.

.

The Valley smells like cool, fresh dew and meadowgrass. Clarke peeks out to the morning-light with a easy smile, and then drops to her knees, tying up the ends of Madi's bandage wrapped to her knee.

Madi had ran into one of her older traps before dawn, limping in and stubbornly repeating "no, I'm fine, I'm fine!" while Clarke fussed and scolded her gently. The bleeding has already lessened. Clarke's fingers lift up a pair of white daisies, tucking them proudly against the crimson-stained gauze.

"Why don't you ever let me call you Mom, Klark?"

It feels like something hot and heavy drops down in Clarke's gut. "… What did you say?" she murmurs, going wide-eyed and staring into Madi's own blue-green eyes. So innocent. Full of life.

"You won't let me call you—"

Clarke interrupts, shaking her head in growing bemusement, "Not the Mom thing, the… the other thing."

"Lexa calls you Klark," Madi informs her, deliberately in a slow, almost mocking tone. As if reminding Clarke that this is as factual as the sun setting in the west every day and jobi nuts messing you up.

"Yeah, well, only she can do that, Madi." Clark doesn't want to snap at her, lose her temper and run from this strangely emotional conversation, but finds herself doing it anyway. She jerks back onto her feet, leaving Madi resting on the edge of their little, snug cot. "And why do you want to call me your mother?"

Madi shrugs behind her. It's another quiet moment before Clarke realizes her pulse is going so fast.

"You and Lexa are… my moms, I guess. You both tell me what I need to hear and take care of me." Clarke's hand grips around the washing bowl, quivering, before she empties its bloody, soapy contents outside of the window. "I really, really like her, Clarke," Madi says breathlessly, grinning and still tentatively cradling the sides of her injured leg with both gloved hands. "She's smart and she's kind and she's the bravest of all the Commanders… I wish I could have known Lexa when she was around."

God, she can't do this. Not this.

Clarke looks ahead, into the blinding, white morning-light, emptying her thoughts. Tears rolling into existence. She wipes underneath her eye with the back of her forefinger, pretending to cheerful once again.

"I wish you could have too…"

Madi smiles like a pleasant, radiant rush of warmth and Clarke would do anything to protect that.

Protect her.

When the morning-light vanishes, and she's by herself with her adoptive daughter fast-asleep in their cot, Clarke remains seated to the floor. Madi's leg will scar, she thinks, leaving a long, jagged silvery-white gash underneath her kneecap. It'll be better if they keep using plant-based tinctures for further healing.

Clarke's scars glow moon-silver in artificial light. The ones along her chest and her arms and stomach. She examines herself, topless, shifting her palm to hold firmly over her diaphragm. Lexa

The bullet in Lexa's diaphragm she could never get out. An act of hatred that stole her from Clarke.

With a sob-stifled, soundless breath, Clarke rests her head backwards onto the hut's wall.

Klark…

She dreams of her, Lexa's nightblood dripping off her twin swords, candles gleaming on tabletops and stacks of old, dusty books, the Flame bright-blue and flashing intermittently like a heartbeat...

Ai hod yu in…

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The 100 isn't mine. MMMMMM I LOVE PAIN I DON'T LOVE THAT MY COMMANDER IS GONE,,,, I haven't really gotten the chance to write about Clexa + Madi so this is my sorry attempt dvsjknsnj we got "Lost" for the official Femslash February 2019 prompt and "Covered With Scars" for my additional fanfic trope! I wasn't ecpecting it to go this direction but hey it does happen on occasion! Do yall miss Clexa too? Let me know! Any thoughts/comments are totally encouraged!