sᴇᴠᴇɴ : ᴏɴᴇ ᴏғ ᴜs
⋆

It's no secret that Octavia has a curious, adventurous soul. She was limited to a constricting space under the floor and the small room in the Ark, so being on earth has given her the opportunity to explore. She feels her inner child come out when she slips out of camp that night after sleeping for a little while by Jasper's bed. The other night, she found glowing butterflies. Tonight, she wonders what other wonders the earth has, so she grabs a jacket and leaves camp.

If her brother knew what she's doing he'd have a fit, so she slips out soundlessly, biting back a childish grin.

Octavia only takes a few steps out of camp before that giddiness is stolen from her.

★

Clara doesn't stay unconscious for long. Her eyelids flutter open when the pain in her side wakes her up, and she feels weightless. At first she thinks she's dead, but then she realizes that she's just being carried.

"Clarke!" Someone's voice—Octavia's?—shouts frantically somewhere in front of her. "CLARKE!"

"What's going on?" another voice demands, then, "What happened?"

"O found her and Wells just outside of camp," a deeper, more gravely voice says, this voice much closer than the others. "She needs help, Clarke! Snap out of it!"

"Right, I just—Sorry, bring her over here."

Clara groans in pain as she is transferred from the arms of her unknown carrier to a cold table. She squints and tries to see what's going on through the darkness.

Octavia's face hovers above hers. When Octavia sees that Clara's eyes are open, her face brightens. "Clarke, she's awake!"

"Bellamy, go get Wells," Clarke's voice commands. Clara lifts her heavy head and sees Clarke at her side, tearing away some of her shirt for better access to the stab wound. Across from the blonde is Bellamy, who glances between Clara and Clarke.

"He doesn't have a pulse—"

"I don't care!" Clarke shouts, finally at her breaking point. "Go get Wells, now!"

Bellamy looks over at Clara one last time before following Clarke's orders. Clara would have laughed if it weren't for being stabbed.

Clarke presses down on the wound. Clara hisses in pain, her back arching slightly. "Take it easy, Doc."

Clarke turns away from Clara and grabs some supplies out of her view. "Octavia, find something for her to bite down on, I'm going to give her stitches."

Octavia quickly grabs a piece of cloth meant for bandages but rolls it up and sticks it in Clara's mouth. She then takes her hand, the Blake girl shaking.

"Who did this? Was it the grounders?" Octavia asks with an urgency in her tone. "Oh my gosh, you guys were attacked right outside of camp. What if they're still here?"

"Octavia, stop," Clarke snaps. "I need to focus."

"Sorry. I can't help it."

"Try to," Clarke replies in a snarky tone before diving in with a needle and wire. The pain of the materials piercing through the already tender skin makes Clara bite down hard on the cloth. She squeezes Octavia's hand for an extra release.

Before Clarke can finish the stitches, Clara's head starts to feel woozy. Her vision swims, and then she's out like a light again.

The next time Clara gains consciousness, it's morning and she's alone in the drop ship. At least, she thinks she's alone. She tries to sit up, but the wound in her side prevents her from doing so without hurting immensely. She ends up grunting at the pain.

"Woah, slow down there."

A hand rests on her shoulder, bring her back down to rest against the table. Clara blinks and furrows her brow at the sight of Bellamy beside her. His eyes are elsewhere, checking to make sure she hadn't ripped her stitches from sitting up so suddenly. Clara's eyes trail over the countless freckles littering Bellamy's face. When she catches herself staring for a weird amount of time, she quickly averts her gaze.

Bellamy steps back and lets his hand fall from her shoulder after assuring Clara's stitches are fine.

"Where's Wells?" Clara asks, rubbing her eye. Bellamy bites his lip and looks away. His silence brings a pang of panic to Clara's heart. She saw him with a stab wound in his neck, she knows that the chances of him living are almost completely zero, but she still wants to hear it. To know for sure. "Bellamy—"

"He's dead." Bellamy's stone-cold tone falters as he glances down at Clara. "Finn and Clarke are burying him."

Clara nods. She takes a deep, shaky breath to keep herself from bursting into tears. She didn't know Wells that well, but she still considered him a friend. And now he's gone.

"I'm going to go get Rez, tell him you're awake," Bellamy murmurs. He turns and walks out of the drop ship, leaving Clara alone with her grief.

She squeezes her eyes shut as the images of last night flash in her mind. Wells, on the ground, bleeding out from his neck. Then, a sharp pain in her side, and cold fear rising in her chest. It was dark, but somehow, the pain made everything darker. Lying next to Wells in the woods, both of them bleeding out, will haunt Clara for weeks to come. She can't even fathom how lucky she is that someone found her before she could bleed out like Wells. A tear rolls down her cheek.

