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Lexa disappears in the aftermath of war.
Clarke tears the mountain apart looking for her and Cage, her blood demanding revenge and retribution and redemption. Her fight is not over—not until Cage Wallace cracks under her own fingers, not until the blood of her people and the blood of Lexa's people are met with justice. Many are dead, more are injured and the remaining Mountain Men are stuck in Level Five, refusing to leave their refuge. Lexa and Cage are gone. Clarke can feel it in her bones.
Clarke is drenched with blood (blood from the Grounders, blood from the Mountain Men, blood from her own people) and her gun has lost bullets ages ago. The remaining 44 are thankfully alive and breathing, shaken but well. Cage, along with his guards and doctors, have most likely fled for refuge. But when Clarke looks around, blue eyes searching for the Tri Kru's Heda, dread settles in her stomach. She can feel her heartbeat in her throat, pulsing so rapidly that she feels as if she's about to choke and her weapon is shaking in her fingers when she turns to look at Bellamy, who has silently followed her into President Wallace's office.
"Where's Lexa?" she demands.
Bellamy fixes his tired gaze at her. "I thought she was with you," he says, sounding confused and exhausted. He has been through a lot and he deserves a break but Lexa is missing and so is Cage and it's not looking too good. Clarke reaches out, grabs Bellamy by the arm and shakes him lightly.
"Bellamy, this is important," she tells him, her voice high pitched, "Have you seen Lexa?"
He shakes his head. "Princess, I've been following you around," he mumbles, "I haven't seen Grounder Queen anywhere."
Clarke's fingers are trembling, she realizes. She takes a step back, her dread increasing and she casts one long look around President Wallace's office before she's dashing out the door, her heart still thudding loudly inside the confines of her chest. She runs around, stepping over dead bodies (both Grounder and Mountain Men and she has to push down the sickening feeling in her stomach when she passes by a kid who looks no older than sixteen, wearing too big armor and lying dead with a gunshot wound to the head) and passing through the hallways. She finds her mother, tending to the injured in one of the abandoned levels and when Clarke asks for Lexa, Abby visibly tenses.
"I haven't seen her," the older woman states, dragging the words out. She straightens when she sees the distressed look in Clarke's eyes. "Why? Where is she?"
"That's the point," Clarke snaps, feeling something inside her threatening to break, "I haven't seen her. She was with me when we were outside but now, she's gone. And it's freaking me out—what will happen to the alliance if she's gone? Dead, even?"
"Clarke." Abby reaches out and her fingers are flecked with blood. She gently caresses Clarke's face. "It's okay. She's probably looking for Cage as well."
"But what if she isn't?" Clarke presses on. "What if somehow—?"
The words are stuck in her throat and she can't force them out. She closes her eyes and thinks back to the kiss, where Lexa had been so painstakingly gentle with her and how achingly beautiful she looked right after, with her wide, hopeful eyes and the small smile on her lips. Not yet. Lexa can't be gone—she can't be dead and Clarke's heart feels as if it's about to burst out of her ribcage.
"Clarke," Abby says, forcing her daughter to look at her, "She's going to be fine."
Clarke isn't so sure. And her gut feeling tells her that something is very, very wrong.
She pulls away from her mother's grip and resumes searching. She goes to the control room, where Monty and Jasper have been staying in. Maya is in Level Five, having managed to slip in since the guards are too busy walking around, trying to subdue hysterical folks. Clarke can see the longing in Jasper's eyes when she slides next to him.
"How are they?" she asks.
"They seem fine," Jasper answers, "but they're probably going to have to wait a while for their lives to go normal again."
Clarke's heartbeat flutters. She's thankful that their mission proved to be successful but then she thinks back to Lexa and the small empty space next to her and her stomach drops once more. She moves next to Monty and stares at the screens, looking for any signs of Cage or Lexa or something that will prove to be useful in the next couple of hours.
"What are you looking for?" Monty asks, sounding withdrawn.
"Lexa," Clarke murmurs.
Monty meets Jasper's gaze over Clarke's shoulder. "Who?" they both ask.
"The Commander," Clarke murmurs, her gaze moving from one screen to another. She's about to give up when, at the upper left corner in Level 1, she spots Emerson emerging from a dark hallway, holding a firearm close to his body. He seems to be talking to someone on a radio, looking agitated and Clarke leans forward, itching to be able to understand the way his mouth is moving.
Monty taps her shoulder. "Clarke, maybe we can help," he remarks, earnest.
Clarke turns to look at him and then at Jasper. They're just kids, she thinks to herself, knowing that they are about two younger than she is. She remembers Jasper's smile, always carefree and happy, Monty's bright, intelligent eyes and it's not the first time where she wishes that they had deserved better. She lets out a sigh that seems to drag the spring from her shoulders before pointing at the leftmost screen.
"Can you rewind that tape?" she asks.
Jasper presses closer, staring hard at Emerson. "It's that fucking asshat," he grumbles, "the one who's always following Cage around."
“Yes,” Clarke says, "and right now, we need to know where Cage is."
Monty’s fingers quickly press on the multiple keyboards surrounding the screens. His gaze is focused intently on Level Five as he does it and Clarke glances over to see Jasper doing the same thing. It takes a short while but eventually, Monty lets out a satisfied noise and points at the screen where Emerson had been standing.
