"Jee–jeez, you scared me," Octavia gasped, sprawling backward on the dirt as Bellamy loomed in the doorway of her tent.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, eyes scanning her face, her arms, her skin.
"Fine. Get out," she snapped, brushing herself off.
"You touch Murphy yesterday?" Bellamy asked bluntly.
"What?" She frowned.
"Did you touch Murphy yesterday?"
"I don't know," she said after a beat, growing confused. "I guess so. Why?"
"The Grounders sent him here with a virus to infect us," Bellamy said flatly. "Derek just died from it. Another mark for your boyfriend's book. Get up. Clarke needs to examine you."
Octavia froze, before silently following her brother out.
——————————
Inside the dropship, the atmosphere was suffocating. The metallic air carried the smell of sweat and blood. Clarke finished examining Charlotte and nodded toward Jason, who knelt beside her.
Without hesitation, he lifted the trembling girl in his arms and carried her gently to the far side of the room. He scanned the area for supplies, found an old sheet, tore it, and fastened ropes to make a crude hammock. He laid Charlotte down carefully, her shallow breaths making the fabric tremble beneath her.
Then Jason turned, his expression darkening as his gaze landed on Murphy.
The look he gave him was cold and merciless. It made Murphy flinch and turn away instantly.
Clarke caught the exchange. "Jason, don't—" she began, but stopped as movement by the entrance drew her attention.
The Blake siblings had arrived.
"Octavia," Clarke said, her tone shifting back to professional. "Come here."
Octavia stepped up, trying to appear calm, but her hands trembled slightly as Clarke began her examination, checking her eyes, her throat, her skin.
After a few tense minutes, Clarke straightened. "No visible signs of swelling or bleeding," she said.
Bellamy pulled down the cloth he'd been using as a makeshift mask. "So… she doesn't have it?"
"I'm saying she doesn't have symptoms," Clarke clarified. "But that could change. We need to keep both her and Jason here, just in case."
"No way," Bellamy said immediately. "Look at this place. They'll get sick just being here."
Jason smirked. "Awwwn, so you do care about me."
Bellamy shot him a glare. "I could just shoot you, you know."
Jason laughed quietly. "You could. But I'll come in when the symptoms start." He turned his head slightly, muttering to himself, 'Let's see if my body can tank it.'
Clarke folded her arms. "Do you want to stop the spread or not? Look, I'll keep her on the third level with the people who aren't symptomatic yet. Think of it as a way to stop Octavia from sneaking out again."
"Screw you, Clarke," Octavia snapped.
Bellamy groaned and motioned for Jason to follow. Both men stepped out, the tension between them and Clarke hanging in the air.
"Octavia, wait," Clarke called out as Octavia grabbed the ladder.
Octavia turned back, suspicious.
"I need you to sneak out again," Clarke said quietly.
That stopped her cold.
Clarke pulled her closer, revealing a small map and the section of the dropship's hull where she could slip through undetected. "Go to Lincoln. Ask him for medicine,anything that could help fight a fever like this. If there's a cure… he has it."
Octavia hesitated but finally nodded and slipped out through the narrow gap.
—————————
About thirty minutes later, Jason returned to the dropship, wiping his hands with a rag. Clarke looked up at once.
"No symptoms?" she asked.
Jason shrugged. "Not yet. Maybe it takes time depending on immune systems or something."
He glanced at where Derek died and frowned. "But something's off. Derek and Connor both touched Murphy around the same time, right? Derek was the first to die. Why?"
"Could be immune response," Clarke said, rubbing her temples. "Or just random. We don't have enough data to know."
Jason nodded slowly. "Thought as much."
Clarke studied him for a moment. "You know, you've always been a bit… weird."
Jason raised a brow. "Weird?"
"Come on, we've all noticed," Clarke said with a small, tired chuckle. "You have more energy, more strength than the rest of us. It's like you're… I don't know, built different."
Jason smirked. "Maybe I am just built different."
