This is a gift for Klarkgriffin_dor for The 100 Rare Pair Secret Santa. Merry Christmas!

She sat on her horse, hands resting on the pommel of her saddle, ignoring the rain dripping through her braids and down her cheeks. She was mostly hidden underneath the trees, the branches keeping some of the rain off. Normally, she would have made sure to hide herself better, but she wasn't concerned that the sky girl had seen her. She'd managed not to see her in the two weeks that Anya had been tracking her, so Anya didn't bother to make more of an effort.

She continued to watch the small camp at the bottom of the slope. At least the girl'd had the sense to put her back to the rocks at the bottom of the opposite slope, and drape some types of fur over it, propped up with long, broken branches. Even her fire was carefully contained. The girl was learning.

Anya still wasn't sure how Clarke had managed to survive three months out in the wild, few weapons or resources. She chalked it up to the girl's incredibly annoying stubbornness, her belief that she was right; always right. The girl simply refused to die, too stubborn and angry. And perhaps even too guilty.

Anya knew what she'd done at the mountain, had walked through the metal halls, stood in the circle of death. She hadn't understood the full mechanics of the mountain people's weak biology, this thing called radiation; sun poisoning. But she hadn't needed to understand it, everything she needed to know was in the room of death, bodies boiled alive and burned to ash by the air outside.

It had made even some of her hardened warriors grimace, or maybe it was the smell; death clinging to every inch of the mountain. She'd wanted to burn it, but the walls wouldn't burn. Instead they'd let the sky people deal with the dead, after all, it was they who had killed them all.

It felt like a hollow victory, the treaty broken, the sky people with access to more weapons. The ensuing months had been riddled with instances between the sky people and the Trikru, as the sky people became more bold, exploring further than the boundary set by Heda.

Heda had sent a convoy, to invite the sky people to Polis, to establish an alliance. They had been reluctant but finally had sent their leader Kane, explaining that Clarke was gone. And Heda had understood better than anyone else what the betrayal had cost her, and she accepted it.

But Anya…Anya hadn't accepted it as well as she would have thought. She didn't particularly like Clarke, but she'd respected her. Not many could best her in a fight in the mud and rain, and when Clarke could have taken the final blow, she'd refrained. It had been foolish of her. Never leave an enemy with the will to still fight.

And when the bullet had pierced her chest, and she'd fallen to the dark forest floor, she was sure it was her end. The possible treaty dying with her. She hadn't expected to wake up in their camp, Clarke by her side. It had taken days for her to heal, and she could hear the constant rumbling of the people outside. She was sure many were calling for her blood, but Clarke stood them all down. Faced the growing crowd, and told them they would have to take her before they took Anya.

Her admiration for her grew, much to her own disgust. Respect was one thing. Even an enemy could be worthy of respect, but not admiration; and as the days passed, Clarke felt less and less like an enemy.

And then Heda arrived. And the mountain. And the betrayal. For that was what it was. It made sense, tactically it was sound. Heda received what she wanted, but created an enemy of the sky people, one sky person in particular.

She sighed and nudged her horse, deciding she would rather sit beside Clarke's meager fire than spend the night in the rain. Besides, two weeks was long enough. She had learned what she needed. Clarke was still running, and it was time she faced what she'd done, and returned to lead her people. Kane was smart, eager to form an alliance, but he lacked the instinct to make the hard choices. They needed Clarke.

She didn't bother to hide her arrival, instead picking her way down the slope, straight towards the fire. She saw a shadow move behind the fire, close to the wall. She ignored it as she climbed off her horse, pulling the saddle off and setting it under a tree. She rubbed her horse down as best as she could, still ignoring the girl deep in the shadows.

She squatted at the edge of the overhang and poked at the fire with a stick, stirring it too life. She pulled her sack from off her shoulder, and rummaged around, pulling out a leather cloth. She unwrapped it, and pulled out two sticks of dried meat, holding one out to Clarke.

"What do you want?" The voice was scratchy and slightly strained, confirming what Anya already knew, Clarke rarely was in the company of other people, and didn't talk to herself.

