Chapter Text
***
Med bay – Thursday after school
She was busy helping Dr. Jackson set the arm of a man who had broken it in a fight at Farm Station an hour earlier, when her mother burst into the med bay with a satisfied smile.
"Clarke," she called, "when you are not too busy, kindly join me in my office, if you please."
Without waiting, she strode off, her satisfied smile still plastered on her face. Clarke exchanged a puzzled look with Jackson, who only shrugged and offered a small smile. Abby’s antics always seemed to entertain him lately. It was true that Abby had been less serious in recent weeks. Clarke wondered why. After her revelations about their future, she had grown somber, but for a few weeks now her mother seemed lighter, almost cheerful.
Intrigued, Clarke finished with Jackson and asked if she could take a break. He gave her permission with a knowing smile, and she quickly went to her mother’s office.
"Good evening, mom," Clarke said as she entered, smiling with curiosity.
"Clarke, you couldn’t have come at a better time. Do come in, my dear, and be seated."
"You seem awfully pleased," Clarke noted, her smile as wide as her mother’s.
"I am, and you will be too before long."
"Ok," Clarke laughed softly. "What is it?"
"I spoke with Thelonious earlier, in private, about the grounders."
"Really? Why?"
"I wanted him to feel either threatened or privileged. It mattered little which. Having a secret gave him a sense of superiority, but talking about it gave us leverage. I used the chance to point out how much of an advantage it would be if we spoke a language the grounders couldn’t understand—if they turned out not to be peaceful."
"That’s brilliant, mom! And how did he react?"
"He agreed, of course."
"Awesome! Thanks, mom! That’s going to help us so much!"
Abby leaned back in her chair, clearly proud of herself.
"So, can we suggest a language?"
"I see no reason why not," she replied with a shrug.
"Then suggest French."
She nodded without asking why Clarke chose that particular language, and that in itself was a first. It struck Clarke that, for once, her mother was showing real trust in her despite never having seen her lead as she had in her first life.
Moved by the gesture, Clarke kept quiet.
"Anything else?"
Clarke shook her head.
"Oh, did I mention?" Abby suddenly declared. "Kane and Callie have wed!"
"What? When? They just got engaged!"
Abby chuckled.
"They eloped."
"How could that happen?" Clarke asked, puzzled. "We’re on a space station…"
"They simply did," her mother said with a shrug. "Now they want to adopt a child."
"Already? Why not have one of their own?"
"Because Callie loves her work as a guard and does not want to step away right now."
"Fortunately for her, the Council just enacted the second-child law," Clarke smirked.
"Fortunate indeed," her mother echoed, her smile just as wide.
Clarke was glad to see her efforts finally pay off. It had taken time to push the Council—mostly Jaha—into accepting the vote and putting it into action, but for the past two weeks many families had started filing adoption requests, especially those without reproduction rights: same-sex couples, or parents who had lost a child.
But Callie and Kane, a couple without children yet—that would be a first.
"I hope it works out."
"It will depend on whether there are enough children. Their request won’t be prioritized."
Clarke nodded. It made sense.
"Why not just wait until they’re ready?"
"I think it’s because they want a large family while still being young enough to raise a baby. And, if I remember correctly, they want to give all their time to the adopted child first—to show them the love they deserve and make sure the child feels at home before adding anyone else."
Again, it made sense. Callie was always rational—something Clarke shared.
After that, Clarke’s break ended and she had to return to her shift. But before leaving she said to her mother:
"I’ll be with Wells tonight, so don’t wait for me."
Her mother nodded, and Clarke left.
***
Just as she had told her mother, by the end of the day Clarke found herself in front of Wells’s door. Before she could knock, it swung open. Clarke’s eyes widened in surprise.
"Wells?" she chuckled. "I was about to knock. I know I didn’t announce myself, but I thought we could spend some time together, just the two of us."
"It’s been a while," he said with a smile, though he looked a little pressed. "But—we’ve got a problem right now, so we’ll have to reschedule."
