Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Author's Note: I usually try to stay away from speculating about the future of a show, but I really wanted to write something about Clarke's journey back to Camp Jaha. This will all be AU once season 3 starts, but whatever. This story is going to be four chapters with each chapter covering one of the four seasons over the almost year after what happened at Mount Weather. Chapter one picks up after Clarke walks away from Camp Jaha and covers the more immediate aftermath of that decision. Since Jason Rothenburg has confirmed that two seasons so far lasted about a month each and since the characters were worried about surviving the winter, I'm placing the end of season 2 partway through the fall. And I used Google to estimate all the walking distances. Everything else should be self-explanatory. Enjoy!
Fall
If someone had told Clarke twenty-four hours ago that she was going to walk away from her people, she would have laughed in their face. And if they had somehow managed to convince her of it, she would have expected it to be the hardest thing she ever did. But it's not. In fact, it's one of the easiest decisions she's made lately. She knew from the minute they left Mount Weather that this needed to happen. The only moment she wavered was when Bellamy tried to stop her. But even Bellamy hadn't been enough. Clarke's guilt is too great for that. She needs to deal with it, and she needs to deal with it alone.
She told a handful of people that she was leaving. Raven, Lincoln and Octavia, Kane, Monty, and Bellamy. (She didn't have the heart to tell her mom. Kane said he'd take care of it after she's gone.) They all seem to think she's going to come back. Even Bellamy with his quiet "May we meet again" seems to believe that they actually will. Clarke doesn't have the heart to tell any of them the truth. This is not some temporary break to recover her strength. She's leaving. For good. And she has no intention of coming back. As far as Camp Jaha is concerned, she's going to walk out into the forest and disappear.
She walks for nearly an hour before realizing that she has no plan. Her mind had never really made it past the leaving part. Now that she's actually managed that, she suddenly has no idea what to do with herself.
Basic survival seems like a good place to start. She's going to need food and water. Her gun is resting in her holster, but there's just the one clip left in it and that probably won't go very far in the long run. She's going to need some supplies if she wants to last more than a few days out here. The most logical conclusion is to go to Finn's bunker. While the former delinquents raided it for specific supplies during their stay in the drop ship, they never actually cleaned the whole thing out. The essentials should still be there.
It doesn't take long to reach her destination. She's mildly surprised at how well she can navigate in the woods considering she's only been on the ground for a couple months. Sometimes it feels like it's been a whole lifetime. Maybe in some ways it has.
The bunker looks just as abandoned as ever. Clarke climbs down the hatch to find that the body of the Grounder is still on the floor beneath the shower curtain Finn used to cover him. The sight of him lying there doesn't bother her this time. And somehow that bothers her more than anything else. She pulls the shower curtain off his body to see if he has a knife. He does. Clarke takes it and slips it into her belt. He doesn't need it now anyway. On an impulse, she folds up the shower curtain and takes that too. It might come in handy.
It takes very little time to go through the tiny bunker. She finds a rucksack in one corner and begins filling it with what little she might need. One of the boxes includes some wire that she could use for fishing. She pulls a nails out of one of the shelves to use for a hook. Further digging results in a rope, an empty canteen, a small first aid kit, a canister of matches, an axe, and a collapsible tent. There's also a blanket that looks fairly warm, which Clarke rolls up and ties to the top of the rucksack.
The tiny two-headed deer Finn made for her is still sitting on the table. She picks it up and carefully slips it into a side pocket of the bag. As much as the sight of it hurts, she can't bring herself to leave it here. It's all she has left of him. Of any of them, really. What little else she owns is still back in Camp Jaha. Not that she really had any personal effects anyway, other than her father's watch, which is already on her wrist. But she can't go back now. Only forward. That part of her life is done. It's time to move on.
After giving the place one last look, Clarke climbs out of the bunker and leaves the dead Grounder behind. Once outside, she just stands there for a moment, trying to decide where to go. The ground's a big place. She could go pretty much anywhere. But her gaze is instinctively drawn in the direction of Mount Weather. She can't leave quite yet. She still has one last bit of unfinished business. She may not be deserving of rest, but she can at least give it to those she killed. Besides, her mother's going to discover her absence pretty soon, and once she does, she'll probably make them send out a search party. But Clarke doesn't want to be found. And like it or not, Mount Weather is the last place anyone will look for her right now.
