Chapter Text
Clarke is careful as she peels back the bandage, aware of its sticking to the clammy skin around the wound. Once removed, her thumb traces lightly down the stitched, raised flesh, examining her work.
Echo's skin isn't feverishly heated, but is still warm to the touch, which is understandable given the stifling heat within the tent. It's not helped by an agitated Bellamy standing over them. His anxiety is palatable, his restlessness practically spilling out with every agitated breath he releases. Even though he stands behind her, Clarke can feel his frantic eyes on her every move. She does her best to ignore him, though by Echo's amused look, she seems to enjoy it.
She places a new bandage over the laceration, mindful not to press too hard as she sets it. Before she turns away, Echo catches her wrist, startling her at the unexpected move.
"Thank you." She says it with such sincerity, her dark eyes large with gratitude and deep voice, steady.
Clarke's not sure how to respond, but somehow manages a meek nod and a murmured of course.
"We've been washing it twice a day, like you said."
She tries very hard not to roll her eyes, but it's definitely a struggle, opting for an irritated sigh instead. Echo, on the other hand, has no qualms with letting Bellamy know how overbearing he's acting with a raise of her brow and smirk that says stop, you're embarrassing yourself.
Clarke turns back up to him, barely able to meet his gaze. "That's good," she stiffly placates. "It looks good. She should be fine in a few days."
Echo's thumb caresses the delicate skin on the back of Clarke's hand, giving her one last appreciative smile before releasing her. And honestly, she doesn't think she can even begin to unpack all the complex emotions that one touch evokes. All she knows is her stomach is in knots, and the hairs on her arm are standing on end.
"Is she?"
Clarke blinks away her distracted, fuzzy state, returning her attention to Bellamy. With an impatient huff, he crouches down beside them, grim and serious. "With Echo back, and the eye still operational, she's in more danger than ever before."
She does roll her eyes at that, licking her lips as she tries to hold her tongue. They've already had this discussion. At least Echo has the wherewithal to try and stop him with a quiet Bellamy.
But he continues to push. "Clarke, the longer we stay here, the more dangerous it becomes."
And damn, does she ever look at him, since only a few days before she'd been trying to explain that very same thing to him. Only now, their situations are reversed. "I've already told you, I can't go."
"Clarke-" The way he says it, like she's the naïve and unreasonable one, finally sets her off.
"NO." The silence that follows is heavy between the three of them, dripping with tension, but she doesn't care. From the moment of his return everything has be wrong, and it's unsettling to finally have him back, only for him to still be on that damn ring.
"I cannot leave," she stresses firmly, making sure he understands that no matter what he says, it's not happening. "Your sister still has Madi, and there is no way I am going without her."
He at least has the decency to look contrite. How could he, the man who'd been willing to risk all their lives to save just a handful from enslavement, ever expect her to leave Madi behind?
"I know," he starts out slowly, trying again to reach her. Not to bridge the yawning gap that they both feel between them, but to convince her to fall in line. And it pisses her off even more. "I know she's important to you. But she chose to go with Octavia."
"To protect me," she snaps, furious that he would try to place responsibility on a little girl instead of where it really belongs, Bloodreina. "If you need to go, then go. But for now, I'm staying here."
She rocks back on her knees, finding her feet and standing swiftly. She needs to be out of this tent now, because as angry as she is, she's afraid she might give it all away - her loneliness, her regrets, the hurt she knows she has no right to feel, though it continues to steal her breath away every time she catches him with Echo.
She stops quick before ducking under the flap, unable to help herself. "And maybe before you leave, you should think about Monty and Harper, who are still here. Raven, who's still with Eligius, and Murphy and Emori who are still god knows where."
She sees her words land, and knows it had the exact effect she wanted - to hurt him. And she hates it.
He doesn't look at her, almost like he can't bring himself to. Well, at least we have that in common now. "You think I've forgotten about them?" His voice is low, rough and offended, and she can hear the simmering anger there, just barely restrained behind this new Bellamy. She feels the pull of it, of him, of who he used to be. She doesn't think she's yearned for anything quite so much as the easy, unspoken comfort they once shared.
But it's gone now, along with the people they were. "I think you're trying not to remember them." And it's a ridiculous thing to say before she even says it. The seven of them being the driving force behind all his decision making. But she's not talking about them - not really. And she hates how obvious that is.
She leaves before he can respond, the hot sun beating down on her relentlessly as she finally escapes.
She eyes the rations suspiciously in her hand, brown and hard and unappealing, just like this desert. She longs for home, for the safety and peace it offered her for six years. With her eyes drifting shut, she allows her memories to pull her under - sunlight reaching through green canopies, cool, fresh water lapping around her as she bathed, fruits of every color and... the sound of happy laughter.
"I know it's not the most appetizing thing, but it's not nearly as awful as algae soup."
