Ascende Superius | Book 3

00 | 86 Days

Eighty-six days since the torturous events of Mount Weather. Eighty-six long days of insanity, of fighting the demons left behind from that horrid mountain. Of fighting the images of hours upon hours spent on a meral table, strapped down with a drill pressing into my bone. The plaguing image of the dead couple who just wanted to help us.

Almost three months of figuring out my own shit while also trying to keep Jasper from falling to pieces. It's not an easy task, keeping him from falling to alcohol to forget the horrid memories that haunt our sleepless nights. To be honest, there are some nights where we drink together, and we cry, or sometimes we occupy our minds with other things, with other... ahem, activities.

Most nights, however, are spent in a cookie cutter fashion, exact and identical, both of us left wide awake, sitting on the bed and staring at a wall in silence. Some of those nights, we'll once again cry, but more often than not, we stay completely quiet, frozen by the traumas and our hundreds of bottle ghosts of the constant terror we experienced.

The days we use to distract our minds with work. Jasper and I both have even been put on the guard with Harper, Monty, Bellamy, and Miller. Abby is Chancellor, though we report to Kane for the most part when it comes to patrols.

Our days off are combinations of spending time together, or training with Bellamy and Lincoln. Lincoln has been living in Arkadia, unfortunately kept away from the forest due to a kill order on his head.

Octavia has grown into quite the Trikru warrior, and all three of us talk in Trig when we get the chance to to so. Jasper will join us sometimes, though his knowledge of the language is slightly less, so he stumbles along as best he can.

It's been almost five months on the ground now. It's January of 2150, the cold of winter prominent in the air. I recall reading a fan wiki with date and timestamps, in which marks the day of our trip to Sector Seven as Day 137 since the pilot.

Tomorrow, then. Tomorrow will be the start of season three. The season I am scared of most, even with four, five, and six in mind. ALIE genuinely terrifies me. Partly, I fear losing Jasper to her false heaven. He's in a much better place than he was in the show, but still, regardless of that, Mount Weather haunts all of us.

PTSD is not something that exactly erases itself. Though I don't often, when I do sleep, I dream of the halls of the Mountain, the ringing alarms when they'd take someone away. The whole thing is almost claustrophobic, as the cement presses down, screams echoing like mad against walls. The couple that were shot for hiding us, for having humanity where others lacked.

Cage is another person I see in my nightmares. His near vampirical face glowing in the darkness of the harvest chamber, lit by the unsettling blues.

But then, our pain and experiences make us who we are. Our flaws are part of being ourselves. Without those, we would be a robotic drone, like those who took the key and forgot the people they lost. Jasper didn't remember Maya; Jaha, Wells.

The day came to an end hours ago, leaving Jasper and I resting in our shared room, both of us sitting on the bed, our backs to the wall. His eyes are shut, listening quietly to the music coming through the iPod. I'd been able to convince a fellow guardsman to grab it on one of the visits to the Mountain, so we often shared it.

We both have one of the earbuds in, and through it chimes 'Scrawny' by Wallows. A little fast paced for 3 in the morning, but neither of us seem to care, Jasper mumbling along, looking very adorable.

Reaching up, I play with his hair a bit, something I'd thankfully managed to convince him to keep. It's not as long as it was a few months ago, but it isn't completely shaved. He has grown out his facial hair, a feat only Devon Bostick manages to look good with in my opinion.

He leans into my hand, humming as the instrumental plays, and the song draws to a close. Then, a very soft acoustic guitar starts, Could It Be Another Change beginning.

We're both meant to have all day tomorrow off from our guard duties, so to Jasper, there is no real consequence to us staying up all night. He shifts away from my hand, burying his face in my shoulder and kissing the skin briefly.

I'm wearing a sports bra and shorts, an outfit I wear to bed more nights than not. Especially on days after training with the other guards.

Hours pass like this, listening to the iPod play music. To be fair, it's how we've spent nearly every night for the last eighty-seven. Neither of us are quite brave enough to face sleeping, so we evade it as much as possible when we can.

Morning light soon shines through the blindes on our window, and I sigh, rolling over to hide my face in his bare chest, as if attempting to evade the sun as I had been sleep. Jasper readjusts for me, his chin now resting on the top of my head.

Memories are slipping from me. The little things, like my favourite flower, or my old last name, went first. Horrifyingly, I also often draw a blank when I try to remember as far as season six or seven.

Songs bring these things back. Like River by Bishop Briggs. When this played last, I had some distant, blurry memory of a woman, and me, singing it in the car. My mother. My real one, not Melinda/Aurora Blake.

There's a knock on the door that breaks my train of thought. Day eighty-seven. Dread pools in my stomach, heavy like a rock.

"Knock knock," someone calls from outside the door, and we sigh, Jasper sitting up. He rests his chin on my bare shoulder, his facial hair tickling my skin. With a short laugh, I push him off, grabbing my shirt.

"Come on in," I reply after its pulled on fully, popping out the earbuds and wrapping the cord around the iPod, shoving it in my pocket.

Bellamy steps through, and smiles briefly at us before going into his business mode. "I'm mapping out section seven, I want you two to come with."

Letting out an exaggerated sigh, one that makes Jasper laugh due to the running joke of sighs, I stand. "That's right by the Azgeda border," I remind my brother, picking up my gun from beside the bed and slinging it over my shoulder.

"I know. Kane is allowing us to go out armed, but non-lethal responses only."

"Copy that, Captain Blake."

"Oh shut up."