Mounin, gentle-viewers! Thank you for all the reviews, favourites, and follows for the fic, I really do appreciate it. Now, onto business. I'm hoping I can get a chapter up twice a week, but if I miss one, please forgive me. I barely have enough time to actually do anything because of work so I'm kinda stuck here. Also, I was thinking about creating two side-fics to keep my muse going. Option A is a college JORI fic, while Option B is a similarly post-apocalyptic but more zombie-fied version of The 100 (featuring CLEXA and LINCTAVIA). Thoughts? Suggestions? Throw them at me!
DISCLAIMER: I do not own The 100.
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"I understand why you did it."
The sun is already shining, sending rays of light through the woodland canopy and leaving dappled pools onto the soft, supple earth. Octavia's hands are still wrapped around Clarke's hand, wanting the blonde woman to look at her, see her. Octavia has seen Clarke's sadness swimming in her eyes like ghosts, causing the once-brilliant sapphires to dim and falter. She gazes into those eyes now, seeing not for the first time the damage that has been dealt to her friend's soul.
"The missile hitting TonDC." She keeps her voice low, silent, so that they are the only two that can hear. She sees Clarke tense at the memory, and the wrist within her grasp is threatening to be wrenched free. However, Octavia latches onto her tighter, not wanting to let go—at least, not until she's had her say. "I don't have to like it to understand why you did it, it's just—I couldn't get all of those people out of my head."
Octavia releases Clarke from her grip, only to raise her hand and make a weird, flailing motion around her head, attempting to convey how she feels for words cannot find her, not properly, not appropriately. She is equal parts sympathetic and equal parts outraged, but she has seen Clarke's brokenness, and knows that it is not something her friend did out of cruelty. "I can still hear their screams and I can't stop seeing how damaged they looked—I got so distracted that I forgot that you were damaged, too."
Clarke stares at her for the longest time as they stand in the middle of a tide of people. When Octavia feels that she might either melt or snap underneath the calculated gaze, she sees Clarke nod, and guilt slams into her like the spear that slammed into Jasper, so many days ago. She realizes that her friend is still hurt, hurt from the words she herself hissed by the campfire. But Octavia understands. The best thing she has learned from the Grounders is patience. Grounders do not simply jump without thinking. Precision, accuracy, and success can only be achieved through patience, and as much of a struggle it is to Octavia, she understands that she will have to wait for Clarke to trust her again. I chewed and spat her out, and it's a wonder she can still even look at me without feeling the need to punch me.
"Thank you," is all that Clarke manages to mutter before Octavia is pulled away—both by her brother, and by her mentor. She peers over her shoulder to give one last meaningful look at the woman who used to be her friend (until she managed to screw it over because of closed-minded nature), before turning towards both Bellamy and Indra. They open their mouths to speak, but she sees Bellamy recoil after Indra gives him a harsh stare. Despite the alliance, she knows that her brother is still weary of the Grounders, if only because of the bad blood that boiled between them before. In the back of her mind, she wonders if her brother is weary of her, too.
"Octavia, your job is not over yet. We need you to oversee the healing of our warriors. The Maunon might have fallen, but they are not the only ones that seek to hurt us." Octavia sees Bellamy give her mentor a bewildered stare, and the Second has to constantly remind herself that her Sky People brethren have yet to be informed about the existence of the Twelve Clans, and the rogues that revolve around them. She thinks back to the day she was taught of this, that the peace of the coalition hangs in the balance. She has been warned before about the consequences of the Fall, that, by bringing down the mountain, the Clans will know how to walk freely without having to fear the people living within the Earth, instead of on it. Freedom comes at a price, as the Sky People have learned, and Octavia was continually being trained to expect the worst.
"But she has her people to tend to—" Her brother begins, only to be silenced by Octavia's own glare. He has seen her defiant before, and merely shrugged it off as a teenager acting on her hormones, but he is slowly beginning to understand that her little sister is not so little anymore, and that she has grown values that are completely different from Bellamy's own.
