Clarke swiped her palm across the fogged mirror. She recognized the blue eyes staring back at her, but it was like someone had taken a photograph and moved the camera just as the shutter closed so the girl in the mirror only resembled the memory she had of herself. She looked at the faded bruising beneath her eye, her sharp jawline as it met her neck, flowing down to her prominent collar bones and bare shoulders, shadows swirling around the definition in her upper arms.

She remembered that first night in this room as she'd wept silently under the running water, scrubbing away weeks in the wilderness, her fingertips tracing over the bony protrusions of her hips, the pronounced ridges of her ribs. If The Commander had come for her then, for Wanheda, she wouldn't have had the strength to deny her. Now, as she looked down, she was still lean, but the harsh lines of starvation had been softened by a new, thin sheathing of muscle that rippled and flexed as she lifted her arm to run her fingers through her hair.

14 had offered her a different path in her pursuit to become the lessons of The Commander - one not predicated on mental walls and self flagellation. It was 14's physicality that drove her, an existence based on what her body could do and what others could learn from it and Clarke was her apt pupil.

Clarke welcomed stretching in the mornings before training, feeling the satisfying burn in her sleepy muscles as her brain shut off whatever it had been reliving or planning since she'd opened her eyes and let her focus shift to the present. Under 14's instruction, she was emerging as contender in her own right, much like Octavia, she thought, as Octavia had studied under Indra, transforming into a Trikru warrior.

But she and 14 had also been trapped together in this strange purgatory, waiting for more habitable conditions outside, so how much of their relationship had been only due to circumstance? In another life, would 14 have been sent to kill her-another move in the game of unseen players? In another life - the weeks she was wandering alone - would she have welcomed beautiful death with open arms?

As Clarke dressed for bed, stepping into the tight shorts that served as underwear and pulling a loose-fitting tank top over her head, she let her fingers trace across her skin, hyper aware of how foreign the light, almost tickling sensation now felt. It had been months since she and Finn had fallen into bed together, two teenagers lost and afraid at the end of the world. It played in her mind in sharp contrast to the delicate, searching kiss in Lexa's tent, neither of them having the freedom to give themselves away in a moment of youthful passion. But the hunger and fire she felt in the press of their lips had been more potent than anything Clarke knew could exist between people, different than anything she had ever felt before. For anyone. And here she was now, waiting out the winter in a bunker with a stranger she'd found hanged in the woods, learning to fight so that should The Commander ever return, Clarke would be prepared to kill her.

She leaned against the bathroom doorway watching 14 stretched out on the couch, reading one of the many paperbacks previous travelers had left. Even she looked different than the day they crossed the threshold to this temporary life. The tattoos above her ear long since hidden by a shaggy mop of slate and silver hair, injuries healed into their normal faded white lines, and her eyes shone bright like river rocks under a flowing stream, the haunted shadows passing over them less frequently.

Clarke remembered the first time she had crawled onto the sofa with 14. She was standing next to the couch looking at the fire, too restless for sleep to come and too tired to be productive, the only sounds in the world were the pattering of rain above, the soft pops and hisses from the fireplace, and the wispy crackle of a page turning every few minutes. 14 had looked up from her book, her eyes offering a silent invitation which Clarke had answered by climbing in next to her, the length of their bodies pressed against each other. She remembered the warmth radiating from 14, the feeling of her body's natural rise and fall as she breathed, and the soft timbre of her voice as she began to read aloud. It was comforting and innocent in ways that had made Clarke's heart ache.

When Clarke got up from the couch to go to her bed, finally exhausted and soothed into drowsiness, 14 had made no move to follow; and on days where Clarke had woken in her bed with no memory of having left the sofa the night before, she would open her eyes and see unkempt hair poking up over the armrest, silhouetted against the dying embers in the fireplace behind them.

In those few minutes of the calm morning before her anguish and self loathing had stirred, she would sometimes compare the ways 14 and Lexa were similar; ways that she would allow herself to dwell on and ways that she would push from her mind before they could take root, only to pace at the periphery of her thoughts.

Clarke walked from the bathroom towards the fireplace, stopping in front of on the sofa, inches from 14's outstretched arm, her fingers dangling off the edge of the couch. She watched 14's eyes as they tracked line by line on the page, seemingly unaware of Clarke's presence (which Clarke knew wasn't true). She felt her heart begin to pound as a flash of adrenaline surged through her, so different than the steady drip during their sparring sessions. Steeling her nerves, Clarke shifted her weight slightly, so that the side of her thigh made contact with the tips of 14's fingers. Just barely.

"Mmm?" 14 hummed as she turned to face Clarke, her eyes taking in the warm skin now touching her fingertips, her gaze slowly following a path from Clarke's thigh until their eyes met.

Before she could let all of the doubt and terror of this moment drown her resolve, Clarke bent down to hook one of her fingers around 14's and with a gentle tug, 14 was on her feet.

They stared at each other for a long moment, half of their faces dancing in firelight, half in shadow. 14 was completely still, the only movement the slight rise and fall of her shoulders as she breathed, her eyes not moving a millimeter from Clarke's.

Clarke took a deep breath and closed the distance between them, pressing her lips to 14's. In the space of a heartbeat that felt like it spanned an eternity, Clarke was terrified she had made a huge mistake.

