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CHAPTER TWO:
FROM THE SKY WE TUMBLE.

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THE METALLIC hum of machinery whirring to life woke Haven from her numbing fragment of sleep. Though she was only unconscious for less than an hour, she oddly managed to evade any nightmares. It was a foreign experience for her to wake up not screaming. Whatever the hell she'd been pricked with, presumably a tranquilizer dart, knocked her out cold.

Reluctantly, Haven felt her body drift back into the formidable realm of consciousness. She grimaced before forcing herself to blink. The environment that surrounded her was hazy and indistinct, blurred together like colors smeared across a splintered canvas. She could hear voices but couldn't comprehend a single word being spoken. It all sounded too distant and too far.

"Hey— you're Haven, right?"

Head hung low with grogginess, Haven turned to face the girl beside her. She was quickly met with a pair of frantic blue eyes and tossles of blonde wavy hair. Haven was well acquainted with most of the delinquents in the Sky Box, but she didn't recognize this one. It wasn't due to the drug wearing off, either. Both of the women were strapped into a row of chairs, seatbelts fastened accordingly across their torsos.

Haven simply nodded. She didn't have the strength to speak yet. The strong aroma of dust and propeller fumes filled her nostrils as her senses kickstarted. Her gaze shifted from the stranger beside her and instead focused on the other delinquents that surrounded them. Among the heat of the crowd were citizens she recognized from her childhood; some she'd bonded with during educational classes, others during the processing station at Lockup. "You?"

"I'm Clarke." She hesitated. "Clarke Griffin."

A knowing grin curved at Haven's lips. "You're Abby's daughter. Princess of Alpha Station, right?" The flush on the stranger's face told Haven she was correct. That's why she couldn't place a name to the fair-skinned face– Clarke had been in solitary for a year.

Her next thought came to a halt as a sharp pain shot throughout her wrist. Haven winced before glancing down at the new band of metal that latched itself to her skin. Fucking Hunter. "What the hell is with these wristbands?"

Clarke's eyes darted from the accessory that punctured Haven's wrist to the one that gripped her own. "I.. I don't know. My mom told me that they're sending us to Earth, so the station on Go-Sci is probably using the bands to track our vitals once we land."

"Or once we die." Haven muttered. Her body slacked as she rested her weight against the harness that held her hostage. The frenzied warnings Raven shared with her friend prior to her blackout were true, unfortunately. Earth was inevitable. Each memory crashed into Haven's brain with the deadening force of a freight train.

"I guess we'll see." offered Clarke, shooting her newfound friend a shrug before an expression of sudden distress painted her features. Haven arched her brows in uncertainty as Clarke blurted, "Oh, shit! I completely forgot! Are you breathing okay?"

"What?"

Recognizing the confusion in Haven's voice, Clarke paused to clarify. "I mean, I know about your stenosis because I was a med student before, um, solitary. I have no idea how the launch to the ground is gonna affect your body. Do you have any new or worsening chest pain?"

  Do you have any new or worsening chest pain?

  Hot pressure flared within Haven's lungs as Clarke's sentence ended with a string of words she knew all too well. Over the course of her experience in Medical, it was safe to say that Haven had grown accustomed to lying. Of course, none of these lies were voiced out of malice or cruelty. That was never the case. Whether it was rating her pain level as a six when it was a raging ten, or forcing a smile when told she'd need another surgery— Haven lied to protect herself.

       The immense privilege of receiving medical care wasn't something she took lightly. Most of the prisoners would fight limb and tooth to be seen for a common cold, while Haven met with the doctors of Go-Sci routinely. She'd even befriended a few.

        But, at the end of the day, the Medical staff ultimately served the Council and the needs of the Ark. Haven was still just a delinquent in their eyes and delinquents were always an afterthought. It wasn't uncommon to hear whispers of population reduction as she'd walk through Go-Sci's bright hallways. If her pain hurt that badly, if it was that extreme– why not make things easier for everybody and just kill her right then, beneath their own goddamn blade? Dr. Griffin wasn't always around to oversee her treatment. Bellamy couldn't interfere with a surgery. The only power Haven had in those moments was her deception.

      She thought back to the time an IV solution of her's was flooded with a burst of air bubbles. Which, was ominous enough all on it's own. If the team in Medical were to pursue the use of medication in her veins, Haven would likely suffer from a venous air embolism. In other words, the excess air entering her bloodstream through the IV's needle could incite a blockage, thus triggering the effects of a heart attack or respiratory failure. It sucked. Bad.

   In effort to prevent the aforementioned, the team resorted to forcing surges of morphine into the source of Haven's pain directly. The daunting syringe held within Abby's grasp would plunge deep into her chest, resulting in an agony so vicious that Haven could barely breathe. Abby would hesitate, Bellamy would dolefully clench his fists from a distance while guarding the door, and Haven would screech. No, keep going! Please! It doesn't hurt! The words fled her mouth with the feeble force of a whisper. It doesn't hurt.

