A/N: This is my first 5+1 fic, or in this case 8+1 fic, so I'm not sure if I'm doing it right, but oh well! Please review if you have a moment! I promise to reply. :)
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, sadly.
At first, nobody wanted to talk about Clarke. Her name brought tears and pain and loss and a sense of betrayal so strong that the delinquent's faces twisted and they turned away.
They hadn't wanted her to leave. They had needed her to stay. She had left anyway.
But then the ex-criminals from the Sky Box had begun to slowly integrate into "Arkadia", and slowly they started smiling again, and laughing, and drinking moonshine late into the night. Enough to make them open up and tell the lighter stories from their lives before the Sky Box and the first days on the ground, not enough to blur their senses. The teenagers were weary and battle scarred and broken, but they knew how to have fun. This, at least, was plain to see.
Kyle Wick was not a criminal, by the sense of the word. But he was Raven's on-off boyfriend, and the comedic mechanic, so he was grudgingly allowed into the circle of survivors. People accepted him, slowly, and he laughed with them at their jokes and stories in the middle of the night, even if half the stories twisted his gut and hurt his heart.
They reminisced together too, revelling in the "good old days", and Wick slowly stopped getting drunk at these events. It was easier to learn about the crass group, he realized, when sober. They loosened up and spoke more openly, and as a plus he could even remember the conversations in the morning.
And it was only on such occasions that Kyle learned about Clarke. Clarke Griffin, the princess who healed the people. Clarke Griffin, the warrior who destroyed the mountain. Clarke Griffin, the leader who took the shots and called them, who decided the sacrifices and paid them. And Kyle knew literally nothing about her. Nothing. The only ones who did were the group of ragtag delinquents, who conveniently tried to pretend she didn't exist. (For the most part.)
It took a while. It wasn't easy. But Kyle was curious. Sue him.
RAVEN
Raven was an affectionate drunk. She came over to him, one night, plopped down on his lap, and leaned back with a sigh. "Hi," Kyle said casually, and she hummed.
"This moonshine is amazing," she said after regaling him with tales of the other delinquents. ("Miller and Monty are adorable, can't you see it? And hey, Jasper laughed at something Harper said, isn't that amazing? And Monroe is talking about some grounder girl she met and it's super cute and-" Normal Raven does not say words like adorable and cute. Drunk Raven, however, is another matter altogether.) "Monty said he used an idea Clarke gave him." She trails off.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Wick asks gently, seeing her thoughtful frown.
"No," she says, and pushes off him to refill her cup.
The next time, she is more tipsy than drunk and heaves herself into a table, swinging her leg. "Why do you want to know about Clarke?" She asks, and Wick curses her observation.
"I don't know," he says, but it's a lie. He wants to know everything about Clarke Griffin. She's seventeen, or maybe eighteen now, and the weight of the world lies on her shoulders. He didn't meet her, not properly, but what he saw was impressive. Back of steel, words of ice, will of fire. How could a girl like that be broken by a world like this? Why didn't anybody help her like she helped them? Why did adults blame a teenager for a genocide she was pushed into orchestrating, and why was it her that shouldered the blame and not twenty-three-year-old Bellamy Blake or fifteen-year-old Monty Green?
"Liar," says Raven, and Wick acts offended.
"What do you want to know?" She asks the next day, and he smiles at her in thanks.
"Whatever you want to tell me," he says, and Raven shrugs.
She tells him that above everything else, Clarke was a doctor. All she ever wanted to do was save people. From themselves, from other people, from the whole freaking world. (Raven's words, not his.) "She was a leader, yeah," Raven says thoughtfully, "and a damn good one, but Clarke was a doctor first. Leaders have to be emotionless, see, and Clarke... She couldn't do that. Doing it, becoming cold and heartless, it didn't work out so good." She wears a lopsided frown.
She tells Kyle that Clarke was a woman of action. "Always getting herself beaten up," Raven recalls, with a fond shake of her head. "Never said anything though, just patched up the next kid. Always putting everyone before herself." Always serious, too, is the next thing Kyle hears about the missing blonde. Always, always serious. Always thinking ahead, always coming up with the next genius plan. (Kyle rarely hears Raven compliment anyone but herself, and even that is mockingly, and he raises his eyebrows in surprise.)
"But she could be fun," Raven suddenly bursts out. "Drank Sterling and his gang under the table on unity day, from what I've heard." She grins, nostalgia incarnate. "Good old Clarke."
"She was my best friend," Raven says quietly. "And now she's gone." She stares at her feet, which have stopped moving. Kyle, perched beside her, shifts in concern. "I don't know where she is anymore. I don't know if she's okay." She sniffs furiously and Kyle feels kind of honoured that she hasn't stormed out yet.
"She'll be okay, Raven," he says softly, but it could be a lie for all he knows. Raven knows it too,but she doesn't call him out on it.
"She's only eighteen, Kyle." Ravens voice is low. "She's freaking eighteen."
Kyle doesn't ask her again.