"And I will see to those duties too, Bell, but there are things happening that are far beyond your understanding and we can't rule out our defences. You know what happened last time when we lowered our guard." Octavia sees him stiffen, nod, for he understands, even if it is quite difficult for him to do so. She appreciates the sentimentality, however, and leans up to plant a gentle kiss on his cheek before giving his rough fingers an equally rough squeeze. "After I'm done, I'll head straight to Camp Jaha and help you sort everything out, okay? You might not see me until nightfall, but no later than that."
With her promise lingering on her smile, Octavia allows Indra to lead her away, easily blending into the crowd of Grounders eagerly chattering around her, celebrating their victory and their reunion with their loved ones. In the corner of her field of vision, she sees Lincoln approach. She threads their hands together and walks with him, each step synchronized and forming a steady, calming beat. She can see in Lincoln's eyes the anxiety hiding beneath a veil of relief; for Lincoln knows it too.
In fact, every single Grounder knows it, too. She happens to glance over her shoulder and sees the Commander walking with Clarke, offering quick exchanges that seem to both reassure and terrify the other. In passing, she hears words in Trigedasleng, a phrase that translates so easily in her mind that is shocks even her when the same words tumble past her lips, causing Lincoln to frown in concern: "Osir gonplei nou ste odon nowe." Our fight is never over.
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Clarke's hands are, once again, clasped around her gun, the cold metal biting into her flesh and reminding her of all that she has done to get to this point… and look where it brought her. Leaving her people is the only option for her to achieve a state of clarity, however impossible it might be to achieve. Peace has left her, and only echoes of it remain, stale as it bounces around the empty chasm where her heart used to be. She remembers being told that who she is and who she has to be are two different things, and now she understands this deeply—for the Clarke in the Ark would never even think of taking lives, for the Clarke on the Ground would never rule out such a thought.
"Clarke." Brown hair spills over her vision, followed by a face tainted with charcoal. Lexa is in front of her, staring into her eyes with those impossibly-green oculars, seemingly cold but Clarke can see right through it. She can remember bringing it up to the Commander, that her mask is not as effective as she believes it to be. Clarke had lied when she said that Lexa was heartless, for Lexa feels for everyone, but simply hides it for she cannot be who she wants to be.
"I told him what I had to." Clarke knows that Lexa had witnessed their exchange, could feel it in the empathy that rolls off of her in waves. "No one will think to look for me at Polis, I'm sure they don't even know that it exists." She offers the Grounder a small smile, one hand reaching up to rub at her neck while the other moves swiftly to tuck the gun into her holster. "I know for a fact that I didn't even know it exists before you told me."
"I still do not know why you want to join me, Clarke," Lexa asks, confusion laced in her tone as she tips her head to the side. "You have asked for time—how are you sure that you will find such in Polis?"
"A little bird told me that Polis will change the way I see the Grounders. Although how I see the Grounders have changed when I met their leader, I'm hoping that Polis will, instead, change how I see what I've done." Her arms rise, cross over her chest as a chill envelopes her despite the lack of wind around them. Only then does she notice that the air has gotten more humid than before, that it is heavy and damp, and that it promises heavy rain. "You told me that Polis is where your coalition was solidified, your words, not mine. The Coalition stands above the war on the ground, so maybe Polis will help ease the war in my heart, too."
"Polis will suit you well, Clarke," Lexa answers reassuringly, and Clarke's heart stutters as the Commander places a closed fist above her chest. "You will see what I mean, soon. Come. Indra has never been the most patient. She will wait, but she will not wait long."
"Indra's coming with us?" That thought seems to trouble Clarke, for without both Lexa and Indra, who will be left to watch over TonDC?
Lexa seems to notice the anxiety in her voice. She chuckles and cups Clarke's shoulder lightly, giving it a gentle squeeze before returning the space between them. "The village is in safe hands with Lincoln. He is the only one that I can trust who will uphold the terms of our alliance."
Clarke is substantially surprised, for it had not been long ago when Lincoln's people saw him as a traitor. Now, he will watch over them, ensure that the Commander's word is upheld with both importance and reverence. She wonders if the people will see him with respect, but easily shrugs off the thought, simply because she knows Lincoln is true of heart, and despite the Grounders' brutal ways, they will be able to see that, as well.