"Ok," she agreed, stepping inside after him. "What’s going on?"
He leaned closer and said in a conspiratorial tone:
"Octavia did something reckless and needs our help to get out of it."
"What did she do, and why call you instead of me or her brother?"
Wells avoided her eyes and shrugged. Clarke frowned but decided to let it go for now.
"So what happened? What did she do?"
"She… well, she got out."
"What do you mean, she got out? Wait… no… she left her quarters?" Clarke whisper-shouted, suddenly angry.
Wells nodded.
"That explains why she didn’t call you or your brother."
"No, it doesn’t," Clarke snapped. "Quite the opposite, actually."
Wells frowned but said nothing.
"Where is she?"
"In the middle of Mecha Station."
"What the hell is she doing there?"
"She wanted to see Raven… she heard what you told Bellamy about her. She’s curious about your friends, and since Raven lost her mom… I’m not sure, she wasn’t very clear. She sounded upset."
"I bet."
Clarke was annoyed, but she should have seen this coming. On Earth, Octavia was reckless and bold. Here, she was shy, and Clarke had forgotten that once in contact with others she might become like she had been on Earth—daring, impulsive, and driven by her concern for others.
"So, what exactly did she tell you?"
"She got caught in the middle of a fight, and the guards want to question her as a witness."
"Crap."
"Yeah…"
"I think she was hoping that because of who I am, the guards would be more lenient."
"That might work. But I’ll call Shumway to make sure."
Clarke tapped her bracelet and pressed the number 4—his shortcut. One was her mother, two was Wells, three was Murphy. She didn’t see Wells frown at that detail.
"Yes, Mistress?"
"Seriously?" she hissed, glancing at Wells.
Luckily, he was busy with his own bracelet. By the look on his face, it had to be another panicked message from Octavia.
"Sorry— Clarke. Miss Griffin."
She sighed.
"What can I do for you, Miss?"
"I need you at Farm Station, right now. A friend of mine needs help."
"What kind of help?"
"She’s a witness to a fight. She can’t be interrogated."
He nodded.
"What’s her name, or a description?"
"Octavia. She’s my height, brown hair, green eyes."
"I’ll call my men right away and have them step aside until you arrive. They’ll release her to you."
"Perfect. I’m with Wells, by the way."
"All the better."
Clarke thanked him and hung up. When she turned to Wells, he was frowning at her.
"What?"
"What do you have over him that you can call him and not only get an answer, but obedience too?"
She shrugged, then smiled.
"A girl can’t tell."
He rolled his eyes but didn’t press. Instead, he raised his bracelet.
"Octavia is next in line."
Clarke glanced at his bracelet and spoke firmly:
"Don’t say a word. They’ll set you aside and leave you alone until we arrive. Don’t worry."
"They will? They don’t look like they know that!"
"They will. Shumway is contacting them right now. Trust me."
"Ok. But please, hurry."
She nodded, and Wells ended the call. The rest of the walk passed in silence. When they reached Mecha Station, they had to search for the fight.
"Call her," Clarke said, exasperated after ten minutes of wandering.
"You could call her," Wells teased with a faint smile, but he did it anyway.
"Hey, O, everything alright?"
"Yeah," Octavia answered with obvious relief. "They put me to the side without saying anything."
"See? We told you!"
Clarke saw Octavia smile back at Wells, her cheeks turning a little pink.
No way…
"Where are you?" Clarke cut in before the conversation drifted anywhere else.
"Uh, oh hey Clarke! Well, I think I’m near Raven’s shop."
"How do you even know where that is?"
"I asked Bellamy to show me blueprints of the Ark and each station. I was bored, and since you said one day I’d get to live like everyone else, I thought it might come in handy."
Clarke sighed. She was tired already.
"We’re almost there."
A few minutes later, they arrived where the guards were. The fight had flared up again—two men shouting, fists flying, and guards struggling to break them apart.
One guard stood with the witnesses: Octavia and two others, probably friends of the fighters. Clarke went straight to him.