She sets off in the direction of the mountain.
X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X
It's a long walk to Mount Weather. The sun has already begun its descent by the time Clarke reaches the giant metal door. She stands in front of it for a long time, wondering if she even has the courage to go in. Then Maya's face flashes before her eyes, and she realizes it doesn't matter. She murdered all of these people regardless of whether or not they were innocent. She owes them at least this much.
The back-up generator is still on, so the elevators still function. She rides one down to level five. She expects it to feel like the longest minute of her life, but the next thing she knows she's stepping out and turning the corner into the dining hall. It looks like something out of a horror film. Bodies are slumped everywhere. They dropped dead in the middle of everything. Eating, talking, kicking a ball, playing the piano. One minute they were going about their lives, and the next they were being burned alive. Now the only sound is the faint mechanical hum of the vents bringing down air. Air that Clarke let in. Air that killed them.
Before she deals with the bodies, Clarke makes herself walk through the halls. She looks in all of the living quarters, taking in all of the little signs of life. Paintings, books, stuffed animals, jewelry. These were the homes of ordinary people. People who didn't ask to be born into this world. They were only trying to stay alive.
Even so, it doesn't truly hit her until she reaches the school. The room she walks into is full of craft supplies and bright pictures. The small chairs around the tables and the toy bins in the corner make it clear that this was a room for younger children. That hurts badly enough. But what truly grabs her are the pictures on the wall. Some are done in pencil and some in paint. They cover a variety of subjects, but they all have shaky names scribbled in the corner. Clarke can feel her eyes beginning to burn as she looks at them.
And then it gets worse. Some of the drawings show clumsily drawn people standing on green grass beneath a yellow sun in a blue sky. They look like the drawings Clarke used to make as a child dreaming of Earth. And that's when it finally slams home. These people weren't so different from her. In fact, they even had the same dream – the ground. The difference is that the people of Mount Weather will never have their dream realized because Clarke stole it away to give it to her own people.
She sinks to her knees on the brightly colored carpet as tears begin to run down her face. Harsh, ugly sobs force themselves out of her mouth, but she can't find it in herself to care. In that moment, it no longer matters that these people would have killed her own. All that matters are those tiny little hands drawing pictures of a ground they will never see. Hands that have now been stilled forever because Clarke decided the ground should go to someone else.
X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X
She wakes up to find herself lying on the floor of the same classroom. Apparently she cried herself to sleep. Her watch says it's almost morning. The sun won't quite be up yet, but that hardly matters. Clarke has done what little mourning she can. Now there's work to do.
She pulls a set of sheets from the nearest housing unit and takes it to level five. First she piles on wooden items. Chairs, benches, small tables, anything she can find. Enough to start a good fire. She drags it all to the elevator and rides to the top. After lugging all the wood outside, she arranges it in a fashion similar to the funeral pyre from Tondc.
With that done, she heads back down for the bodies. She starts at one end of the dining hall, piling bodies onto the sheets and dragging them to the elevator. Once it's full, she rides it up to the top and takes them outside to the pile of wood. It seems ironic that only now in death are these people finally coming to the ground they fought so hard for in life. Clarke places as many of the bodies as she can on the wood pile. Then she pulls out a match and sets it on fire.
For a moment she stands there, unsure of what to do. She feels the strong urge to say something, but these were not her people. She knows nothing about any of them, including what their funerals traditions might have been. In the end, she settles for the Grounder version.
"Yu gonplei ste odon," she says to the pyre.
The words themselves would have meant nothing to these people. But it seems fitting somehow to bid them farewell in the language of the people whose blood kept them alive. She stands there for a moment longer just to be sure the fire is strong enough to do its job. Then she goes down to gather more bodies.
The rest of the day is spent moving bodies. She gathers up a group, takes them outside, places them on the fire, adds more wood if necessary, says the same Grounder phrase, and then goes back down into the mountain to start again. It's mind-numbing work. But it gives her something to focus on, and the ache of her arms reminds her that she's alive when all these people are dead. When she gets hungry, she eats some of the food still sitting on the tables in the dining hall. It should bother her to eat food left by dead people, but she's beginning to think that she's past being unnerved by just about anything anymore.