JASPER
Jasper is angry and bitter when he finds Kyle. That doesn't much surprise the engineer, considering Jasper is always angry and bitter. Raven says he wasn't always so, but for as long as Kyle as known him, this has been the case.
"Heard you been wonderin' abou' Clarke," He slurs, and Kyle can feel Monty's worry even from the other side of the campfire. Jasper tells him that she's heartless and cynical and ruthless. "Never trusts anyone," Jasper says in a moment, all his anger seeming to dissolve away slowly. "Not even her friends." Then he is angry again, and says that she will do anything to stay on top of things. "Even genocide," He adds coldly. "Twice."
"She killed the boy she loved," He declares loudly, splashing moonshine down his chin. "And she killed Maya. I won' ever forgive 'er, and neither will she."
Kyle doesn't say anything, and he doesn't bring it up with Jasper again.
MONTY
It makes sense for Monty to understand why Kyle asks about the missing girl. He heard Jasper that night; he knows Kyle well enough not to question why he's so curious.
"Well, he says, looking at his hands and looking up again, "I don't know. Clarke..." Kyle waits. "She's great." Monty smiles. "Always looking out for everyone. She never gave up, always tried to be optimistic, always kept everyone's hopes up." Monty's eyes go distant. "She was brave, and tough. Nobody expected it, but she could fire a gun and throw a wicked punch. People kind of stopped underestimating her after she killed Atom, one of the kids who got hit with acid fog."
Kyle winces.
"She knew about the culling, too. It was why they floated her dad and got her locked into solitary. Clarke never really talked about it, but it was her mom's fault, and for a while Clarke hated her best friend, Wells, because she thought he had ratted her out." He sighs. "I remember seeing her in the dropship, before Finn started flirting, and thinking she must have been really brave, or really desperate. She was unconscious, which meant she had fought back. Not a lot of kids did." Kyle frowns. "I just... when I'm scared, or in trouble..." Monty's voice is soft. "I just think, what would Clarke do?" Kyle thinks about this.
"I dunno, Wick," Monty says after a moment. "Clarke's just Clarke." There is clear admiration in his voice. Kyle laughs and ponders that all night.
MILLER
Miller finds him, as it turns out. "Monty told me you were wondering about Clarke," he says without introduction, and Kyle swallows his surprise that the brusque boy is talking, let alone about Clarke, before nodding slowly.
"Well," Miller says simply, "Whatever people have told you, whatever you think you know about her, it's probably wrong." Kyle blinks. "Clarke's kind of a mystery," Miller continues casually. "She's constantly surprising people. We all thought she was a princess, at first, telling people what to do and how to do it. All she wanted was for people to stay alive, but we didn't know that." Kyle closes his mouth and pays proper attention to what the stoic young man is saying.
"All Clarke's ever cared about, the whole time I've known her," (Miller doesn't say he knew her, past tense, and Kyle finds himself liking the quiet, solid boy.) "Is making sure all our people were safe. That's all she ever cares about." He smiles, transforming his face. "Bellamy made me follow her around a lot, to make sure she was safe, and I can tell you she's a good person. You know, giving away her jacket and rations, singing kids to sleep, that kind of thing. People listen to her." He shrugs. "People will tell you that she's either heartless, or perfect, or a martyr, and that's wrong. Clarke Griffin's a lot of things, but she isn't perfect, and she knows it." He pauses. " And that's okay. We like her that way."
That's all Miller says, and Kyle is left standing in the room, holding a walkie-talkie, watching the door. He isn't sure what to think anymore.
HARPER
"You want to know about Clarke?" Was the first thing that a pretty blonde girl said after pushing into the engine room.
"Uh..." Kyle cleared his throat. "Who are you?"
The girl appraised him. "Harper," She said. "Miller said you wanted to know about Clarke."
Kyle didn't know how to deal with this. "Yes?"
The girl nodded abruptly. "Cool. I wasn't that close to her, but I can tell you what the rest of us saw."
Harper tells him about Clarke in the mountain. She tells him that Clarke never stopped fighting, never stopped being suspicious of everything. She tells him, with admiration in her voice, how Clarke was the only one of the teenage criminals to actually fight her way out of her cell. She tells him how relived everyone was to have her back, because she was their leader and their doctor and everyone's friend, in a way.
Harper rolls up her sleeves and bares her arms. "This is what the mountain gave me," She says boldly, and Kyle stares in horrified fascination at the scars there. "And the whole time they were about to drill into me, I could just think about how we should have listened to her. Clarke's always right." Kyle wonders at this but says nothing. Harper rolls her sleeves again, leaving no hint as to what they cover up.
"And she did, you know. She did save us. She lost a part of herself, and some people won't ever forgive her, or trust her again," Kyle thinks of Jasper and swallows, "but what you can't do is doubt her. You can't doubt that she'll move mountains for us. You can't ignore her. You can't forget her."
Harper gets up to leave and he calls out after her. "Thank you," He says earnestly, and the pretty, scarred girl sends him a brittle smile, and Kyle thinks that it wasn't only Clarke who lost something to the mountain.
