Last Minute Choices

One week until the drop ship launches...

            Ronnie paced the narrow hallway outside the Sky Box, her boots scuffing against the cold metal floor. She wasn't sure why she kept doing this- winding up in this exact spot every other day, hesitating, debating. Should I see her? Should she even try?

            For three weeks, this was her routine. Walk here. Pace. Leave.

            She stopped and glanced toward the door of Clarke's cell, uncertainty knotting her stomach. Her fingers fidgeted at her side, the weight of the moment pressing on her. She had to do this. She had to.

            The guard's voice broke through her thoughts. "Miss Sinclair, you've been at this for a while now. You going in or not?"

            Ronnie stiffened, startled by the sound, but she forced a breath and shook her head. "Alright, let's get this over with. I guess it's now or never." She gestured toward the door, steeling herself for whatever came next.

            The guard nodded and opened the door to Clarke's cell. "Prisoner three-one-nine, you have a visitor."

            Inside, there was a rustle of movement. "What? My mom already can today-" Clarke's voice trailed off as the guard stepped aside, revealing Ronnie.

            Ronnie paused in the doorway, her gaze meeting Clarke's sharp, icy-blue eyes. The air between them felt thick, heavy with everything unspoken. Clarke didn't move- she simply stared, as though gauging whether Ronnie had any right to be there at all.

            "Hi, Clarke," Ronnie started, her voice quieter than she meant it to be. "Do you mind if I sit?" She gestured toward the chair across from Clarke.

            Clarke didn't answer, but with a quick push of her foot, she nudged the chair across from her. The screech of the chair made Ronnie flinch, but she slid into it anyway.

            "I guess I'll start," Ronnie mumbled, forcing a half-laugh, trying to ease the tension, but it didn't help. Clarke's expression didn't soften and the weight of her stare was suffocating. "I just wanted to see you. It's been a while."

            For the first time, Clarke's mask slipped just a little- confusion flashed in her eyes, but her expression remained cold, distant.

            Ronnie swallowed and kept going. "I've been debating what I've wanted to say for three weeks. I still don't really know what I want to day, but... I miss you. I miss how it used to be- me, you and Wells." She exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair before lowering her voice. "I'm sorry about your father."

            She hoped- God, she hoped- that would be enough to break through the wall Clarke had built between them. But the silence stretched longer. The seconds crawled by, and Clarke just stared.

            Ronnie's heart sank.

            "Look, maybe I made a mistake coming here," she admitted, frustration lacing her voice. "But the least you could do is say something, Clarke. Yell and scream at me- I don't care, just don't sit there like-"

            "Stop."

            Clarke's voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through the room with brutal precision. She dropped her gaze to the floor, avoiding Ronnie's eyes like she couldn't bear to look at her any longer.

            Ronnie studied her, waiting. Please say something else. Please don't make me leave like this.

            Then Clarke exhaled shakily and looked back up, her blue eyes shining with unshed tears. "Please go."

            Ronnie's stomach twisted. "But-"

            "No buts, Ronnie." Clarke's voice cracked, but her resolve didn't. "We are not friends anymore. You ended that relationship the day you chose him over me. Wells got my father floated, he turned him in, and you still chose him. I didn't just lose my father that day, I lost my best friends! I don't want to see either of you ever again!" Clarke's voice rose in anger, and the first tear finally slipped down her cheek.

            Ronnie's throat tightened, but she nodded slowly. The anger in Clarke's words stung, but it was the hurt behind them that cut the deepest. She stood up, pushing back the sting in her own eyes, and walked toward the door. She knocked softly, signaling the guard. The door slid open almost immediately, beckoning her escape. But before she stepped out, she hesitated, glancing back at Clarke one last time.

            Ronnie opened her mouth to say something, anything to make this better, but the words caught in her throat. Finally she whispered, "I'm sorry I let you down, Clarke."

            Clarke didn't respond. She didn't even look up.

            Ronnie stepped out, the door sliding shut behind her with a soft thud. Her regret clung to her, a heavy, suffocating weight. The hallways of the Ark felt colder now, and the silence around her seemed to echo her unspoken guilt.

            Her feet carried her toward the workshop on autopilot, she still had so much to finish in the last week before the 100 were to be sent to earth, but something made her stop.

