Clarke pushed back from her desk, rubbing her temples in a vain attempt to ease the pounding headache she'd been nursing all afternoon. After another long day in the infirmary, she was more than ready to call it quits. In addition to the every day mental breakdowns, intentionally swallowed contraband, and scuffles between inmates, she'd treated a shiv wound to the abdomen and a nasty case of pneumonia, the last of which had her more worried than any of the others.

No matter how many times she'd spoken with Warden Jaha about the horrid living conditions in B-wing, he'd refused to heed her warnings and now one of the inmates was in intensive care. It was only a matter of time before someone died, but that seemed to be the last thing on the Warden's mind. Maybe if he could tear himself away from all of those golf scrambles with the Governor, he might be able to save the prison from an ever looming media nightmare. If word got out that he was aware of the living conditions and willfully ignored them in favor of his budget and someone died as a result, they'd all be out on the street.

It wasn't that she couldn't easily find another job. Her mother, who was Chief of Medicine at the prestigious Ark Memorial Hospital, was constantly urging Clarke to leave her job and "stop squandering her talent," but there was something about working at TonDC State Penitentiary, that spoke to her. A maximum security prison wasn't exactly the dream job for most doctors, but Clarke wanted to work at a place that she was really needed and state prisons were always short on good doctors. Most people didn't want to go to med school for the better part of a decade and amass a staggering amount of student debt, only to end up in a relatively low paying position like this one, but Clarke didn't need the money thanks to an inheritance from her father and she rather liked the challenge this particular sort of work presented.

Despite her mother's repeated attempts at reform, Clarke had always felt guilty about having so much when others had so little, and in a way this position was her way of giving back to society, not that she'd ever admit that to anyone. Clarke had been volunteering in rehab facilities and homeless shelters alongside her father since she was a kid and she couldn't imagine her life without it. However, Abigail Griffin had never agreed with Clarke's version of "lending a helping hand" and she was pretty vocal about it. Not that her mother was against philanthropy, not in the least. She just considered writing a large check while others did the dirty work the best way to help those less fortunate. Clarke liked to think that her father would have understood her motivations in taking this position, but then, Jake Griffin was a very special kind of man. He and her mother were as different as two people could possibly be and Clarke often wondered when the old adage "opposites attract" turned from quiet arguments and cute make-ups to screaming matches and broken hearts for her parents.

A knock sounded on her closed office door and she called irritably for whoever was outside to enter, without bothering to look up from scribbling notes on the incident report laying open on her desk blotter. She was at the end of her shift, just trying to finish up her small mountain of paperwork before knocking off for the night, and this interruption was an unwelcome distraction.

"Clarke?" a tentative voice spoke up from the doorway.

She glanced up and forced a smile for the petite brunette nurse hovering shyly near the threshold of her office, not quite in, but not quite out either as if committing completely to either position was too much to handle. Maya, the sweet faced nurse currently interrupting her paperwork, was quiet and gentle, and seemed completely unsuited for a job full of criminals and killers, but that wasn't really any of Clarke's business so she never commented on it.

"Yes?" Clarke asked, trying not to sound as tired as she felt.

"I was just coming to tell you that there's a patient in exam room two," Maya said, glancing back into the hallway nervously.

"Dr. Jaha is seeing overnight patients, Maya," Clarke reminded her as gently as she could while her pulse pounded out a steady beat behind her eyelids. It was after lights out and no alarms had been sounded, so there couldn't have been another riot or orchestrated mass suicide attempt, which meant that Wells Jaha was more than capable of handling the situation by himself. Wells, her best friend and the head psychiatrist, doubled as the on call doctor on nights like tonight, when the prison medical ward was understaffed.

Despite being the Warden's son and from a very wealthy family like Clarke's, he was down to Earth and one of the most compassionate people she knew. It made him an ideal psychiatrist, especially in a place like this.

"I know, but it's one of the guards," Maya said nervously as Clarke's forehead creased into a frown.

"Guard or inmate, Dr. Jaha is still treating the overnight patients," she said more firmly, wishing Maya would take the hint and save her from being rude.

"It's Blake," Maya blurted out before backing out of the doorway and fleeing into the dimly lit hallway beyond.

"Of course it is," Clarke muttered bitterly, pushing away from her desk with a sigh. Blake, or more accurately, Captain Blake was second only to Assistant Warden Kane in the guard hierarchy, and was basically the bane of her existence. He was constantly barging into her office demanding that she treat his informants this way or that. Always making sure that his lackey guards got special treatment over everyone else and pretty much always acting like a jackass. On a logical level she understood that his carefully cultivated network of spies and informants kept people safe, but she felt that it was morally objectionable for someone to take advantage of an inmate's position inside the prison to gain information. The prisoners here had very little choice but to fold under his pressure and it put them in an incredibly dangerous position amongst their fellow inmates when they finally turned snitch. Not to mention that it was a risky gamble to believe anything that most of the them said. Half of the inmates suffered from undiagnosed mental conditions and couldn't reliably tell you what they had for breakfast let alone inform on someone and the other half would lie to you just for their own amusement.

Pushing those thoughts aside, she rose ponderously from her desk and headed after Maya. Clarke wasn't surprised that Captain Blake had asked for her specifically. He and Wells didn't exactly see eye to eye on anything, be it treatment plans or office politics, and they avoided each other at all costs. Clarke was positive that Captain Blake hated Wells for the simple crime of being born wealthy and the Warden's son and therefore privileged in his eyes, but she'd chosen not to get involved in their nearly constant battles for the sake of her own sanity.

When she rounded the nurses station and saw Maya studiously avoiding her eyes, she felt a pang of guilt for how abruptly she'd spoken to the girl. It wasn't like it was Maya's fault that Bellamy was such an asshole, but it was too late to take it back now. Maybe if Captain Blake was a little less arrogant people might actually get along with him, Clarke mused as she took her time shuffling clipboards with patient charts on them until she found the one for room two. Then again, maybe he wouldn't be. Narcissism was a really hard condition to treat.

A brief scan of the incident report informed her that Captain Blake had been injured while attempting to subdue a psyche inmate in his cell. Lacerations to the face and arms seemed to be the worst of it, she noted gladly. That would be a quick and easy fix and then she could go home.

No longer able to delay, she pushed into the depressingly gray exam room, and found the Captain hunched over himself on a dingy, utilitarian exam table. There were no encouraging pictures or memorable sayings on the walls. No paintings, or unlocked drawers full of supplies like you would find in most exam rooms either. Everything down to the last cotton swab was behind lock and key and subject to random and monthly inventory inspections. If everything else in the room didn't clue you in, the shackles attached to the exam table at roughly wrist and ankle level, left you crystal clear that you were in a prison, not your local doctors office.

