CHAPTER FOUR

They make it even less far than the previous leg of the journey. The terrain has changed slightly, it is more uneven, and even though there are hills they seem to be progressing at a steady incline. The trees are different, more brown and taller, but their branches start much higher, leaving thick, moss-less trunks in the line of sight for as far as they eye could see.

There are now several meters between the pair, Abby occasionally stopping at the base of a hill and turning to see Lexa reach its peak behind her. She tries to get the Commander to drink some water once again, but is declined, "You're almost out."

"And you plan on surviving how many more days without drinking or eating?" Abby scoffed. She recalls the small skin of water the Commander has with her—undoubtedly empty now. "Despite the way your people follow you, Commander, you are not a god among man. You need to drink."

"There is a trading post to the east of here. If it doesn't rain in the next few hours, we can stop and I will drink there." She thinks fondly on the memory of Clarke remarking about her leadership position the day they fought the Pauna, "And that is not why they follow me, Chancellor."

Abby ignores the latter remark, "I thought the point of traveling off the road was to avoid anyone seeing us?"

"It is not a particularly…popular…post. I doubt we will see anyone." The corner of Lexa mouth turns up in what Abby can only assume is her hiding a smile, inwardly laughing at whatever joke she had just told to herself.

Abby ignores how annoyed she is, "And what about who runs the shop?"

Lexa's mouth turns up again, "Believe me, he won't say anything."

The older woman continues ahead, then stops once again after ascending and subsequently descending another hill. In its valley, she looks up at the treetops, guessing it was late afternoon, but beyond the trees were dark, menacing clouds greedily blocking the sun. Abby frowns.

She calls behind her, "How long do you think the weather will set us back?"

When there is no answer she turns and looks back up the terrain she had just traversed. Her companion is not yet at the top of the hill. Forget the rain slowing us down, Abby thought, but aloud she called, "Commander?"

The quiet that answers her has the older woman scrambling back up the incline with a sudden sense of urgency, "Commander?" she tries not to let the concern bleed into her voice.

At the crest of the hill she can see down to the base at the other side. Abby is relieved to see Lexa is standing, albeit awkwardly, bent forward with her hands bracing her against her thighs. Her head is bowed down, several locks of hair, loose from their braids, hang down and shield her face. She does not respond when the doctor calls out to her once more. Abby—aided heavily by gravity—jogs back down the hill with long strides.

Once beside the girl, Abby stands awkwardly, knowing better than to touch her, waiting for some kind of acknowledgment. When none comes she tries again, "Commander, what is it? Can you look at me?"

When the girl slowly obliges the request, Abby can feel her eyes flare in surprise at the scene.

Lexa raises an unnaturally pale face, which served to highlight her bright pink cheeks and she was glistening in sweat. Her eyes, normally bright and observant, were watery and unfocused, lined with red rims. The muscles in her face and neck were contracted back into a pained veil, and she panted for air. Her lips are parted, but her teeth are clenched, and an ungodly black liquid stains her teeth.

The Commander looks animalistic, but for only a second longer, before her features go lax. She inhales a frightening, stridor-like breath and whispers, "Abby…" before throwing a wet, visceral cough that produces a forceful splatter of the black substance. One of her arms comes up to wrap her chest, like it is stopping a beast from bursting through, the other arm extends to brace her weight against the rapidly approaching earth as she drops to one knee.

Abby breaks the horrified trance she was in at the sound of her name, and for the second time in as many hours she half-catches Lexa, guiding her first to her knees, but the girl is unable to maintain the position so Abby uses the lightest touch—the amount of force a hummingbird might have on a flower—and pushes her to the ground, "Dammit!". She arranges the girl precariously. Lexa is not unconscious, and watches Abby's actions with a heavy gaze. Automatically she places her hand on the girl's forehead, this time uninterrupted, and was not shocked to find the heat Lexa burned with. She moved her hand down to Lexa's throat to take her pulse. Lexa brought her own hand up to push Abby away, but she was shockingly weak. Abby returned Lexa's hand to her side without opposition. She uses a thumb to gently raise each of the girl's eyelids. "Follow my finger." Abby traces an 'H' in the air in front of Lexa's face as the girl lazily obeys.

Abby pulled off her pack and retrieved her canteen. Silently, she unscrewed the cap and lowered it to Lexa's mouth, trying to recall the last time she watched the girl drink anything. Lexa accepts a tentative swallow without argument, which was followed by an exaggerated grimace. Abby's brow furrowed, "Lexa?"

Lexa closed her eyes at the sound of her name, and she answered softly, "I just need a minute."

"What you need is help." Abby says definitively, then with a kinder voice, "I need to know what's wrong."