It hasn't even been a full week since they have been on earth, and too many people have died.

"Clara!"

She quickly wipes her tear from her cheek and lifts her head up to see Rez as he bounds inside the drop ship. His hair is wild, and there are tear stains on his dirty face.

Rez rushes forward and helps Clara slowly sit up. "Don't scare me like that again! Can you even imagine the fear that I felt when Octavia told me that your and Wells's bodies were found outside of camp, that a grounder stabbed you guys?"

Clara rolls her eyes. "I didn't ask to be stabbed, Rez."

He ignores her tone and asks, "What were you even doing outside of camp?"

"I couldn't sleep, so I went out to talk to Wells because he was on watch duty," Clara replies, wincing as she moves to get comfortable.

Rez sighs, his eyes studying his best friend. "I'm glad you're okay."

Clara gives him a strained smile. "Me too."

Rez reaches forward and gently wraps his arms around Clara's shoulders. She returns the hug, resting her head against his shoulder. The whole stabbing-thing freaked out both friends, but now that they're together and alive, their hug relieves their emotions of everything that has happened since landing on earth.

The sound of the tarp in front of the drop ship entrance being pushed aside draws Clara and Rez to separate from each other. Clarke strides in with Monty and Finn trailing behind, the three entering the drop ship mid-conversation.

"I mean, I can try, but I don't have a lot of resources down here, so don't get your hopes up," Monty tells Clarke as he sits down in front of a wall with a bunch of wires and switches.

Finn glances over at Rez and Clara. "Hey, you're awake. How are you feeling?"

Clara nods. "Like I got stabbed, but I'm alright." Her eyes shift to Monty delicately tearing Clarke's wristband off. "What are you guys doing?"

"Trying to figure out a way to communicate with the Ark through our wristbands," Monty answers, preoccupied. There's a click, then it falls off her arm. Clarke rubs her sore skin as Monty's face lifts. "Yes! I did it, and it's still operational."

Finn sends Clarke a disapproving look. She avoids his gaze and crosses her arms. "What? Monty needed a working wristband."

"And you needed to punish your mother," Finn retorts.

Clara leans towards Rez and whispers, "Punish her mother for what?"

Rez leans in. "For floating her father."

"Oh snap."

"Look," Clarke sighs. "They're running out of air, and we need their help. My mother thinking I'm dead is only temporary."

Keeping his eyes trained on the wristband, Monty cuts in, "Not if I can't patch it through the drop ship mainframe." He looks up at Clarke. "I can do it. We'll be talking to the Ark by nightfall."

Clarke nods. "Good job, Monty."

The tarps in front of the drop ship entrance are pushed aside, Octavia and Jasper emerging from outside. Jasper's still in rough shape from being speared, but he's actually walking, which would have brought a smile to Clara's face if it weren't for the terrified looks on Octavia and Jasper's faces.

Octavia, her voice shaking slightly, says, "Clarke, there's something you need to see."

★

Clarke, Bellamy, Octavia, Jasper, Rez, and Clara are all gathered in Bellamy's tent. They're standing around a makeshift table with two fingers—undoubtedly Wells's—and a knife on the surface. A tense silence hangs over the group in the tent, none knowing what to say. Clara avoids looking at the fingers so the bile in her throat doesn't rise.

Octavia glances at the others in the room expectedly. Clarke catches her gaze and sighs. She reaches forward and takes the knife, examining it. "This knife was made of metal from the dropship."

Bellamy crosses his arms, his brow furrowing. Beside him, Octavia asks, "What do you mean?"

"Who else knows about this?" Clarke questions, avoiding answering Octavia's question as long as she can.

Octavia frowns, glancing back at Jasper. "No one. We brought it straight here."

Bellamy tilts his chin upwards. His eyes narrow on Clarke when she's still apprehensive to answer his sister's question. "Clarke?"

"It means the grounders didn't kill Wells," she expels in one breath, then pauses to let it sink in. "It was one of us."

Clara freezes. The one who killed Wells, and tried to kill her, too, is in the camp? Did she pass them on the way to Bellamy's tent?

Bellamy casts a glance Clara's way, noticing her face paling at the new information.

"So, there's a murderer in the camp?" Octavia infers.

Bellamy looks away from Clara. "In case you forgot, all of you are down here because you've committed crimes, there's more than one murderer in this camp. This isn't news." Clarke, with the knife in hand, steps towards the exit. Bellamy steps in her way. "We need to keep this quiet. Clara, what do you think?"