   But, alas; Haven found herself convulsing into a state of cardiac arrest nonetheless. Little did she know, this occurrence would lead to her final totter on the tightrope between life and death, her final emergency operation, and the last time her eyes would meld with Bellamy Blake's. It had been approximately a year since— three days before her nineteenth birthday. But, things were better now. For now, she should say. Bellamy's presence and the numbing side effects of medication were all that she lacked.

   Suddenly, the whirring lights attached to the ceiling of the dropship began to flicker. Murmurs of distress rumbled throughout the crowd of prisoners as they glowered in confusion. Haven snapped out of her daze with the realization she hadn't answered Clarke's question. When she glanced beside herself, she saw that Clarke was already occupied; her blue eyes set ablaze with fury as she challenged the man to her right.

        Taking note of the stranger's towering height and the solemnity in his voice, Haven identified the boy as Wells Jaha, son of the Ark's Chancellor. AKA: the son of the man who singlehandedly floated most of the delinquent's parents, including Haven's mother and Clarke's father. The deliquents felt their disdain for Wells as a physical ache. His level of culpability in executions wasn't relevant– his existence in itself was a burning reminder of what was lost, what once was theirs.

        "—when I found out they were sending prisoners to the ground, I got myself arrested. I came for you."

         Haven almost rolled her eyes at the intensity of Wells's confession to Clarke, but stopped herself before interjecting. She observed the way Clarke's jaw fell slack just before her face twisted back into it's position of outrage. The pair clearly had some unresolved issues that Haven wanted nothing to do with.

A tremor shook the dropship, the argument suddenly lingering as deadweight in the air between them. Deliquents gasped and hollered as their bodies throttled against the abrupt movement. Haven swore she could feel her teeth vibrating in tune with the engine hum.

"What was that?" Clarke questioned.

Wells was quick to answer, fear thick in his throat. "That was the atmosphere."

It was then that an implacable voice echoed throughout the dropship's speakers. The group raised their heads as the monitor positioned above them droned to life. "Prisoners of the Ark, hear me now. You've been given a second chance, and as your Chancellor, it is my hope that you see this as not just a chance for you, but a chance for all of us, indeed for mankind itself." A distorted image of Chancellor Jaha reflected itself on the screen, his appearance earning a unanimous shrill from the group of delinquents. Haven clenched her jaw and impatiently waited for the forthcoming lecture of bullshit to emerge.

"We have no idea what is waiting for you down there. If the odds of survival were better, we would've sent others. Frankly, we're sending you because your crimes have made you expendable..."

    Expendable.

Being reduced to the worst of patronizing adjectives was typical for the delinquents. It still stung, regardless. Over the course of time, most of them grew accustomed to the Council's heinous words in their own ways; some succumbed to humor and cynicism, others to numbness. If there was one thing Haven understood, it was that there's no one-size-fits-all method to cope as a prisoner. Words like worthless and expendable had been drilled into their skulls from the moment they committed a crime. She'd never judge one of them for how they sought to find that worth again.

    "Your dad's a dick, Wells!" A voice chided, triggering boisterous clamors of agreement among the crowd. Wells, to Haven's surprise, didn't flinch at the stranger's accusation. Instead, he glared at father's sullen face while processing the instructions being given.

    "... If, however, you do survive, then those crimes will be forgiven. Your records wiped clean. No execution upon your eighteenth birthday. No review. No probation. A second chance... "

    A second jolt radiated throughout the walls of the exodus ship; this time carrying enough force to make Haven lose her breath. Her fingernails gouged the seat cushion beneath her as their descent to earth rallied forward.

    "... This is not a waiver against future crimes. While unsupervised, you will adhere to the laws of the Ark, or you will be punished under them. You have one job, ladies and gentlemen, one responsibility... STAY ALIVE. Two months. That's how long it will take to be certain that it's safe for the rest of us to follow. In the meantime, some of you may be tempted to strike out on your own. Don't. Your drop site has been chosen carefully... Before the Last War, Mount Weather was a military base built within a mountain in order to shelter the government of the United States..."

    "Oh, hell yes!"

    "Spacewalk Bandit strikes again!"

Haven's heart nearly lurched from her chest while the crowd applauded in delight. They weren't cheering for Chancellor Jaha, of course. Instead, the delinquents were praised the infamously known Spacewalker: the boy who floated gloriously through the expanse of air surrounding them. Though Haven knew better, truly, she did— she couldn't refuse the smile tugging at her lips even if she tried.

Instantly, she recognized the foolish boy as none other than Finn Collins. (In Haven's mind, he was known as Cosmic Dumbass. The term Spacewalker rightfully belonged to Raven). Aboard Mecha Station, the three coexisted amongst the bedlam of their hectic lives. A repressed shout fell from Haven's mouth as Finn glided throughout the absence of gravity. "Finn! Is this your way of dying in style?"