She sighed and waggled the piece of meat in the air. "Take it."

A smile twitched at the corner of her mouth when Clarke reached out and took it, shuffling closer to the fire. She spared a glance at the girl, wincing at the dirt smeared across her skin, matted in her hair. She was glad she was downwind of her, knowing the girl smelled more ripe than she wanted to handle.

She ate slowly, chewing each small bite thoroughly. Clarke didn't do the same, tearing at the dried meat almost viciously, eager to swallow it down. When Clarke finished moments before, she tossed the cloth to Clarke, watching out of the corner of her eye as Clarke took two pieces, hiding one in her shirt, and eating the other one, slowly this time.

She drank from her water pouch, not bothering to pass it to Clarke, knowing the girl had enough water already. She'd refilled her three pouches at the small creek they'd passed a few hours back.

"Why are you here?"

Her voice was stronger this time, still rough. Anya smirked, "I was out for a ride."

"So that was you. For how many days?"

Anya looked up and stared at Clarke for a moment, surprised that Clarke had known she'd been followed.

"Twelve days, I think."

Clarke nodded holding her hands out to the fire. She shrugged as Anya's blank stare. "I knew someone was following me, but only thought it was the last few days."

Anya cocked her head at her, "You didn't do anything to hide your trail."

Clarke shrugged again, before scooting back a little and resting her back against a relatively smooth rock. The rock had warmed slightly from the heat bouncing off it, and she wiggled her shoulders, enjoying the slight warmth.

"No point. Didn't care."

Anya snorted and glared meaningfully at Clarke's face and clothing. "I can see that."

Clarke laughed, the sound harsh in her throat and too loud in her ears. "No one out here to impress. I'm not looking to enter a beauty pageant."

She waved her hand in the air at Anya's questioning look, "Some stupid contest thing back in the old days, rating women on how they looked and what they wore."

Anya curled her lip and shook her head. "We should be rated on our deeds," she muttered under her breath.

"So why are you here?"

Anya hunched her shoulders a little more, water dripping down the back of her neck. She hated being out in the rain.

Clarke rolled her eyes and scooted over, leaving Anya just enough room to settle under the overhang. "Might as well get dry. Or at least be less wet."

Anya stood and grabbed a few more sticks of relatively dry wood, pushing the ends into the fire. She pulled the stack Clarke had collected closer to the fire, so they would dry out quicker. She settled down next to Clarke, her shoulder pressed tightly against Clarke's.

The arrangement wasn't ideal, but at least she was mostly out of the rain. And she was right, the girl was ripe. But she'd smelled riper.

"You need a bath."

"Fuck you. Now I'm not going to share my fur with you." But she laid it across both their laps anyway, and Anya was grateful for the little warmth it offered.

Anya laughed, not surprised at Clarke's reply. She settled down more comfortably, ignoring Clarke's hissing and grunting as she jostled the girl. Her fingers were cold, and she blew on them before tucking her left hand under her shirt on her upper chest. It was a habit, something she'd started doing after being shot. Her fingers grazed the scar, high up on her chest over her right breast. She could still feel it, the impact that sent her flying backwards, the pain and fire that had spread from a tiny hold to encompass all of her body. She was sure she was dead. She should have been dead. Would have been dead. Except… for Clarke.

"It's time you went home. You are needed with your people."

"My people are fine without me."

"No, Clarke, they aren't. Kane is in Polis, trying to establish an alliance with Heda." She paused when Clarke snarled.

"Fuck you. And fuck your Heda."

"What would you have done, Clarke? If that man had come to you and told you that he would free your people, never bother you again, if you just took your guns and the rest of your people and walked away."

Clarke growled again, shifting beside Anya, but said nothing. It was as Anya suspected. Clarke had already asked herself that question numerous times, and had obviously arrived at the same conclusion as Heda.

"Well…I wouldn't have…I…." she sputtered, and the rest of her words died on her tongue. Her shoulders slumped, and she sighed, the sound broken in the air between them.