Shaking her head to clear it, she took a deep breath and prepared herself for the undoubtedly unpleasant interactions they were about to have. Captain Blake looked up when she entered the room and straightened his spine, but waited till she closed the door firmly behind her to offer his usual mocking greeting.

"Princess," he said as a smirk stretched the tan skin around his mouth.

The nickname brought an immediate frown to Clarke's face, but she did her best to hide it quickly. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her rise to the bait, regardless of how much it irritated her. Starting a pointless argument with him now would only keep her in the room longer when all she really wanted to do was lock up her office and start the long drive back to her ranch house for a much overdue weekend off.

His prolonged stare, though uncomfortable, afforded her the perfect opportunity to asses the injuries to his face without actually having to examine him. There was a small cut above his left eyebrow that wouldn't require anything more than cleaning, and a his lip was puffy and split, but neither were serious. He probably could have treated himself, she thought irritably.

Striding purposefully toward the table, she grabbed a rolling tray already laden with utensils and slid it along with her. Maya must have already laid out everything she'd need for the job, she thought glancing quickly at the neatly stacked gauze and bandages and feeling her guilt resurface. The girl really did try hard to be pleasant to everyone and Clarke never gave her enough credit for it. She made a mental note to thank her later for preparing the tray and resolved to be more appreciative in the future.

Turning away from Captain Blake, she crossed to the sink to wash her hands and returned to the table as she snapped on a pair of gloves and used her foot to slide a rolling stool alongside him. He squinted when she flicked on the exam light above the them and angled it towards his face, but didn't voice a complaint as his pupils contracted under the harsh glare.

"Are these the worst of it?" she asked, taking his chin firmly between her fingers and turning it toward the light. His skin was warm beneath her gloves and she could feel his pulse through the thin material. She tried to ignore the sensation of it pounding against her finger tips while she waited for him to respond, battling the urge to drop her hand because she was positive he would perceive it as weakness.

"Aren't they enough?" he asked jokingly, but then frowned when she didn't so much as crack a smile. "This too Doc," he added, holding up his arm. There was a deep cut, about an inch and a half long, running vertically up his left arm. She hadn't noticed the gash or the blood seeping out of it at first, because the arm was partially hidden from her by his torso, but as soon as he held it up to the bright beam of light she dropped his chin and grabbed his hand pulling his arm closer to her face.

He hissed as she probed the edges of the wound, looking for debris before gently pinching it closed. "Well I'm afraid this one's going to need a few stitches," she said, already reaching for the syringe nestled neatly between stacks of gauze on the tray table beside her. "This will sting a little," she added, but didn't wait for a response before administering four shots to numb the entire area. Bedside manner be damned, it was late and he was an asshole so he didn't get the "it will only sting for a minute" spiel.

Bellamy didn't so much as grunt, but she could feel how tense the muscles in his arm were. "Lay it up here," she said sliding an empty, flat tray table from the corner underneath, and gently pressing his arm onto it. "There's not much I can do for the lip other than offer you an ice pack," she said brushing a finger over the swollen area that had already begun to scab over. "Lean down and I'll clean this one and bandage it while we wait on that local to take affect." He obediently bent his forehead toward her, and she had a few uncomfortable seconds of him staring directly into her chest, before his eyes drifted back up to her face.

Clarke always tried to dress professionally when she was at the prison. Some of the inmates hadn't been with a woman in more time than she'd been alive and tempting them to do something violent by flaunting her very womanly figure in their faces while she examined them, just seemed foolish, but there was only so much she could do short of wearing a potato sack to work every day. Even then, she was sure that someone would complain about the amount of ankle she was showing!

Today she had opted for a black pencil skirt and simple pearl blouse tucked into the wide waistband with her white lab coat thrown over it all, but judging by Bellamy's glances, it was still distracting. Or maybe he was just a pig. Honestly, she felt some days that the inmates had more class and better manners than he did.

As she began to inspect the shallow cut on his forehead, she tried her hardest to ignore the forwardness of his stare, focusing instead on swabbing the cut clean and applying antibiotic ointment. She finished it off with a large band-aid before pitching her soiled gloves in the garbage and sliding on a new pair.

"Hold still," she said calmly as she cleaned his arm and readied the suture needle. When she was certain the area was numb, she set to work closing the wound. Five precise, neat stitches later and the gash was nothing more than an angry red line. After slathering on a little antibiotic ointment, she applied a few pieces of gauze and wrapped it in flesh colored coban which still looked pale against his caramel colored forearm.

"All set," she said in a poor imitation of her usually cheerful farewell to a patient. He didn't speak, but she saw from the corner of her eye as she stood and walked to the sink, that he was probing his arm with his index finger like he was testing to see if it would hurt. He was a complete idiot. She was stripping off her gloves and had just turned on the water to wash her hands again when she felt him behind her. He had a stealthy way of moving that had probably served him well in the Navy, but mostly just created cause for her to have an early heart attack here in the prison.

"Thanks Princess," he said into her ear as he reached around her to grab a paper towel. Good to know his sleezeball charm had survived the attack.

It never failed to unsettle her, the way he invaded her personal space and probed every boundary he could find. In Clarke's opinion, he was sort of a creep. Always lurking around the infirmary when she had patients and barging into her exam rooms and office alike when the mood struck him.

"Excuse you," she bit out, moving to put space between them, unwilling to let him see how much his antics bothered her. Clarke knew guys like him pretty well, they'd been a dime a dozen all through medical school. Thinking that they could push her around and get her to back down just because she was a woman and therefore weak, emotional, and inferior in their eyes. Well, she'd proved them wrong after flat refusing to bow to their intimidation tactics and went on to graduate first in her class. If she hadn't let those pretentious assholes at Harvard win, she sure as hell wasn't going to let some narcissistic guard with a bad attitude and a chip on his shoulder push her around now!

Clark had never taken the time to read Captain Blake's file, but she was betting he had some pretty serious mommy issues. It would explain so much about his behavior not only with her, but with the slew of women that he was always bragging about being with. She may not have close relationships with most of her coworkers, but she did hear things and if even half the rumors were true, he was a real womanizer. Not that she believed most of the gossip. She'd grown up in the public eye thanks to her mother and their family name and she understood better than most just how much people liked to over inflate stories and flat out lie in order to fuel the gossip mill.