Clara feels everyone's eyes fall on her. "Uh . . ." she starts, uncomfortable with the sudden attention. "I don't know? I didn't see the person who stabbed me, but maybe it could have been a grounder that stole one of our knives?"

"They have their own weapons," Finn counters. "Plus, they speared Jasper with pinpoint accuracy from a distance. You were right there; if they wanted to kill you, they would have. I don't think a grounder did this."

Clarke squares her shoulders and looks up at Bellamy. "Get out of my way, Bellamy."

"Clarke, be smart about this," Bellamy persuades sternly. "Look at what we've achieved: the wall, the patrols. Like it or not, thinking the grounds killed Wells and attacked Clara is good for us."

"Oh, good for you, you mean," Clarke bites back.

Rez leans over and whispers to Clara, "You can practically feel the sexual tension." Clara turns and sends him a glare, slapping him lightly in the chest to shut him up.

"What, keep people afraid and they'll work for you? Is that it?" Clarke continues to shout at Bellamy, each step she takes bringing the two closer.

Bellamy doesn't back down. "Yeah, that's it, but it's good for all of us. Fear of the grounders is building that wall. And besides, what are you gonna do, just walk out there and ask the killer to step forward? You don't even know whose knife that is."

"Actually," Clara pipes up, averting everyone's attention to her again. "It has initials on it."

While Bellamy looks over at Clara, betrayed, Clarke turns the knife over and reads the initials engraved into the metal.

Clara peers over to read the initials. "J.M. It doesn't actually tell us who is could be, though, considering there is Julie Matthews, John Mbege, and—"

"John Murphy," Clarke hisses, cutting Clara off. "The people have a right to know."

With that, Clarke pushes past Bellamy and storms out of the tent. The others follow, and Clara and Rez exit the tent last.

Outside, the delinquents are following their normal schedules. They're following Bellamy's orders to build up the wall surrounding camp some more, Miller and Murphy supervising them to make sure they're all working.

Murphy's yelling at a kid for slacking when Clarke marches up to him and shoves him back. Murphy stumbles but keeps his balance, his sharp glare landing on the fiery blonde.

"You son of a bitch!" Clarke exclaims, her volume gaining the campers' attention.

Murphy adjusts his jacket collar. "What's your problem?"

Clarke holds up his knife, the metal reflecting the sun. "Recognize this?"

"It's my knife," Murphy replies, somewhat shocked to see Clarke holding it. "Where'd you find it?"

He starts to grab it, but Clarke pulls it away from his reach. "Where you dropped it after you killed Wells."

Murphy blanches. "Where I what? The grounders killed Wells, not me."

Beside Clara, Rez asks, "Do you think Murphy did it?"

Clara looks back at him with a conflicted expression. "I honestly have no idea."

"I wouldn't put it past him," Octavia mutters.

"I know what you did, and you're gonna pay for it," Clarke sneers at Murphy.

Murphy chuckles humorlessly. "Really? Bellamy, you really believe this crap?"

Bellamy straightens, his chin in the air. When he doesn't deny it, fear visibly creeps onto Murphy's face.

"You threatened to kill him," Clarke asserts, jabbing a finger at Murphy's chest. "We all heard you. You hated Wells."

"Plenty of people hated Wells, his father was the Chancellor that locked us up," Murphy argues with venom in his tone.

"You're the only one who got in a knife fight with him."

"Yeah, I didn't kill him then, either," Murphy scoffs. "And what about that other girl, huh? She got stabbed, and I don't even remember what her name is. Why would I want to kill her?"

Clara feels the eyes of the delinquents on her at her mention. She looks down at her boots in the mud.

"Because she was a witness," Clarke replies, thinking she has it all figured out.

"Come on, this is ridiculous. I don't have to answer to you. I don't have to answer to anyone!" Murphy throws his hands up.

Bellamy clenches his jaw. "Come again?"

At a loss for what to say to convince Clarke of his innocence, Murphy bounds up to Bellamy and pleads, "Look, I'm telling you, man, I did not do this. Ask that girl."

Murphy motions to Clara on the sidelines. Bellamy glances over at her before returning his gaze to Murphy. "Clara didn't see the person who attacked her, and they found Wells's fingers on the ground with your knife."

"I believe him," Clara blurts. It's not that she doesn't think Murphy is capable of killing someone, because she definitely thinks he is. It's the fact that he has set people on fire before that deters her from believing he is responsible for killing Wells and stabbing her. Surely he would have found a more creative way to kill the man who sentenced his parents to float in space forever than with a measly knife.