She laughed wetly, tears clouding her vision. "But I did that already, I guess, when I pulled that lever. Killed all those people. Chose my people over their's, even over their children."

"We all live with something we wish we hadn't done, or something that at the very least, we wish we could have done differently. But it's time to return. You've been lucky so far. I'm still not sure how you survived this long."

"Sheer fucking stubbornness."

"I figured as much."

Clarke laughed again, this time the sound less broken, almost hopeful. And Anya smiled and chuckled along with her.

"Sheer dumb luck, I guess. Or fate hates me, and wants me to suffer."

Anya shrugged. "We make our own destiny." She looked over at Clarke, her eyes grazing over the girl's profile. Under all that dirt was the same Clarke who'd begged her not to leave in the tunnels of the mountain when they made their escape, the same Clarke who'd beaten her in combat, the same Clarke who'd sat beside her bed while Anya' fought with her own death.

"Or maybe you are stronger than you think you are."

"Maybe I don't want to be."

"That really isn't up to you. You picked up the mantle of leadership, you can't just abandon it. I thought for sure she'd taught you that much at least," muttered Anya.

Clarke sighed and stretched out her legs, groaning a little at the stretch in her tight muscles. "She taught me a number of things, mainly how to make the hard choices. The shitty ones."

"Who do you think taught her those?"

When Clarke looked up at her, her eyes wide, Anya nodded. "Like I told you, she was my Seken. But not just any seken, I knew she would probably someday be Heda, and it was up to me to train her to be the next Heda. She learned well." Anya said nothing more, staring into the fire, remembering how she had molded Lexa, stripped her of her joy and made her into a tool of war.

Clarke nudged Anya with her shoulder, "We do what me must."

"Yes, and now you must return."

Clarke groaned and shook her head. "No."

"Yes."

"No."

"And what has running and hiding done for you? You refuse to accept the responsibility of what you did."

"What I did? What the fuck do you mean, I pulled that lever, Anya!"

"Yes, and then you ran. After everything you sacrificed for your people, you abandoned them, left thme to fend for themselves without the tools to do it. Those lives you sacrificed? For nothing! You killed those people for nothing. Nothing!"

Clarke could barely breathe, the hole in her chest, frosting over, turning her ribs brittle. It hurt to breathe, to think, and her mind clamored with curses, and she imagined herself striking Anya in the face over and over again, until her knuckles were stained forever in scarlet.

Anya said nothing, her shoulders tense, watching Clarke out of the corner of her eye, prepared for the girl to launch herself at her. She was surprised when Clarke suddenly heaved herself to her feet, stumbling as she tried to find her footing, but saying nothing. She groaned and rolled her eyes, when Clarke pulled the remaining fur off their laps and wrapped it around herself, before stumbling out in the rain.

She sighed but let her go. Let her be miserable in the cold rain, while Anya was dry under the overhang. Well reasonably dry. Somewhat dry. She snorted. Barely dry. She'd said her piece, more than her piece. Anya wasn't much for talking, preferring to do rather than to talk, but she'd owed Clarke this much at least.

She settled down against the rock, missing her bed in Polis, knowing that she would need to return soon. She stared at Clarke across the small clearing, shaking her head at the girl's stubbornness. She was hunched inside her fur, and Anya ignored the feeling creeping up inside her chest. She was sure she'd seen the girl's shoulders shake a couple of times. She sighed and closed her eyes.

Morning crept on her, and she didn't hear it, until it was already above the tree line. She stirred and yawned, stretching as she gazed around the small camp. She shuffled to her feet, stretching the kinks out of her back. The fire was still going, and she didn't see Clarke anywhere about.

She scooped up her water pouch, pouring some out in a small cloth she pulled from her bag. She used it to wash her face, feeling slightly better and more away now. She spread the cloth out on a rock next to the fire so it would dry quickly.

She walked over to her horse, brushing her hands down his coat. He whickered at her, and she pressed her face into his neck. His coat was getting thicker, winter was coming. Another reason she had to convince Clarke to come back with her. For all of the girl's tenacity, she would not survive the coming winter.