Blake backed off a little, allowing her space to round the exam table, but continued to hover behind her as she cleaned up the mess a little and threw the syringe into the bio-hazard bin on the wall. She almost bumped into his chest when she turned around to leave and an angry flush tinted her cheeks when he smirked down at her.

"How about that ice pack Princess?" he asked, taking an infinitesimal step closer to her.

She glared up at him as he loomed over her, clearly blocking her path to the cabinet with ice packs. A fact that she was positive that he was aware of, but his grin just broadened the longer she glared. After a few more seconds engaged in a childish staring contest, (probably to assert his dominance) he stepped back to let her pass. Briskly crossing the room, she used her key to open a supply drawer and pulled out a disposable ice pack. The package crunched in her hands as she angrily shook it to hasten the endothermic reaction before tossing it across the table at him and stalking out of the exam room. None of the nurses said a word as she stomped past their station, but she could feel their eyes on her back as she retreated from Captain Blake's deep, rumbling laughter.

Wells was waiting for her inside her office, and his eyebrows crept toward his hairline as she slammed the door, threw the incident report on top of the nearest stack of folders, and stalked around her desk, heels clicking angrily on the tile floor the entire way. He didn't say a word as she sat down hard in her chair and let out a deep sigh, rubbing her forehead ineffectually.

"Tough patient," Wells joked half heartedly. She managed a weak grin before letting her head fall into the pillow of her arms, face down on her desk, with a groan.

"I hate Bellamy Blake," she mumbled into the hard wood surface of her desk.

"Hate is such a strong word, Clarke," Wells said in his doctor voice. Without looking up she picked up a pencil and lobbed it across the desk at him. He laughed so she gave him the finger.

"Don't psycho analyze me right now Wells," she grumbled. "My mind is a dark and twisty place at the moment."

"Dark and twisty huh? Sounds about right for you," he joked, trying to bring her out of her funk and get her talking like he'd been doing ever since they were kids. Wells knew her better than anyone on the planet which meant he knew when it was time to joke, and lighten the mood or run for the hills because she was about to blow her top.

"It's full of all the different ways I could murder Blake," she said rising up to glare at the reports on her desk like they personally had ruined her day. His name stared up at her from the label of the top most report, fanning the flames of her anger. "Mostly I'd just like to strangle him," she said unintentionally crinkling the edges of the paper in her small hands as she picked it up.

"Better watch it," Wells said smiling. "I'd hate to have to treat you from the other side of this desk!"

"If only I knew a few Jedi mind tricks," she said imitating the Darth Vader choke hold. "Perfect crime," she added and giggled when Wells pretended to be choking. "You're such a nerd," she said smoothing the report back down on the blotter and trying to reign in her temper.

"Not as big as you are Darth," Wells snorted as he leaned forward in his seat. "You look tired Clarke. Are you sure you want to drive all the way out to the ranch tonight?"

Ever since she could remember, Wells had been worrying about her one way or another and tonight was no exception. She glanced at her wrist and noted that it was a little passed midnight. If she left right now and drove the speed limit, which she almost always did, she'd be there by about two o'clock.

"Maybe you should just stay at the loft and then drive home early in the morning after you've had some rest?" he said, frowning at her when she shook her head.

"I just want to go home Wells," she said tiredly as she shuffled papers into the appropriate piles. No matter how much she loved her apartment in the city, the farm felt like home. It was where she and Wells had spent most of the summers of their childhoods, swimming, riding horses and just running free through the rolling countryside. Her dad left it to her in his will and she'd moved in shortly after his death. In part it was to be closer to all the good memories with him, but also it was an excuse to get away from her mother. Their relationship hadn't been the same after the accident and she couldn't stand to look at her everyday after it happened. Clarke had never told her mother that she knew they'd been fighting when he left that night, or that she knew Abby had asked for a divorce, but it fundamentally changed how she viewed her mother from then on out. She'd never come right out and accused Abby of causing his accident, but she couldn't always hide her anger when they spoke. To say that their relationship now was rocky would be putting it lightly.

"It doesn't have anything to do with your big date tomorrow night does it?" Wells teased.

Clarke almost immediately regretted her decision to tell him about the new man in her life, but he was her best friend after all and they talked about everything. He'd been ribbing her for it ever since, calling Finn her sugar daddy because he happened to run a fortune 500 company and lived a fairly high profile life in the city. Clarke didn't follow those sorts of things having successfully escaped Society herself, and it was slightly unnerving that Wells seemed to know more about him than she did, but she wasn't going to let the teasing put her off the best man she'd dated in a very long time. Wells had filled her in on all the scandalous affairs that Finn had supposedly had and she'd responded by telling him he should know by now that the tabloids just liked to spin a good playboy millionaire gone wrong story without actually having any truth to their accusations. He still seemed skeptical, but he'd let the matter drop. Wells was good that way. Never pushing too far, but always ready to listen when things went wrong.

Finn, when they first met, had proved himself to be every inch a gentleman when she'd spilled her hot starbucks coffee all over his designer suit. She'd apologized profusely as he ordered his coffees to go and brushed off her offers to pay for the dry cleaning. He'd insisted that all he wanted was a chance to take her out to dinner and she'd been charmed enough to agree. They'd only been on a handful dates, but Clarke was pretty confident that he wasn't the creep that Wells' tabloid stories made him out to be and she couldn't wait to see him again. She and Finn had talked on the phone pretty much every day since that first encounter, but it had actually been really hard to coordinate dates between both of their schedules, so she was pretty excited about their little weekend get away. At first she'd been uneasy about spending the weekend alone with him at her family's isolated ranch house, but Finn's easy going attitude and natural charm had quickly put her at ease. She was really looking forward to showing him around all the places she loved on the property.

"I'm leaving now," she said ignoring his question and snatching her purse out of her desk. He followed her out into the hall and waited for her to lock the door behind them.

"Text me when you get there," he said as they walked side by side to the main guard booth in the medical wing of the prison. It was one of several stations positioned strategically throughout the building and she'd have to go through several more security stops to get to the parking lot, but Wells wouldn't be following her through so she turned to smile at him and say goodbye.

"Yes, sir," she said with a mock salute.

"And let me know all about how your big date with Finn goes," he called as she heard the buzzer and pushed her way through the heavy metal doors.

