Chapter 19
They must have woken me to get some food and water into me during my sickbed time, but I don't remember it. It has to be four days at least until I recover enough to be able to move around freely on my own. Raven is up sooner, but then again - she'd caught it sooner too. I don't know why the virus raged through my system for so long - there's only a few of us that reacted to the sickness in the same way. Clarke has no idea why either, but it doesn't matter, as long as we're up and getting better. Connor died not two beds from mine. If I had a moment to spare and think about it, it'd put things in perspective. I was lucky. We were lucky. It could have been so much worse.
It's scary to think that we've come to the point where we can move on from deaths so easily.
The strength seems to come back just as quickly as it goes away with this virus - it takes me a day to really settle back into my own body, but the next morning I am already almost as good as new, though Clarke warns me not to rush things. I feel a bit weaker, like I've lost some of my stamina, but I suppose that's normal, and I don't think it's possible to lose so much strength over the course of a few days. Besides, strength comes with work, and the whole camp is hard at it. I'm eager to get back to my chores and guard duty on the post with Miller - anything other than seeing the inside of that Drop-Ship for a while. I know it's in my head, but it almost smells of sickness.
''Good to see you still kicking,'' Miller says with the smallest hint of a smile.
''Oh, just admit you would have missed me,'' I grin, rolling my eyes and re-adjusting my gun strap, ''And pretty bad, too.''
He doesn't say anything to that, only grins back and smacks my shoulder, before we move to our positions for the night. *
The days go by smoothly, for a change, yet I still keep a distance from Bellamy. I am now painfully aware that I'm no longer indifferent towards him, and I'm almost self-conscious about it. I don't know why or how my feelings for him developed, but now there's no denying them, not to myself. And how do I deal with that now? Don't push me away, he said. What the hell is happening to me?
The days go by too smoothly, actually. There are no signs of Grounders, and it's only making me anxious to think about. Maybe, if John and I hadn't been through what we've been through, I'd be able to believe that they've left us alone. But I know better.
Still, we haven't had any incidents at camp at least. The first mishap we had was Del ending up feeding the fires too much. It absolutely engulfed a lot of our food supplies, and yes, it was a major bummer, but it's nothing like getting slaughtered by Grounders, so I think we've all been just trying to focus on counting the blessings instead of the problems. Well, almost all. Miller isn't exactly the type - I'm surprised he refrained from beating the crap out of Del. Murphy and Octavia barely could.
The hunting parties are formed quickly, so the food we're lacking could be replenished. Technically, we could ration what we have now and be okay, but not if we're going to fight Grounders. We barely stand a chance as it is, and we cannot afford to be losing too many calories, not now. I volunteer to go myself, for a few reasons, but mostly because I refuse to be afraid after what happened to me the last time I was outside. I can't let that consume me. Alas, they end up taking only one gunner per group, and most gunners have to stay back to defend the camp if need be. Which includes me.
Raven and Jasper spend most of the time making split-load bullets. I had no idea Jasper had a knack for chemistry, but he has a lot of ideas going on in that head of his most of the time, so it's not so surprising. I, on the other hand, am looking forward to spending a very boring day with Nathan Miller. Any day without the hint of a Grounder threat is a good day. Anxious, but good.
It's late afternoon when the groups come back with enough food for a couple of days. They'll have to do it this way, bit by bit, because camping and spending the night outside is too dangerous right now with the ever-looming threat of the Grounders. We have no idea where they might be lurking, and they've proved themselves to be very good at that. We need to stick together, especially at night-time.
Not that I'm noisy, but I've noticed that Finn and Clarke seem to be getting lost for some privacy lately just as they used to do, which means that whole weird Raven-Finn-Clarke thing is finally done and over with. A good thing too, the energy is just odd. Half the time I just didn't want to be around the three.
''Shift's over, gonna get Harper,'' I announce, hopping off the wooden post, ''Then I'm gonna practice. You coming?''
Miller squints in the way that he always does when he's about to say something sarcastic. ''Don't tell me that crappy bow actually works,'' he teases.