“Okay, watch,” he tells Clarke and he presses a button that rewinds the screen.
Clarke’s shoulders are tense as she watches. Emerson seems to have been coming in and out of the dark hallway for the past hour now but she doesn’t know where it leads. The other cameras aren’t helping much and she’s about to growl in frustration when Emerson comes out for the third time, this time followed closely by Cage Wallace and a few bodyguards into the room.
“Wait,” Clarke says and Monty stops the screen. She takes a step closer, squinting. Between the two bodyguards, there seems to be another person but the hallway is too dark and she can’t see much. Then her eyes catche on the red sash and her heart drops to her stomach. “No. No. No.”
Monty turns towards her, eyebrows furrowed. “What is it?” he asks.
“They’ve captured the Commander,” Clarke grimly says. She takes a deep breath, forces herself to relax. “And if the Commander dies, then this alliance might fall apart.”
She doesn’t voice out that she, too, might break as well.
.
She finds Indra in one of the lower levels, subduing Reapers and knocking them out to be delivered to Camp Jaha later on. She’s limping and her left wrist is bent at a strange angle but she’s walking and she’s barking orders and she’s a woman carved out of stone. Clarke approaches her warily, taking note that the Grounders part ways for her to move freely.
“Indra,” she calls out.
Indra straightens. Clarke looks around, searching for Octavia before looking back at the older woman.
“Sky Girl,” Indra says, nodding with newfound respect.
Clarke’s heart tries not to swell. “I need to speak to you in private,” she tells her, voice hushed.
Indra gives a jerk of her head before turning to the side and calling out for Octavia. The said girl appears from the shadows, holding her sword tightly in one hand. There is blood spattered across the front of her armor and her war paint looks like tears in Clarke’s eyes. She barely glances at Clarke before coming to a stop near Indra’s side.
“What is it, Sky Girl?” Indra questions, meeting her gaze.
“It’s Lexa,” Clarke murmurs, noticing the tightening of Octavia’s jaw, “She’s been captured by Cage’s men and I need your assistance to get her back.”
“How do you know this?” Indra asks.
“I saw it in the cameras.” Clarke hates pleading but the thought of losing Lexa, of losing the alliance that she has sacrificed so much for—it leaves a heavy burden across her shoulders, “If we don’t hurry up, she could be dead for all we know.”
She catches Octavia’s gaze. Octavia doesn’t look away.
“She is our heda,” Indra says, her face hardening, “She is strong. She will live.”
Clarke has the feeling that she’s going to get a rerun of the “you should’ve left me behind” bullcrap Lexa had told her back in that cage so she takes a step forward, getting up on Indra’s face. Octavia tenses, her hand falling on the hilt of her weapon but she doesn’t draw it and Indra doesn’t react.
“Yes, and she won you a war, she gave you your people back, she is your great Commander,” Clarke spits out, “and you’re going to help me find her or so help me God I will tear this mountain apart trying to save her ass.”
Indra’s mouth twitches before she looks to the side and calls out for Ryder. The man in question appears and Indra takes a step away from Clarke and points at Ryder.
“We shall go together,” she says, “Along with my second.”
Ryder grunts. “What are we looking for?” he asks.
“Lexa,” Clarke answers.
.
Bellamy decides to along as well. He may be exhausted and bone tired but he gathers as many guns as he can and joins them when they pass by him on Level Five. From what Clarke has seen on the screens, Lexa is located on the lowest level of the Mountain, which means the hallways are deserted except for the bodies littering the floor, Grounder and Mountain Men alike. Clarke steps over them as she continues on, refusing to look at the faces staring right up at her.
She thinks about Lexa on the way, thinks about the cold, harsh look the Commander gets whenever she looks at her people, thinks about the curve of her lips and the war paint dripping from her eyes. She thinks about the way Lexa had looked after they kissed, thinks about the small flutter of hope in her eyes when Clarke had whispered, “Not yet.”
Clarke can’t imagine moving on without her by her side. They won together—they must rebuild together.
Bellamy slides in next to her when they reach the hallway where she had seen Lexa.
“Can I get a recap?” he asks.
Clarke gives him a look. “What are you talking about?”
“You and the Commander,” Bellamy explains, “I’ve been gone for a while now and it seems as if you’ve made a new friend.”
Clarke stays quiet. Bellamy nudges her shoulder lightly.
“You can tell me,” he says, “It’s not like I’ll judge. She’s hot, after all.”
Against her better judgment, Clarke smiles. “Yeah, she is, right?”
“Holy shit.” Bellamy’s jaw drops. “Something went down between you two?”
Clarke shakes her head. She doesn’t know what happened, what they are. Yes, they shared a few looks, had no basic understanding of personal space, kissed once and never talked about it again. Lexa told her of a possible future in Polis, Clarke told her the same thing.
“Yeah, something happened,” Clarke mutters.
Bellamy’s gaze softens as he squeezes her shoulder. “You’ll find her, I promise.”
Dead or alive. He doesn’t say it out loud but Clarke hears it anyway.
.