    "...No one ever made it there. According to the archive, it was to be stocked with enough non- perishables to sustain three hundred people for up to two years. Because we could spare you no food, water, or medicine, you must immediately locate those supplies..."

    "If I'm gonna die, might as well do it right." Finn proclaimed, a smug smirk on his face as he passed Haven's seat and hovered in the direction of Wells. His voice was cool and casual as he ousted his insult. "Hey, check it out. Your dad floated me after all."

    Wells clenched his jaw, deepening the subtle frown lines etched into his skin. Despite the constant ridicule, he proceeded to carried himself with ease and wavering patience. "You should strap in before the parachute deploys."

    As if on queue, several other delinquents abruptly freed themselves from their safety of their harnesses. Disapproval flashes across itself Clarke's features as the boys somersaulted throughout the air. "Hey, you two! Stay put if you want to live." she scolded.

    "...I cannot stress this strongly enough... Mount Weather is life. You must locate those supplies immediately..."

Finn studied Clarke for a moment. "Damn, look at this. The vampire with five lives and the traitor who's been in solitary for a year, sitting right next to each other. What are the odds of that?" He asked, comically raising his brows beneath the beanie that stretched across his hair.

    Haven merely rolled her eyes– a habit she was more than accustomed to– while Clarke glared at the boy with an expression of discontent and temptation. "You're the idiot who wasted a month of oxygen on an illegal spacewalk."

"...Your one responsibility is to stay alive..."

    Finn winked. "But it was fun. I'm Finn."

    As Haven parted her lips to speak, the third and final quake struck the exterior of the dropship. Undoubtedly, the parachutes had deployed. Haven's eyes filled with dread as Finn's weightless body pummeled against the iron wall behind her. She didn't have time to scream. All sense of thrill amomgst the crowd vanished within the infinite galaxies that surrounded them– with it, taking their ability to breathe.

You've got to be fucking kidding me.

    It was an widely-known fact that hesitation was rarely an option in Haven's mind; she trusted the intuition of her heart more often than the tissue beneath her skull. Whether it was suckerpunching guards, or the speed at which she tore herself from the restraints of her harness— she barely batted an eye.

     "Finn! Can you hear me?" Various wires blazed and hissed into sparks above her body, forcing Haven to duck whilst crawling alongside the wreckage. She groaned. Judging by the familiar tinctures of rust and the ship's excessive state of turbulence, it was safe to assume it was archaic. The only thing shittier than emptying children into the depths of Earth is shipping them away in a measly coffin.

    Noticing the vacant seat to her left, Clarke released a shout of panic. "Hey, stop it! What the hell are you doing?"

     "Making sure they aren't dead." Haven yelled over her shoulder, deadpan. The impassiveness in her tone wasn't intentional. If anything, it was a subconscious instinct. She knew damn well that nothing cuts deeper than the blade of death. But, after being smothered under the weight of mortality's malevolent tongue, she'd grown stoic.

    Clarke's expression remained taut. She wasn't used to countering those more.. obstinate than she was. Aboard Alpha Station, most of the community appeased her demands with little to no reluctance. "You're gonna get yourself killed!"

    "Try me."

    As if to spite her persistence, an abrupt burst of transmitter cables torched the length of Haven's thigh. A hiss of agony writhed in the back of her throat, only to be replaced with a vile cloud of smoke. The swift revolt of carbon dioxide rising in her lungs was enough to emanate a ripple of pain throughout her chest.

    Haven bit her lip, cursing under her breath in effort to diffuse the scalding ache in her leg. "Damn it!" she swore, fumbling hands clutching the steel railing behind her. It was her only source of stability as the dropship's deceleration progressed.

"Haven! Over here!"

    The brunette shifted her gaze from the burn on thigh to the voice that called her name. Her eyes darted across her surroundings in a panic before landing on a group of three prisoners, two of which laid motionless between sheets of battered metal. The third, of course, was Finn.

"Stay put and hold onto something!" Haven called out, coughing as an irritable haze of smoke settled within her chest. An inaudible wince left her throat as the ship spiraled throughout the atmosphere, its power escalating as they tumbled closer and closer to the Earth's surface. Haven grasped the locket around her neck and screwed her eyes shut, bracing herself for lethal impact.

    Silence.

    It surged throughout the dropship's walls like a rush of blood to the head. No machine hum. Dumbfounded, the delinquents instantly found themselves lost in the sound of sweet and utter nothingness. They couldn't help it. Aboard the Ark, most citizens referred to silence as a heavenly state of mind. Naturally, Haven opposed that theory. She'd rather her ears bleed listening to white noise than wither in a loop of everlasting muteness.