The younger woman makes a point not to engage Abby in another disagreement; she simply inhales, centering herself. The doctor sweeps her eyes over the Commander's body. She's supine amongst the dark foliage, the armor encasing her chest vibrates with her labored breathes, one of her hands hovers limply below her sternum—not quite touching the fabric of her shirt, trembling slightly. Abby casts a suspicious look at the positioning, and reaches up to unbuckle the commander's armor.

Again, Lexa brought her hand up, but this time resting it on one of Abby's where they fumbled with the buckle of Lexa's spaulder. "Please, don't." She whispered.

Abby stilled for a second, stalled by how the girl was able to wield her words in such a way that she simultaneously sounded like a child and a sovereign head; both progeny and prodigy. It confused Abby, as Lexa looks up at her un-pleading and serious—her face still that of the ruthless overseer of armies, the one that growls and bears her teeth like something wild before a kill, but still sounds malleable and young. She knows Lexa is far from incapable of curling her words, disguising her natural juvenile inflection with a feral heat and lowered tone. But despite the girl's constant look of somewhat-bored menace and distrust, Abby knew her true voice was this one she used now in hushed tones.

She leaned over Lexa with a soft expression, "Commander," she said it as if she was cooing to a child, or a pet, "Enough. Let me, please." She pleads with a look, Enough, it's over. You need help. Let me help you.

Lexa let her hand drop in defeat, closing her eyes in resignation.

Abby gently undid the laces at the front of the armor and pulled it free. Now it was obvious exactly how much the girl was sweating, even the metal and rubber of her armor was slick. Abby asked tentatively, her hands already hovering over the hem of Lexa's top, "I'm just going to lift your shirt, okay"?"

The commander did not answer or acknowledge that she had said anything at all, so Abby took it as consent and carefully tugged up the dark material of Lexa's top.

It wasn't sweat that was sticking Lexa's shirt to her torso. It took Abby several seconds to recognize the inky, viscous liquid as blood.

"Lexa." Abby said, this time as if she was scolding her. "Oh my god," she said, suddenly fumbling with her pack to open it, retrieving the small stacks of cloths jammed inside, "What is this? What happened?" she is trying to see the origin of the blood, as well as think of when such a wound would have occurred during their travels as she presses one of the cloths to Lexa's abdomen and applies liberal pressure.

"Ah!" Lexa hisses, then returns to her stoic state. Her fingers burrowing into the dry dirt besides her is not missed by Abby, "It happened before I left Polis."

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FLASHBACK

Lexa walked back from the balcony, unable to watch Clarke depart from the city. She decides to go instead to Clarke's room, or at least what used to be Clarke's room, to take comfort in the lingering scent of the blonde—one of berries and sweat—while it remained. Normally, Lexa would not allow herself such a ridiculous indulgence, there were better ways to squander time, but today for the first time in what felt like a new lifetime, Lexa felt like she deserved a few hours to reminisce, too appreciate what had been hers, what was arguably still hers, just with some distance in between. She refused to pine for Clarke in her absence, but would look after their memories together, both good and bad—to make a masterpiece you must light fire to the kiln.

At the risk of being cliché, her time lying with Clarke had been one of the best moments of her life. Sex was not in any way frowned upon in her culture, nor was she forbidden from having it herself—despite Titus' attestations—but matters of the heart were not where her strengths lied. But being with Clarke, it was a rare moment in which she was human. Not an animal satisfying a need, not a leader making a choice, but just Lexa expressing love in its most holistic light.

Lexa made it to Clarke's room, and looked on the door fondly, her eyes appreciating its nature.

Then she noticed the door was not closed properly, and her brow furrowed in confusion at the crack of light spilling through. She had left through the door not an hour ago, following Clarke to meet Octavia and wish them safe passage, the click of the handle engaging the frame ringing in her memory.

She cautiously opened the door the rest of the way and padded inside. There was seemingly nobody. The bed was a mess, the afternoon light bathing the floor, warming her bare feet.

Then she looked out at the balcony and noticed a familiar form. Though surprised to see him, Lexa did not consider anything insidious until she looked past his oddly squared shoulders, the silhouettes of two young skaikru women on horseback on the street below, and the shaking gun between them.

"Titus?!" Lexa asked incredulously. Her teacher spun on his shaking knees, the tremors in his hands as evident as the tears in his eyes.

BANG! It happens instantly. She says his name, his finger already cocked on the trigger, he turns and it happens. It was an accident, he swears by the moon and the stars. He had the best intentions. Lexa brings a hand to her chest, just below her ribs, feeling the fire rip her open but only being able to drop to one knee. Titus throws the weapon away, weeping and helping her to the floor.