The sun slowly crosses from one horizon to the next as she works. It's nearly setting when Clarke sets the last group of bodies, including Dante Wallace, onto the pyre. Three hundred and forty bodies all told. Three hundred and forty-one if she counts Maya, who she plans on burying instead. (But not including Cage, who Lincoln left out in the woods to rot like he deserves.) Three hundred and forty-one people killed by the throwing of one lever. It's almost too horrific to imagine. Almost, but not quite. And that makes it all even worse.
Clarke leaves the smoldering pyre behind and heads to the Reaper tunnels. She found a tone generator just in case, but there's not a Reaper in sight when she pushes open the door. Maybe the Grounders have already reclaimed all of their people.
Fox's tiny body is still resting inside of the giant bin. Clarke pulls her out and gently wraps her in a sheet before carrying her back to the main door where Maya's body waits. She takes both bodies out past the smoldering pyre to a spot a short distance away from the giant metal door. Then she takes up the shovel she found in a supply closet and begins to dig.
It takes a considerable amount of time to dig two holes and then refill them. The sun is dipping beneath the horizon by the time she finishes, and the pyre has finally burned itself out. Clarke's arms are on fire, but she's not quite done yet. She takes some sticks from the tree line and ties them together to make two small crosses. Then she uses the Grounder's knife to carve the names onto them before placing them in the ground.
"In peace may you leave this shore," she says as she looks down at the two graves. "In love may you find the next. Safe passage on your travels. May we meet again."
The words feel right for honoring Fox. She was from the Ark, after all. But they seem to fit Maya as well. She might not have been one of Clarke's people, but she protected them as though she was. And for that Clarke could never have repaid her.
By that point the sun is all but gone. As much as Clarke dislikes the idea of spending the night in the mountain, she knows starting out now would be a bad idea. Things between the Grounders and the Sky People are a complete unknown, and she doesn't fancy the idea of being shot by a jumpy scout. So instead she heads back into the mountain one last time.
X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X
She sleeps on a bed that night. A real bed. It's a bit easier knowing that the mountain has been emptied of bodies. Plus she's exhausted from all of the carrying and digging. All too soon she's opening her eyes to a wall clock that says it's morning again. Time to get going.
Before she leaves, Clarke decides to trade her clothes in for something more durable. She manages to find some jeans that fit and look a little less worn, as well as a grey shirt with long sleeves and a hood. She also locates some new socks and trades in her shoes for a pair of boots that look far more durable. Her black gloves and faded blue jacket she keeps. She makes a point of grabbing some extra pair of socks too, as well as some spare clothing. In particular she packs a thick, dark blue sweater. Winter is on the way, and Clarke has no idea how cold it gets around here. She needs to be prepared just in case.
With all that done, she heads down to the school one final time. This time she sets her teeth before she goes in. She gathers up some pencils, a few sketch pads, and a set of watercolors and brushes that she puts into her bag as well. She hasn't done much drawing since coming to the ground, but now she has all the time in the world. Might as well give it a try.
As she turns to leave, she catches sight of the drawings on the walls. She pulls off one of the ones with grass and a sky and carefully slips it inside one of her sketch pads where it won't get crumpled. Then she heads out and doesn't look back.
She makes a quick stop in the mess hall to fill her canteen and puts some food in a cloth napkin for later. Then she takes the elevator up to the top. Once there, she pulls open the gun locker. It won't hurt to have extra ammo. There's no telling where she'll end up or how much she might need. As an afterthought, she slings a rifle over her shoulder and packs some ammo for that as wall. It'll be easier to hunt with than her handgun.
Finally satisfied that she's ready, Clarke walks out the giant metal door. She's barely made it past the ashes of the pyre and out into the morning sunlight when she stops dead.
Jasper is standing a few feet away. He freezes too at the sight of her. For a moment they just stand there, staring at one another. It occurs to Clarke that he must've hiked through the night to get here this early. It shows a blatant disregard for his own safety that bothers her. The fact that he's carrying a rifle does little to ease her worry. In fact, it actually scares her more. How easy would it be for him to shoot her right now? He certainly looks hurt and angry enough to do it. And if he did, would she even care? Jasper's hand clenches and unclenches around the stock as if the possibility has occurred to him as well. But then he squares his shoulders.
"I'm here for Maya," he says, his voice cold and hoarse.
"I buried her," Clarke says softly. She points over in the direction of the two crosses. "Her and Fox."