Ryder knocks down a ten foot door in front of them using his body and it shatters under his weight. Octavia pulls out her sword, Bellamy readies his gun, Indra stands in front of Clarke almost like a protective shield and Clarke’s chest tighten with gratitude as she raises her pistol.
The hallway in front of them is dark, pitch black and Ryder dives headfirst into it. Indra follows and Bellamy switches the light he has on his rifle as he hurries forward. Octavia glances over at Clarke before she storms in as well. Clarke takes a deep, shaky breath before forcing her legs to move forward, raising her gun and locking her elbows in. She tries not to think about Lexa dead or the future of this alliance or the aftermath of the war that they both waged. She tries not to think about any of that, especially since she desperately needs to focus on the task at hand.
“Nothing,” Bellamy says, shining a light at every nook of the hallway.
Clarke drops her gun and surges forward. She squints. There’s another door at the end.
“There,” she murmurs.
Ryder goes first, walking slowly as if he expects a Mountain Man to pop up from the ground and start shooting. Octavia sticks close to Bellamy and Clarke follows after Ryder. Indra is silent as she moves next to her and Clarke has to wonder how much Indra cares for Lexa in order for her to even think about protecting Clarke of the Sky People.
“Are you ready to die for your Commander?” Clarke asks, nearing the door.
Indra fixes her with a cool stare. “Are you?”
Clarke doesn’t answer. She reaches forward and Bellamy’s light illuminates the door a little bit more. There’s a passcode and Bellamy hands Clarke his keycard, nodding when she gives him a nervous look. She doesn’t know what the other side will show (images of Lexa’s dead body comes to mind but she pushes it out of her system) but she prays that it will be for the best.
She swipes the keycard and the door turns green before sliding open. There’s another hallway, this time full of rooms. Clarke’s stomach tightens when she spots a trail of blood leading to the third door to the left. The lights are flickering, almost as if this place hasn’t been used in quite a while and Clarke follows Ryder when he moves to the door.
There are voices on the other side and Clarke imagines Cage circling around Lexa with a maniac look in his eyes. The image causes the bile in her stomach to rise and she nods at Ryder, who’s looking at her for orders. Ryder takes a deep breath before he slams his full weight against the flimsy door. It breaks easily and before Clarke think too much about it, she storms inside and raises her gun.
The first thing she sees is Cage holding a syringe full of red liquid. There are easily three soldiers with him, including Emerson, who is quick to shoot at Ryder, who ducks down and dodges the bullet. Clarke takes a full three seconds to assess her environments, noticing that there’s a huge table in the middle of the room, with an unconscious Lexa lying on it. Her eyes widen and before she thinks too much about it, she aims her gun at Emerson and shoots twice.
She doesn’t miss.
Emerson dies with blood pouring from his mouth. Cage Wallace will suffer a far worse death.
“What did you do to her?” Clarke demands. Everybody seems to have stopped moving; the remaining two guards have their rifles up, pointed directly at her chest but she steps forward anyways, glaring at Cage coldly.
Cage has the nerve to smile. His eyes are red-rimmed and he’s obviously lost this war and yet, he still smiles.
“I’m not doing anything,” he says, waving the syringe around, “I’m simply showing the world what kind of a monster she is.”
Bellamy steps close to Clarke and says, very quietly, “He’s turning her into a Reaper.”
Octavia and Indra step into Clarke’s vision, both holding menacing swords. Ryder growls at the two guards, who tighten their grips on their rifles. Cage is still standing too close to Lexa, who looks too pale under the fluorescent glow of the light shining above her. Clarke’s heart threatens to burst out of her ribcage and she points the gun at Cage, who raises his hands and laughs at her mockingly.
“You’re too late,” he says, “I’ve already injected her with more than just one dose.”
Octavia speaks up, “She’ll fight it. Our Heda is strong.”
Cage fixes her with a cold stare. “I don’t think that even your strong Commander can fight this one.” He laughs. “She was so consumed in her anger that she wanted to face me alone. I never played fair, have I?”
Clarke’s fingers itch to pull the trigger but she knows that if she fires, the rest of the guards will. She tears her gaze away from Cage and addresses the guards instead. “We’ll let you live, if you walk away,” she declares, “Put down your weapons and tear off your uniforms. Mount Weather is surrounded with Grounders and Sky People. You’ll do what I say if you want to live.”
They hesitate but the first guard drops his gun a fraction of an inch. The second guard follows suit. They barely glance over at Cage before dropping their weapons and hurrying out the door. Ryder growls. Octavia and Indra stand tall, unmoving still. Bellamy picks up their guns and moves to stand behind Cage, looking at Clarke carefully.
“Take him away,” she says, “We’ll leave him for the Grounders.”
Cage puts down the syringe as Bellamy ties his hands behind his back.
“This isn’t over,” Cage says but even as he says it, there’s a certain finality to the words.
“Yes, it is,” Bellamy growls, pushing him through the door.
Indra escorts the two of them out of the room, leaving Octavia with Clarke. It takes several long seconds before she manages to stumble forward, dropping her gun and hurrying to Lexa’s side.