"Forgive me, Heda." He urges and runs to the door to call for help.

Lexa gasps for air on the best day of her life; Clarke rides through the city gates towards home.

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PRESENT TIME

"One of my people made an attempt on Clarke's life." Lexa mumbles. "As she was leaving Polis, to return to Arkadia."

Abby stares at the face that is staring at the sky, still applying light pressure to the pad of material over the source of blood, "Lexa, are you telling me you were shot in the chest a week ago?"

Lexa misses the mystified sound in Abby's voice, and simply nods, unsure of what she said Abby could not have understood. "My healers addressed the wound, and the guilty has been dealt with."

The older woman is still floored, "You took a bullet for Clarke?"

"It wasn't as dramatic as you think. I walked in on one of my advisors with a skaikru weapon, aiming for her and Octavia as they rode through the gates. I startled him." Lexa's aloof answer only twists Abby in a tighter knot. The Commander had saved Clarke's life—even incidentally, as she claimed—and had said nil about it. Why? Why pretend nothing had happened? Why create and execute this rescue plan that promised her wounded body more torture? The Chancellor was well aware that the Commander did not make decisions from the heart, so she knew that Lexa was not risking death from this wound just for Clarke's sake.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Abby begins wiping away surrounding blood, baffled by its color, and even more baffled by the person it ran through.

"I have already told you, I am not your responsibility."

"Am I so untrustworthy that you would rather die than talk to me?" Abby mutters under her breath.

"Aren't I?" Lexa returns just as softly.

Abby clenches her jaw, frustrated. Instead of fueling the argument she asks, "How do you feel?" pressing another cloth on top of the one already saturated and stuck to the wound, "I need you to be honest."

Lexa exhaled slowly, "The pain's not as bad as when it first happened. But it's getting more difficult to breathe."

"When did the fever start?"

"I believe the wound reopened before we left Arkadia, but I didn't start feeling unwell until last light."

Abby silently curses. She let her hate for Lexa interfere with her ability to notice a fever; and Lexa's bullheadedness in trying to conquer the world while broken open was not helping. She retracts one hand and uses it to dutifully fish for the small wallet of medicines she brought with her. "I'm going to give you something for the pain. It'll help with the fever, too."

Lexa manages to make eye contact with the doctor, "Will it dull my senses?" She knows very little about Skaikru medicine, other than what her healers had reported Clarke had taught them in exchange for knowledge of their own practices. She knows there are methods of putting people unconscious for unpleasant treatments, though, and as appealing as that notion is in her current state, Lexa feared that caliber of darkness—which was fueled by her and Abby's mutual distrust for one another.

The doctor answers, "Yes, it can make you drowsy."

Lexa gives a small shake of her head, "I don't want that."

"Commander—"

"I would like to be alert for as long as possible, please." The please was strange, and unnecessary. It rang as loudly as it did softly. She realizes that Lexa is hyperaware of how Abby now controls her fate. With the 'please', she is conceding, admitting that she is too weak to defend herself against the Sky Woman.

Abby sighed. She was not keen on the idea of letting the girl suffer unnecessarily, but then again if she had to choose anyone on earth for her to feel the least guilty about a situation like this it would be the Commander.

"Okay, here, put your hands here," Abby is moving Lexa's hands for her, pushing down on the wad of cotton on her wound, "Good, keep a little pressure, good. Don't move. I'm going to get a fire going and set up camp really quick before it starts getting dark. Then I'm going to fix you up, alright?"

Lexa nods again, in little position to agree or disagree.

Ideally, Abby wants to examine Lexa as soon as possible, but with the encroaching evening and the unpredictable rain, she knows it would be wiser to get shelter and fire going now before it was too late. She does not go more than a few meters to collect kindling and firewood. It's definitely one of her weakest survival skills, making a fire. She's seen the Hundred do it with just sticks, and Markus, too, but she needs to use a small serrated bit of metal and an iron stick Raven had made for her and a few others in case of emergency. She lights a small fire beside Lexa, who has closed her eyes, and then sets about making their shelter. She doesn't have a tent, but has a small square of canvas she ties between the trees to make some sort of crude covering. "At a slight angle," Octavia's voice is in her head, reminding her not to tie it flat, otherwise rainwater can collect on in and it could rip or fall.

Once the crude shelter is cast, Abby kneels beside Lexa. "Commander, I'm going to take a look at your wound now, okay?" The girl does not open her eyes, and instead only gives a hushed "yes", as if she has any semblance of control over what Abby does or doesn't do.