"We’re Clarke Griffin and Wells Jaha. We’re here for her," she said, pointing at Octavia. "Lieutenant Shumway should have called you."
The guard barely looked at them, too distracted by the brawl.
"Go on," he muttered, waving them through.
Then, as if remembering who he was talking to, he added:
"And be careful on the way back!"
They nodded, and he turned back to the fight. Clarke and Wells went to Octavia, and she threw herself into Wells’ arms with relief.
"I was so scared," she whispered, her voice muffled against his shirt.
Clarke frowned, less and less happy with what she was seeing. Wells blushed. Clarke grimaced, then sighed.
"We should go," she said, turning on her heel and walking quickly toward the Blakes’ quarters.
***
After a moment, she looked back—and what she saw soured her mood further. Wells and Octavia were holding hands, gazing at each other like no one else existed.
"Seriously?" she hissed, stopping abruptly.
They both jumped, looking guilty.
"What do you mean?" Octavia asked, bold but nervous.
Clarke glared at her, saying nothing until Octavia dropped her gaze.
"You already have a boyfriend. One who took a punch from your brother because of you. And the last time I saw you together, you two looked pretty taken with each other."
"I know I have a boyfriend, and I like John!" Octavia shot back, offended.
"Then what exactly are you doing?"
"I don’t know what you’re talking about," she said stubbornly.
Clarke shook her head and glanced at Wells, who avoided her eyes. At least he let go of Octavia’s hand. Clarke surged ahead, grabbed Octavia’s hand, and pulled her along. Wells followed silently.
"Tell me, at what point did sneaking out and putting your whole family at risk sound like a good idea?"
Octavia pressed her lips into a thin line.
"I just… I don’t know. I was curious, I guess. You’re my only female friend, and you always talk about how interesting Raven is…"
"That doesn’t answer my question."
"I know I took some risks…"
"Some?" Clarke snapped. "You’re lucky you reached Wells. Luckier still that I was with him. And even luckier that I have leverage with the guards! What were you thinking, Octavia? Are you trying to get your whole family floated? And send John to the skybox too?"
"No! I… I… I don’t know, ok? I didn’t think!"
"Yeah, that’s obvious."
Octavia stopped and tried to yank her hand free, but Clarke held on.
"We don’t have time for your tantrums. Stop letting your pride do the thinking. We have to get you home before another guard decides to stop you."
"I’m with you and Wells. No one will dare."
"You’re deluded if you think we’re untouchable. Only the Council is above control. They don’t bother us much, but the rules still apply."
"Then call your guard friend again."
"Octavia!" Clarke hissed furiously. "Are you really that selfish? I can’t always pull strings. And what if next time I can’t reach them?"
Octavia’s face burned with anger, but her shoulders sagged. She followed in silence, eyes on the floor, her hand limp in Clarke’s grip.
When they reached her quarters, she hesitated. Her mom and brother would soon know about her little stunt.
To her relief, no one was home yet. She turned to Clarke with pleading eyes.
"Can’t we keep this between the three of us?"
"Oh, so now you want to dodge responsibility? Is that how you were raised?"
Clarke’s patience snapped again. The Blakes’ immaturity always created problems. Their good hearts were a strength, but their recklessness was dangerous and a burden for Clarke, and their pride made it worse usually with harsh consequencies for others.
She needed a way to push Octavia to grow up. She glances at Wells. No, he was too involved with her. But she knew no one as good for the job as him. She was torn. How had that even happened ?
"It’s not like that…" Octavia began, but Clarke cut her off.
"It is. Don’t insult us by pretending otherwise. Now, do you want to tell them yourself, or should I?"
Octavia frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"She’s asking if you want to be the one to tell your family, or if she should do it for you," Wells explained gently.
Octavia paused, then answered hesitantly:
"I… I think I’ll do it."
She glanced at Wells, who gave her an encouraging smile.