            The scent of something burning.

            She turned sharply, eyes locking onto a familiar figure standing inside the chamber that held the Ark's last living tree. A flicker of orange caught her attention- a flame.

            "Wells, no!"

            The words tore out of her as she watched in horror as the flame licked up the small tree, engulfing a leaf before a guard rushing in, restraining Wells. Every crime, no matter how small, is punishable by death. Wells was seventeen so he was safe... for now.

            "What did you do that for?" Ronnie demanded, her voice shaking.

            Wells didn't fight back against the guard. He just turned his dark, steady eyes to her and said, "To look out for Clarke."

            The bottom dropped out of her stomach. Oh, God. He knows. He learned of the drop ship and the prisoners that were being sent to Earth. Ronnie's throat tightened. "You know."

            Wells nodded once.

            The prisoners were leaving in a week, but that didn't mean he was safe. The council already made the list of prisoners being sent to earth.

            Ronnie's hands trembled as she watched the guard lead Wells down the hallway. Her breath hitched, her mind telling, but she didn't stop to think. She moved on instinct, her feet carrying her straight to the Chancellor's quarters- a place she had been hundreds of times. But this time wasn't for Wells. This time was for his father. 

            She pounded on the door, the force of each hit echoing through the corridor. It swung open moments later, revealing Thelonious Jaha, his face scrunched in confusion.

            "Ronnie, what-"

            "Wells was arrested." The words came out sharp and accusing as she shove past him into the room.

            Jaha blinked, shutting the door behind her. "What are you talking about?"

            Ronnie spun to face him, her anger boiling over. "All of this is your fault." Her voice shook with rage as she pointed a finger at him. "First, you float your best friend for trying to save everyone on this damn station. Then you arrest his daughter- one of my best friends- and throw her in with the rest of the kids you decide were expendable." Her voice cracked, but she pushed through. "And then you expect me to keep all of it a secret while I do the grunt work?"

            Jaha inhaled slowly, his jaw tightening. "Ronnie, I know this is difficult-"

            She let out a bitter laugh. "Difficult? You put the weight of the human race on my shoulders! I'm eighteen, Thelonious. Barely more than a kid myself." Her voice lowered, raw with exhaustion. "You should've listened to Jake. Maybe we wouldn't be in this mess."

            For a moment, Jaha didn't speak. His face was carefully composed, but Ronnie saw the flicker of something beneath it. Guilt? Regret? He looked her over- her slumped posture, the dark circles beneath her eyes, the way her fists clenched like she was holding herself together by force.

            Finally, he exhaled. "What do you want from me, Ronnie?" His voice was calm, measured, but there was something almost resigned about it.

            Ronnie's breath steadied, her fury cooling into something colder. "Your son turns eighteen next month." She let the words settle, watching his expression shift- just a flicker of fear before he schooled his face into neutrality. "You and I both know what happens then. He'll get a retrial that doesn't mean a damn thing. He'll be floated like the rest."

            Jaha's jaw clenched.

            Ronnie stepped forward. "Put him on the list. Swap out someone for him."

            "I'm not sending my son to Earth," Jaha said immediately, his voice firm.

            Ronnie scoffed. "If you want him to have a chance to see past his eighteenth birthday, you don't have another choice. You can't change the rules for him, not without causing a riot. The council won't let him walk free." She took another step closer, lowering her voice. "But you can give him a second chance. A real one."

            Jaha's lips pressed into a thin line. His hands were clasped behind his back now, shoulders tense. He looked away, out toward the viewport where Earth loomed below them, distant and unforgiving. "You're asking me to send my son into the unknown," he murmured.

            Ronnie's expression hardened. "You already did that to a hundred other kids."

            Jaha closed his eyes for a brief second, just long enough for Ronnie to know she'd struck a nerve. When he opened them again, his expression was unreadable.

            She folded her arms. "While you're at it, you might as well pardon every prisoner on that list. They're giving their lives for yours- unwillingly, I might add. The least you can do is acknowledge that sacrifice."

            Jaha let out a slow breath through his nose. His silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken things. Finally, he nodded, just once. "I'll see what I can do."

            It wasn't a promise. But it wasn't a no.

            Ronnie held his gaze for a moment longer before turning on her heel and walking out the door.