The Commander’s armor has been stripped, along with her red sash. Such powerful symbols of the Heda and now they’re just discarded on the floor next to Clarke’s feet. Lexa is wearing only light armor, similar attire to what she was wearing back when the gorilla had attacked them. She is absolutely still; her pale skin shining with a thin layer of sweat but her chest is moving with barely visible breaths. Clarke cups her face and Lexa is cold, desperately cold and Clarke can feel the panic rising in her stomach as she tries to think straight.
“How is she?” Octavia asks.
“Stable, for now,” Clarke murmurs and she feels Octavia grabbing her hand, sliding a knife against her fingers.
“We have to get her out of here,” Octavia says.
Clarke nods before hacking at Lexa’s restraints, using the blade to cut through the fabric. Octavia gathers Lexa’s armor and sash just as Clarke finishes off cutting Lexa free. Using her free hand, Octavia grabs onto Lexa’s waist, letting the dead weight of the Commander lean against her. Clarke does the same with Lexa’s arm and before they move, she bends down to grab the syringe Cage put down.
“That’s the thing that made Lincoln go crazy,” Octavia grumbles.
“I wonder what it’s in,” Clarke mutters, “It must be pretty addictive, if you think about—”
“CLARKE!”
All of sudden, Clarke is being pushed to the side. Octavia falls back as well. And for one terrifying moment, Clarke can only see stars in her vision but the moment passes and she pushes herself up to her arms, blowing the hair out of her face and looking up. Her heart freezes inside her chest.
Lexa is standing in the middle of the room, gasping and heaving. She stands tall, her back straight but her eyes are red rimmed, darting around the place like she’s a rabid animal cornered. She’s visibly shaking and watching her right now, Clarke feels something inside her chest shatter. She grabs her gun, feeling a small comfort when her fingers wrap around the handle. Lexa is still shaking but she hasn’t moved yet and her eyes look both dazed and focused.
Octavia sits up, her hand going for her sword. She meets Clarke’s gaze across the room.
“Lexa,” Clarke says, slowly getting to her feet. She raises her hands, in order not to scare off Lexa, who looks as wild as the gorilla they had faced together.
Lexa growls in response. She turns her body towards Clarke and she’s breathing erratically now, almost to the point that Clarke fears for her stability. Octavia moves quietly behind the Commander, her eyes fixed on the subject and Clarke opens her mouth to calm Lexa down.
“Lexa, it’s me,” Clarke says, as gentle as possible, “Clarke. Right? Remember?”
Lexa takes a step towards Clarke and upon closer inspection, Clarke notices that her hands are tightly clenched, shaking but still tightly clenched.
“Careful,” Clarke says, “You could get hurt, Lexa.”
Lexa tightens her jaw as she takes another step. She is in an offensive stance and Clarke notes that she still has her knife clasped against her thigh. Octavia is still moving behind Lexa, looking for an opening and Clarke honestly cannot think of an alternative where the three of them leave this room unscathed. Lexa is too swift, too strong—even in the kind of state she is in. Octavia may be strong as well but she is not as skilled as Lexa. And Clarke only knows how to pull the trigger of a gun.
She takes a deep shaky breath and looks at Lexa dead in the eye.
Lexa pounces.
She grabs Clarke by the throat and easily throws her to the side. Clarke hits the table with a loud thud and the breath is knocked out of her as she desperately tries to stand on shaky legs. Her gun is still in her hand but she doesn’t want to use it against Lexa, especially when they’ve just won a war together. She grabs at her side and looks up at Lexa, who is crouched on the ground, reaching for the syringe with the red liquid in it.
“LEXA, DON’T,” Clarke screams, lunging forward and throwing her full weight against Lexa. They both stumble and Clarke rolls them around until she’s pinned on top of the Commander.
Lexa’s eyes are on fire. She is also crying but the rage in them is enough to throw Clarke off. Lexa uses this moment of distraction to grab Clarke’s arm and twist it. Clarke cries out in pain and Lexa shoves her knee against the blonde’s stomach, flipping Clarke on the back and then wrapping her fingers around Clarke’s throat.
“CLARKE!” Octavia screams.
Clarke is struggling to breathe. She flails against Lexa, whose face is devoid of any emotion except for hunger and rage. The hands around Clarke’s throat tighten and Clarke thinks that she might pass out soon if somebody doesn’t do something.
There’s a sudden whooshing noise and Lexa falls to the side, her body going limp. Clarke gasps for air and sees Octavia standing over her, holding her sword and breathing erratically.
“I had to,” Octavia says, sheathing her sword.
Clarke feels the sting of her tears before she has the chance to calm herself. She wipes at her eyes and ducks her head so that Octavia won’t notice.
“Come on,” Octavia murmurs, her voice surprisingly gentle, “We have to get our stubborn Commander out of here.”
She pulls Clarke up to her feet and Clarke takes a shaky breath before she looks back down at Lexa, who looks peaceful when knocked out. There are tear tracks against her cheeks and multiple needle wounds against her neck.
“Oh my God,” she mutters, pressing the heels of her palm against her eyes, “What have we done?”
Octavia awkwardly pats her back. “This isn’t your fault,” she says fiercely, “Stop trying to make everything about you, Griffin.”
Clarke shakes her head. Her tears are flowing freely now, running against her cheeks like Lexa’s war paint.