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They do not spend long in TonDC. After changing into more suitable clothes and gathering few materials for the journey ahead, Lexa leads her small group towards the woods, legs hanging around the body of her equine. She leans forward to touch its mane, sifting through white strands and watching them spill like water from her calloused fingertips. In the corner of her eyesight, she sees Clarke catch up, and quickly turns to face the Sky Girl, who seems unsteady on her horse.
"Do not fear the horse, Clarke. It will not bite you," she muses, mirth springing into her voice as Clarke is jostled slightly, causing her to lean forward and grab onto her mount's neck. Once she is stabilized, she straightens her back, allowing her hands to grasp the reigns with the right amount of pressure. "It is a three day journey to Polis. I advise you to get comfortable."
"This is, what, my third time on a horse? You can't expect me to be an expert all of a sudden," Clarke responds defensively, scrunching up her nose as she is forced to duck under a low branch. Lexa sees amusement in this, and allows a chuckle to rise from the depths of her abdomen. Secretly, she is thankful that Indra is a good way ahead of them.
"No, Clarke of the Sky People. I do not expect you to become an expert, I simply expect you to be logical. Do not fear the horse, for she will sense it and respond in a similar manner," Lexa offers, her lips still tugged up in a half-smile that causes Clarke to visibly relax. She reaches out to pet the horse's head, giving it a soft scratch behind the ears before motioning for Clarke to do the same. Hesitantly, she complies, reaching out unsteadily to copy the action. "Her name is Rosa. She will be yours."
Clarke looks up, then, eyes wide in bewilderment. "I get to have a horse?"
Lexa allows another chuckle to slip past her lips. "It is an emblem of honour, Clarke. A sign of your position. You might not see yourself as the Leader of your people, but mine view you as my equal. It is only right. You have been strong."
At this, pink seeps over Clarke's cheeks. The blonde hangs her head, golden hair tumbling over her shoulders until it hides her face. Frowning, Lexa reaches over to tuck the stray strands behind her ear, causing Clarke to gaze at her once more. "Sometimes, I feel like I don't want to be."
"You are allowed to be weak, Clarke," Lexa responds, only to feel her shoulders go slack upon realization of her words. Wasn't it she who stated so vehemently that weakness must not be shown? And now, here she stands, telling a damaged leader that it is okay to be weak. Before she can defend herself, Clarke jumps in, speaking in a voice so tender that Lexa's breathing begins to falter.
"You're allowed to be weak too, Lexa."
Several days ago, Lexa would have denied her this, would have responded with a voice dripping with ice that she cannot, that she is not permitted to—but she has been weak so many times since she met Clarke that she knows she would only be lying to herself. She was weak when she allowed Clarke to take Finn's life, she was weak when she listened to Clarke's suggestion of sparing a Grounder's life, she was weak when she kissed Clarke in the confines of their tent, and even weaker when she held onto the possibility of a future with her when the Sky Girl said that she wasn't ready. Lexa realizes that saying that she cannot be weak is a blatant lie, for she is always weak—and, for that, she has grown stronger.
But Lexa does not tell Clarke of this, and her entire revelation lasts only a fraction of a second. She responds to her companion in stride, simply offering Clarke a smug smirk meant to tease, hoping that it will hide the storm brewing underneath her emerald eyes. "That will only happen when you manage to ride a horse without having to wince every time she takes a step."
Clarke snorts at this, her despair momentarily forgotten, and a determined glow appears in her eyes, blazing like wildfire through a sea of blue. "Oh, you're so on."
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AND CUT! There we have it, folks, chapter two of our (impending doom) fanfiction right here. I hope that there's enough Clexa fluff to sate your thirst. You will encounter a lot of these during the span of the fic, although it will be a while until we get to the heavier stuff—because, really, you can't expect them to jump straight into drama when they've just gotten out of one, right? But I'll keep you satisfied (hopefully) until their happy ending comes. Now, that's it for today. Ciao, gentle-viewers!
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