She turned to glare at him, and a flush rose in her cheeks when she noticed that the guards were staring curiously at her. Clarke spun on her heal and left as one of them started cat calling while another made kissing sounds over Wells' booming laughter, but not before she noticed Captain Blake standing in the rear of the guard booth glaring at her.

Not stopping to worry about what his problem was, she power walked the rest of the way through the building and out to her dark green prius. She pulled onto the interstate a few moments later and felt her muscles relax more and more with every mile that she put between her and TonDC. With her window rolled down blasting cool night air in her face to keep her awake, Clarke turned up the radio and sang along with sappy country songs as she made her way back home.

Two hours later she coasted into the circular drive not bothering to park in the garage like she usually did. Indra, her chef and property manager had left the porch lights on for her and the door was unlocked, but she tried to be as quiet as possible when she entered the house so she didn't wake her up.

Tiptoeing upstairs with a yawn, she slid into her bedroom, the same one she'd had since childhood and kicked off her shoes before gently closing the door behind her. The room may have been the same, but gone was the pink canopy bed that had made her feel like a princess when she was little as well as the spindly white children's furniture all of which had been moved into the attic storage. The girlish furnishings had been replaced by a dark oak sleigh bed and matching furniture. The childish, cotton candy pink and pearl walls had been redone in darker, more mature shades of azure that complimented both the upholstery and bedding. It was a tranquil room, with two book shelves brimming with Clarke's personal library and even had a picturesque window seat for lazy days getting lost between the pages of a good book.

She loved this room and she'd chosen to stay even after moving into the house as an adult because she could hardly stand to go into the master suite. Even after all these years her father's presence was still too strong. Memories of rushing into her parents bedroom to wake them on Christmas morning, or climbing under the blankets when she'd had a nightmare so her dad could sing her to sleep again, were so firmly ingrained in that room that she could almost smell his cologne when she stepped inside. The cleaners kept it dust free without disturbing anything, a condition she was very firm on, so his clothes were still hanging in the closet, his toothbrush was still on the sink, and his reading glasses were still sitting on top of the last novel he'd ever started reading, which lay closed on the nightstand on his side of the bed. Clarke knew she should pack everything up and donate it, but she just couldn't bring herself to do it. Especially not after her mother had remodeled their entire town house in the city so that if you hadn't known better, you'd never have suspected that Jake Griffin ever lived there. This house and those rooms were the last little piece of him she had left, and she just couldn't give it up. If she closed her eyes she could almost forget that he would never walk through the door and call out her name again. Almost.

Her clothes formed a messy pile on the floor at the foot of the bed as she slipped into a comfortable nightgown. After quickly brushing her teeth and washing her face in the adjoining bathroom, she climbed under the covers and was almost asleep when she remembered that she still needed to text Wells and let him know that she made it. Thankfully, she had left her phone on the nightstand, so without opening her eyes she reached for it and then quickly typed out a message. She pressed send, but was fast asleep before Wells had time to send a reply.

The next morning Clarke awoke to the smell of coffee and bacon floating up from the kitchen. With a groan, she rolled out of the bed and padded downstairs, slipping on her robe as she went.

"Good morning Indra," she said pulling the older woman into a tight hug and laying a quick kiss on her cocoa colored cheek. "This smells delicious!"

"Good morning, Clarke," Indra said with a smile. "What time did you get in? Did you sleep well?" she asked, turning back to her cooking.

"It was late. After two o'clock," Clarke said sheepishly and quickly went to poor herself a cup of coffee when she caught Indra's glare.

"You know better than to be driving so late at night when your tired, Clarke!" the older woman said sternly. She jabbed her spatula angrily into a skillet full of scrambled eggs as Clarke took a seat at the island behind her trying her hardest to look apologetic.

"I know, I shouldn't have, but I just couldn't wait to get home," Clarke said giving Indra wide innocent eyes when she turned around to glare at her. Indra was an award winning chef, and one of the few employees that her mother insisted be full time because Abigail Griffin didn't have time to prepare meals for her family, but she also wouldn't let them live off fast food either. Something about it being unethical as a doctor.

Indra had been with them for years and Clarke couldn't remember a time when she hadn't been around. After her father died, Indra had agreed to leave Abby's service and come live at the ranch with Clarke. Her mother may have been hurt over her longtime chef's abrupt departure, but honestly it was hard to tell. Her mother rarely showed any emotion other than annoyance and that was only when she had time to bother being annoyed with you. Being the Chief of Medicine was an important and time consuming position, that had often left Clarke short a parent growing up.

When her father was out of town for work or unable to watch her, it was most often Indra that she'd been left with and over time she'd come to be so much more to Clarke than an employee. When she was little girl the complicated relationship between her parents had very often left her feeling alone, so she would seek out the only other person in the house, and sit for hours watching her fix meals and talking about anything and everything her young mind could think up.

Over time, the routine had been set and she'd relied on that stability to get her through tough times. When she was upset or things were hard and she needed motherly advice, her own mother was almost never there or too busy to be bother so it had been Indra she'd run to when she scraped her knees. It was Indra who'd held her while she cried over her first break up. And it was Indra that Clarke was still afraid of crossing, even though she was a very much an adult.

Lucky for Clarke, Indra had a heart of pure gold underneath all of her gruff posturing so a lonely little girl had grown up with a friend and under that steady mentoring, Clarke had flourished.

"Well it's good to have you home. It's been too long," Indra said smiling sadly at her. Neither of them spoke of her father, but his memory hung in the air between them anyway. Jake had always considered this their real home too. The townhouse in the city was just a place they went when they wanted to actually see her mother and it struck Clarke that it was now just as much her home with Indra as it was with her father. Over the years they'd made their own memories here together that were separate from those she stored away of her and father's time here.

Growing up, Indra had seemed to always be around, but she actually maintained her own apartment in the city and only traveled back and forth with them to the ranch when needed. It was an independence that Indra had given up when she'd agreed to leave Abby and come with Clarke. Technically there was a guest house on the property that Indra would have been more than welcome to use, but neither women felt it was necessary. Indra was family and family lived in the room next you, not a mile down the drive in miniature version of the main house.

It made Clarke feel bad to realize how lonely Indra must be out here in the middle of nowhere by herself all the time. There was a farmer a few miles away that came every day to take care of the few horses that stayed on the property, but other than him and the cleaning service that came several times a week, it was pretty lonely out here. For Clarke, the isolation was blissful, but at fifty three, with no close family left, she wondered if Indra felt the same way.