“Let’s go.” Octavia reaches down and grabs Lexa by the shoulders.
“She might wake up again,” Clarke points out.
Octavia grunts. “Doubt it. I hit her with that sword hard enough to possibly cause amnesia.”
Clarke manages a small smile before she, too, takes Lexa’s arm and pulls her up to her feet. They’ve got a long way to go but at least Octavia is looking at her like a normal human being again, instead of a leader who took away 250 lives in the name of war.
.
Lexa gets her own personal room back at Camp Jaha. She’s been chained to her bed with machines monitoring her progress. Indra had been reluctant for their Commander to stay at the skaikru’s premises but Octavia convinced that it was for the best, especially since they don’t know how many doses Cage injected her with.
Clarke stays by Lexa’s side for the next three days, watching the monitor, trying to calm her down when Lexa wakes in the middle of the night, shaking and gasping for the Reaper drug. It’s unbearable, seeing the calm, collected Heda of the Tri Kru like this, suffering at the hands of a mad man who wanted to breathe in toxic air but Clarke stays because she knows that Lexa would’ve done the same thing.
More than once, she thinks about the kiss before the battle. She thinks about how soft Lexa’s lips had been, how eagerly yielding her mouth was, how gently she touched Clarke. She wonders if Lexa still wants her, in some ways, if she will still look at Clarke with that soft, adoring look in her eyes. She wonders what will happen once Lexa wakes and doesn’t beg for the drug.
They’ve been drying her from the drug for three days now and Clarke is the only person who can get close enough to tip cool water against the Commander’s lips. If anybody else does it, Lexa just shakes and sets her lips in a straight line and Clarke doesn't know if it's an unconscious move or not. And Abby occasionally visits to check up on them and Clarke tries to ignore the sadness in her mother’s eyes when she looks down at Lexa.
“She’s just a child,” she says on the fourth day.
Clarke stares at Lexa. “Sometimes, I think she’s the same age as me,” she murmurs before pausing and letting the silence envelop them both. Then she adds, “Sometimes, I think she’s younger.”
Abby takes a step towards Clarke, putting her hand on her daughter’s head. “None of this is your fault.”
Clarke exhales sharply before squeezing her eyes shut, trying hard to forget Lexa’s hands on her throat, squeezing so tightly that she was sure she was close to death. Her hands reach out to touch the skin of her throat, where there are still purple bruises. She’s glad that there’s no permanent damage.
“If I hadn’t let her out of my sights—”
“She’s a big girl, Clarke,” Abby cuts in gently, “She was looking for Cage.”
“Still—” Clarke’s throat tightens. “If she had died, then this alliance—we’d be dead without her and—”
“Sshhh.”
Clarke twists around and looks up at her mother, tears shining in her eyes. “I should’ve tried harder,” she murmurs, “I should’ve been stronger, I should’ve been faster, I should’ve been—” She stops, clenching her fists to stop them from shaking. “I can’t do this without the alliance.”
Abby sighs and presses a hand against her daughter’s cheek. “Clarke,” she states, “I don’t think you’re just getting worked up over the alliance.”
Clarke stays quiet, dropping her gaze to look back at Lexa.
“You care more about Lexa,” Abby continues, “and I understand what you’re going through.”
Clarke nods, not bothering to deny it and she presses her cheek against her mother’s side and cries.
.
Lincoln and Octavia visits by the sixth day. They tell her that they've been slowly starving Cage, giving him as little food as possible without killing him off entirely. They both grow quiet when Clarke simply nods and then turns her attention back to Lexa, whose wrists are bleeding slightly from the amount of time she has struggled against her restraints. She's breathing more evenly now, compared to the first few days where she just kept shaking and trembling and growling in her drug-induced state.
Octavia moves to stand behind Clarke. "She's going to be fine," the darker-haired girl murmurs.
"If I could survive such a endeavor then our Commander will likely succeed as well," Lincoln says, gazing at Lexa with a hint of remorse in his eyes.
Clarke clenches her hands into fists. "It's still my fault."
Even though she can't see her, Clarke knows that Octavia just rolled her eyes. "For God's sake, Clarke," she grumbles, "Lexa might not be my favorite person in the entire world right now but she just did win us a war. She saved hundreds of people without eradicating a generation. That takes balls. Even if she is a branwada sometimes."
Clarke glances over at her, frowning. "Does that mean—?"
Octavia meets her gaze evenly. "Yes, I forgive you."
What happens next is a blur but Clarke stands from her chair so fast that she nearly stumbles on her way to wrap her arms around Octavia, who takes a step back in surprise. There's a short exhale of laughter from the other girl but Clarke doesn't feel like laughing right now so she just tightens her embrace and buries her nose against Octavia's hair. She smells of sweat and forest, no longer the girl who lived 16 years under the floor. She smells like a Grounder and Clarke clings onto that smell because it strongly reminds her of Lexa as well.
"Thank you," she murmurs.
Octavia reciprocates the hug, saying a quiet "I'm sorry" against Clarke's ear.
.