Jasper gives her a curt nod and then turns in the direction of the graves, clearly finished with her. Clarke resumes her own walk toward the tree line. She's only made it a few steps when she turns back around.
"Jasper?" she blurts out. Jasper turns, a cold expression on his face. He clearly hates her. Clarke doesn't blame him. She killed the girl he loved. And nothing she does could ever make up for that. They both know she wouldn't change her decision. She would do anything to keep her people safe. Even if it makes them hate her. But Maya deserved better, and so does Jasper.
"If I could take her place, I would," Clarke says finally. She means it. If giving up her life would buy him some peace, if it would help any of them, then she would do it in a heartbeat.
"But you can't," Jasper says flatly, his jaw muscles tightening. "She's dead. They all are."
Then he's walking off toward the graves. Clarke swallows hard. She knows he's right. But that doesn't make his rejection hurt any less.
She stands there for a moment, trying to think of something to say. Anything. But nothing comes. So finally she just turns away and heads for the trees, leaving Jasper alone staring down at Maya's grave. She doesn't dare look back.
X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X
She doesn't really know where to go, so she points herself away from the mountain and just walks. She walks the whole day without running into another human being. A deer crosses her path at one point and she thinks about shooting it so she'll have some meat, but then it looks her in the eyes and she can't bring herself to lift the rifle. So instead she watches in silence as it wanders off into the forest.
The second day is more of the same. She keeps walking aimlessly in the same direction. She has no idea where she's going, but she can't find it in herself to care. It doesn't really matter. What does matter is that she keeps walking, keeps putting distance between herself and Camp Jaha. The fact that she's walking through Grounder territory doesn't bother her at all. There's one point of about an hour where she knows she's definitely being followed, but even then she can't see her pursuer. And whoever it is has the good sense to leave her alone. Part of Clarke actually hopes she does run across a warrior so she can get into a fight. She can't decide if it's because of all her pent up anger or because she's suddenly turned suicidal. But in the end it doesn't really matter because she doesn't see another soul all day.
At night she makes a campfire just like she did last night. She figures she can't be far from Tondc now. Part of her begins to wonder if Lexa might be there. The commander had made the village her headquarters of sorts during the preparation for battle. It's been four days, but she could still be there. Clarke is almost tempted to go find out. If anyone could understand what she's going through, it's Lexa. But at the same time, Clarke knows she couldn't look the commander in the eye anymore. Not without seeing Lexa's hardened face admitting that she's just betrayed everyone Clarke cares about. Clarke may understand the decision now, but she still can't forgive the personal betrayal. She's not sure she'll ever be able to.
Her train of thought is interrupted by a slight rustling just outside the ring of light created by the campfire. Clarke has her gun out in a flash.
"Who's there?" she calls.
In answer, a figure steps out into the light. Clarke's eyes widen as she recognizes them.
"I could have killed you," Indra says flatly.
"You could have tried," Clarke fires back.
She lowers her gun, but makes sure not to set it down. Indra looks pointedly at the campfire, as if asking permission to sit. Clarke shrugs in answer.
"What are you doing here?" she asks wearily.
"Looking for you," Indra says as she crouches down beside the fire. She extends her hands as if to warm them, but she seems to be watching Clarke from the corner of her eye. "The commander went to speak with your people yesterday. They said you had left. I told my scouts to keep an eye out for you."
"Why?" Clarke asks.
"You destroyed the Mountain Men," Indra says, looking up at her. "You were left with only five warriors, and yet you still defeated them. That makes you a great warrior yourself. "
Clarke doesn't bother to point out that she hardly qualifies as a warrior. Neither do Monty, Jasper, or Maya, for that matter. She also doesn't point out that they were only forced to take the mountain alone because the Grounders had abandoned them.
"You think I'm a threat?" she asks with a dark chuckle.
"I do not know," Indra says. She looks at Clarke through narrowed eyes.
"Well, I'm not," Clarke says bitterly. "I'll be gone in the morning, and then you won't have to worry about keeping an eye on me."
"You are leaving your people," Indra says. She clearly doesn't approve.
"They'll be fine without me," Clarke says. Her gaze drifts to the campfire, which looks like a smaller version of the pyre she built at Mount Weather.
"You are their leader," Indra says strongly.
