Jason stepped out of the infirmary, the heavy scent of antiseptic and copper clinging to his clothes. He closed his eyes for a moment.
Flashback
Abby's voice was laced with disbelief and worry as she had given a litany of the damage Finn had sustained. Broken ribs, a punctured shoulder blade, a concussion that would make a strobe light look like a sunset, and enough internal bruising to make him look like a topographical map of the apocalypse. Most concerning, though, was the heavy blood loss. The boy was alive, but he'd be bedridden for at least a week, and even then, he'd move like a man made of glass.
'Well,' Jason thought as a small smile touched his lips. 'At least he's consistent. He wanted to see the ground, and now he's going to be intimately acquainted with a cot for the foreseeable future. If he'd lost any more blood, we could've used him as a human highlighter for the forest floor.'
"You should have told us, Jason."
He looked up from the boy on the bed to see Abby standing a few feet away from the doorway, her arms crossed, looking exhausted. Behind her, Marcus and Jaha were standing like a pair of disapproving statues.
"Communication isn't exactly your strong suit, is it?" Marcus added in a much tighter voice. "We were out there flying blind."
Jason moved away from where he stood, his expression shifting into something bored yet calm and serene. "The plan wasn't foolproof, Marcus. It was a gamble. A messy, desperate roll of the dice. If I told you, you would've spent three hours debating the ethics of it until Finn was already swinging from a tree. The only way it worked was by carrying it out exactly how we did, quietly, and without a committee."
Bellamy, who had been leaning against the doorframe, let out a short, dry laugh. "He's right. If you guys had known, you would've ignored the option entirely. You were too busy rambling on about your 'civilized' trial to see the one chance we actually had." He looked directly at Marcus, his eyes narrowing. "You people love being in control so much you wouldn't even consider an option that didn't involve you holding the gavel."
"Control is what keeps this camp from turning into a slaughterhouse, Bellamy," Jaha scoffed, shaking his head. He turned his attention back to Jason, his gaze piercing. "But let's talk about reality. You rigged a sacred ritual of a culture that thrives on vengeance."
Jaha stepped forward, his voice dropping into a low, warning tone. "So? What else would you have done if this whole plan hadn't worked out? You're the one who invoked the trial by combat. Tell me, Jason... what would you have done when Lexa finds out this was all rigged? Because she isn't stupid. And when she realizes you turned her justice into a stage play, she won't just want Finn. She'll want you. And probably the rest of us along with you."
Jason let out a short, dry scoff, the sound echoing sharply in the metallic hallway. "Suspects me? Jaha, Lexa wouldn't trust me to hold her sword while she tied her boots. She already suspects the sky is blue because I told her so."
He straightened up, his eyes glinting with a cold, tactical satisfaction. "But even if she finds out, even if she proves every trap in those woods had my fingerprints on them, there's nothing she can do now. The play is over, the curtain's down. Gustus is dead. A whole general, her right hand, killed by a 'boy' under her own approval of the trial. If she tries to backtrack now, she's not just going against me; she's going against the very traditions that keep her people from tearing her apart."
He turned his head toward Bellamy and a playful, dark smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "And we all know how much they love their twisted traditions, don't we, Bell?"
Bellamy matched the look with a small, knowing smile appearing on his face as well. "Yes, we do, Jason. To a fault."
"Exactly," Jason continued, his tone dropping back into a serious register. "They'd turn on her in a heartbeat if she dared to spit on the results of a sacred trial. She's locked in."
The heavy infirmary door opened, interrupting them. Clarke stepped into the room, her face pale, her eyes burning with a mixture of relief and fury. She had clearly caught the end of the conversation.
"You gambled with his life for that?" Clarke asked, her voice trembling. "You put him in a circle with a monster because of a political maneuver?"
Jason looked at her, the silence stretching between them for a long, heavy moment before he finally gave a short answer. "Yes," he said simply.
"You're playing with fire, Jason," Abby warned, stepping closer to her daughter. "One day, you're going to get burned, and you're going to take all of us down with you."
Jason didn't look at Abby. His gaze remained locked on Clarke, intense and unblinking. "Am I?" he asked softly. He tilted his head as a ghost of a smile reappeared. "No... no such thing. I'm not playing with the fire, Abby. I'm just getting myself warm. Because that fire? That's going to be our only way to salvation when the Mountain finally decides to stop playing nice."
"You should have told me," Clarke said as her voice dropped to a whisper. She looked from Jason to Bellamy, her betrayal evident at what they had done without her. "We're supposed to be a team. You should have told me there was a plan."
"We were being watched, Clarke," Jason countered with his voice coming out firm. "By Lexa, by Indra, by a thousand warriors with eyes like hawks. Anything out of the ordinary, any 'knowing' look or lack of genuine panic from you and that, would have put the whole plan in jeopardy. Your grief had to be real for the lie to work."
He let out a long, weary sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Plus, like I told the others... I didn't want to raise your hopes. If the gambit hadn't paid off, I didn't want you clinging to a miracle that wasn't coming."
"And it did pay off, Clarke," Bellamy added, stepping toward her. "Finn's alive. He's in front of us breathing because of this. We have our alliance, the Grounders are backing off, and nobody died."
Marcus Kane looked down at the floor, his voice grim and heavy. "Except for one of their generals."
Jason shrugged his shoulders with a casual indifference, "Meh," he muttered. "Acceptable losses."
