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Summary:

Clexa and The 100 Fic

Picks up 3 months after MW

Chapter 1

She was lost in a sea of green. She felt heavy, as if an anvil had been planted inside her - right in her chest; her knees felt weak, her breathing was uneven and she was pinned to the ground. No matter how hard she urged her legs to move forward they remained rooted in their spot. Her eyes burned, they ached to close but she wouldn't let them. She couldn't let them. Everything was happening at once, she couldn't keep up with the pace. This wasn't happening, couldn't be happening, she felt dizzy before her mind ran itself blank and all that was before her was those piercing green eyes.

"May we meet again."

It's nothing more than a whisper, but it's louder than the war horns, the sound of armour and metal, deafening compared to the rush of blood in her ears. It's a second blow, Clarke feels it in her bones.

What was worse was that the whisper wouldn't stop.

It was now on repeat. Slowly getting louder with every repetition, but somehow remaining a whisper. She tried to shake her head, she tried to scream, she tried to move. The burning in her eyes worsening, the weight in her chest steadily pushing her deeper into the mud. Her mind reeling, she tried to swallow her silent scream of protest. She willed herself forward. Lexa!

She had to stop her. Her surroundings began to swim around her, her vision blurred in and out of focus, a wave of nausea overtook her before everything went black.

Then she could feel herself wandering, she was searching the black expanse before her, everywhere she turned she could see nothing. I need light. She thought as she reached her hands forward into the darkness. As if on cue a spotlight lit above her, casting an eery shadow around her, making the darkness beyond the spotlight even worse. She felt her body shudder. And then she felt it in her right hand. A heavy object…metal, evenly balanced. Clarke shook her head, panic setting in. She was holding her gun. What was worse was that involuntarily she found herself raising it. She stared at the gun and her arm curiously before searching out beyond it and looking for her guns target.

Dante.

BANG

The old man crumples before her. Blood escaping his lips as he hits the floor.

No…no….No! Not again… Clarke said silently to herself, more of a prayer than anything else. She looked at the gun in disgust, she didn't even remember pulling the trigger, she just did it. As though the gun and her right arm had a mind of its own. It made no sense.

Turning her head away from the gun, Clarke noticed a small light in the distance.

She didn't remember starting to walk but she was never the less moving forward. Or was she? Every step toward the light she felt like it was farther away. She tried to run. She had to get out the darkness. Move Clarke she silently willed herself. Just move.

It felt as though her feet would give out from under her, she couldn't take another step, yet she did. She trudged toward the light as though on a mission to save her own life, she quickened her pace.

Finally, the light began to grow. How long had she been moving for? Her legs ached and burned screaming for oxygen that her lungs just couldn't supply. Clarke's breathing was just as ragged as when she was lost in the sea of green…no the green eyes a shudder ran through her body at the thought…No Clarke, just move your fucking feet. And she did.

All at once the light spread out before her, finally Clarke thought. Just as the thought finished all the air was sucked out of her body as the light touched what was before her.

A putrid smell filled Clarke's nose, a bitter taste filled her mouth, ragged gasps escaped her body as she took in the sight.

Bodies. Clarke took in the sight, combing over each and every one, seeing it all absorbing the sight before her. She knew this place.

She was standing in the dining hall of Mount Weather. Clarke gasped again. She whirled around on the spot, the bodies were everywhere she turned, she couldn't escape them, and then she smelt it. Fire. Clarke whirled around again and her eyes burned all over again at the sight. The room was on fire. A whole new wave of panic set in. She had to get out of here. She had to find an exit, something, anything.

Clarke stumbled in her blind panic, she struggled to stand again. She pushed with her hands and found not cement but flesh. Clarke reeled back, pushing herself to a kneeling position as she looked around in shock. The bodies, they had multiplied. She was no longer only with the dead mountain men, she was kneeling right on top of Anya and underneath her were hundreds of grounders.

She screamed aloud and shot straight to a stand still as she absorbed the horrific site. She stood atop a mountain of bodies and below her the fire danced, slowly enveloping each corpse as it rose toward Clarke. No, no…no…please she pleaded.

CRACK

Clarke's eyes blinked open, a tiny gasp escaped her lips. Without moving she tried to absorb her surroundings. She had heard a snap of a branch. She was sure she had. She had been out here for three months now. She knew the natural sounds of forest, she knew what belonged and what didn't. She remained her balled up position on the ground, her eyes combed the scene, looking far beyond what the light of her small fire reached. Slowly Clarke went to tighten her grip on the delicate dagger that was in her hand before she realized she couldn't possibly be gripping it more than she already was, she winced when she realized just how tight she was holding it. She must have been clenching it throughout her entire dream again. Clarke let out a small sigh as she continued searching the woods. She didn't move, if someone was out there, she wasn't going to let them know she was alert, poised, ready.

Come on…She thought after a long while. Where are you…

Clarke tried to concentrate on controlling her breathing. She tried not to think about what it would be like to just drop her guard and let whatever or whoever was out there take her. Let them end the nightmares once and for all. It's not as though she hadn't thought about it every day since landing on this god forsaken planet. She tried not to think about her terrifying nights spent tossing and turning, waking up to find new bruises, aching muscles and joints, burning in her throat and eyes. She tried not to think about the fact that she has spent every morning waking up from her night terrors with vomit on her breath and salty tears on her cheek. She really didn't understand how she hadn't choked on it and died already.

She swallows her next thought, the thought that tells her she wishes she had.

Clarke let out an involuntary shudder again that coursed through her body as a single tear dropped down her cheek again. She deserved this, she deserved all of this. She deserved to have sleepless nights and be stalked by what she could only assume was death. Her eyes remained trained to the forest, still acutely listening and watching for the threat. Her silent battle within her waged on while she waited for dawn or death — whichever came first.