"Then it is settled. We need to go," she said to Wells, who grimaced, knowing well the conversation that awaited with his best friend. Clarke turned back to Octavia, her tone severe: "I shall check later to ensure you have indeed confessed."
The younger girl nodded, ashamed. Clarke and Wells left her there. With one last regretful look at Octavia, Wells followed his friend, who was already striding away.
***
Before they could reach their own quarters, they stumbled upon a scene that made Clarke’s blood boil. Wells saw it too and frowned. He had never liked arrests either. He turned to Clarke—and instantly worried. She was vibrating with rage. He put a firm hand on her arm.
"What is it, Clarke?" he whispered.
"Those are Charlotte’s parents. They’re being arrested."
"Charlotte…?" Wells repeated, confused, until he remembered the youngest of the hundred Clarke had told him about.
One of Clarke’s deepest regrets.
Two women were fighting violently against the guards. One of them lashed out and struck a guard.
At that, the guards escalated, pulling out their stun batons and shocking the women mercilessly, even after they fell at their feet, until they lay unconscious.
Then a little girl burst forth, screaming and crying.
"We have to stop her or she’ll end up in the skybox!" Clarke shouted, and rushed forward.
Wells swore and followed.
"Hey!" Clarke cried, catching the girl. "Calm down!"
"Let me go! Mama! Mommy! Let me goooo!"
Charlotte thrashed wildly in Clarke’s arms, striking her with fists, feet, even her head. Startled, Wells hesitated. Between Clarke’s unusual behavior and the girl’s fury, he had no idea how to help
"Oww!" Clarke gasped as one blow landed hard.
Wells actually chuckled, then winced as Charlotte struck Clarke again—this time on the chin.
"Charlotte, calm down. I know you’re angry, but I’m not your enemy."
"Let me go! Fuck you! Mamaaa! Mommyyy!"
As her mothers were dragged away, one of the guards smirked at Clarke. Clarke’s face twisted into disgust.
"Need help with the little monster?" he sneered.
Before Clarke could reply, Wells stepped in quickly.
"It’s fine, officer. We’ve got her."
The man gave him a smirk.
"Ah, the little prince. Your father would be proud."
Wells grimaced but said nothing. When he turned back, Clarke was holding Charlotte, who had collapsed into sobs, her world falling apart.
"What now?" Wells asked softly.
"Now we take her to the Blakes'."
***
When they finally left the Blakes’ quarters, Clarke and Wells were exhausted.
Octavia, however, was relieved. Her mother had returned soon after her and had been furious, to say the least. Bellamy had not yet come back, and she was not ready to confess to him what she had done. But now, with a little orphan girl to look after—at least for one night—her mother’s attention was elsewhere.
At the junction between their quarters, Clarke turned to Wells.
"I need you to watch Octavia. Keep an eye on her."
He frowned.
"I thought…"
"I know. And you were right. But you’re still the best person I know. You’re level-headed, you think before you act, you’re smart, kind, and brave. I need you to help Octavia become more grounded. Her lack of reflection is her biggest weakness, and it caused me a lot of trouble before. But she also has potential—she was an asset with the grounders."
"Like Bellamy."
"Like Bellamy," Clarke smirked. "Both a pain in the ass, and both invaluable."
"How am I supposed to keep her grounded?"
"Use your charm," Clarke said with a shrug.
"Clarke…"
She sighed.
"You can’t do that to John. And you won’t. We both know it. But she doesn’t. You need to stop it."
"And at the same time you want me to help her grow… How am I supposed to do both?"
"Be her friend. A real friend. She’s your brother’s little sister."
"That’s… weird."
"Yes and no. You’re not related. But Wells…"
"I know. I’ll do my best. But…"
"Yes?"
"Why not ask John?"
She raised a brow.
"John? Have you met the guy?"
"Yeah, he’s basically the male version of Octavia," Wells chuckled, understanding.
Clarke nodded.
"You’re my only option. For both Blakes. I tried myself, but it didn’t really work."
He nodded slowly. Clarke gave him a tired smile, and together they walked home.
***