As she sat at the island and sipped her coffee, Clarke thought about ways to fix the problem. She could hire a full time maid, but she was afraid that it might make Indra feel put out. Maybe she needed to find a full time gardener or animal trainer to move in, she mused, inhaling the rich French roast with a sigh. A trainer might actually work out to everyone's benefit. It would mean that someone was always on hand to help Indra with the heavy lifting and someone would be here to really work with the horses everyday. It always made her guilty knowing how little time she spent with them. She'd have to think on it and then run it by Indra before she started looking for someone too seriously.

"What do you have planned for today?" Indra asked setting a steaming plate full of food on the island in front of Clarke before making a plate for herself.

"I'm actually going to be inviting a guest over for the weekend," Clarke said around a mouthful of eggs.

"A guest?" Indra inquired politely, but with a slight edge. Clarke knew that while she didn't necessarily approve, Indra would never actually say anything against it. She was conservative in her views on dating, but not so much that she'd throw a fit about it.

"Yes, his name is Finn," Clarke said noncommittally. "I'm sure you'll love him. I thought we'd take the horses out later today. He was an award winning polo player in college," she added, digging into her food.

"Really now," Indra said with a forced smile. She never had thought anyone was good enough for Clarke. Her unending loyalty was as charming as it was sometimes irritating, Clarke thought with a sigh.

"Yes. He's tall and has chestnut colored hair about down to here," she said brushing her hands just above her shoulders. "His eyes are brown, but sort of like honey and he has a movie star smile," she said, flashing her own. "I know you'll love him! He's really just the sweetest person," Clarke gushed in a totally un-Clarke like way.

"Sounds like quite a young man," Indra said, eyes sparking merrily behind her glasses. "It's about time you got back in the saddle," she added with a wink.

Clarke wasn't sure if she meant dating or literally getting back in the saddle, so she just smiled, a little embarrassed at her own enthusiasm. Their conversations had gotten more mature as Clarke aged and it was nothing unusual for Indra to pepper their discussions with innuendo probably for the express purpose of making Clarke blush. Glancing at the clock, she jumped up in shock. She'd slept passed ten! It was nearly unheard of for Clarke to sleep in and now she would have to rush to get ready before Finn showed up.

"I've got to get ready!" she exclaimed racing out of the kitchen and leaving a half eaten plate of food behind. "Finn is going to be here any minute!" she yelled as Indra hollered for her to come back and finish her breakfast.

Clarke flew up the stairs and took possibly the quickest shower of her life. Fifteen minutes later, she was blow drying her hair when she heard the door bell. "Shit!" she said out loud, rushing into her walk in closet to try to find something to wear. She quickly settled on a pair of gray leggings with a gauzy, mauve, sleeveless summer dress that was cinched at the waist with a wide black belt and flowed out around her hips becomingly. She slipped her feet into a pair of knee high boots that would be great for riding later and decided to just leave her hair in a messy tumble of curls.

After a quick coat of mascara and a dab of pink lip gloss, she bounded down the stairs and headed for the living room where she could hear Finn's voice.

"There she is," he said standing as she came into the room. He kissed her cheek as she took a seat beside him on the loveseat, across from Indra. "You look beautiful," he said softly into her ear.

Clarke could feel her cheeks heating up as his breath ghosted across her skin. It had definitely been too long since her last relationship, she thought as she tried to silence her jittery nerves. "You look pretty good yourself," she said trying not to stare. He was wearing freshly pressed dark blue jeans with a light blue button down shirt rolled up his forearms, that made his skin look even more tan than it already was. His eyes sparkled in the late morning sunlight as he turned to smile at her.

"So, gorgeous," he asked grinning wider still, "what's on the agenda for today?"

"Oh, how rude of me," she said jumping to her feet. "Let me show you too your room so you can get settled!"

Taking his hand, she waved a quick goodbye to Indra and then pulled him upstairs behind her, stopping briefly so he could collect his bag from the entryway. She led him to a guest bedroom directly across the hall from hers and ushered him inside. No sooner had he entered the room than he jerked her arm, spinning her around and sweeping her into a tight embrace. His lips found hers and he swallowed her gasp as he devoured the tender flesh of her mouth.

Her heart was beating frantically inside her chest as he backed her further into the room and kicked the door shut with his foot, never breaking the kiss. His lips were warm and wet as they ghosted over her jaw and down her throat, pulling a soft moan from her. She could feel him smile into her collar bone as he left a trail of fire across her skin.

"Shouldn't we, slow down a little," Clarke said breathlessly as his hand crept up under her dress to run along the strip of flesh above her leggings.

"Why should we?" he whispered into her ear as he nipped at the lobe and his hands continued to explore her curves.

"It's in the middle of the morning and Indra might hear us," Clarke pointed out with a giggle.

Finn chuckled and let his hands fall away with a sigh. "Alright, alright," he said with one last kiss to the tip of her nose. "You just look so damn good in that dress," he added pinching her bottom.

Clarke squealed and swatted his hand away. She was a little surprised at his forwardness, they'd only shared a few tame kisses on their dates, but found that she didn't really mind at all. Honestly, she was almost as eager as he was, but she was just too shy to have day sex when she knew that Indra was running around the house and would likely hear everything!

After Finn unpacked his small bag she led him outside and they spent the rest of the day exploring the grounds and riding her favorite horses. Finn was attentive and charming, and by dinner time, Clarke was convinced he was the only man for her. Indra had been casting serious looks at her all day, but she'd steadfastly ignored them all. It wasn't hard to tell that she wanted a moment alone to talk, but Clarke didn't want to spoil the day by listening to yet another lecture on guarding your heart. Indra's husband left her for another woman and she'd never quite gotten over it so her talks about love tended to be… rather practical to put it nicely, and Clarke was feeling anything but practical at the moment. If Finn had asked her to elope to Vegas right then she might actually have consider it.

His light laugh and the butterflies dancing around in her stomach as they took their seats at the dinner table, were all the indication she needed that this was good and right. Clarke had no intentions of ruining it by pulling her head out of the clouds any time soon. She'd already spent far too much time being grounded and practical.

"That was delicious," Finn said sitting back from the table with a content sigh. He'd obliterated a steak, seasoned to perfection and topped with blue cheese, along with a large helping of mashed potatoes, with brown gravy and a small serving of collard greens. The meal was a little heavy for Clarke's taste, but Indra was from the south and it often showed in her cooking. Indra stepped into the room to take away their plates, and Finn voiced his compliments to her as well.

