AN – Hey all, this is my first fic for The 100, and my first AU in a while! The story was inspired by my own experiences as a disability support worker. Anyway, hope you enjoy it! Any feedback is welcome. Hoping to update weekly.

'Trained personal carer working with agency, currently seeking employment – please contact if interested'

Lexa Woods paused at the noticeboard outside the café at the university she attended. She tended to glance over the ads while waiting for her toasted sandwich at lunch, though nothing usually caught her eye. The advertisements were always the same – seeking participants for research, advertising rooms for rent, selling second hand books, meeting locations for the Spanish club, nothing out of the ordinary and nothing of interest. Until today.

For the last ten years Lexa had been her mum's primary carer. Confined to a wheelchair due to a genetic disorder, Annette Woods' physical condition was deteriorating by the week. There was no treatment, no cure, nothing to slow down the process. For the last five years the aim of Annette's care was to reduce pain and discomfort by maintaining a strict pain management routine. There was nothing that could be done, and Lexa knew that it was just a matter of time before the disease claimed her mum.

It was becoming difficult to care for her mum, although Lexa would not admit that to anybody who asked, or offered help. She had cared for her by herself for this long, and had intended to for as long as possible. With her work at the local cinema and classes almost everyday, she was struggling to provide the care she felt her mum deserved. Lexa was always home in the morning to get Annette out of bed, shower and dress her, fix her breakfast and lunch, before heading out. She was always home to watch some TV with her in the evening, eat dinner together, administer her medication, and get her into bed. She was always there. No matter how busy her life seemed to be, Lexa always made sure she found time to help her mum.

At this moment in time, hiring a carer would help a lot. It would mean that Annette would have someone there during the day if she needed help, and could get out of the house to socialise. It would mean that Lexa might be able to have respite for one day a week. It would change their lives.

Lexa slumped her shoulders and let out a long sigh, the stressors of the week catching up with her. Perhaps it was time to reach out for help. She pulled off a tab with a name and phone number on it and slipped it into her pocket.

She would contact the person tonight.

'Please don't be a serial killer.'

Clarke opened the door to her apartment and dropped her bag to the floor with a frustrated grunt.

"What's got you down in the dumps?" Her roommate Raven asked, glancing up from the textbook sitting on her lap. Clarke grabbed an apple from the bench and sat down next to Raven, peeling the sticker off and placing it on her arm.

The two girls had met during the first week at university. Clarke was sitting in a lecture when Raven came limping in late, took the first seat next to Clarke, and quickly pulled out her notebook. Half an hour later Raven had tapped Clarke's shoulder and whispered "this is not my subject…this is not fundamental of engineering." While some people may have found the experience daunting and embarrassing, Raven had taken it in her stride and sat through the whole lecture taking notes, claiming that if she were there, she may as well learn something. Clarke had no idea that morning that she would meet her future best friend that day.

"I spent the whole day putting flyers around uni" she responded in between mouthfuls of apple. "Since I was taken off of Robyn's service, I've been getting less than 12 hours of work a week. I need a new client."

"So you thought putting up flyers was the best idea?" Raven turned to her friend and raised an eyebrow "you do realise that people will probably think you're a serial killer or something?"

Clarke groaned and sunk back into the coach, resting her feet on the coffee table "I honestly don't care what people think, I am so desperate. Besides, if anybody contacts me I'll just take my resume, then they can contact the agency and learn that I am not a serial killer."

Clarke had been working part time as a personal carer while she studied art history at university. Her mum had pushed for medical school, professing that Clarke had the knowledge, dedication and prestige to become a doctor. However, Clarke knew that art was her true passion, and that she would be happy doing nothing else. Still, Clarke enjoyed personal caring – she found it rewarding to be able to help people who weren't in a situation to be able to help themselves. Unfortunately, work had been slow lately. A month ago she was taken off the service of a regular client, Robyn for reasons unknown to her. Another client had hired a live in nurse, so didn't need personal care as often as before, and another was cutting back her hours because she couldn't afford Clarke.

If it weren't for Raven working two jobs, there would be no way the pair could afford rent. Money was getting thin though, and they both knew they couldn't live day to day much longer. If worst came to the worst, Clarke knew she could ask her mum for some financial assistance, but also knew that the help would not be given without a stern talking to about "managing time" and "working below your potential".

Clarke picked up one of her textbooks from the coffee table and was opening it when her phone rang. Not recognising the number, she swiped to answer and lifted the phone to her ear – "hello?"

"Hello, is this Clarke Griffin?" The person on the other line asked, a hint of suspicion in her tone.

"Yes it is, who's speaking?"

"My name is Lexa Woods, I'm calling in response to your advertisement – I was wondering if you were still looking for work?"