Bellamy looks at Clara, shocked. Murphy, on the other hand, shows great relief.

But Clarke isn't convinced.

"Is this the kind of society that we want?" Clarke shouts, addressing the crowd of delinquents circling the confrontation. "You say there should be no rules. Does that mean that we can kill each other without punishment?"

"I already told you, I didn't kill anyone," Murphy shoots back.

A random camper—Connor, Clara believes—steps up. "I say we float him."

The sea of campers voice their agreement.

Clara nudges Rez. "I have a bad feeling about this, you need to go."

Rez sends her an incredulous look. "I'm not going anywhere, especially since you're not."

"Things are going to get messy real fast, Rez," Clara murmurs as she watches the horrific scene unfold before them. Clarke tries to calm the crowd down and tries to tell them that execution isn't the answer. The power of the people trumps over her own as Murphy is shoved to the ground, his head bouncing off the floor.

Instantaneously, chaos ensues. People rush forward and kick Murphy wherever they can squeeze their boot in through the crowded circle enveloping the boy.

Clarke tries to get through, but someone holds her back. "Let him go! No! Get off him!"

Clara shoves Rez back as she limps towards Murphy being beaten to a bloody pulp. The wound in her side burns as people elbow her and ram into her body.

"Stop!" She screams, feeling sick at the sight of her peers resorting to such hostile ways. "Stop it! Let him go!"

Connor pulls out a red seatbelt from his pocket and wraps it around Murphy's mouth like a gag. The bloodied boy screams out and thrashes as Connor and another pick him up and push him down a muddy hill.

In the blink of an eye, Connor has Murphy strung up like a rag doll with a rope around his neck. He barely hangs from the rope slung over a tree branch. The only thing that keeps him from suffocating is the bucket under his feet.

When Clara realizes their intent is to hang him, she screams out louder than before. "No! Stop!"

Somehow, Clara manages to shove her way through the crowd to the front. She reaches for the rope to let Murphy down, but a hand grabs her by the shoulder—thankfully her uninjured one—and roughly slams her against the trunk of the tree. She gasps at the pain that shoots through her side.

"Don't even think about it," a boy warns, a knife held up to Clara's chin. She cranes her neck to avoid the blade cutting into her throat.

Rez tries to get to Clara, but someone catches his arms and holds him back. Struggling to get loose, he screams, "Let her go!"

"Hey!" Bellamy shouts, roughly grabbing the boy with the knife's arm and throwing him off of Clara. He tumbles to the ground. Bellamy shoots Clara a worried look, silently asking if she's alright.

"You can't do this!" Clarke's shrill voice pierces through the shouts of the other delinquents. "You can stop this, Bellamy! They'll listen to you!"

Bellamy turns to Clarke, a torn expression on his face.

Connor stands in front of Bellamy and suggests with a sick smile, "You should do it, Bellamy!"

At first Clara doesn't think Bellamy will kick the bucket out from under Murphy's feet, but then the delinquents start to chant his name. Clara watches with disbelief as Bellamy actually seems to consider it.

"He said he didn't kill him!" Clara exclaims, trying to persuade Bellamy from doing something he'll regret. "Innocent until proven guilty, right?"

Clarke steps forward. "I saw you in the woods with Atom. I know you're not a killer. Bellamy, don't do this," she pleads. "Don't, Bellamy. You can't do this, Bellamy . . . "

Bellamy lightly pushes Clarke aside and marches up to Murphy. In one swift movement, the bucket is kicked out from under Murphy's feet. The boy flails and kicks in the air, a choking sound resonating from his throat.

Clara stares in shock. Her eyes glisten with tears. Just when she had hopes for their civilization in earth, they publicly execute a boy for a crime they're not even sure he committed.

"No, Bellamy, no! How could you?!" Clarke cries, shoving Bellamy's chest.

Bellamy catches her wrist. "This is on you, princess. You should've kept your mouth shut!"

Clara turns and sees Charlotte watching Murphy with wide eyes. She rushes forward and tries to usher her back, not wanting this to traumatize the young girl forever.

Just when all hell breaks loose, Finn appears out of nowhere. "What the hell are you doing? Cut him down!"

Clara moves to save Murphy, but the boy who slammed her into a tree grabs her arm and holds her back.

Finn spots Charlotte. "Charlotte, get out of here now! Cut him down!" He goes to grab the rope, but the boy holding Clara steps in his way. "Get out of my way."

"Stop!" Charlotte shouts, but her voice is barely audible above the others'. Louder, she screams, "Stop! Murphy didn't kill Wells!" This time, everyone hears her loud and clear. Time stops as the young girl cries, "I did!"