Without waiting for a response from the stunned council, he turned and headed for the exit.
Flashback end
He sighed as he was about to walk away but he stopped abruptly, his hand resting on the frame. He didn't turn around as he spoke to the figure on the other side behind him.
"Aren't you going in to see him?" he asked.
Leaning against the exterior wall, partially hidden by the shadow of the entrance, was Raven. She was looking down at her boots, her shoulders slumped. She had clearly been there long enough to hear the entire post-mortem.
"You should have said something to me, Jason," she whispered with a hurt voice that didn't particularly suit her. Jason looked over his shoulder with his tired eyes. "I know you've been standing there for the whole conversation, Raven. I'm not really in the mood to repeat the lecture I just gave in there."
He started to step away, but her voice caught him again.
"I... uh... I want to say I'm sorry," she blurted out. "For the things I said to you earlier. Calling you a bastard, saying you were cold and the other things I said to you Jason's... it wasn't fair and I didn't mean any of it."
Jason paused, his gaze fixed on the treeline in the distance. He didn't have a look of triumph or even relief. He just looked hollow. After a long moment, he sighed and looked forward again.
"Okay," he said simply.
Raven blinked, pushing off the wall. "What? That's it? Just 'okay'?"
He didn't say anything, which only seemed to agitate her more.
"You're not angry? You're not pissed at me for screaming in your face and treating you like the villain when you were actually saving him?"
Jason sighed again with a heavy, weighted sound. He turned his head just enough to look at her, but his expression remained a calm, impenetrable mask.
"You know, strength isn't seen on the person who screams the loudest when they're hurting, Raven," he said softly. "You think that because you lash out, you're the one in control. But it's the opposite. When you threw those words at me, you weren't the one with the power. You were the one who had lost it. You acted on an impulse, and you expected me to do the same."
He stepped away a few more steps, his voice dropping into a low, steady cadence that felt more intense than any shout.
"Let me tell you something, Raven. You see, most people see someone take a hit and stay silent, and they call it weakness. They think submission is the only reason a man doesn't strike back. But they don't understand the effort it takes to hold the storm inside. What you saw wasn't me giving up, Raven. It was me choosing not to let your chaos dictate my actions."
He looked at her, and for the first time, a flicker of something real broke through his mask. It was not anger, but a quiet, sharp sting.
"I'm not angry at you, Raven. Anger is an emotion I reserve for enemies I respect. But I am hurt. And... I suppose I'm a bit disappointed. I thought you, of all people, would have known me better than that."
He didn't wait for her to respond. He turned and walked away towards another section of the camp. Raven stood frozen, the words hitting her harder than any physical blow could have. She felt the heat rise in her face as her eyes began to turn a watery red, watching his silhouette.
———
Jason navigated the quiet corridors of the makeshift holding unit until he reached the curtained-off section where Lincoln was recovering. Octavia was there with him, sitting by his side, her hand resting on the edge of the cot. She looked up as Jason entered, her expression a mix of relief and lingering tension.
Lincoln offered a slow, respectful nod. "I heard your plan worked," he said, his voice gravelly but steady.
Jason shrugged, leaning his shoulder against a support beam with a casual air that belied the stress of the day. "It was more likely to fail than not, to be honest. It was a coin toss where the coin was on fire."
"But it didn't fail," Lincoln countered, his dark eyes locked on Jason's. "You succeeded. The boy lives."
"Well, not to sound too humble, but it was a team effort," Jason remarked as a ghost of a smirk played on his lips. "And let's be fair, it was Finn's own competence and will to survive that actually saved his life. I just provided the stage and the props."
He shifted his weight, his expression turning more serious. "So, tell me. How will it look? To your people, I mean."
Lincoln took a breath, wincing slightly at his own recovering body. "He killed a warrior of General rank. In a sacred trial. He will be seen with respect from now on. The 'Space Walker' is no longer just a murderer to the clans; he is now a respected warrior and a survivor."
Octavia let out a short, hollow laugh. "From being a wanted man and hated by everyone to being respected? Huh. That sure is strange. This world sure moves fast."
"It moves at the speed of blood, Octavia," Jason said, his voice dropping an octave. He looked back at Lincoln. "We'll be seeing the Heda later to talk about the final terms of the alliance. But I want to hear it from you first. Not the 'official' version. Tell me... how will the other twelve clans really react to this?"
Lincoln watched him for a moment. "You are skeptical."
"Shouldn't I be?" Jason shot back. "I've spent enough time in this dirt to know that a piece of paper or a handshake from a Commander doesn't stop a spear in the dark."
Lincoln nodded slowly. "You are right to be. There are those among the clans who are more volatile. They will see this alliance, and Lexa's mercy toward the Sky People, as a sign of weakness. They will see the death of Gustus as an insult that hasn't been properly answered."
Jason arched an eyebrow, his tone shifting into that familiar blend of serious and sarcastic. "Wonderful. So, what should I be expecting? A formal complaint? Or a classic assassination attempt?"
Lincoln shook his head, his face grim. "I don't know. But you would be wise to be on your guard."
Jason let out a long sigh. "Splendid. Another day in paradise." He pushed off the beam and turned to leave, pausing only to look back at the both of them. "Be ready. We leave for the parley later. Try not to get stabbed before then, it would really ruin the aesthetic."
——-