Us against the world

[Clarke Griffin]

Bree

It was one second. One tiny second - or so it felt - that stood between her and death. As she ripped the door open, ran in and collapsed, the last thing Clarke thought was to look around. The realization was heavy, that she would either die, nightblood having failed entirely, or she would live, down here, alone, for five years at least, with nobody around and potentially no way to contact the others. The depth of it was not yet there. It would come, she knew. As Clarke had fallen to the ground, her face burned, spitting blood as black as coal, she stared at the floor. And for the first time since coming here she recognised something else. The lab was clear, pristine white, a bit of silver, a few dark spots, but non as big as she saw when she stared ahead. A dark spot, a shadow, belonging to a person.

Slowly her vision came back. It was a slim person, female, blonde hair and the clearer she could see, the more familiar she looked despite not naturally considering herself being close to her. It was hard, whe you were away from most people for most of the time, trying to save everyone on a missio, nobody had theoretically assigned to oneself and yet, the burden was a chosen one. She was aware of that.

"Bree?" She croaked, scrambling to sit up. That made things a lot more complicated. A thought crossed her mind immediately: Outside was not survivable for her. If Clarkes nightblood worked, she could go out, but not Bree. That made this thing very, very problematic. She had...she had to do something. "You found us! You...were too late." She stated the obvious. "The others are gone...the...wave is passed...outside is no longer survivable."

[Bree]

Bree, near terrified - although she’d never admit it - stood shocked in the white lab. It was nothing like she had ever seen and she felt terribly out of place in her muddy, sweat-stained jeans and tank. She felt alone. More alone than she ever had, even worse than the years spent in her prison cell. Bree walked aimlessly, searching for the others, hoping they were hiding somewhere. But her heart sank with the supposition that she had been left behind. Too late.

That is, until the door swung open with a heavy crash and a body fell coughing on the white tile floor. Bree turned on her heels, fear and relief washing over her tired body, as she fixed her vision on the person - a girl, blonde hair, familiar. Clarke. She stepped toward the girl, listening to her fears come true at her words. The others were gone. Suddenly she wished she had stayed behind at the party, tried one last time, just one more dose.

“Clarke Griffin…” Bree lingered on the name, kneeling down to face the girl who struggled to sit up. She looked at her, seemingly hopeless, although fully aware that Clarke was anything but. “A moment of weakness,” Bree teased. “I never thought I’d see that from you.” She put a hand out, offering to help Clarke up. “Can’t say I’m surprised to see you; the universe has been testing my patience lately.”


Clarke Griffin

[Clarke Griffin]

Right there was that. She forgot. Bree wasn't her favorite person, but then again she had little opportunity or time to make friends. And now they few she had were hopefully safely up in spaced or safe in the bunker. Others had made their peace with leaving this earth and so many others had no choice. So many were left outside to die. And their lives were gone now. They were dead and she and Bree were here, the only two people she knew who survived. Clarke sat up slowly. It was weird, knowing that there was a high chance, that she would be able to leave the lab soon enough, to gather food that would probably be poisonous to Bree. And once again she doubted those were thoughts the other blonde immediately entertained, given the fact that she did complain about being stuck with her first and foremost. Maybe this time it would be better for her not to worry. This one was not her fight and should not be her fight.

"You're welcome to leave." Though that would kill her sure as hell. Probably painfully and slowly. Like she was currently very much in pain due to the radiation. She might be able to heal. She hopefully would heal, with the nightblood in her. And she might be able to make more. Her mother was able and she carried what was needed. The lab should hold the rest if the energy would remain up and running. But there was only so much she would be able to do for someone unwilling. "Outside will kill you. But we will run out of food anyway. This place isn't stocked. Or fortified"


Bree

[Bree]

“Hey, lighten up,” Bree chuckled under her breath. “People were right to call you a buzzkill.” She crossed her arms over her chest while examining the girl. The red and blistery scars that covered her skin frightened Bree just a little. Was it really so terrible out there? She didn’t think much of what Clarke had warned. So what if she couldn’t go outside. Hours ago, she was ready to die. What has changed now? Other than the fact that she was - apparently - trapped inside this strange place with a girl she wouldn’t normally associate with.

“If I can’t survive, all the better for you then, right? Isn't that how you guys operate?”

Maybe she didn’t realize it yet, but Bree was responding out of anxiety. To avoid the fears taunting her brain, she kept herself busy, moving around in small steps around the lab. She looked at everything: the computers, the pristine glass, the subtle signs of human activity. She wondered who had been here, for how long, and why. Life back at camp was mostly just a blur of dizzy, happy moments. Bree couldn’t help but feel confused by her surroundings.

Clarke Griffin

[Clarke Griffin]

How they operated? That was a bit of a stretch. But then again, Clarke knew Bree was never the one to look around her perceived conception of things. She did not look out to see behing facades and consider other options. Clarke did. Bellamy did. Most of those who went up there did. This was why they were in the forefront of leading their defenses over and over again. And no, none of them thought it meant they were flawless. They all knew their decisions had consequences and these were sometimes bathed in blood. Clarke knew she was.

"This is not how we operated. We tried to save lives. None of us has chosen this", Clarke said to her as she hoped she would understand. She hadn't viewed it from her perspective, many hadn't, because it was not a natural behavior of humans. They had their perspective and the others were wrong. "We haven't chosen to be the ones in our position. We were there. Wrong place, wrong time. First with the 100, it was a development. I would have loved to party with all of you. Or Mount Weather, how much I secretly wanted it to be true. But it wasn't. How we operated was trying to protect you all, even if it cost us our souls. How... I operated was being willing to give my life for the others. We didn't want to kill. But we were in a position where it was either be killed or kill. Or see your friends be killed or kill.I don't enjoy scheming. I enjoy blood on my hands. I would enjoy a drink and a bit of music. But this is what happened to me. So...I think I can help you, if I survive."