Clarke startles at the voice, inhaling sharply, short hair flying into her face as she whips around. Noticing her surprise, Echo hesitates before taking a step back. "I'm sorry."
Clarke shakes her head, pushing away her shock, lips struggling up into a tight smile that she hopes looks friendly enough. "It's fine."
Still seems unsure, but presses forward nonetheless, eyeing the metal debris Clarke is currently using as a bench. "Can I join you?"
The polite thing to do would be to say yes. And except for past transgressions, which she forgave years ago, Clarke has no valid reason to refuse her. But the drop in her stomach every time her eyes land on Echo has nothing to do with things that have happened in the past and she knows it. So she nods, if only to prove herself wrong.
They sit in silence for a time, Clarke wondering if she's supposed to say something - if she should say something.
"You miss her. Madi," she clarifies when Clarke doesn't reply.
At the mention of her name, all Clarke can do is swallow around the pain, trying not to think about these last few nights without her, without hearing her heavy breathing, and her snuffling, sleepy noises that Clarke never realized she'd grown so accustomed to - that she loved so much.
"Yes," she answers quietly, determined to keep her emotions in check. But then Echo's next words prove that she's only lying to herself if she thinks that's possible where Madi is concerned.
"I saw her today."
It's a shock to her system, her entire demeanor shifting. Her eyes flash to Echo as she sits up straight, alert and desperate to hear more. "Is- Is she ok? Is she-"
"She's fine," Echo reassures, placing a soothing hand on Clarke's shoulder. "She looked good. Healthy."
Her mouth opens to ask questions, so many questions, but nothing comes out as her mind reels and her heart beats a rapid tattoo against her chest. Echo gives a kind and understanding smile, easing the building storm within her.
"She's training," she continues tentatively, like she's uncertain if she should, worriedly taking in Clarke's visceral reaction. "I wasn't able to speak to her, but she seems to be enjoying it."
Clarke holds back a scoff. Mai had enjoyed training when she was younger, even teaching Clarke a few things, but she'd grown out of it the older she became, forcing the girl to sit and listen as Clarke explained how to use the various weapons in their arsenal. She assumes this renewed enjoyment has every thing to do with Bloodreina.
"But I think she misses you." They're such simple words, quiet and unassuming, but the effect they have on her.
A small cry escapes before she can stop it, heart twisting painfully as her eyes brim with tears. She presses her fingers hard to her quivering lips, trying to regains some semblance of control and absolutely failing.
Warmth spreads down the path of Echo's hand on her back, and Clarke leans into it, letting herself be comforted for the second time in six years. The memory of Bellamy's strong hand gently stroking her back inside the holding cell is vivid, and it blurs with the solid feel of Echo's now.
It's... confusing, but nice as she takes a deep, shuddering breath.
"She'll be ok." Clarke's water gaze find Echo's tender one, nodding gratefully. "She's strong. Like her mother."
Clarke chokes out a laugh, hurriedly wiping away at the tear tracks marking her face. "What were you doing down there?" she asks with a sniff. "Octavia hasn't banished you again, I'm assuming."
Echo shrugs, eyes rolling indifferently. While Clarke's not entirely certain what happened between Echo and the Eligius crew, she gets the feeling that this entire situation has become far more complicated. even still, taking the threat of Octavia so lightly is a mistake she doesn't want to see Echo make. Octavia had always been capable of anything, just as they all have, but now it's like her entire morality has shifted on its axis, making Bloodreina the most dangerous one of them all.
"I think Octavia has new plans for me."
Clarke wants to take her hand, circle her fingers around her arm so that she'll understand the seriousness of it all. Oh god, I sound like Bellamy. But all of that feels too forward, so instead she catches her eye, trying to convey the importance of what she says through her expression.
"Please don't underestimate Octavia," Clarke pleads. "There aren't many people more dangerous than the ones who think they're doing what has to be done. She'll do whatever's necessary to achieve her ends."
Echo's lips curl into a tiny smirk, not quite laughing at her, but reminding Clarke that the former spy is well aware of what people in power are capable of, and that in fact, both of them having been in similar positions before. "Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself."
Clarke believes it, has seen Echo in action. But it's been a long six years, and she can also see that Echo is just as changed as any of them.
"Something Bellamy's forgotten."
The blood in her veins freezes, and she sits unmoving before quickly composing herself. She lifts her chin, and sets her face to that of something colder. "Right."
It's quiet between them again, the space becoming uncomfortable, and Clarke knows it's her fault. Then Echo says something Clarke never would've expected to come out of her mouth. "He misses you, too."
She raises a brow and works her jaw before she can say anything. "Well, I'm right here," she replies, a little mean, a little bitter, and with so much hurt, if it wasn't obvious to Echo before, it is now.
She knows this is probably an awful idea before she even commits to it, but she desperately needs someone to talk to, her mother still a prisoner of Diyoza, and her relationship with what's left of her friends is more distant and fractured than it's ever been. But if Echo's willing to listen, well, then.
