❝ Hell isn't where you go when you die.
It's what you become when everything you love has been taken away. ❞
[ sequel to 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 ]
[ the 100 / season two ]
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A Damned Debt;
𝐓he corridor where the cell lies is quiet.
Nobody's even standing guard. They're too caught up in the riders lingering on the other side of the main gates. Too caught up in the ongoing chanting coming from the grounders as they fear an early attack.
There's nobody in sight except for the man she intentionally came to see. The former Chancellor and father of her deceased best friend.
Thelonious Jaha.
The hissing of the doors captures his attention, confusion striking at the sight of the girl. How she managed to access the coded doors is a question he finds better left alone for now. He's happy to see her. After all, he'd been told she was dead, only to discover they found the girl breathing against all odds.
"Clove."
The shade of his beard has faded, leaving a foreign grey among the hairs. The heavy bags under his eyes contribute to the overall exhausted expression, and the dried blood on his skin simply emphasizes it.
"Mr. Jaha," she speaks softly, waiting for the doors to close before proceeding into the room.
"Mr. Jaha? Please, Clove. You're family to..." he pauses through the wincing pain in his eyes. "To us."
The girl takes the seat, glancing at him with sorry eyes. Not anymore.
Jaha nods understandingly. He sucks in a deep breath, not willing to say his son's name out loud just yet. "Did he die well?"
"Exactly how does someone die well?" she raises an eyebrow, instantly regretting the harshness in her voice. Yet, her question still stands. Her expression might be somewhat expressionless, but he can hear the pain in her voice.
"What I mean is..." he drags, watching her with careful eyes. "His death- was it a painful one?"
"I hope not."
Jaha sighs at her lack of cooperation. "I'm guessing you didn't come here to grieve for my son."
Clove curses herself for acting so careless in the company of a man who's just recently lost his last remaining family. But he's right; she didn't come here to exchange stories about his son.
"Look," she hums, providing him with a sympathetic smile. "I'm really sorry about Wells- I am. I cared about him... you know I did, and I get your frustration. I'll talk to you about his death if it's gonna help you move on, but not now. That's not why I'm here."
The man listens. She knows he does, despite not looking in her direction. "And why exactly are you here?"
"Was there closed-circuit television footage on the Ark? Back at the ring?"
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"There was..." Jaha nods hesitantly, unsure of where she's going with this. "Why?"
She sucks in a deep breath, both hope and uncertainty prickling her guts. "Would it have survived the landing? Is it still accessible?"
"Most likely," he frowns, "what do you need that footage for, Clove?"
The blonde lets her eyes travel between his, a sweaty palm coming up to scratch her jaw. Evidence.
As expected, Jaha's frown deepens at her nervousness. He doesn't get to question her further though, as the hissing of the doors arises before he has the chance. They both turn to watch the arriving guardsmen.
"You're not allowed in here," they confront the blonde, earning a discrete eye roll from the girl.
"Oh, you don't say," she mumbles, standing up in willingness to cooperate. "And please, two-zero-five-four? Couldn't come up with a better code than the year this thing was formed?"
A small smirk dances on her lips as she passes them, although it fades once her jacket is grabbed from behind. The guard tugs her forward, leading her away as the other man keeps Jaha secure.
The girl peers over her shoulder, tiny remains of the smirk littering her expression. All it takes is one swift motion; she yanks her wrists out of his gentle grip, determinedly bolting down the hallway.
"Hey!"
Clove Everhart had always been one to respect the rules of the Ark. Yet, after being sent to the ground with nothing but kids her age to rule each other, that respect appears to fade with each breath she takes. Drifting away with the bits and pieces of her naivety.
Left, right. Left, left, right.
Blood rushes to her face leaving a soft pink. Adrenaline streams through her pumping veins. The guard's boots holler behind her, simply adding to the anticipation of her actions.
And then strikes the reality of her situation. It comes in a flash of white pain, nearly knocking her off of her feet. She stumbles.
"No, no, no, no," the blonde pants, her pace dying down as the pain grows. Her thigh aches endlessly. The majority of her features crumple in defeat, nostrils flaring in frustration. "Fucking leg."
The shorter strands of hair littering her hairline stick out in a mess. The guard nearly lets out a chuckle at her current position, passing her a snobby remark along the lines of 'real smart, kid'.
She's led to another section of the station, less gently this time. Bitterness is coating every inch of her once they arrive at their destination.
They round the last corner, only to be met with the curious eyes of Raven and Bellamy. They both visibly question Clove's situation, not failing to notice the bashful look tugging on her expression.
"What's this?" Bellamy demands, watching the guardsman's hand keep the blonde secure. His first thought is that she lashed out. That she'd disregarded his plead for her to keep herself under control.
The guard doesn't reply, resulting in Bellamy turning to Clove. She opens her mouth, about to defend herself, but the doors before them whir open. Abby stands there, a disapproving look in her eye as she wordlessly questions the guard.
"Found her in Jaha's cell."
Abby faces Clove, eyebrows raised. "How'd you unlock the door?"
The blonde grumbles in annoyance, mockery coating every letter. "I'm really smart."
She barely notices the arrival of Jaha and the second guard. "Oh, yes...A genius, that one," the former Chancellor raises an eyebrow, clearly referring to her attempted escape.