Lexa wakes by the seventh day. For real, this time. No tantrums, no shaking, no incoherent noises popping from her mouth. Clarke is sitting in her usual place, sketching in her notebook and trying to force the noises of the monitor beeping from her thoughts when she hears a low moan. She looks up, expecting to see Lexa still asleep but instead, she's met with the image of Lexa slowly sitting up and opening her eyes. The Commander reaches out and touches the skin of her neck fervently and she winces when she moves too much. Clarke is too busy staring at her that she doesn't realize Lexa is calling her name.
"Clarke," she says, her voice scratchy with lack of use.
"Holy shit," Clarke says, standing up and putting away her sketchpad. She goes to the nearest table and grabs a glass of water. Lexa hesitates once presented with it but after a quick glance around the room, she takes a mild sip.
They're silent for a few more seconds. Then—
"How is Cage?" Lexa asks.
Clarke feels something inside her chest tighten. They've barely spoken for a week and this is the first thing Lexa says? She shouldn’t be surprised. Heda is an unbearable title at times. She doesn't know what she expected but a wave of sadness washes over her. She looks away from Lexa’s harsh gaze and lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding in.
"He's locked up," Clarke answers, resuming her seat. Silence again. “That was very stupid, you know.”
Lexa inclines her head to the side. “What was?”
“Running after Cage, forgetting to bring back-up, not telling me where you were,” Clarke spits out, anger rising in the pit of her stomach. She glares at Lexa, who at least has the deceny to look away. “He—he nearly made you a monster, Lexa. Even until now, I don’t know how many doses he injected you with and what the side effects are or if you’re still stable right now and—”
“Clarke,” Lexa cuts in gently, meeting her gaze. She swallows thickly before saying, “Cage has imprisoned my people for far too long. I wasn’t going to let him get away. I was ready to die for my people, if it meant seeing him suffer at the hands of justice.”
“But I wasn’t!” Clarke nearly shouts. The outburst leaves her dizzy for a few seconds and she realizes that she hasn’t had a decent meal in a while now. She stares at Lexa long and hard, her mouth set in a straight line and Lexa tightens her jaw as she puts away the glass of water. Clarke continues, slowly but meaningfully, “Did you even stop to think about what you could’ve been leaving behind? Your people? This alliance?” Me?
“It was foolish,” Lexa agrees, after a moment of silence, “but necessary.”
“Necessary?” Clarke scoffs loudly, clenching her hands into fists and desperately trying to keep her anger in check. “Do you know what’s necessary, Lexa? Not some suicidal revenge mission, not some stupid freaking sacrifice—you. You are necessary to this alliance, to this world, to—” She stops to take a deep breath. “I need you, remember? Now more than ever, especially now that we’ve won.”
Lexa inhales sharply. Her eyes flicker away from Clarke’s gaze.
“If you would, Clarke, I’d like to have some time alone,” she says.
Clarke bites back her anger as she reluctantly stands. “Take all the time you need,” she spits before turning around and storming out of the room, Lexa’s gaze burning holes against her back.
.
Monty finds her at the nearest lake, throwing pebbles against the water and basically throwing a fit. She’s never been so pissed off by another human being before, not Wells nor Bellamy. And she doesn’t even fully understand why she’s so upset, why her chest feels like it’s being squeezed to death at thought of Lexa sacrificing herself.
Monty’s wearing a white sweater with holes in the sleeve and he looks withdrawn, tired but he manages a smile when Clarke sees him approaching.
“Hi,” he says.
Clarke waves. There are blisters against the palms of her hands from where she’s been clutching stones all morning.
“What are you doing?” Monty asks, falling in step next to her.
“Thinking,” Clarke says, watching the water.
Monty nods, bending down to pick up a stone. He stares at it in his hand, his eyes full of wonder and Clarke’s heart aches because he probably didn’t think that he’d get out of Mount Weather to see another stone in his grasp.
“Do you know how to do it?” Clarke asks, pointing at the stone, “Make it skip?”
Monty looks up at her, searches her eyes. Then he grins. “It’s simply physics,” he says, “Right angle, right thrust, right flick of the wrist.”
Clarke steps back. Monty stares at the lake long and hard before he throws the rock. It skips once, twice, thrice before it drops to the surface below. Clarke claps her hands and Monty’s grin widens.
“You’re good,” she says.
“Well, I don’t want to brag…”
Clarke laughs. It feels good, almost like a weight has been lifted off her chest. She turns away from Monty and walks further down the lake, almost near the shore. She sits down, takes off her shoes and dips her feet into the water. Monty follows suit, sitting next to her and Clarke allows the silence to embrace them both before breaking it,
“How are you nowadays?”
Monty shrugs, playing with the hole on his sleeves. “Been fine,” he says, squinting at the water, “What about you? I haven’t seen you around that much. You’re always cooped up in the Commander’s room.”
Clarke’s throat tightens and she bites her lower lip. “Yeah, well—she’s important.”
Monty glances over at her. “To the alliance or to you?”
“Why does everybody keep saying that?” Clarke grumbles.
“Because it’s obvious,” Monty murmurs, the corner of his lips twitching, “I’ve seen the way you look at her, whenever I pass by your room. You care about her.”