Indra said all the appropriate words, but her smile never quite reached her eyes and Clarke frowned. It wasn't like Indra to brush off compliments about her cooking, and Finn was being so sweet! Thankfully, he didn't seem to notice Indra's frigid attitude so Clarke didn't say anything that would draw more attention to it, but she resolved that they would in fact have to have that talk sooner rather than later.

"Let's go upstairs and watch a movie or something," Clarke said quickly before the tension got awkward enough for Finn to notice.

"Sounds great," Finn said sliding away from the table, oblivious. "I've just got to go out to my car first and grab something," he said with a smile.

"Okay, I'll meet you in my sitting room." He smiled in response and hurried out the door.

As soon as he was out of sight, Clarke fled the dining room before Indra could start in about whatever was bothering her. There would be plenty of time to talk to tomorrow. For tonight, she just wanted everything to be perfect even if that did sound juvenile and silly.

When she got to her room she turned off the lights and lit a few candles, hoping that it wasn't too cheesy and obvious. She slipped off her boots and curled up on the couch, opening her netflix queue while she waited for Finn. He came in a few moments later and smiled at the candles, strategically placed around the room for the most flattering light.

"It's cozy in here," he said dropping onto the couch and pulling her legs across his lap.

"Did you get everything you needed," she asked trying to hide the flush in her cheeks with a pillow.

"Oh, uh, yeah," he said looking uneasy. " I just needed to get my cell phone charger," he said picking up the remote and searching through her queue.

He was acting strangely, and she could have sworn that she saw him plug his charger into the wall earlier today when they'd come in for tea, but it must have been something else. He was probably just nervous, she thought smiling at his profile. It was so cute to see him get as flustered as she was.

"So," Finn said into the silence, "Texas Chainsaw Massacre, huh?" He looked mildly disgusted when he turned to stare at her.

Her eyes snapped back to the screen and she flushed furiously as she remembered the dozens of horror flicks she'd lined up to watch the next time she was home. Clearly Finn didn't share her interest in campy cult classics like Night of the Living Dead or Army of Darkness.

"Yeah, tonight doesn't seem like the kind of night to talk about boomsticks," she said lightly trying to play it off as a joke. Finn's eyebrows wrinkled in confusion and she coughed to hide her embarrassment. No one got her references the way Wells did, and it would be good for her to remember that the next time she opened her big mouth!

"Why don't you pick?" she said awkwardly as he continued to stare at her.

Finn glanced back at the TV and started flicking through the categories. He stopped on Fifty Shades of Grey and turned to her grinning. "How about a little romance?" he asked sliding his hand up her leg along the tops of her thighs. Her breath caught in her throat and he his grin broadened into something wicked.

"That's fine," she choked out and he laughed, but his hand stilled just before his thumb brushed anything important.

He took his hand away to start the movie and she groaned inwardly as the opening scene began. An unrealistic portrayal of a brain dead college girl's introduction to BDSM was not exactly her idea of a romance movie, but she wasn't about to tell Finn that! The Texas Chainsaw Massacre would be more likely to put her in the mood than this crap, but she wasn't going to tell him that either. Sighing, she settled back onto the cushions, resigning the next two hours of her life to time that she'd never get back.

After an hour of actively trying not to beat her face against the coffee table, Clarke was ready to do just about anything, but sit through the movie. Finn on the other hand was clearly feeling quite different. As she looked over at his profile she noticed that his breathing had changed and his lips were slightly parted. She could feel his erection when he unconsciously clutched her legs, pressing them into his lap. He must have felt her stare, because he turned to face her and the heat in his eyes took her breath away.

"Clarke," he said softly and reached for her. She leaned into his arms eagerly enough and he crashed his lips into hers. Finn wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her onto his lap. Her legs straddled his as he pulled her down hard and she gasped into his lips. Quickly responding to his excitement, she began wantonly grinding against him. "Yeah baby, that's it," he whispered into her ear urging her to ride him harder.

She needed no further encouragement as she kissed him fiercely and fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. Every inch of skin she exposed was lavished with kisses and Finn let his head roll back on the couch as she worked her way down. By the time she reached the waist band of his jeans, she'd slid off his lap and was kneeling on the floor. She stopped and looked up to meet his eyes before going any further.

"Don't stop now," Finn said with a smirk.

Clarke popped the button on his jeans and he helped her slide them down his legs. When he settled back onto the couch again, she took a moment to drink in the sight of him. He was short but thick and she could see tiny droplets of moisture forming as she stroked him. His eyelids drooped as she moved forward, licking the tip teasingly before sliding her lips over his velvety flesh.

His fingers pulled at her hair as she moved her mouth over him and he let out a deep moan. Clarke grinned around him, enjoying how much he was enjoying it when suddenly he jerked her head hard, forcing himself as far inside her mouth as he could go and she nearly gagged. When she looked up the length of his torso reproachfully, she noticed that he wasn't looking at her, but instead he was watching the movie play behind her. He pulled her hair back hard enough to make her eyes water and then forced her forward again with both hands in her hair.

"Finn!" she choked, jerking violently out of his reach. His eyes flew to hers and he immediately started apologizing.

"Shit, Clarke! I'm so sorry. It was this stupid movie, I got carried away," he said sliding down on the floor beside her and taking her into his arms.

She remained stiff against him as he stroked her back and placed warm, light kisses in hair. Rough oral sex wasn't really her thing, and she was a little put out that he would try something like that without asking if she'd like it. After a while, she loosened up and pulled back far enough to stare into the liquid honey of his eyes. He did look very sorry. "It's okay, Finn," she said with a half hearted smile. "Just, not so rough okay?"

"Of course, Clarke, I'm so sorry!" he exclaimed, taking her face in his hands and placing a gentle kiss on her lips. He stood, and reached for the remote, flicking off the TV before reaching down to pull her up and tugging her into a hug.

"I feel a little over dressed," she said jokingly to lighten the mood. Finn smiled and made quick work of stripping her. He knelt as he peeled the leggings down her legs, placing light, sweet kisses from the tops of her thighs all the way down to the tips of her toes. She giggled as he sucked a toe into his mouth before she could pull it away. Throwing a flirtatious grin over her shoulder, she ran for the doorway leading to her bedroom in nothing but her bra and panties.

Finn caught up with her and tackled her onto the bed where they rolled around playfully until he had her pinned firmly beneath him. All playful teasing was pushed aside under a wash of tender attention. He caressed her body with his hands and tongue until she was moaning and quivering and only then did he take her. Their love making was gentle and unhurried and while Clarke never reached the heights she craved, it was sweet and special all the same.

