Two days, it's been two days since they had to leave Jason behind and return back to the ark station after the near massacre by Finn. Clarke sat outside and near the Alpha Station's main hull, picking at a bowl of bland rations. She wasn't really eating; she was just staring at the treeline, her mind replaying the sight of the covered bodies in the clearing.
"Hey," a voice broke through her trance.
Bellamy stepped into her line of sight, he looked as tired as she felt, "How are you holding up?"
Clarke offered a small, weary smile. "Same as yesterday Bellamy, waiting for the sky to fall… again."
She looked past him, catching sight of a familiar grease-stained ponytail cutting through the crowd. Raven was stomping toward them, her face flushed with frustration. She'd spent the last forty-eight hours pulled between her grief for Jason's departure, Finn's sanity and her work with Wick, trying to scrape together a miracle from the wreckage.
Raven slumped down on the crate next to Clarke, letting out a long, jagged sigh.
"I'm guessing the radio isn't singing yet?" Bellamy asked.
"Useless," Raven spat, wiping a smudge of oil from her forehead. "It's a disaster. Every time we think we've found a frequency that isn't white noise, it gets scrambled. It's like trying to find a specific leaf in the middle of a damn ocean during a hurricane. The interference is coming from the Mountain, I know it."
Bellamy reached out, squeezing her shoulder. "Don't worry. You'll get it eventually. You're the best we've got, Raven."
Raven opened her mouth to argue on something else, but she stopped, her expression shifting slightly as she looked at Clarke, then at Bellamy, her eyes darting between them as she prepared to tell them the other thing,"That's not everything, though. I found something I think—"
"Raven," Clarke interrupted softly, her voice filled with a sudden, quiet concern. "Are you okay? Really?"
Raven was stunned for a moment not expecting that particular question, the technical jargon dying on her tongue. She looked away, her jaw tightening as she thought about the man who's most likely sitting in a Grounder cell because of their mistakes.
"If this is about that idiot," Raven said, "then yeah, I'm doing okay. I'm fine."
She looked toward the gate, her eyes narrowing. "I'm sure Jason knew exactly what he was doing when he decided to wait for the Grounders. He doesn't do anything by accident."
She let out a short, dry scoff, shaking her head. "I don't know his whole plan, I'm not sure anyone does but then again, there's no real need to know, is there? He's never disappointed us before. Not when it counts."
Clarke looked down at her rations. "He's in a lot of danger, Raven. We left him alone with an army that wants us dead."
Raven's eyes snapped back to Clarke, she let out a dark, mocking laugh.
"Danger?" Raven scoffed, "Clarke, come on. We all know the truth, Jason isn't in danger. He is the danger.
"What I'm more worried about, though, is him," Raven muttered, her gaze shifting away from the horizon and landing on a figure moving through the center of the camp.
Finn walked between two rows of tents with an unreadable expression. He had a stoic, hollow mask that didn't fit him, didn't fit the boy they'd known. He moved with a stiff, mechanical gait, looking at no one.
"My mom cleared him of all charges," Clarke whispered, her voice tinged with a mix of relief and lingering guilty, "Officially, it's on the record as self-defense."
Bellamy let out a short, cynical breath. "Yeah, I heard. A 'preemptive strike' against a hostile force. Convenient way to keep the peace inside these walls, even if the woods remember it differently."
"Now, what do we have planned that requires such hushed tones?" a mocking voice drawled from beside them.
Murphy slid onto the end of the crate, taking a slow swig from a cup. He looked better than he had in weeks, cleaner and sharper but his eyes still held that restless glint. He followed Raven's gaze toward Finn and a smirk tugged at his lips. "Oh, look. It's Mr. Trigger Happy himself."
"Shut the hell up, Murphy," Bellamy snapped, Murphy let out a dry laugh. "What? Too soon? I'm just saying, the guy's got a hell of an itchy finger."
"Don't you have someone else to bother?" Clarke asked, her patience fraying.
Murphy tilted his head, feigning thought. "Well, let's see... Monroe is out with the guards on patrol. Sterling? Haven't seen him in a while. So, no. You three are the best show in town."
Before Clarke could retort, Finn reached them. He stopped a few feet away, his eyes locking onto Clarke's with an intensity that made her skin crawl. He ignored Bellamy's look and Raven's stiff posture.
"Clarke," Finn said, his voice flat. "Can we talk? Just us?"
Clarke opened her mouth to answer, her heart hammering, but a sharp call from across the yard saved her.
"Clarke! I need you in Medical!" Abby stood by the entrance to the main station, waving her daughter over.
"Excuse me," Clarke said quickly, her voice a blur of apology as she stood up and retreated toward her mother, leaving the tension behind.
As soon as she was out of earshot, Murphy leaned toward Finn. "Real smooth, Romeo. Nothing says 'I love you' like a massacre in a mud village."
"Shut up, Murphy!" Raven barked, her hand slamming against the crate.
"What? It's true," Murphy said, holding up both hands in mock surrender. He stood up, dusting off his pants with a smirk. "I'll leave you two to your brooding. It's getting a bit crowded with all this teenage angst." He gave Finn a final, mocking salute and sauntered off toward the mess hall.
"Jerk," Raven hissed under her breath.
