or this mountain.
Wallace turned to us, and put his pallet down. "Loss, pain, regret. Time eases these things. But the only time it's ever truly gone is when I'm painting."
Exactly how I felt when I wrote or when I told stories.
"You didn't bring us here to talk about painting," Clarke said. "Did you?"
"I'm afraid I have bad news."
I had to refrain from rolling my eyes. I expected nothing less.
"Our patrols have swept the area and found no sign of survivors. Either at your camp, or the Ark."
My heart sank. I didn't trust the words he was saying, but I couldn't help the extent of the melancholy I felt. Bellamy might be gone for good. And Raven. And my father. Everyone.
"How can they be sure?" Clarke asked.
Wallace shrugged. "They can't. I've ordered them to keep searching-"
"I need to see for myself," I interrupted. Maybe he was right. Maybe he was wrong. I would be the one to determine which.
"I can't allow that. I'm doing this for your own good. It's not safe out there."
"Radiation has no affect on us!" I argued, trying to keep my voice from rising.
"It's not the radiation I'm concerned about," Wallace replied. "You need time to grieve. These men will show you to your room."
"And if we try to leave?" Clarke challenged. I stepped closer to her to show that I stood with her.
"Please don't test me, Clarke. Y/n."
I glared at Wallace before turning on my heel and letting the guards lead us out of the office. Our room was one big room to be shared by all forty-eight of us, filled with bunk-beds. Clarke and I shared one. I took the bottom while she took the top.
For a while, I looked around at everyone milling about, reading books or joking with each other. I smiled.
I collapsed on the bed, burrowing my face into the lumpy pillow, almost cursing myself for being grateful for it. Since I'd been on Earth, I hadn't slept in a proper bed or with a proper pillow or blanket. Maybe I was being too paranoid.
Anything to keep you alive, Bellamy's voice murmured.
"But what about peace?" I whispered to myself, as I turned and looked at all my people, my friends, enjoying themselves. "Can't I be at peace?"
My inner voice stayed silent. I sighed and rolled back over, and stared at the bottom of Clarke's bed before I fell asleep.