That earned him a faint laugh before both of their gazes drifted to Charlotte, who was trembling on the makeshift bed.
"How is she?" Jason asked quietly.
Clarke's face fell. "Not good."
Jason sighed, his expression unreadable. "Poetic, isn't it? We banish Murphy for a crime he didn't commit, only for him to come back with something that might kill the girl who did. Horrible and poetic."
Clarke said nothing, her eyes darkening with guilt.
Jason looked around the dropship again. "Octavia isn't here, is she?"
Clarke hesitated, then shook her head.
"I sent her to him," she said finally.
Jason's brow lifted. "Him…" Then it clicked. "Lincoln."
Clarke nodded. "He's got to have a cure or at least something that can help us treat this."
Jason exhaled slowly. "I understand. Just hope her brother does too."
Clarke's silence said she already knew how that conversation would go.
—————————-
Minutes later, another cough turned into screams and hacking and then silence.
By the time another body was dragged out, the camp had gone eerily quiet. Clarke stood at the entrance of the dropship, watching the corpse being carried out.
Bellamy stepped up,"Okay, show's over. Get back to your posts!" he barked at the watching crowd.
Jason was standing near the bodies, eyes distant, his posture heavy. He looked up at the sky, then down again at the dirt, before turning toward Bellamy and Clarke.
"Do you have enough food and water?" Bellamy asked Clarke.
"Some," she said. "Medicine would be nice."
Bellamy gave a small, dry smile. "I'll see what I can do."
He turned slightly. "Octavia, you okay?"
Jason closed his eyes for a second and thought, 'And so the jig is up.'
When Bellamy didn't get an answer, he frowned and started toward the dropship but Jason stepped in front of him, blocking his path.
"Move," Bellamy said.
"She isn't there," Clarke said quietly from behind Jason.
Bellamy froze, his face twisting. "What?"
"I sent her to see Lincoln," Clarke said.
Bellamy turned his glare on Jason. "And you didn't tell me?"
Jason raised his hands in calm. "Bellamy, relax—"
Clarke stepped in. "If there's a cure, he's got it. She's our best shot at getting it."
Jason nodded. "She's smart. She'll manage. But if there's a cure, we need it fast."
Bellamy's eyes blazed. "If anything happens to her it's your heads."
He stormed off.
Jason let out a long sigh and glanced at Clarke. "Well," he muttered dryly, "that went well."
Bellamy's voice cut through the noise again. "Get him to the dropship! He needs treatment!"
Jason's eyes snapped toward the commotion. Bellamy was arguing with a group of armed teens all jittery, pale, and terrified. The infected boy stumbled in the center, coughing violently as others backed away from him with guns trembling in their hands.
"No! Keep him away!" one kid shouted, panic in his voice. "He's infected! He's gonna kill us all!"
Bellamy raised his hands, trying to calm them. "He needs help, damn it—"
Before he could finish, the tension broke. Guns lifted.
Everyone pointed their weapons at everyone else.
Jason closed his eyes for half a second and muttered, "Oh, for fuck's sake."
He grabbed a rifle from a kid and strode forward. Clarke saw him just as he stepped into the middle of the chaos.
Bang. Bang. Bang!
Three shots cracked through the air, echoing into the forest canopy. Every gun immediately froze in place as Jason lowered his weapon, eyes blazing.
"I swear to God," he said, his voice cutting through the silence, "the next round will be emptied into any one of you who so much as causes a panic. And no, this isn't a warning it's a fucking threat. Understood?"
The entire camp fell dead silent.
Clarke stepped beside him, still shaken but using his outburst to regain control. "This is exactly what the Grounders want!" she shouted to the crowd. "Don't you see? They don't have to kill us if we kill each other first!"
"They won't have to kill us if we all catch the damn virus!" someone yelled back. The boy was trembling, eyes red as he raised his weapon, pointing it directly at Clarke and Jason.
Before Bellamy could react, bang!