''It's not crappy, asshole,'' I mock-argue, ''And here I was thinking about maybe teaching you a thing or two.''
''Not like I have anything else to do after this,'' he shrugs, ''Besides try to fall asleep.''
''Miller, you have to sleep,'' I warn him, ''We'll need our full strength.''
''Easy for you to say, you were knocked out for five days,'' he grumbles, ''I sleep, just- not for very long. It's a struggle not to see our camp burning every time I close my eyes.''
''We're patrolling 24/7,'' I argue, unsure if I've convinced myself, ''There's no way they're sneaking up on us.''
''Right.''
''Right. Be right back,'' I chuckle, ''Harper!!!!!''
The girl waves back at me from the other side of the camp.
*
I usually leave the bow and arrows in our armory - Monty had helped me make some more arrows and I'd managed to scrap up a makeshift quiver before the whole mess. The armory is the smallest tent in the camp, right past Bellamy's - yet it's the most precious thing we own. It might save us, but if anything were to happen to it, there's no way we're not dying.
The ridiculous fact that Bellamy still has that giant tent all to himself isn't lost on me. But then again, he is rarely alone.
That thought makes me flush with a pang of irrational jealousy, though I haven't even seen him with a girl in such a long while. Not that I have any claim over him. That's absolutely absurd, being jealous. I have no rights. I had him once, just like all those other girls... but that thought doesn't exactly make me feel any better either.
Don't push me away, he said.
Whatever.
Just as I pass Bellamy's tent to get to the damned armory, it all comes crashing down on me. I realize how truly stupid it all is, and how irrational. The pain I feel in this one moment is crippling. Which is ridiculous - I've been through so much since we got here. Murphy, deaths, sicknesses, injuries, fear. I've faced Grounders. I've watched the Drop-Ship that probably carried my parents on it fall down into an infernal explosion. And I stood almost undeterred.
But right now, hearing him with a girl in that tent, whoever she is, knowing I was in her place for one night and it didn't mean anything - it's ridiculously painful. It has no right to be this painful, no right to be anything at all. But it is, and so much so that the very tips of my fingers are going numb. Tears sting at my eyes, but I can't. I won't. I wouldn't dare.
I grab the bow and quiver and storm back over to Miller. I grab his arm without explanation and all but drag us both out of camp. There is a tree nearby, with a trunk almost ruined from how much I've practiced on it lately. Miller doesn't ask any questions, not until we're there. I'm shooting arrows furiously before he can manage a word.
''Alright. Whatever it is, take it out on the tree,'' Miller says casually, seating himself on the grass, ''Though if that tree were a Grounder you'd be dead by now.''
It's true enough. My anger and heartbreak and furious, wounded pride would make me stupid. And stupid gets you killed. If this were a fight, it would be my downfall. Some of the arrows don't even hit the damn tree, they just scrape past.
I don't reply to his remark. I shoot another arrow, then another, and another, until the quiver is empty. Then I stomp ahead to re-collect them all, biting back tears still.
I feel a hand on my arm.
''Hey. You okay?''
I am afraid of opening my mouth. I don't trust my voice not to crack.
''I'm fine,'' I manage, swallowing it down.
''You don't seem fine,'' Miller retorts.
''I have to be,'' I spit back. I pick up the last arrow, and go back to the shooting position. Nock. Pull. Aim.
Miller leans against the tree behind me. In the corner of my eye, I can see him cross his arms on his chest. He's studying me curiously.
''I don't wanna talk about it,'' I just say, releasing the arrow, ''I never make you talk about it.''
''I've never been this messed up,'' he argues.
Another arrow. Dead center now.
''You don't have to tell me about it, just deal with it,'' he speaks again, '''Cause this leads to reckless, and reckless gets you-''
''... killed,'' I say, ''I know.''
I don't know what breaks in me. I don't know what it is about the moment that suddenly makes everything overflow. But I just can't hold it together anymore. I break down crying.
... In front of Miller. I hate crying in general, but what I hate most in this whole fucking world is crying in front of someone else. And I'm crying in front of Nathan Miller of all people. A complete fucking disaster.