When Finn was finished he lay on top of her panting for a few moments before rolling away to catch his breath. The cool air washed over her skin and she shivered, rolling onto her side to curl against him. He smiled down at her, but after a moment he gently disentangled himself, sitting up on the edge of the bed with his back to her.

The euphoric bubble she'd been floating in burst, and suddenly she felt very exposed where she lay naked on top of the covers, confused by his abrupt departure. Clarke reached for the blankets, pulling them up to her chin as she watched him climb off the bed and stretch. His back was to her as he started to pick up fallen clothing, pulling it on as he went.

"That was great babe," he said turning back to the bed to drop a quick kiss on her forehead. "I'm just going to head back to my room and shower," he added as he headed for the door.

"Are you coming back?" She hated herself for asking, but she couldn't quite stop the words from leaving her mouth.

"Actually," he said avoiding her eyes and rubbing the back of his neck, "I think I'll probably just hit the sack afterward. I would hate to keep you up with my snoring. You understand right?" he asked smiling sheepishly at her.

"Of course," she mumbled, trying to keep the sadness and rejection out of her voice.

"Great! I'll see you in the morning," he called as he pulled the door open and stepped quickly out of the room.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she climbed out of the bed in search of a night gown. After slipping into it and a fresh pair of panties, she blew out the candles and climbed back into bed, grabbing her cell phone off the nightstand before burrowing deep beneath the blankets. There was only one person on the planet that she wanted to talk to right now.

She dialed Wells' number, but he didn't answer. She realized that he was probably still at work, so instead she dialed the direct line to the infirmary, hoping that one of the nurses would answer.

"Infirmary," a familiar baritone grumbled down the line.

Her breath caught in her throat and her brain stopped functioning in a moment of panic as she recognized the voice. Of all the people to answer the damn phone it had to be Bellamy! That was just how her luck went.

"Hello," he said irritably.

"Bellamy," she squeaked and then cleared her throat before continuing. "I'm sorry, I mean hello Captain Blake. I was trying to reach Wells, uh… Dr. Jaha, I mean," she stammered, hoping that he couldn't hear the tears in her voice and trying frantically to get herself under control.

"Clarke?" he asked surprised.

"Yes, I'm sorry to bother you, but I really need to speak with Dr. Jaha," The tears were slowly falling now and she desperately wanted to hear Wells's soothing voice telling her this was normal and it wasn't a rejection. That Finn really did just prefer to sleep alone and that it was totally normal so that she could stop herself from falling apart.

"Jaha isn't here tonight, Dr. Griffin," Bellamy said, recovering from his surprise.

"Oh… he isn't?" she asked confused.

"No, he started his vacation today," he said slowly, like she might be too stupid to understand otherwise.

Of course! In all of her excitement to get to the ranch and start her weekend with Finn, she'd completely forgotten that Wells was leaving for Paris with his girlfriend. She felt incredibly selfish when she realized that she hadn't bothered to wish him a good trip before she left, too caught up in her personal happiness to remember his. Glancing at the alarm clock on the nightstand, she noted that it was well passed midnight. Wells was probably already halfway across the Atlantic by now. Bellamy cleared his throat and Clarke realized that she'd been silent for a long time.

"Yes, of course he is," she said quickly. "I'm sorry it just slipped my mind." She laughed unconvincingly, but Bellamy remained silent. "Look I'm so sorry to bother you. Thank you for your help." Her finger was poised to end the call, but Bellamy spoke before she could break the connection.

"Clarke… is everything okay?" he asked gruffly. There was something in his voice. It sounded strangely like concern and she was almost more confused by that, than by anything else that had happened tonight.

"Of course! Everything is fine," she said squeezing her eyes shut to stop the flow of tears, but ruined it by sniffling. Damn her traitorous emotions!

"Did that asshole do something?" His voice was low and angry as he spoke and it sounded a lot more like his usual demeanor.

Clarke was briefly confused by the question after all, she hadn't shared anything about her personal life with him, but then the image of Bellamy frowning at her last night as she left the hospital flashed into her head. Did he know Finn? She didn't hesitate long before answering, but it was long enough for him to repeat his question, a little more threateningly than the first time.

"No of course not!" Clarke insisted. Swiping a hand across her cheeks, she cleared her throat and tried to sound more forceful to discourage any more questions. "Thank you for your help Captain Blake. Have a good night."

"Clarke," he said again, but she ended the call before he could finish what he had been about to say.

She wasn't sure what to make of his interest in her well being, or his familiarity with Finn, but she wasn't about to have a conversation with him about any of this. The amount of gossip that would be swirling around work Monday over just this brief exchange made her cringe. There was no way she was adding fuel to that fire! Maybe he'd be a gentleman and stay quiet about it. Fat chance, she thought with a sigh as she settled back down into her pillows.

After selecting her "sleep" playlist and docking her phone, she wrapped herself back up in her blankets and tried unsuccessfully to fall asleep quickly. Her brain had other plans, however, and she was forced to replay the days events over and over again even into her dreams, where her subconscious changed and warped everything into nightmares that interrupted her fitful sleep long into the night.

The next morning she woke to the sounds of laughter from downstairs. She hauled herself out of bed feeling tired and headed straight for the shower, not caring if anyone was waiting on her. When she'd scrubbed herself clean and put on a cute cotton dress her mother had bought her last summer, she felt well enough to venture downstairs. Finn was sitting in the kitchen joking with one of the cleaners, a pretty young woman with a sweet smile, while Indra cooked breakfast with a frown turning down the corners of her mouth.

"Clarke!" Finn exclaimed, sliding off the stool to meet her. "You look beautiful. Did you sleep well?"

She nodded her head and smiled weakly at him while the girl, who's name she couldn't quite remember, scurried out of the room. "Still a little sleepy," she admitted when she caught Indra's sharp stare.

"You'll have that," Finn said playfully, giving her a knowing wink.

As they ate stuffed French toast and drank an entire pot of coffee, Clarke began to feel a little foolish. Finn was acting so happy and carefree and just so, well… normal that she began to question everything she'd worried over last night. Her mood lightened and soon he had her laughing and smiling along with him as he regaled them all with stories of his early career blunders and more recent public faux pas. Even Indra was smiling a little by the time he was finished and Clarke felt a million times better.

"Why don't we go for a walk?" he asked sweetly after they'd cleared their plates, plopping a kiss on her cheek with a smile.

