[There's a moment where he thinks he might panic, when she looks at him blankly, because he can't bear the idea of her closing off now, before he realizes she's just - trying to listen, as best she can, in the face of everything else.]

[He leans forward, pressing his face into her shoulder, taking a second.] Not on purpose.

[It's part of it, of course. He doesn't want to put this on her with everything else she's dealing with, but the other part is just that he's still processing it. It was such a rush, from the moment Lincoln failed him to the moment he woke up here beside her. It still doesn't feel like it happened.]

Everyone's shackled, hands, feet neck. They poke and prod them. Test them, probably. [It's easier to phrase it as though it's something that happens only to Grounders, distancing himself from it. They did so much, and he honestly can't tell what some of it was.] There're injections. Powders, pills. Maybe chemicals.

[He doesn't wait before jumping to the next part, not wanting to dwell on it.] I woke up in a cage. They tried to take the Grounder next to me to bleed her. [He can see that split second decision to kick the bars, to draw the attention on him. It was as much a way for him to get out of the cage as it was to stop them from taking her.] I got them to take me instead.

[His hands wrinkle into her shirt. Clarke saw the riggings. He doesn't need to explain it. He's not even sure he could right now, not with his chest tightening.] When I came to again, Maya was there. She did something. Helped me get down.

[Short, quick sentences. It gets the simple parts out.] Helped me get out.