Why the Change of Mind (More a Change of Heart)

Let This Road Be Mine

Now that they know the dangers of the chip, they really need to find how to get it out of Clarke's head.
—
The plan they came up with was less a plan and more a step one which would hopefully lead to more ideas. Apparently, Miller had an old friend, Jasper or something like that, who had a lot of knowledge and a lot of connections—probably from less than reputable sources, but Clarke figured she couldn't judge.

"He's our best and safest bet for finding a way to help Clarke," he said firmly. "And there's only about seven miles between us and him."
"Can we trust him?" Lincoln asked, always the skeptic.

Miller nodded. "He's a bit off the rails at times, but I'd trust him with my life, and he's gotten good at keeping his mouth shut when he needs to."

Lincoln paused, but nodded. "If he can help Clarke, I say go for it."

There was no disagreement, so they set up their gear to be ready at first light and ate a fair share of food before settling down for bed, though it was barely starting to get dark by this point. Truth be told, they were all exhausted, and could've probably fallen asleep an hour after they'd woken up; besides, it was going to be yet another long day tomorrow. They deserved some extra rest.

As planned, Lincoln pushed his sleeping bag beside Clarke, draping an arm over her. The part of her that tended to resist her brother's attempts to treat her like a child wanted to pull away, but she didn't. She had agreed to this, and besides, she did find some comfort in knowing he was right there to protect her.

Despite that, Clarke struggled to fall asleep, and found herself watching out into the night, searching the shadows; then her gaze shifted to Bellamy, who was on watch. She thought of the forest last night, the strange feeling through both her dreams and her nightmare that someone was there—holding onto her, humming into her ear. Steadying her.
She'd felt the same way when he hugged her, when the brutal upheaval into reality after such a helpless nightmare broke the last of her self-control—like he knew there was nothing he could do, and he'd be there anyway.

It was a dangerous feeling, she knew. Bellamy had his sister to take care of, a life to get back to, while she seemed to trail fire and death wherever she went. How many had died already, since she'd come out into the open? How much time had she wasted for Bellamy, for Miller, for her brother?

Her heart filled with cement thinking about it. She didn't like feeling like a burden, especially one that caused lasting damage as well as annoyance, but it appeared the others were determined to stick with her for now, so she tried to push it aside and get some sleep.
—
They traveled quickly the next day, a strong combination of fear and nervous energy driving them forwards. Bellamy and Clarke stuck to the middle, being the biggest target options for multiple reasons; his shoulder brushed hers as they walked, giving her a little reassurance of his presence without having to look too often.

The town they ended up in was small and mostly empty, but there was an energy there, like background buzzing; things happening everywhere, just out of sight. Miller led them to a shack-like but sizable building and knocked on the door rapidly; the buzzing swelled like whispering voices in response.

"You're sure this is the place?" Bellamy asked after several long moments of waiting.

"Yeah, it's the place," Miller confirmed, "I've just got a paranoid dick for a friend in there!" He yelled the last bit at the door, rapping with his fist again.

Clarke groaned, fearing he'd fucked up their chances of getting help, but only seconds later the door opened and a man appeared, scrawny and dark haired with a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Miller! Good to see you, pal."

He pulled Miller into a side hug, which was surprisingly reciprocated, then gave the rest of them a once-over. "Finally made some friends?" His eyes landed on Bellamy and widened. "Man, weird seeing you. Still on the run?"