𝙈𝙊𝙍𝙏𝙀𝙈¹ ➣ 𝑇ℎ𝑒 100

𝟎𝟔 | 𝑹𝑰𝑩𝑺

𝙊𝙉𝘾𝙀 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁𝙊𝙂 𝘾𝙇𝙀𝘼𝙍𝙎, 𝙂𝙍𝘼𝙔 𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝘾𝘼𝙍𝙎𝙊𝙉 begin making their way back to camp.

By the time the get there, it's well after dark, and their trip had been completely silent. After spending about a day and a half alone with each other, they both wanted nothing more than to go their seperate ways.

Carson is the first through the gate, greeting Miller and the others with a small smile. Bellamy catches up and notices the freshly formed bruises on both boys' faces, the cut on Carson's cheek, his split lip, and Gray's split eyebrow. He also notices the way Gray clutches his fist, wincing.

His brows furrow and his gaze turns from Carson to Gray, who silently sulks past them. "What the hell happened to the two of you?"

Carson purses his lips and shakes his head, eyes lingering on Gray for a moment. "Nothing. Just a misunderstanding, is all."

Bellamy's instincts are telling him that Carson is lying; but judging by their conditions, that's a given. Something definitely happened since leaving camp, but he knows better than to press the matter. With Gray involved, Bellamy knows he'll only escalate the situation. For now, he decides to keep a watchful eye on the boy and tells Carson to have Clarke check him out for any serious injuries.

Carson nods and heads to the drop ship.

Gray's steps are a bit sluggish as he tries ignoring the pain in his hand and head. He just needs to get some sleep, and he'll be good as new tomorrow. Gray knows he'll surely have a bruise on his face, though. But then again, he also knows it's well deserved for punching Carson in the face.

He shouldn't have let his anger take control like it did. Nothing about their time in the cave was desirable.

Just before he reaches the drop ship, Clarke rushes out, almost running into him. She gasps and looks up, eyes widening at the sight of his face. She reaches out and grips his chin, trying to get a better look at his black eye. "Gray? What happened to you?"

Gray pulls away from the girl's grip and mutters, "None of your business. I'm fine."

"Because you look fine. You might need stitches. Wait for me in the drop ship. I'll be back in a minute."

"I'm fine, Clarke," Gray mutters with a roll of his eyes.

Clarke puts her foot down and shakes her head. "No, you're not. You have blood on your face, and judging by the way you've been clutching your hand, it may be broken. Now if I don't get a chance to look at you, your hand may never heal right; go to the drop ship and wait for me."

Clarke squints at him before brushing past. Reluctantly, Gray let's out a groan and sulks into the drop ship. He finds a seat on a crate and waits for Clarke's return. After a minute or so, someone enters, only to be Carson. The pair make eye contact and tension fills the entire ship. Everyone notices it, but says nothing as Carson climbs the latter to check in on Jasper.

"Looks like things got pretty heated between you and Carson, huh?" Murphy's voice makes Gray want to punch him right in the face, but his hand is already aching. Leave it to Murphy to make some snide remark and piss someone off.

"Shut the fuck up."

Murphy laughs and Clarke enters the drop ship, holding a small cup of water and a rag. She sets them beside her and stops in front of Gray. Wetting the rag, she forces Gray to look up at her so she can clean the blood on his face.

It's been long enough that he's not actively bleeding anymore, but the blood trail has dried, stopping just before the tip of his nose.

When Gray tries pulling away, the blonde girl grips his chin again, holding him still. His jaw clenches and he allows her the clean the blood. Once Clarke realizes Gray won't try moving again, she gently let's go of him. Their entire interaction is silent as Clarke examines his eyebrow and black eye, determining his diagnosis.

Once she's confirmed to herself, she takes a look at his hand. Gray winces when she tries wiggling his fingers and gently pressing his skin. A moment later, she finally speaks. "Looks like you just strained it. It should be fine in a few days. And you don't need stitches."

Gray only nods and goes to stand up, wanting nothing more than to get some sleep right now. But Clarke places her hand on his shoulder and shoves him back down.

"Sit." Her voice is stern, and Gray bites his tongue as to not scold her for treating him like a dog. "I still need to clean your hand."

His jaw flexes and he watches Clarke wet the rag again and crouch in front of him. She gently cleans around the cuts on his knuckles, but every now and then, pain shoots through his hand making him wince.

"What's your history with him? Carson, I mean."

The girl's question catches Gray by surprise, but he shakes his head and turns away from her. "It's nothing."

"Putting him in medical for a week isn't nothing, Gray," Clarke states. Gray's head snaps to the girl, eyes narrow. Clarke purses her lips. "I already know. Actually, I think everyone knows. But I only know because my mom's the head doctor on the Ark. And word spreads like wildfire up there."

Gray scoffs, thinking back to all the whispers he got every day he went to school with new cuts and bruises. It wasn't just Farm Station that knew. The whole of the Ark knew what was happening. But no one stepped in.

Clarke takes note of Gray's pissed off expression. She feels sorry for him; for everything he's had to endure. The first time she heard the rumors revolving around the Lawson's, she asked her parents if there was anything they could do about it.

But they said there was nothing. Darrien wasn't technically breaking any of the Ark's laws, and from what she had gathered back then, he'd tipped off the council. Which is why they never acted.

Letting out a quiet sigh, Clarke finishes up and clears Gray. She let's him know to keep it easy for a few days or his hand won't heal. He brushes her instructions off, but still takes note of them. Carefully, he climbs the latter to the second floor of the drop ship where he's been sleeping and calls it a night.

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