"I did my job, okay?" Clarke practically yells. Indra's eyebrows lift a fraction in the closest she ever gets to looking surprised. "I saved them. And to do it, I killed three hundred and forty-one people. And now every time I look at them..." She trails off and shakes her head. "Why am I even explaining this to you?"
She expects Indra to launch into a lecture on leadership and the sacrifices necessary in battle, but what comes instead surprises her.
"Among our people, there is a thing we call battle sickness," Indra says quietly. "It is common among seconds who face battle for the first time, but it may come in older warriors as well. It comes when a warrior is forced to make many kills that he wishes he did not. Those who suffer from it are said to be haunted by the dead."
"How do you cure it?" Clarke asks softly.
"You must make peace with their spirits," Indra says. "It is different for every warrior. It may take days or months. But until you make peace with the dead, you cannot go on living."
There's something in her eyes that says this is more than just an old wives' tale.
"You had it, didn't you?" Clarke says. It's more a statement than a question.
"Once," Indra said quietly. Her gaze drops to the fire. "When I was a young second."
"What did you do?"
"I went to the sea," Indra says. Clarke is mildly surprised that she answered. "I stayed there alone for many days while I made my own peace. How is none of your concern. You must discover your own way. But one morning I woke and the ghosts were gone."
Clarke lets her own gaze drift to the fire as she thinks that over. According to the maps she's seen, the sea is to the east. The same direction she's been instinctively walking for the last day. Maybe it's a sign of some kind.
"You said the commander went to see my people," she says suddenly, looking back up.
"She wished to discuss the state of the alliance," Indra says. "Your people have agreed to negotiate a truce. But they will meet only with me. Not the commander."
That doesn't entirely surprise Clarke. Indra was the one who set Lincoln free to join them. And she spared Octavia's life in the tunnels when, according to Lincoln, tradition demanded her death. It makes sense that the Sky People would trust her more than Lexa.
"How is she?" Clarke asks in spite of herself. She doesn't have to say who she means.
"She worries for you," Indra says. "She hides it well, but it is there."
"If she's so worried about me, then she shouldn't have left me alone in front of Mount Weather," Clarke says bitterly.
"She made her choice," Indra says with a shrug. Something about that gesture tells Clarke that some part of Indra doesn't agree with Lexa either, although she'd never admit it.
"The sea is to the east," Indra says, pushing herself to her feet in a silent signal that she's done talking. "If you leave at sunrise, you should reach it by sunset."
"When you see my people-" Clarke begins.
"I will say nothing of you," Indra tells her. "Neither will my scouts. This is a journey you must make alone."
"Thank-you," Clarke says quietly.
Indra nods and then she's gone, stepping out of the firelight into the darkness of the trees. Clarke sits there for a long time puzzling over that conversation. She can't figure out why Indra decided to help her. Finally she gives up. She has a feeling she'll never understand Indra. Instead, she lies down on the cold ground and tries to go to sleep.
X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X
It seems she's only just closed her eyes when she finds herself being awakened by rays of early morning sunlight. She kicks some dirt over her fire's ashes, eats some of the food she took from Mount Weather, and sets off again. This time she walks east with a purpose, repeatedly checking her direction to be sure she's going the right way. The walk is long, but she hardly minds. There's something about the forest that makes everything else seem to fade away. It's almost as if she's the only thing that exists out here.
The sun is setting when she finally reaches the sea. It's a magnificent sight. The water stretches away as far as she can see. It rolls up against the sandy beach in waves before pulling back again. The gentle whooshing sound is strangely calming. A breeze rolls off the water, caressing her face and filling her nose with the scent of salt.
Clarke drops her pack on the sandy shore and strips off her socks and shoes. The sand feels strange against her bare feet. It's rough, but not unpleasant. She squishes her toes against the grainy substance as she tries to get used to the odd feeling.
Once her feet adjust, she walks slowly across the sand to the very edge of the water. A wave comes in, dousing her feet with cold water. Clarke yelps in surprise. The wave retreats and takes some of the sand with it, which causes her feet to sink a bit. She stands very still as another wave comes in. It's still cold, but not quite as shocking. Once more, her feet sink further into the sand. A few waves later and she can no longer see her toes. Clarke can feel the corners of her mouth threatening to turn up into something resembling a smile.
