The whips and barbs of constant mental abuse in his own voice had become a slime of wordless depression that swaddled Clarke's brain and that was how his days passed. He assumed they were days, guards came and went, different sets of voices speaking in whispers out in front of his cell but that was his best guess.

Clarke's whole side ached as he changed position, staring up at the ceiling again.

C'mon Clarke...C'mon, we can't just-

There was still something in there trying to motivate him, to get him to move but in his mind it would be dragged down into a sea of oily despair, will quashed.

I can't help you...I can't help anyone...

And it would repeat in the same way hour after hour. The sameness of it, the routine of not having to do anything and having the same conversation...felt good. Better than the hurt of being out there, of fighting, of failing everyone.

“You guys gotta be tired so go on break. I'll watch for a bit. The alchemist is coming soon, right?”

That's Wade.

There was quiet for a few minutes then the keys turning in the lock, the door swinging open. Clarke closed his eyes and went limp. If they knew he wasn't taking his medicine it would cut into his self abuse.

The door shut behind and Clarke could feel a big presence beside him. Wade sat on the table and stared at him, not saying a word.

“You awake? I don't know how long that sleeping potion lasts.”

“If I was before I'm not now. Every step you take is like a bear stomping around.”

Wade was quiet again and Clarke finally opened his eyes. Wade looked even worse than before, his whole frame sagging. His mutton chops were growing into the start of a beard.

“Did they set a time?”

“Huh?”

Wade cocked his head in confusion before the meaning hit him.

“Oh, no. It's just...”

He sighed and leaned back on the table to look up at the ceiling.

“We're just such losers.”

Clarke raised his head to look at Wade, to see if he really came by just to shoot the non-existent breeze.

“You told me I was great a few days ago.”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“I know but compared to those girls...Alouella just up and took over a kingdom to keep it running. And Gwen, she...”

He hesitated for a moment weighing how much trouble what he was saying would get him in. He decided it didn't matter.

“She went off to find your mother.”

“She what!? For what reason!? When!?”

He bolted up and Wade pointed him down to sit. His nails scratched on the stone in anticipation as he lay back down.

“A few days ago. She knew it was one more thing Alouella was going to have to think about or turn over to someone but I really think she did it to help you. I think she went to make sure you didn't do all this for nothing.”

Clarke leaned back and looked at the ceiling.

“She's a good...friend. I take it you didn't tell her what they were going to do to me?”

“Hell no. She'd have torn the place apart.”

Wade chuckled.

“She said whatever was going on that you wouldn't be here long. That you're scrappy.”

Wade stood, swiping his hand over the back of his neck and fidgeting.

“They're both such...such good people!”

He grit his teeth, his voice raising.

“I feel so goddamn inadequate! I feel like a child, like I can't GET anywhere or DO anything. And...and you know, Gwen even...she...and Alouella...y'know.”

He made a circle with one hand and stuck his index finger into it a few times. Clarke watched the motion, neither surprised nor exactly uncaring. He could see that they made a good fit, each bringing what the other lacked. He was more concerned with the gesture Wade was doing.

“I don't think that's how they would do it...”

“I know, god dammit! But I don't have a hand motion for that!”

He paced around, growling and huffing at the air before looking at Clarke in exasperation.

“Doesn't that make you mad?”

Clarke shrugged.

“While I think I have other things to be worried about right now, no, it doesn't add anything. I think they're good for each other.”

She's gone back to Deraforda. Alone?

“But what does make me mad is that Gwen went back but...did she have any back up? What are you doing here if she's going after that dangerous bastard?”

“She went alone.”

Clarke held himself in check but he could feel the anger coming back, the still miasma in his brain burning away.

“I thought you were her friend!”

“Don't you yell at me, I have to watch over Alouella! She doesn't have anyone else-”

“She's probably got scores of guards pulled in from the surrounding areas! Why couldn't you put your dick back in your pants and-”

“Don't you lecture me you son of a bitch, you were right at the finish line and victory slipped right out of your hands! I had already figured you'd be gone by now! Why haven't you escaped and gone off to fix all this yourself if you think everything is so easy!?”

They stared at one another, hearts pounding in frustration and anger. Clarke fell back, the stone bed sending a jolt up his spine. Fresh emotion was floating him out of his lethargic muck.

“We are losers. We stumbled. We fell and stopped because it was easier than getting back up.”

Yes, get up! Go!

Stop it! There's nothing you can-

Get. Up.

He could see the little bit of hope in himself, shaken off his lethargy for just a moment and able to stand up. He could see the plan that the little part of him had kept safe for him when the time was right, hidden from him in his depression.

“You really thought I'd get away? Just like that?”

He asked. Wade shrugged.

“Not while I was watching, obviously. But yeah.”

There was a knock on the door and it swung open, the aged elven alchemist peering in with guards behind him.

Wade nodded at him and got up to leave, the elf laying out his satchel that jingled with droughts and vials. He stopped to look at Clarke before he was out the door. It was a huge change from the constantly sleeping form he'd seen in the room, like a puppet with its strings cut becoming the puppeteer, his eyes following everything in the room once more like the shiftiest ratling.

You gotta do your best and I'll do mine.