Clarke says nothing. She stares at the water, noting the orange glow of the sky reflected upon the surface. She aches to grab a piece of paper and capture it, to put the beauty she’s seeing and freeze it in place, to feel like she’s creating something instead of destroying everything else.
“Does she know?” Monty asks, coaxing her out of her daydream, “That you care about her?”
“She knows,” Clarke says, her voice sure, “She just refuses to acknowledge it.”
“Why?”
“Because love is weakness, Monty,” Clarke answers, her voice devoid of emotion, “and I’m a weakness for her.”
.
On the eight day, Lexa demands that Cage and Dante Wallace pay for their sins against her people. It takes a lot of arguing and screaming, on both sides of the alliance. Lexa is still weak, Abby tries to reason with Indra but Lexa shakes her head and declares that her people have waited too long for their justice. Clarke finally agrees when she realizes that Lexa won’t change her mind.
So, later that night, Clarke watches as Cage Wallace suffers 250 deaths. He doesn’t reach Lexa’s sword. Dante Wallace suffers more and he dies with his back straight and his head held high. He also doesn’t reach Lexa’s sword. Their screams only end when their tongues are pulled from their mouths.
It’s a gruesome sight and Clarke watches Lexa’s shaking hands on the hilt of her sword as she delivers the final blow.
.
Lexa collapses on the way back to her room. She’s been followed closely by her guards and they grab her arm before she can stumble to the ground. She’s shaking, trembling and it’s not as worse as her first seizures are but she can’t breathe. Clarke storms inside when Ryder tells her of this news and she gets to Lexa’s room just as the guards are finished putting on her restraints.
“Get out of my way,” she yells at them, pushing past their rough exteriors and coming to a rest next to Lexa, who is gasping for air. Clarke reaches out and touches her cheeks, jerking when she feels just how hot she is.
Lexa’s guards shout something in Trigadeslang and Ryder translates: “What’s wrong with her?”
“High fever,” Clarke murmurs and she searches around the room to look for a syringe. She shouts at Ryder to find her mother and she barely notices Lincoln, Octavia and Bellamy storming inside as well, bewildered and shell-shocked. Her hands are shaking but she wills them to still as she finds the syringe with the medicine inside locked in one of the drawers. She demands for the guards to hold Lexa and they comply, which should be surprising but Clarke’s done with surprises for a while now. She grabs at Lexa’s leg and stabs her with the syringe.
Lexa immediately stops shaking and Clarke watches her chest, wondering if her heart will stop. She lets out a sigh of relief when the Commander continues to silently breathe in and out.
“Is she okay?” Lincoln asks, his jaw tight.
Clarke rubs at her eyes. “Stable,” she murmurs, “Her body is reacting due to the lack of the drug.”
The guards position themselves outside, giving Clarke, Lincoln, Octavia and Bellamy time for themselves. Abby arrives a few minutes later, hair astray and panic filling her eyes. She relaxes once she spots Clarke.
“What happened?” Abby asks.
“She started shaking again,” Clarke answers, letting out a tired sigh, “She shouldn’t have gone outside.”
“She had to,” Octavia says, staring hard at Lexa, “She’s our Heda.”
“She’s still weak,” Abby murmurs.
Clarke flinches at the word. It’s true—Lexa is weak at the moment but she’s still so, so strong. And weakness is something Lexa has never wanted to dive in, weakness is something she is foreign to, weakness doesn’t mix with Commander Lexa.
But Clarke thinks back to that time in the tent, right before the signal rose. She thinks back to the tears in Lexa’s eyes and the catch in her voice and the unabashed emotion in her face after they kissed. Maybe that was the first time in a long while in which Lexa allowed herself the simplest of pleasures, the first time she allowed herself to feel something other than indifference.
Maybe that was the only time Lexa felt weak after Costia.
.
Lexa wakes up in the middle of the night; a short while after Clarke has managed to fall asleep. She barely moves around much but her breathing has quickened and that makes Clarke stir. The blonde raises her head from where it’s been tucked in against her shoulder and she blinks sleepily at Lexa, who is staring at her quietly, almost as if she’s drinking her in.
“Hey,” Clarke says, her tone husky.
Lexa’s mask quickly falls into place. “You shouldn’t stay here,” she murmurs, “I’m sure your bed is more comfortable than a chair.”
Clarke shakes her head, craning her neck. She leans forward. “I’m fine,” she says, “I just need to keep an eye on you.”
“As you can see, Clarke, I’m very much stable right now.”
“I need to keep this alliance intact, Lexa,” Clarke says fiercely, “and in order for me to do that, I need you alive.”
Lexa curls her fingers. She sits up and leans against the headboard of the bed, staring long and hard at Clarke, who meets her gaze defiantly. There’s almost something intimate about the way they’re looking at each other, like a secret is being shared, or silent words are being exchanged and Clarke, for the love of God, cannot remember the last time she felt a pull so strong.
Then Lexa breaks the silence. She points at Clarke’s neck, swallows thickly and then asks, “Did I do that?”
Clarke inhales sharply. She doesn’t answer and really, that’s an answer already.
“I’m sorry,” Lexa says earnestly, sounding absolutely shattered and Clarke nearly starts shaking because the walls are coming down and Lexa’s mask is slipping and Clarke’s heart is pounding loudly inside her chest like gunshots and she realizes that oh, they’ve always been doomed from the start.