She turned back to Finn with her expression softening slightly into something like pity, and opened her mouth to speak, but Bellamy gave a sharp, subtle shake of his head. He knew there was nothing left to say that wouldn't make the silence worse.
Finn stood there for a moment longer, looking at the spot where Clarke had been, before turning and walking away without a word.
"Well," Bellamy sighed, leaning back. "That wasn't awkward at all."
Raven groaned, rubbing her temples as if she could squeeze the frustration out of her skull. "Ugh, forget him. Look, there's something I was trying to tell you and Clarke before Murphy showed up. About the signals."
Bellamy sat up straighter, "What about them? You said they were scrambled."
"They are," Raven said, her eyes suddenly bright with a frantic, technical energy. "But it's not just noise, Bellamy. I found a pattern. It's coming from the Mountain, but it's not a block but more of a bypass. Someone is trying to prevent us from contacting the other stations
Bellamy frowned. "What?"
"Come with me," Raven said, standing up and grabbing his arm.
————
Raven hunched over a radio broadcasting nothing but static, she was trying to tune in on any signal she could think of and still nothing while Abby, Clarke, and Bellamy stood behind her, their shadows stretching long against the canvas walls.
"Wait," Bellamy said, "So you're saying they crashed the Exodus ship?"
Raven didn't look up, and continued trying to tune the damn radio. "Based on the signal ghosts and this specific frequency jammer I've picked up, it's a signature, Bellamy. It's the exact same tech Monty was trying to warn us about before without even knowing. The Mountain Men didn't just watch the ship fall; they pulled it out of the sky. And now they're using that same jamming net to keep us blind. They're preventing us from finding our people, from hearing any other survivors... they want us isolated."
"We can't wait anymore," Clarke said and they could hear her voice trembling with a mix of fury and fear. "God knows what they're doing to our people in those labs. Every second we sit here analyzing signals, they're losing more of their lives."
Abby looked from the Raven to her daughter's hardened face. The weight of leadership was a heavy mantle, and for the first time, she saw that she couldn't protect Clarke by keeping her behind walls. She couldn't be selfish.
"Fine," Abby said, her voice tight but resolute. "We move. But we do it right. I'm coming with you."
The tent flap pushed open, and Major Byrne who had been listening outside stepped in, her hand resting on her sidearm. "With all due respect, Chancellor, this is a suicide mission. We don't have the intel, we don't have the numbers, and we're walking into a fortified mountain. You're handing them our leadership on a silver platter."
"Then we better make sure we're not the ones on the platter, Major," Bellamy countered, already grabbing his pack.
————
"You know, there's a joke in here somewhere," a voice drifted through the damp, subterranean gloom of the Grounder prison, "I've just not gotten to the punchline yet."
Jason was leaning casually against the cold stone wall, looking entirely too relaxed for a man in confinement. His injuries had long since been healed and he was able to move freely without the constant sting. He looked over at Jaha and Kane, who were sitting in the shadows like twin statues of fallen authority.
Jason slid his bound hands into his pockets and tilted his head back, watching a spider crawl across the ceiling.
"Two days in this five-star resort," Jason remarked, his voice dripping with a dry wit, "and you'd think they'd know how to treat an esteemed guest. I mean, where's the room service? The complimentary wine? Not even a mint on the pillow."
He stood up, sauntering toward the heavy steel bars. He lifted his hand and rapped his knuckles against the metal. Clang. Clang. He leaned in close, inspecting the masonry where the bars met the stone, clicking his tongue in mock disapproval.
"Quality control is slipping," Jason muttered. "I could probably have this wall down with a spoon and a very determined afternoon."
He turned back to Kane as a sharp and playful glint in his eyes, "What was Abby thinking, letting you walk into this?" Kane asked, his voice strained. "She should have known the Grounders wouldn't just sit down for tea after what happened."
Jason let out a short, airy laugh with his smirk widening. "Oh, Marcus, don't blame the lady. She didn't know a thing. I assure you, my 'surrender' wasn't exactly on the official schedule."
"Besides, I figured you two looked lonely. Someone had to come down here and keep the conversation interesting before you both bored yourselves to death."
Jaha shifted on the cold stone bench, the rattling of his chains a grim percussion in the damp silence. "Be that as it may, Jason, your confidence is... refreshing, but we are still sitting in a hole. We need to find a legitimate way out of here before 'room service' consists of a firing squad or a blade to the throat."
Jason leaned back against the bars, his head thumping lightly against the iron. "Getting out isn't the problem, Thelonious. I could pick these locks with a sturdy fingernail if I had to. The problem is what happens after we walk out that door. We run, they hunt us, and the war starts for real. No, what we need is an audience. We need the Commander to sit down and hash things out."
Kane let out a sharp, dry scoff, shaking his head in disbelief. "In case you haven't noticed, Jason, these people aren't particularly known for their love of 'hashing things out.' We are trophies to them. Symbols of an invasion. If anything, we should be preparing for an execution, not a diplomatic summit."
Jason's eyes flashed with a dangerous, playful glint. "I'd like to see them try to execute me. It'd be the most expensive mistake they ever made." He straightened up, his voice dropping into a more serious and grounded tone. "But seriously Marcus, if the Grounders want to survive as a culture, they have to listen to what I have to say. They don't have a choice anymore."
"And what exactly is it that you have to say that's so life-altering?" Jaha asked, leaning forward, his curiosity finally piqued.