Clarke nodded and rose. He linked his hand with hers as they left the house and her feet found a familiar path into the forest surrounding the ranch. She and her father used to walk this path all the way to the pond to go swimming when she was a girl. The memory made her smile and she started to share it with Finn before she even realized what she was doing. It wasn't like her to share personal bits of her life with people, but somehow with Finn it just felt right. She found herself wanting him to know her past, to divulge secrets that she normally kept under lock and key and she wished more than anything that her dad was here to meet him.

"My father and I used to walk this way to go swimming," she said smiling up at him as she remembered hot summer days of years past. He returned the smile, indulgently, but seemed distracted and she felt a little foolish all of a sudden, wondering how much of her conversation he'd actually been listening to in the last ten minutes.

Clarke heard his phone buzz in his pocket, and frowned, but he ignored it so she tried to do the same.

"That's nice. I hope I get to meet him. Does he live in the city?" Finn seemed totally oblivious to the pain in her eyes as she shook her head and walked ahead of him. How was it possible that he didn't know about her dad. Hadn't she talked about it before, even a little. It wasn't like she'd given him the specifics or cried on his shoulder, but she was pretty positive that she'd at least mentioned by now that he was gone.

"No, my father, he uh… he died a few years ago," she said quietly, continuing to walk when he stopped and combing her mind for something to say to make this less painful for her and awkward for him.

"Oh, wow Clarke, I'm sorry," Finn said catching up with her. "Well, I'm sure he was great, having a daughter like you!"

"He was," she said with a soft smile that didn't quite make it to her eyes. "He used to bring us here all the time to unwind from…" Clarke broke off as his phone buzzed again.

"Yeah," Finn said distractedly. "This is a nice place to visit."

"My mother didn't really like…"

"Listen, Clarke," Finn interrupted. "I'm going to have to head back early. I didn't want to tell you over breakfast because we were having such a good time, but something has come up and I need to head back into the city tonight."

Clarke tried not to let her face fall at the news. She was hoping that they'd be able to spend another night here before they had to go back to the real world, but she didn't want to seem clingy or needy. "Of course," she said quickly to mask her disappointment.

"We'll come back again soon. I promise," he said with a bright smile as he turned them around and headed back to the house at a brisk walk that she struggled to keep up with. When they got back, Indra looked at them curiously, but Finn brushed by her, taking the stairs two at a time while Clarke lingered in the entryway.

"What's going on, Clarke," Indra asked curiously, but before Clarke could answer, Finn reappeared at the top of the stairs, with a his bag in hand. He must have packed it before he came downstairs this morning.

"Somethings come up and I'm afraid I have to leave," he said smiling brightly in answer to Indra's question. She merely frowned at him and then glanced over at Clarke's forced smile.

Finn bounded down the stairs, pulled Indra into a light hug, and then dropped a quick kiss on the top of Clarke's head. "I will call you," he said sweeping passed them both.

Clarke followed him out the door and watched him stride down the steps into his waiting car. He tossed the bag into the back and then climbed the steps again to pull her into a warm kiss. His mouth melted across hers, but try as she might, she couldn't relax in his arms and soon enough he broke away with a fleeting, curious glance in her direction.

"I almost forgot to do that," he said as they broke apart. "Goodbye Clarke," he said smiling and releasing her.

"Bye," she said forcing a smile to curve her lips. For some reason she couldn't help but feel like this was a permanent farewell. It was silly, but sometimes she just got feelings that something bad was going to happen. She shook her head, trying to clear out the maudlin thoughts and waved as he climbed in his car and pulled out of the drive, honking his horn as he sped out of sight.

"Clarke," Indra called from the doorway, but Clarke was in no mood to talk. Instead she waved to Indra and jogged down the steps two at a time. She headed straight for their recently abandoned path and walked until her calves burned and the sun had fallen below the tree line, trying desperately to sort out her thoughts and control her stormy emotions.

When she got back to the house, Indra was in the living room waiting for her. It was futile to try to sneak around Indra when she'd set her mind on talking to you and Clarke simply didn't have the energy for it after the day she'd had. Putting off the conversation wouldn't make it any better so she decided to just get it over with. She sucked in a deep breath, puffing her chest out and exhaling slowly before she made her way into the room. The lamp beside Indra was switched on, and she was reading when Clarke walked in, but she quickly put the book down when she saw Clarke standing in the doorway.

"Hey," Clarke said quietly, sitting down on the couch next to her and fiddling with the hem of her dress.

"He's wrong for you Clarke," Indra said firmly. Of course Indra would get right to it. She'd never been one to mince words when she had something on her mind a "flaw" that had always irked her mother. "He may be a nice boy, but he's wrong for you. I'm afraid for you, ladybug," Indra said as she stroked a comforting hand down Clarke's back. The childhood nickname tugged a smile from Clarke's lips, but she just nodded into her lap without speaking. "Now," Indra said sitting back and looking into Clarke's face, "Would you like to have a little dinner before you head back into the city?"

Clarke was surprised that Indra didn't say more about Finn, but not surprised at all that she had known that Clarke would leave tonight regardless of how late it was. She'd known Clarke all her life and could read her moods almost as well as Wells so she knew when Clarke needed to run and tonight was one of those nights. "I'll eat first," she said with a smile as Indra pulled her to her feet and led her into the kitchen where she had a plate already made up.

Clarke ate quickly, without speaking and then thanked Indra and then headed upstairs to gather the few things she'd be taking back with her. Most of it would stay here as she had doubles of it in her apartment, but some things, like her cell phone and makeup bag traveled back and forth with her.

She'd missed a call from Wells while she was out, but the number wasn't from his cell phone and she wasn't sure if she should call it back so instead she sighed and tucked the phone into her pocket. When she was finished, she met Indra in the entryway and received a fierce hug.

"See you soon," Indra said pulling away. They both knew it might be a few weeks, or even a month before Clarke got the chance to come back, but Indra always had the same farewell regardless.

Clarke nodded and hugged her again. "You take care of yourself while I'm gone."

"Don't worry about me," Indra said laughing and pushing her out the door. "Drive carefully," she called as Clarke hopped in her car and waved goodbye. Indra was still standing on the porch waving as Clarke rounded the final curve in the drive and the house disappeared from sight.

The drive seemed much longer on the way back. Perhaps it was just her body dreading the return to work and the hustle and bustle of the city. With no Wells waiting there to lift her spirits and an almost definite awkward interrogation from Bellamy awaiting her, she was really in no hurry to get back. But Clarke wasn't one to shirk her responsibilities, so she just turned up the radio and headed back to face the music.