"I don't know how to talk to him anymore." It makes her sound small and unsure, but it's a heartfelt confession that she's hoping the other woman can understand without judgement or jealousy.
Echo opens her mouth to reply, but stays silent, any perfect thoughts, too complicated to give in any kind of rush. Clarke can see her mind working, and she waits on the edge. "This is difficult for him, too," she says tactfully. "Not just finding you again, but all of it. But you can't give up on each other. Both of you deserve better."
It leaves her spinning, conflicted over whether or not any of them deserve better. They are what they are - killers - survivors. But maybe, she thinks, they can deserve each other, and that would be enough for her. She feels slightly remorseful for not considering Echo in this mess of a situation. "What about you? What do you deserve?"
Echo huffs, offering up a small, wry smile. "Whatever Octavia has coming for me, I'm sure."
She doesn't know this Echo, not yet anyway, but she does know that's the last thing she wants for her. "I don't believe that."
She jolts awake, a lingering malice hanging over her that she can't quite comprehend with her sleep addled brain. A nightmare probably. It's best that she can't remember it, life is already nightmarish enough. Pushing up on her arms, she notices the dampness of her shirt and bedding, tracks of sweat sliding down the back of her neck and forehead, strands of her hair sticking to it. The humidity in her tent makes it a struggle to breathe, thick and muggy as it is. There's no way she's sleeping like this.
She allows her eyes a look of Madi's empty bedroll only once as she rolls up her own, turning away quickly before her unhappy thoughts can get the better of her.
The air outside is still unbearably hot, but at least it's fresh, with a dry breeze every now and again. She wipes at the perspiration already rebuilding around her neck, scanning the grounds for a spot not already occupied by Octavia's gladiator cult.
It doesn't surprise her that there are so many up here. After the hell they obviously went through, she wouldn't want to stay inside that bunker either. But their infectious haze of paranoia is unnerving in the calm of night, and the last place she wants to be is around any of them. Bedroll under her arm, she decides to try the outskirts of camp.
The quiet is welcoming the further out she ventures, her body relaxing in this more familiar setting of silence. She spies a group of secluded ruins, the large gaps in the wall open enough to allow a breeze, and the roof above solid enough to protect against the unpredictable weather.
The abandoned space within is still except for the sand that blows across the ground. The tall walls and murky light hiding dark corners she'd rather not explore. It's not inviting in the least, but it's still better than her sweltering tent and a grounder cult.
She searches for a place to lay her bedding, eyeing the floor against the wall. That's when she sees it at her feet. An arm, maybe? It's painted blue in the hazy light, the rest of the body it's attached to hidden in the shadows.
"Clarke?" The voice is slurred with sleep and wavering in bewilderment. But even still, she recognizes the smooth, velvet tone of Echo.
A silent gasp escapes her, face burning in embarrassment. "I'm sorry. I didn't know anyone was in here." She takes a hurried step back, about to escape as fast as she can-
"Wait." Echo grabs for her wrist, long fingers clasping tight around her, holding her in place. Her first reflex is to yank her arm away, almost does in her initial shock, but then Echo leans closer, her skin glowing, finally illuminating her clear face. She looks beautiful bathed in moonlight, so eager and wanting - hopeful. But for what?
A quiet, sniffly inhale sounds from beside the wall, Clarke following the noise to Bellamy. Eyes adjusting to the dark, she watches him, his hand resting low on his stomach, rising and falling evenly in his sleep. His face is soft and peaceful - boyish again, except for the beard. She aches at the sight, feeling wistful and needy and so profoundly alone.
Echo loosens her hold, Clarke's hand beginning to fall away. She sucks in a panicky breath, not wanting to leave - not wanting to go back to the isolation she's somehow found herself in, despite being surrounded again by the people she loves. But then Echo catches her fingers before she slips entirely out of her hold, a firm but gentle grip Clarke can break free from if she chooses.
"Stay." It's a pleading murmur, barely a sound, yet it stirs something inside her, enticing her to give in. And when the pressure of Echo's fingers are so warm around her own, and promising of more, it's almost no choice at all.
They lie facing each other, close but not touching, breaths whispering around each other. A happy smile lightens Echo's face, and Clarke feels a calm wash over her that she hasn't felt since before Eligius showed up, like a weight is finally gone, even if only for the moment.
Echo raises her hand, fingers combing through her hair and catching in Clarke's messy waves, making them both snort with quiet laughter. She tucks the short strands behind her ear, and Clarke tries not to sigh, but it's just too tender, and she's just too touch starved. A snapping current trails behind Echo's fingers as they drift over Clarke's shoulder and down her bare arm, the caress so light she can't help but let her eyes flutter closed, drowning in her sudden exhaustion. Echo's touch continues to dance around Clarke's hand until she turns it over, allowing her to interlace their fingers.
"Goodnight, Clarke."