She patted him on the neck and kissed his nose before turning back towards the fire, only to come to an abrupt halt when she saw Clarke. She couldn't stop the red blossoming across her cheeks at Clarke's knowing smirk, realizing Clarke had seen her kiss her horse's nose.

She chose to ignore Clarke's twitching smile, instead stepping back, and dragging her gaze over the girl. "I see you do know how to bathe."

She chuckled when Clarke glared at her, tossing her head a little, her gold locks shining in the early morning sun. It made Anya's mouth dry, and she fumbled for words, stepping closer to Clarke, slightly captivated by the girl's smooth, clean skin, the shadows lingering in her blue eyes.

"Yeah well. You weren't wrong." Clarke blushed and shrugged, looking away, watching Anya from the corner of her eye as the woman stepped closer, until there was only about a foot between them.

"About which part?"

Clarke crossed her arms over her chest, wishing her clothing was cleaner. Her shirt was still damp in places from where she'd washed it in the little creek about a half mile back. "All of it," she muttered.

She turned and faced Anya, straightening and dropping her arms to her side. "I'm ready."

"Just like that."

"You cared enough to find me, no one else did."

Anya grunted, shuffling her feet slightly. She opened her mouth to deny it, but closed it instead when she saw the faint hope in Clarke's eyes. She just nodded instead, words failing her again. She'd never been particularly eloquent anyway.

"You will come to Polis?"

Clarke nodded, not knowing what else to say. Her mind felt a little foggy, and she was supposed it was because she hadn't eaten properly in months, or ever really. And it had nothing to do with how close Anya was to her. Just as the warmth low in her belly surely had more to do with hunger than with the heat she could feel coming from Anya's gaze.

"I could feel you watching me you know. In the woods. It was how I knew someone was following me." She twisted her fingers together, trying to hide the slight shake. "It felt familiar, so I wasn't afraid, but I couldn't place it. And then I remembered last night. It was the same feeling I would get when you were in the infirmary at Camp Jaha. You used to watch me, and it took me a while to realize you were doing it."

"I thought I was more subtle than that," whispered Anya, as she inched slightly towards Clarke.

"I'm glad it was you. I think part of me hoped it was you."

"Heda?"

Clarke shook her head. "No. Whatever was between us is gone." She shrugged a little, "I had a crush on her, I suppose. I admired her, respected her. But she didn't make me…"

"Make you what?"

Clarke blew out a breath, closing the few inches between them, reaching up and sliding her hand beneath Anya's hair and behind her neck, "She didn't make me want to do this." She brushed her lips against Anya's, the kiss more of a whisper than anything. She started to pull away, but Anya's arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her fully into her arms.

It surprised Anya, the tentative press of Clarke's lips against her own, and before Clarke could change her mind, or run, she wrapped her arms around her, pulling her into her arms. She held her gently, but firmly enough for Clarke to feel her, to know that she was safe with her.

She pressed her mouth to Clarke's, her tongue brushing against her lips, and she smiled into the kiss when Clarke's mouth opened. They spent long moments exploring each other, hands wandering slightly, tongues sliding against each other, until they finally parted, both panting.

"Well…"

"Yes. Well."

Anya chuckled and stepped back, her hands slowly dropping from Clarke's waist. "We should pack and head to Polis. It will take about a week to get there."

Clarke nodded and stepped back, turning to gather her things, but stopped by Anya's hand on her forearm.

"Clarke, you are safe with me. The alliance isn't in place yet, and the truce is shaky at best, but no one will hurt you. I will make sure of that."

Clarke scoffed, "Protect me? It's obvious I need to protect you, after all I can kick your ass and save you from a bullet." She chuckled and reached up, pressing a kiss to Anya's cheek before turning away to gather her few supplies.

Anya smiled, her cheek warm from the press of Clarke's lips. She picked up her saddle and the blanket, heaving them onto her horse's back. "Well, old boy, we found what we were looking for. Time to go home."

Thoughts?