She rolls up her jeans and pulls her feet out of the sand so she can wade further into the water. It no longer feels as cold as it first did. She wades out until the water is almost to her knees. It's amazingly clear. She can see her feet resting on the squishy sand below. There are tiny objects on the seabed as well. She pushes up her sleeve before bending down and picking one up. It's a seashell. The first Clarke has ever seen. She runs her finger carefully across the spherical pattern, and this time she can't help just the barest hint of a smile.
The sun is just barely visible over the horizon. Its last light has turned the sky, and by extension the sea, a collage of pinks and oranges and reds. The sight is truly awe-inspiring. As she stands knee deep in salt water with a seashell in her head and the brilliant sunset before her, Clarke begins to think that Indra was right. This is the sort of place that could bring healing.
X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X
She sets up her tent on the beach about halfway between the water and the tree line. It turns out the sand is far more comfortable to sleep on than the ground in the woods. And when the sun comes up the next morning, it's even more beautiful than the sunset.
Clarke runs barefoot on the beach her first morning. There's something strangely liberating about it. Besides, she might as well keep herself in shape. Then she turns her attention to other issues. She spends some time chopping down small trees with the axe. Most of it gets set aside as firewood, but she also uses some longer pieces to construct a frame that she ties together with some of the wire she brought. She ties the shower curtain inside of it to create a water basin like the one they had back at the drop ship. There's a small river a ways back into the woods, and it takes a few trips with her small canteen to get the basin half full. Along the way she picks up some plants, berries and nuts that she knows to be edible. She ties more of the wire into attempted snares which she sets in the forest in the hopes of trapping some smaller animals. She also rigs up a fishing pole, although she doesn't manage to catch anything. Not that it really matters. She's going to have lots of time to get good at it.
That night she lays on the beach and stares up at the stars. But that makes her think of looking at them with Finn, and that just makes his loss sting all over again. It's hard to believe he's only been gone a few weeks. It feels like so long since she's heard his voice. Thinking of his death makes her think of Lexa, which makes her think of Mount Weather, which reminds her of exactly why she's out here in the first place. And just like that, her tiny sliver of peace is gone.
She doesn't get much sleep that night.
X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X
When the sun finally comes up in the morning, she's decided it's time to set about taking Indra's advice. She needs to find a way to make peace with the dead. She sits on the beach for a long time listening to the waves as she tries to figure out how in the world to go about that. Then she remembers the pencils and sketch pads in her pack. Dante seemed to find some level of peace in his art. Maybe Clarke can do the same.
She decides to start all the way back at the beginning. If she's going to make peace with the dead, she might as well make it with all of them. So she starts with Atom. She draws him lying on the grass with his face burned and the small knife lying on the grass beside him. It doesn't hurt as much as she expects it to. Atom was dying anyway. What she did was mercy. But it was still her fault, and so she draws him out as best she can.
When she finishes with him, she decides to draw Wells. She might not have killed him directly, but he got himself arrested so he could come to the ground with her. In some ways that makes it her fault. Her throat tightens up as she carefully sketches out his face. Things have moved so fast on the ground that's she's barely had time to think about his loss. But now that she does, she misses him. Wells is the one person she wouldn't mind having around right now. The one person who knew her enough that his presence wouldn't make her feel guilty.
She chooses to draw him the way she thinks he must have looked his last night sitting quietly on watch rather than sprawled out with his throat slit like they had found him the next morning. When she finishes, the sight of his face makes her heart ache. She needs his quiet manner right now. He would know exactly what to say. What she wouldn't give to go back to quietly playing chess with him. She misses those days. Actually, she misses her best friend. Misses him a lot more than she realized.
Even so, it's not until Charlotte's scared face begins to take shape on the next page that tears finally start pouring down Clarke's face. It takes a long time before they finally stop.
So how was it? Please leave a review and let me know what you thought. It would literally make my day. The next chapter of this will be up in a few days. In the mean time, feel free to check out some of my other stories for this show. "Exit the Hero" is my take on why Clarke decided to leave and her thoughts during her good-bye to Bellamy, so it's basically a prologue to this story. "This Is Life Without You" is a sort of companion piece to this story that shows Lexa trying to come to terms with her betrayal of Clarke as the coalition crumbles around her. It includes her visit to Camp Jaha that Indra references in this chapter as well as another event that will be shown from Clarke's point of view in the next chapter of this story. Thanks for reading!