A scream split the air. The kid dropped, clutching his thigh as blood soaked the dirt.
"Jason!" Clarke shouted, horrified.
"What?" Jason said coldly. "I made a very clear threat. He didn't listen."
Bellamy stared at him in disbelief. "Unbelievable."
Jason smirked. "Believe it."
Bellamy glared, but before he could respond, Clarke suddenly staggered.
Her breathing hitched as a sharp, audible gasp and then her knees gave way.
"Clarke!" Finn rushed forward, catching her before she hit the ground.
"Finn, don't touch her!" Raven's voice cracked as she nearly ran up from behind, panic etched into every syllable but stopped herself.
But Finn ignored her, holding Clarke close as she coughed weakly. Raven stopped dead in her tracks. Jason saw the moment her heart broke her expression shattering like glass.
He looked away, quietly muttering, "Sorry," under his breath.
Clarke, struggling to speak, managed to rasp, "Octavia… will come back… with a cure."
"There is no cure," came Octavia's voice from the treeline. Everyone turned as she stepped into view. "But the Grounders don't use the sickness to kill."
Jason gave a short, bitter laugh. "Really? Tell that to them." He gestured at the line of shrouded bodies by the dropship.
Bellamy's jaw tightened. "I warned you about seeing that Grounder again."
"Yeah?" Octavia shot back, glaring. "Well, I've got a warning for you too. The Grounders are coming. They're attacking at first light."
The camp went deathly quiet. Even the forest seemed to hold its breath.
Octavia turned away before Bellamy could respond. "Come on," she said, moving toward Clarke. "I'll help you get her inside."
Finn nodded, adjusting Clarke's weight.
As they started up the ramp, Octavia glanced at Jason. "You're still okay?"
Jason gave her a half-smile.
"Only the strong ones survive that's what he said to me."
Jason blinked, confused. "Okay then…" he muttered, shaking his head. He turned and saw Raven watching Finn carry Clarke into the dropship, her hands trembling, her eyes glassy. Jason stepped closer.
"Bellamy," he said softly. "We need to prepare for that attack."
Bellamy, still processing Octavia's words, nodded. "Yeah. I know."
Jason started toward the dropship. Raven caught his arm.
"Where are you going?" she demanded.
"I'm going in," Jason replied simply.
She stared at him. "Are you crazy?"
He gave her a small, reassuring grin. "Look, I think I'm immune. I've been in contact with half the infected in this camp and no symptoms. Like Octavia."
"Or maybe," Raven said sharply, "you just haven't gotten a heavy enough dose yet."
Jason paused, meeting her gaze. Her worry wasn't just fear it was real concern. It made something tighten in his chest.
"Don't worry," he said gently. "I'll be fine."
"You can't know that," she whispered.
Jason smiled faintly. "The fact that you care, I'll take that as my lucky charm."
She frowned deeper, her voice catching. "Jason—"
But he was already walking up the ramp.
——————-
Jason stepped in just as Octavia spoke.
"If he's not sick by now, he's probably immune. Like me and apparently Jason."
Jason raised a hand in mock salute. "I try my best."
Murphy, looking pale but upright, offered the hammock to Clarke as Finn carefully set her down.
"What else did Lincoln tell you?" Finn asked.
"The virus doesn't last long," Octavia said.
"It's true. I feel better," Murphy said, rubbing his arms.
Jason gave him a look. "How convenient for you, Murphy."
Murphy shrugged weakly. "Yeah, well… that's just how it is."
Jason leaned closer, voice quiet but sharp. "Mm. Guess so."
Murphy looked away.
"Look," Murphy said suddenly, his tone anxious. "At this rate, when the Grounders get here, there won't be anyone left to fight back."
"That's the point," Octavia said, handing a cup of water to another sick teen.
"Then we slow them down," Finn said firmly.
Jason turned to him, intrigued. "Slow them down, huh?"
He leaned against the metal wall, his eyes narrowing, then slowly, a grin spread across his face.
"I might have an idea."
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