a/n: so the guy who did the "this is fine" comic did another version of it where the dog realizes that things are not fine at all and it really spoke to me (and also my knowledge of this newfound comic sequel coincidentally happened on the five-month anniversary of 3x07) so this happened, that comic basically in clexa fic form
God, there was so much blood. Clarke could feel her breaths coming in shaky, panicked hiccups, but she hardly had time to think about that. Lexa was here, Lexa was 'dying,' and goddammit there was absolutely nothing she could do.
"Titus!" Clarke snapped. The man looked up from the small box of tools, some rusted beyond recognition and others unnaturally shiny, and hurried over with his hands folded. "Help me stop the bleeding!"
"You know what - hah - must be done, Titus," Lexa wheezed.
"Stop talking," Clarke whispered. "Save your strength, Lexa, please."
"Heda is right," Titus said, his expression grim. "You must-"
"Shut up," Clarke growled, pushing him out of the way. "If you're not going to help with the bleeding, go get a healer." The room felt shaky, out of focus, like the blurry photographs of the old world (the peaceful world) that she had seen on the Ark from time to time. "There must be someone in this building who can do something. I'm going to keep putting pressure on the wound, now go!" Titus nodded and shuffled away, calling out frantic demands in Trigedasleng as Clarke turned her attention back to Lexa. "Hold on, okay? Focus on me."
"My fight is-"
"No, it's not." Clarke ripped off a segment of her own shirt and pressed it down on the still-bleeding bullet wound, tossing aside the tatters of the first soaked-through scraps. "Just keep your eyes on me, okay? I'm not going anywhere." Clarke tried her best to soften her voice, to use the same tone her mother would use when Clarke was younger and had scraped her knee playing with a friend. Mom. Crap. If only she were here right now. "Titus is on his way with a healer right now." Lexa weakly motioned towards the skull-shaped box with the rusted tools.
"He needs to-"
"Those aren't going to help us right now." Clarke briefly considered flinging the tools out the window - whatever they were, they didn't seem like something that would be used on a living, breathing person - but ultimately decided against it. Titus could refuse to help, or time could be wasted.
"You're still here, Clarke?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm here, I'm here, Lexa." Clarke tightly held onto Lexa's hand as she frantically pressed harder on the bullet hole with another scrap of her shirt with the other hand. "I'm not leaving you."
"Where is Titus? He needs to - khack- the flame - khack-"
"Titus is getting a healer. You'll be okay." Clarke was saying the words to calm herself just as much as she was saying them to calm Lexa - despite the gentle, comforting tone she had managed to pull off, she was still terrified. The girl she loved was lying on the bed in front of her, heaving and gasping with a scared look in her eyes, and Clarke wanted nothing more than to return to that moment when Titus had shot the gun and slam the door so that Lexa would never step into that room, so that she would never be hurt like this and Clarke would just go back to the place she was supposed to call home, leaving Lexa safe and far away and alive.
"Clarke, I-"
"Heda, we're here!" Titus shoved open the door with surprising strength for a man of his age, letting it clatter against the wall as the healer, a kindly-seeming woman with a sack full of what looked to be medicine, walked past him to look at Lexa. Clarke stepped back just enough to give the healer room, still keeping her fingers intertwined with Lexa's. The healer's expression, which had just a moment ago seemed somewhat concerned yet eager, became one of coldness and confusion.
"Who did this?" she asked in a mutter. "This is not one of our weapons."
"The bald guy shot Clarke's girlfriend," Murphy sighed from the corner of the room. Clarke had forgotten that he was there. "Big, shocking plot twist, I know. Doesn't really matter who shot her, though."
"Can you save her?" Clarke whispered. The healer gave a nod, keeping her eyes on the wound. Lexa looked as if she would have breathed a sigh of relief if she had been breathing normally at the moment.
"You will need to clear the area," the healer continued. "It is difficult to work with so many of you crowding me." Titus practically ran from the room, his back against the door as he watched from outside. Clarke gave Lexa's hand one last squeeze before backing away.
"I'm still here, Lexa," Clarke breathed, slowly letting herself sink into a nearby chair. "She's going to help you, okay? I'm still here. I'm still here." The healer still seemed laser-focused on Lexa's wound, dabbing some kind of ointment on it with her gray eyes steely and sharp.
"You have done well," she said to Clarke, still keeping her eyes on Lexa's writhing form. "Had you simply stood there and watched her bleed, she would have been dead by now. Have you considered staying here and learning our ways?" Clarke blinked.
"No, no, I'm an ambassador," she explained, wondering if the healer knew who she was, or if she even cared. "I just picked up some stuff from my mother when I was a little kid."