There are unshed tears in Lexa’s eyes and she doesn’t bother to wipe them away.
“This wasn’t you,” Clarke murmurs.
“It was,” Lexa insists, keeping her gaze locked on Clarke, “I am a monster, Clarke. There is no denying that. I’ve hurt people, I’ve killed people, and I’ve wiped generations and armies and families. If that’s not a monster, then what am I?”
“A leader,” Clarke answers.
Lexa clenches her jaw, her mouth trembling and really, it’s heartbreaking to look at, “A leader does not shake and tremble. A leader does not show weakness. A leader does not—”
And Lexa cries.
Clarke leaps from her chair and hurries to Lexa’s side, unsure of what to do first. Lexa does not cry easily, she cries with her back straight and her head held high and it’s beautiful, because even though Lexa has love is weakness buried in the crook of her bones and in her veins, she is still so undeniably human.
Clarke slowly sits next to her and her hand shoots out to hold Lexa’s. Lexa flinches at the contact and Clarke nearly pulls away but Lexa tightens her grip and pulls her in and they’re breathing in each other’s space now and Clarke’s heart refuses to slow down, especially when Lexa reaches out and touches the purple bruises on her neck.
“I’m sorry,” she repeats.
Clarke shakes her head. “It’s not your fault.”
“It is.”
“If you’re so hellbent on it then fine, it’s your fault.” Lexa stills but Clarke leans forward, their noses inches apart, “but I forgive you for it. I forgive you for everything.”
Lexa is breathing unsteadily now and Clarke frowns, wondering if she should be worried about it. She looks up at Lexa’s eyes and notes the dark desire written across them. But in that desire, there is also fear, adoration and something else entirely, something that Clarke can write off as unabashed hope. They’re so close—Clarke can smell the forest clinging onto Lexa’s skin and she wonders what it would taste like, if she will ever be given the chance to taste it once more.
Lexa opens her mouth to say something but no words come out.
“Lexa,” Clarke murmurs, tilting her head back, “What are you waiting for?”
There’s a short exhale from the other girl. “Clarke, I—”
Clarke kisses her, closing their mouths together and tasting the forest once more. Lexa shivers under her touch and Clarke brings her hands up and places it on either side of Lexa’s cheeks, deepening the kiss and pushing insistently forward. Lexa’s fingers close around her elbow, pulling her closer, closer. And it’s not perfect because Lexa is still breathing heavily and Clarke has too much fire, something that cannot be kept bay and they’re pushing and pulling and Lexa’s opening her mouth and breathing her in and Clarke can’t think straight at all. They only manage to slow down when Lexa lets out a small noise of pain.
Clarke pulls back immediately, her eyebrows drawing together.
“Are you okay? Was I too hard? Did you even want me to kiss you? Oh my God, I’m so sorry—”
“Clarke.” Lexa silences her with another kiss, this time softer. Clarke moans in appreciation. “It’s okay. And I want this.”
Clarke’s eyes flutter close as she leans into Lexa’s touch. “Are you sure?” she asks.
Lexa takes another deep breath. “I’m sure.”
.
Lexa slowly gets better as the days drag on. They’re still often visited by Lincoln, Indra, Octavia and Bellamy. Even Jasper, Monty and Raven manage to pop up at random times. But it’s Clarke who stays. The guards have clockwork routine but they station themselves far in the hall, in order to give them some privacy. It’s Clarke who monitors Lexa’s progress, it’s Clarke who eats and drinks with her, its Clarke who calms her down during nights where she shakes and trembles.
When the drug is completely out of Lexa’s system, the first thing Lexa does is ask Clarke a question.
“My offer for Polis still stands,” she says, almost shyly. It’s the middle of the night, Camp Jaha is asleep but Lexa is already standing and pulling on her armor. “If you wish to come with me.”
Clarke’s heart drops. “You’re leaving already?”
“There is no reason for me to stay in Camp Jaha anymore,” Lexa states, glancing over at her as she finishes wrapping her gloves in. “I am grateful for all that you’ve done for me, Clarke.”
Clarke stands from her chair, walking over towards the brunette and frowning slightly. “You’ve done more.”
Lexa smiles. It’s not a full smile but it’s there.
“Do you want to go with me?” Lexa asks and there’s hope in her voice, the kind of hope that punches Clarke in the gut because she’s the only person whom Lexa is completely unguarded with. Her heart swells at the fact and she bites on her lip to stop from smiling.
Clarke dwells on it but she doesn’t answer. Lexa notices this and she furrows her eyebrows in anticipation.
“It’s a fresh start,” she says, her voice low.
“When do we leave?” Clarke asks, after a moment.
Lexa’s smile widens. It’s a full smile, one that shows teeth and Clarke is hit with such an affection for that she reaches on her tiptoes and grabs Lexa’s cheeks, kissing her full on the mouth. Lexa moves quickly, wrapping her arms around Clarke’s waist and pulling her close.
And yes, they’ve been through war and Lexa is still shaking under Clarke’s touch but Lexa’s mouth taste exactly like a fresh start and Clarke desperately needs one.