I can't quite bring myself to care though. I will probably care about it later, but right now all I can do is just sit down on the ground and cry. With my face buried in my hands, and my bow on the ground, I am completely fucking defenseless.
Miller only sits down next to me, and puts his hand on my shoulder. It's just enough. Anything more and he would have made it worse. Anything less and he would have also made it worse.
I weep like a god damn baby, and it feels so unbelievably good. I can't remember the last time I cried, even back on the Ark. This is not just Bellamy, this is everything. Every night on Earth has been another trauma. It's time I got it all out. After a while, I calm, feeling like I've spent myself.
''There ya go,'' Nathan says, rubbing my shoulder a bit comfortingly.
''This fucking sucks,'' I say, sniffling against my own will.
''I know,'' he says.
''Everything just-,'' I almost hiccup, ''Just sucks.''
''I know,'' he agrees again.
''Oh, God,'' I wipe my face, ''I think I just had a mental breakdown.''
Miller laughs, whole-heartedly. The sound brings me a ridiculous amount of comfort. ''When I get those, I tend to punch things,'' he says, ''Your way's much better.''
''Yeah, right,'' I chuckle, ''More like stupid. I can't believe I'm this weak.''
''Weak? No, you're dumb,'' he says.
I turn and smack him in the arm.
''Dumb if you think that's weak,'' he chuckles, rubbing his arm as though it hurts, ''Come on, Tasha, look at all we've been through. Weak's not even an option.''
I look to the lights of the camp - it flickers in the evening now that the sun has come down. It looks pretty. It's a freaking lighthouse for the Grounders.
I don't want to go back. Not just because of Bellamy Blake and something so stupid as heartbreak, but because of everything. I don't want to re-enter the soon to be slaughterhouse. I don't want to keep on pulling ends together when nothing matters anyway. Everything we do from the moment we wake up to the moment we fall asleep - it doesn't matter. We're all dead meat, as much as our defiant spirits want us to think otherwise. Oh, we'll fight - we will go down fighting. But we will go down nonetheless. So what's the point? I've lost everything. My parents, my brother, my home. All I have are struggles and memories.
''I don't wanna go back,'' I say out loud.
''Well, we kinda have to,'' Miller argues, ''But we can stay a while. Promised you'd teach me how to shoot that bow anyway.''
''I made no promises,'' I smile, the fresh breeze reminding me that my cheeks are still wet.
''Let's not go nitpicking,'' Nathan says, gets up, and offers me a hand. I take it and stand back up on my feet, dusting myself off.
''You're a good friend, Miller,'' I say, collecting the arrows off the floor.
''Don't get all mushy on me,'' he grumbles.
''You are, though,'' I insist, ''You know next to nothing about me, yet somehow... you know me.''
''You're not that hard to figure out,'' Miller grins, testing the bow in his hands, ''Same, though.''
''Are my eyes puffy?'' I remember to ask. I don't want everyone in camp to know I've been crying too.
''Are you kidding me? You look like an actual frog.''
''Fuck you, Miller,'' I laugh, throwing a tiny pebble his way.
''You asked,'' he chuckles with a shrug, nocking his first arrow to the bow.
I don't know how long we stay practicing, but somehow it makes everything better. We shoot, and talk a bit, and laugh a lot about our emotionally constipated selves and I almost forget what happened that set me off in the first place. Most of the camp is already asleep when we get back and crash for the night.
In the morning, everything is clearer for me, but it isn't easier. My mom always used to say mornings are ''smarter'' than nights. You always see everything more clearly in the morning, whereas nights can make the craziest idea seem rational. I don't know why it is, but it's true enough. Still, I know my tasks. This would all be over soon, one way or another.
''Get your gun,'' Octavia approaches me out of nowhere, ''We're heading out.''
''What, why?'' I shake my head.
''Finn and Clarke are not back yet,'' Raven explains, ''That kid Myles neither.''
''Shit'' I curse, running to the armory, ''Not this again.''