Abby gently moves Lexa's hands away and peels back the wad of cloth resting beneath her sternum. Abby's not sure why she was expecting a simple black hole leading down to Lexa's insides, but she's greeted by a weeping, black wound, circular and the size of a coin, with a crude incision the length of her index finger running through it, it occurs to her that the grounders must have removed the bullet, and it simply hadn't gone straight through. It's not bleeding freely, but it wells and seeps black blood. It was obviously swollen, too, like a fist punching through her gut from behind, red and blistered; black veins extend from its edges as if something inside is straining to escape, and it gives a waft of rotting flesh. Abby stares at the damage undeniably shaken. How was she traveling in this condition? Why did she not seek help? Why didn't she say anything? "Your people removed the bullet?"

"Yes. They had some trouble. There was actually talk of contacting you for assistance." Lexa nearly grins, and Abby looks on, confused as to why that was being construed as a joke.

"I'm going to touch you, okay?" Abby asks. Lexa passively wonders why she ends every one of her sentences in a question—it was obvious she was not asking permission. Abby tentatively pressed on the areas surrounding it, noting the heat it gave off; unsurprisingly, the pressure she created forced surreal amounts of pus and clear exudate from the edges of the wound. Lexa had her mouth clamped shut with Abby's ministrations, her head tipped back with her chin towards the sky, fighting making any noise.

"I'm sorry, I know it hurts." Abby said softly, sincerely.

"It's fine." Lexa sounds remarkably calm and unstrained, despite the appearance of the rest of her.

"Can you roll over? I need to see your back."

As it turns out, no, Lexa cannot roll over. It was as if every passing minute demanded twice as much energy as the minute proceeding it, siphoning every last bit of strength she has. She feels strange, thin and watered down, far away but unable to escape.

"I'm going to turn you on your side," Abby explains, "Just for a minute, but it's going to be painful. Do you understand?"

There's that questioning again. Maybe the Skaikru struggle with simple directions, and need constant reinforcement.

Abby places a hand on her hip and a hand on her shoulder and takes care to roll her, providing constant support with one hand as the other trails down her back, marking each rib. The glimpse of the terribly purple and black, menacing bruise she had gotten earlier had not done the lesion justice. It poured over her back, inking out an elemental tattoo that adorned her spine, and overrides the last seven ribs on Lexa's right side.

Lexa welcomes the pain, the struggle, the breathlessness—it reminds her that she still lives.

"I think the bullet ricocheted off one or two of your ribs. I can feel some breaks, and there's some internal bleeding." Abby says methodically. Lexa initiates a motion to turn back to her original position, letting Abby and gravity finish the work. Abby internally wondered how Lexa was possibly tolerating laying on her back.

"Lexa," Abby says with a sudden serious more severe than it had been, "I have to go back for help."

"No." Lexa said simply. Like refusing wine at dinner.

"Look, you have an infection. This can kill you, do you understand? We will get the girls back from the Ice Nation, but you can't continue like this—"

"No, Abby." Lexa shifted, miraculously managing to lean up on her elbows, "We're wasting time. I will continue as far as possible. If I cannot make it to Azgeda, continue on alone."

"I've already told you, I have no influence over the Ice Nation, and no bargaining power for the girls. Ontari's messenger swore no harm would come to them as long as you denounced the thirteenth clan. She has to hear it from you that you are removing Skaikru from the alliance."

"And what do you think happens when we stand before Ontari in her own court, amongst her witnesses, and denounce the coalition? Hm? You think she'll just relinquish Clarke and Octavia and then let us walk back out of the gates?"

"Then we go to Polis and get your armies."

"We've been through this." Lexa laid back. She refused to argue in circles, she was not a mule tilling a pasture, "Marching on Azgeda means war. Relinquishing Skaikru from the protection of the coalition means massacre. We will get Clarke and Octavia back, and we will do it without sacrificing a population."

Abby sighs. It burns her to know the Lexa, of all people, is right. "And what about you? This is serious. I can't believe the wound hasn't killed you—but I can promise the infection will."

And then Lexa does something that makes Abby wholly uncomfortable; she smirks.

The irony of Clarke and Abby's similarities is not lost on Lexa, but where just two weeks ago Clarke joked about Lexa's inability to stop talking about the subject of her death, Abby now promises it. Lexa is not one for smiling, but in this she cannot help but smirk.

"If this is where my fight ends, then so be it." The quirk of her mouth and the light in her eyes is gone as fast as it came, and she says, "I will do what I must. I have been through worse, Chancellor."

Abby is about to say something in regards to the seriousness of Lexa's wound, and realized the hole the bullet had torn through her was not what she was referring to.

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