"Hmm." The healer dug something out of her bag, though Clarke was too far away to see what it was. "Are you still staying?"
"I was actually on my way back to . . ." Clarke trailed off. "Back to my home, I guess."
"But you couldn't leave her behind?"
"Of course not! What kind of monster would I be if I left my . . . if I left my . . ."
"Girlfriend?" Murphy supplied from the corner. Clarke felt somewhat guilty for forgetting his presence again, and awkwardly shuffled over to untie him from his chair.
"Yeah, sure, my girlfriend." Clarke hadn't had very much time to think over what any of this had meant - not when she had been trying to savor every moment she had with Lexa, and certainly not when she had been desperately trying to save her life - but she figured that there would be time for that later.
"Ah," the healer said, though Clarke couldn't tell what she meant by that. "You two are . . . close, then?" The bleeding seemed to have stopped, and Clarke let herself sink back into the chair as Murphy fell asleep, rather quickly, on a couch.
"Yeah," Clarke murmured.
"I can tell. Well, you will be happy to know that she is no longer in any immediate danger."
"Oh, thank-"
"However, she is still in a very dangerous position, and it would be best if she were monitored for several weeks after this. I will be her primary caretaker, and from this moment onwards, nobody who is currently in this room will say anything of what has been witnessed."
"Why?"
"There would be a panic," Titus said, peeking his head through the door. "For them to know that there was a weapon of this type, shooting a hole through heda, it would only lead to chaos." Lexa had fallen asleep, her chest rising and falling in a rhythm that seemed at least somewhat close to even. "She wouldn't want that."
"You're the one who caused this!" Clarke snapped.
"She was wounded gravely in a border skirmish, and she is resting," Titus simply responded. "That is the lie we will tell."
"We, will not do anything," the healer growled, turning her attention away from Lexa for just a second in order to glare at the man. "You will be tossed in the deepest dungeons until she wakes up and is well enough to decide your fate."
"A punishment that I accept," Titus sighed. "I'm sorry, heda." With that, he walked away, shoulders hung low. Clarke felt no sympathy towards him.
"What'll she do to him?" Clarke asked as soon as Titus was out of earshot. Lexa and Murphy were both asleep, and the healer no longer seemed quite as tense.
"I do not know. His role is one not meant to be taken lightly, and yet he has committed an unforgivable act." Now that there were only two awake people in the room, Clarke could see the gun on the floor, still horrible and ugly and out of place in the beautiful room. "You should ask her, when she wakes up." The healer pointed to Lexa, who seemed to be sleeping peacefully, now. Clarke couldn't describe the swelling feeling of relief that spread through her body in that moment, the knowledge that Lexa was going to be fine as wonderful as the feeling of sunlight on her face for the first time.
"I'm staying," she murmured.
"Hmm?"
"I'm not going back to Arkadia. I'm staying here, with Lexa."
"A brave decision, I think." The healer turned to Clarke and smiled. "Feel free to find me if you are looking for further instruction on anything that may interest you."
"Well, actually . . ."
"Yes?"
"We don't really have anything to do right now, so do you think you could . . . teach me about some of this stuff?"
"There isn't a reason not to."
The sun fell below the horizon and rose again, but Clarke couldn't care less about it. The healer explained the uses of herbs and proper techniques, and Clarke tried her best to listen, but her eyes were on Lexa at every moment. It felt like an eternity before anything happened, and when it did, Clarke had to maintain all of her willpower not to wrap Lexa in a hug and never let it go.
('Anything happening,' in this case, ended up being a very small grunt from Lexa as she began to stir).
"You two should be alone right now," the healer said, walking away with a knowing smile.
"Hrm . . . Clarke?" Lexa opened her eyes drowsily. "Clarke, are you alright? There was a loud noise and I came to check on you and-"
"You're okay, Lexa," Clarke breathed, her voice light and happy with relief. "You're here, you're okay, everything's okay." Lexa cradled Clarke's face in her hands tentatively, as if she still didn't know that Clarke would have burned down the world for her without a second thought, and tried to sit up before promptly letting out a yelp of pain. "Hey, take it easy, Lexa. You were shot in the stomach. Don't overexert yourself, alright?" Lexa nodded.
"You won't leave, will you?"
"No, of course not." Clarke leaned down gently and pressed a kiss to Lexa's forehead. "I'm never leaving you, Lexa. Not until the stars burn out and none of us really exist anymore."
"Is that type of saying the meaning of life?"
"It's about more than just surviving, I can guarantee you that." The sun rose on the morning, the clouds casting shades of purple over the waking people of Polis. "I can definitely guarantee you that."