Sleep, O

Jasper

Hi everyone, sorry for the long wait. I've been working on another story recently and I've finally finished it. It's called "She's Mine" and I hope you'll check it out.

Anyway, back to this story. This chapter is set right at the beginning of The 100, S01E01, after Octavia gets injured by the sea serpent, and focuses on Octavia's relationship with Jasper in the earlier part of the series.

I hope you enjoy it.

-------

The group treks forward, Clarke leading the pack with Finn as Octavia leans on Jasper, the former continuing to stare in amazement at the trees and greenery around her, while the latter banters back and forth with his best friend about the medicinal values of the plants, and if they'd be able to smoke them.

Their conversation is cut short as Octavia suddenly stops, her mouth hanging agape as she seemingly stares at something up ahead.

"Octavia," Jasper turns to her with concern. "You ok?"

"How's the leg holding up?" Clarke shouts from somewhere ahead of them. "Do we need to take a break?"

"Wow." Is all the girl manages to say before unwinding an arm from around Jasper's neck and pointing it above them.

It is unlike anything they've ever seen before, granted that till this day they have never even felt the kiss of the sun on their skin.

A ball of light dims as it fades into the horizon, swirls of colour seeming to beacon it forward as it takes its rest and allows the moon to take over for the night. As they linger for the moment, the music of the forest becomes more apparent; mockingbirds sing their songs as the mourning doves coo, the crickets harmonising with their chirp. Together, the unlikely band of creatures serenade the night to come.

Their own band of misfits watch on in awe as the blue of day becomes the vibrant oranges and pinks and purples of twilight before dulling to the black of night.

As it descends, the temperature drops. The damp clothes of the pair does nothing to shield them from the chill of an earthen night. They huddle closer for warmth just as Clarke declares they should stop for the night, having covered more than enough distance for the day's journey.

Helping the younger girl down, they lean her back against a tree before Clarke rolls up her pants to check on the wound. The top of her thigh is littered with puncture marks, each not more than an inch long, with tails of dried blood. In a different time, in a very different place, Clarke might have even joked they were like falling meteorites about to land on the earth, her knee.

All the blonde does, however, is sigh in relief as she notes that no infection has settled in and reties the makeshift bandage. She wishes that she had the medical supplies of the Ark; a suture kit, some antibiotics, maybe a butterfly bandage or two. At least then she'd be able to disinfect the wound from whatever bacteria the irradiated animal may carry, or even properly treat it.

For all the council's hope of the 100's survival, they, especially her own mother, had forgotten something so essential: a simple medkit.

She knew resources were scarce, each member of the Ark was allocated the bare minimum of medical supplies and it was hardly enough to save someone in the most dire of situations.

But this was something so different. They knew earth was filled with dangers unknown to them, they knew that teenagers who had been caged up for who knows how long would explode the minute they were set free, they knew that someone was bound to get hurt at some point.

And yet, they left them totally defenseless when they could have helped them.

She warns the girl about possible signs of infection, to tell her immediately if she felt that something was off, or if she felt nauseous or...

The girl just grins good-naturedly before telling her to stop worrying. She can't say that she's had worse injuries before, being trapped under the floor your whole life doesn't create a lot of opportunities to get in harm's way, but she'll be fine. She's already better than fine just by being out in the open.

The boy beside her disagrees, albeit silently. He carefully takes note of everything Clarke has to say and keeps a watchful eye on the girl for the rest of the night. When they declare it time to sleep, he nestles himself against the tree and invites her to use his lap as a pillow.

She disagrees at first, wanting to fully experience getting to lay down on the grass while looking up at the stars, just like the people in Bellamy's stories used to do. But as she laid down on the damp grass, shivers raced through her body; and she found that not only did she long for warmth, but the human touch she had been deprived of for more than a year now.

Reluctantly, she nestles her head in his lap.

Jasper could only watch her with fondness for a few minutes as she settles herself for the night. She truly is a beauty and he couldn't imagine what he would've done if the monster had killed her.

Sure, he had not known her for long, their previous interactions being limited to passing each other in the skybox's mess hall and the brief classes they had on earth skills before being sent to the ground, but he wishes he took the chance to get to know her then.

Even if her beauty was the first thing that caught his eye, it's her spirit that captured his heart. She was strong-willed, almost stubbornly so, and fearless. He remembers how she stood up for Murphy, someone she didn't even know, in the classroom against Mr. Pike. And the way she had jumped in without knowing how deep the water was or if it was safe, left him in amazement.

Her naivety and zest for life only beckons him to her. It's as if she's a newborn foal, excited to test her legs and explore the world around her. He could only look on as she spun around trees, jumped over fallen logs, and act as a teenager in general.

Something inside him told him that despite being locked up in the skybox with other prisoners, she had yet to be exposed to the true horrors of the world or humanity; she must have been extremely sheltered by her brother.

'Her brother.' He thinks with a gasp. He may not know Bellamy Blake very well but he can say with utmost certainty that he would have made their lives a living hell if his sister had died on their watch, and he's suddenly very thankful that she's alive.

He feels her back move against his torso with every breath she takes. It's soft and rhythmic, soothing and reassuring. It's something so mundane - the gift of breath being overlooked every second of the day - and yet he can't help but be drawn by it, seeking comfort from the gentle inhale of oxygen, far sweeter than any weed he's ever smoked before.

He's not sure what, but something compels him to take her dark locks, the very same ones spilling over his lap like a dark ebony stream, and gently stroke them. So he listens.

He runs his hand from the crown of her head down to its very tips.

The motion is as calming for him as it is for her, and he finds himself lulled into slumber as he tenderly strokes the little butterfly.

"Goodnight, Octavia." He whispers as he takes his first sleep right where he was born to be, Earth.

-------

And this has been an AngelFanfics productions.