    As the thump of her heartbeat pounded throughout her ears, Haven came to the troubling realization that she wasn't, in fact, dead. Of course, there were only two plausible explanations that supported this revelation: A) she was immortal, or B) the dropship had successfully landed. Her senses aimed skeptically for the latter.

    "Are you alright?"

    Without delay, Haven's body jolted upright. The united clatter of abandoned seatbelts and eager voices resonated deep within her brain. Glancing to her right, she untangled her fingers from the pendant that swayed between her collarbones. Clarke crouched warily beside her on the floor.

    "Good as can be." Haven bluffed, "What about you?"

    Clarke simply nodded in response, though the apprehension shared in the silence between them suggested otherwise. Haven decided not to press on the subject. Whether they accepted it or not, the delinquents had just become collateral damage in a war that wasn't their own. Who wouldn't be afraid?

    A disheartening gasp instantly seized both of the young women's attention. Despite the scalding patch of blisters scattered across her thigh, Haven rose to her feet and proceeded to carry herself without mercy. Clarke trailed closely at her heels. Both of the girls reached a halt and shuddered at the gruesome sight beneath them.

At the tips of Haven's boots, laid two bodies; soundless and still as the hour of death. Wide-eyed, Clarke fell to her knees, while Haven stood rooted to the floor. She immediately recognized the unconscious men as the floaters she'd seen before the dropship's collision. Her breath hitched in her throat as her thoughts stormed far, far ahead of herself. She should've said something, she should've stopped them, she should've tried... she should... she should have–

"Finn, are they breathing?" fretted Clarke, quivering fingers accessing the body closest to her in attempt to find a pulse.

Finn sat solemnly across from the girls, brows furrowed and lips parted in fathomless shock. A surge of guilt consumed them as Finn shook his head. Through gritted teeth, the trio came to an unsettling realization: it wasn't Earth that killed the floaters. No. The rightful cause of death was none other than a magnetism to recklessness– something bred into the force of human nature.

    Still, Haven's body acted as an anchor. It was as if her feet had been swathed into a pit of harrowing cement, and she'd forgotten how to move. Two minutes in, two of us dead. Her chest ached as a spell of unnerving darkness settled within it. What a twisted joke.

"The outer door is on the lower level. Let's go!" A foreign voice bellowed, instantly shaking Haven out of her morbid daze. She grimaced. The dropship's floor began to rattle as the mob of teenagers hurried towards the ladder beneath them, leading them to the lower level of the dropship.

    Clarke's head shot upright. "No! We can't just open the doors!" she scolded, plodding down the stairwell and abandoning the lifeless corpses. Much to her dismay (and to Haven's secret amusement), the delinquents continued to dismiss her warnings.

"Screw you! Of course we can!"

    "If the air is toxic, we're all dead anyway."

"Yeah, Princess! Who do you think you are?"

    Wells, emerging from Haven's peripheral vision, gripped one of the prisoners antagonizing Clarke by the collar of their shirt. "Back off, would you? She's the one trying to keep you all alive."

     "What's the point? Thanks to you and your precious father, we're dead either way." The delinquent seethed, tearing himself away from Wells's grasp by ducking under his forearm. He trudged past the group while Wells clenched his jaw in protest.

    At that point, Haven's interest in the men's redundant arguing flatlined. Drama seldom amused her; if death was going to swallow them whole, then so be it. Biting her lip, she kneeled at the feet of the fallen floaters. Only four people remained in the upper level of the dropship, herself included. Most of the crowd scrambled fervently to the floor below her.

    "Finn, I..." Haven started, her voice sullen and shameful amidst the quiet surrounding her. It felt stupid to speak. She felt stupid. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she glanced at the boy beside her. "I'm sorry."

    Finn nodded, though he didn't say a single word in response. Haven understood that. Her miserable effort didn't change a damn thing. It didn't change the fact that they'd been banished from the cosmos, that apologies were ludicrous, that the floaters were dead, or that oh god, they should've done something. The only thing left to do was to live with the odds, balance the weight, and move forward– even if it shattered their bones to dust.

    It was then that the walls of the dropship began to tremble. Haven could sense the liberating vibration moments before it even started. Someone had opened the doors. Without hesitation, she bolted, continuing to climb down the ladder's steps with ease. Terror twisted in her gut, wild eyes colliding against a blinding, white light. The crowd ahead of her went silent.

    Sunlight.

    It wasn't artificial, nor was it a fluorescent shade of blue like the lights the prisoners had grown up with. This light was warm, consoling; as if they'd been embraced by the hands of Earth itself. Haven smiled. She wasn't used to this type of softness. On the Ark, almost everything and everyone was cold and fleeting. Not here, though. Not in this moment. She swore she could almost disappear. But, as her mother always said—

almost is for suckers.

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hiiii

lots of backstory in these first few chapters besties it will all come together!

love u

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