"I may not have been her best friend," She tells him quietly, "But we all want her back."
OCTAVIA
Kyle walks up to where Octavia and Lincoln are standing, the moonshine in his system giving him extra confidence.
Octavia looks at him, scoffs, and leans away. "I'm not talking about Clarke," She says before walking off. Kyle watches her go.
LINCOLN
"Why does she hate her so much?" Kyle asks, watching the braided warrior push past arkers in her hurry to abandon them. "I thought they were friends."
Lincoln sighs. "Octavia is no leader," He says. "She does not understand the choices they have to make. And she doesn't hate her."
Kyle sends him an incredulous look, and Lincoln cracks a smile. "She hates Clarke's actions, but she does not hate Clarke herself." Lincoln says no more on the matter, and instead tells him how although Clarke did not want to make hard choices, she made them anyway, for the good of her people. It's all he says, and Kyle walks away with a muted thank you and a heavy heart.
ABBY
Kyle doesn't mean to talk to Abby. In fact, he never does. He simply overhears her.
"Marcus," She is saying, "those kids were telling stories about Clarke." Her voice is soft, and Kyle can only just see her shadowed face by the light of the fire. She gestures with her head towards a group of young children.
"They're calling her princess Wanheda," She whispers brokenly, and Kyle kinda feels bad for eavesdropping. "She's just a kid, Marcus. She's still too young for all this."
Marcus moves to clasp her shoulder and Kyle slips away.
CLARKE
Kyle meets Clarke through everyone else. He wonders, for a while, if she's dead, but then hears stories of Wanheda and changes his mind. Then he thinks maybe she'll never come back, but Bellamy arrives back at Camp Jaha bleeding and crying but carrying hope in his eyes. (The twisted irony isn't lost on Kyle.) Kyle would've asked Raven about it, but Raven wasn't talking to him, in some kind of self-imposed penance or defence mechanism. It makes him angry and it hurts, but he isn't going to wait forever for her to sort it out.
(He tried, for years, but then the Ground happened, and their relationship took two steps forward and one step back and then three steps back for every one step forward, so Kyle's just going to keep living on. He won't stand at her side and he won't push her and he won't cry over her. This is what he tells himself every night.)
But he meets Clarke and she's somehow different and just like everyone said all at once.
She's in camp to talk to Bellamy, he can tell. Her eyes are hard and worried and flashing and defensive and Kyle only knows how scared she is because of how much time he's spent around Raven. Her shoulders are hunched in on herself but her back is straight and she walks through the camp with two grounders at her sides. (One is no more than a boy, and he looks at Clarke like he thinks she holds the answers to everything. The other, a man, looks at everyone else like they're about to try and shoot her down.) She wears clothes that seem to be a mix between grounder and skaikru attire, and her hair is long and loose and braided, with the ends still a faded red colour. Both a sword and a pistol hang at her hips and knives are strapped to her arms.
She's dangerous and everyone knows it.
Raven rushes at her and wraps her in a hug and Clarke seems to breathe for the first time before she pulls away and exchanges words quickly. Lincoln, who is wary and worried and hurting, smiles when he sees her, and Clarke clasps his forearm and says something in Trigadesleng. This surprises Kyle and everyone else in camp, but Lincoln nods and clenches her shoulder.
Before anyone else can properly greet her, shaking themselves out of their stupor, she's marched into the council room.
This is war Clarke, Kyle thinks to himself. This is Wanheda. This is the girl who burnt warriors alive and brought down the mountain. He wonders, quietly, if Clarke Griffin still even exists.
Much later; when everything is over, she sits next to him, hands clasped. She smiles at him and his breath catches. Clarke is a hard girl, all steel and edges and ice, but this smile makes her soften and seem more like the teenager that she is. (But. He's seen her smile make warriors quake and her grins bring armies to her knees, so what does he know.)
"Kyle, right?" she says, and he smiles back.
"Yeah. What can I do for you?"
"I wanted to thank you, actually."
Clarke analyses him and Kyle suddenly feels very exposed. "For what?" He asks, uncertain, and she sends him a knowing look.
"For helping." She says, voice strong. "For being there for Raven."
Kyle snorts. "She doesn't want me here," He reminds her, and Clarke laughs.
"Don't give up on her," She says instead of answering him, and he finds himself nodding along. "And also, thank you for helping my people. Thank you for helping me."
Now she's lost him, and it must show.
"Monty told me you've been asking about me." Kyle can't seem to muster up a cocky grin and shrugs instead.
"Yeah, well," He says, but she pats his shoulder.
"Don't worry about it," She says. "Thank you anyways."
Kyle wonders how he helped her, watching her walk off, the young grounder boy at her side. Did he help the delinquents accept her? Did he give her confidence? Did he restore her faith in herself? To give her people an act of closure and acceptance? He doesn't know. He probably never will. But that night, as Raven comes and finds him, eyes red and jaw trembling, throwing herself into his arms and shaking in uncharacteristic weakness, Kyle mentally thanks Clarke right back.