To say that she might have "misread" signals would mean there would have been signals at all. In the weeks that they had known each other, while completely absorbed in each other's bodies, they had never crossed into anything besides respectfully platonic; gaze or touch never lingered on bare skin.

And then, she felt 14's lips slide against hers, at first softly, then growing in intensity, suddenly feeling like sparks thrown into a powder keg. It was raw, and passionate and desperate for all of the pain they'd each been forced to endure and the solace they had found in each other. Clarke panted against 14's lips as she felt an arm wrap around her waist, a hand searching gently under her shirt, the searing heat of 14's palm as it made contact with the small of her back, pulling her in closer. It was like a dam had broken between them, not one that had been containing their feelings, but the one that had been keeping their magnetic pull apart.

The fire raging inside her was not what Clarke had expected given the chaste nature of their friendship, but now that the floodgates had opened it's what she needed now and from the way she felt 14's hands on her, the feeling was completely mutual.

Clarke lifted 14's shirt over her head and 14 pulled Clarke's tank top off as soon as she was free from her own, both standing in their tight shorts. They crashed back into each other's lips, gasping for breath between the velvet explorations of their tongues, feeling the heat of their bare skin as they pressed against each other, trying to get as close as possible and it never feeling like enough. Clarke shuddered as 14 took her lower lip between hers, and failed to hold back a tiny moan as she felt 14's tongue swipe along it's length, the pressure of suction and teeth as it slid out from 14's grip with a soft pop.

They paused for a moment, breathing heavily, feeling the air between them hot and electric. 14 leaned in this time, kissing her with such softness, such tenderness it was like she wanted Clarke to know that this, whatever this was, it didn't have to change anything between them. This was need. This was desire. This was human. This was trust built up over weeks of blood and sweat and sorrow and healing. This was after all of their mental walls had been scraped away, leaving them raw and vulnerable and safe. Clarke felt the lump in her throat travel like a warm orb through her core before it settled between her legs. She was nervous and excited and this was really going to happen and God why were they not in the bed yet?

Clarke pushed 14 down onto the mattress and shifted so that she was straddling her, their faces inches apart. She giggled softly, watching as 14 scrunched up her nose at the tickling blonde hair around her face. Her laughter turned into a quivering gasp when she felt 14 lightly glide the pads of her fingers up her spine before flipping her over in an instant. As 14 leaned down to kiss her, the tips of her hair now brushing Clarke's face, Clarke imagined 14's face as it usually was - so serious and reserved and calculating - but in this moment, she was smiling, grinning into Clarke's lips. If nothing else happened between them tonight - or ever - it would still have made the weeks of training worth it just for this break in the veil.

But more was happening as 14 moved her lips lower, to Clarke's neck, fingertips tracing across the expanse of Clarke's bare skin, now sensitive and flushed as she trembled under waves of anticipation flowing down to her core and out to her extremities. She watched 14 trail her attentions lower, every swirl of her tongue and pull of her lips adding to the tightness in Clarke's throat and pulsing between her thighs. She wondered if 14 had been secretly mapping every exposed nerve during their sparring sessions, knowing exactly how (nearly) every square inch of her body would respond to her touch.

When their lips met again, Clarke's aching was almost unbearable - she needed more, and as 14's fingers slid down the smooth pane of her stomach, over her underwear, and pressed where Clarke was most desperate, she couldn't stop the groaning whine as it ripped from her throat, her hips rising in search of more pressure from 14's hand.

"Can I have these?" 14 murmured, her lips brushing against Clarke's ear, sending new shivers down her body, as she gave the waistband of Clarke's underwear a light tug.

Clarke swallowed hard, and nodded. She watched the light from the fireplace shimmering against the thin sheen of sweat on 14's skin, her chest rising and falling in time with Clarke's own thudding heart as she knelt between Clarke's legs and removed her last piece off clothing.

She was the tide being pulled by the moon, the waves coming further and more forcefully to shore. Every stroke of 14's tongue, the gentle suction from her lips and deep curl of her her fingers brought Clarke closer to her release. But for the second time, 14 slowed, backing off, just enough, just keeping Clarke at the brink but never tumbling over, making the inevitable that much stronger. It was deliciously frustrating, almost unbearable, and as Clarke felt 14 begin to build up her intensity again, felt herself being edged closer and closer, she grabbed a fistful of 14's hair, anything to let her know Do. Not. Stop. With a moan against her that Clarke could feel, 14 obeyed.

Clarke careened over the edge into oblivion, tethered to this world by her grip on 14 as every pulse and wave exploded outward to the edges of space before pulling everything back inward again. Her abdominals flexed, core strained, mouth open in a silent scream, holding her breath until she saw pulses of light behind her eyelids.

14 coaxed the last tremors from her body, before settling herself against Clarke, the weight feeling comfortable, grounding. She could taste herself on 14's warm lips, her own feeling cold and numb.

"You ok?" 14 asked, resting her head on her elbow, her other hand pressed flat on Clarke's sternum, keeping her heart from beating out of her chest. "Did I accidentally kill Wanheda?"

The ringing in Clarke's ears was slowly fading, the underwater feeling dissipated as she felt herself coming back to the surface of the world.

"Maybe," Clarke answered, her voice raspy, a lazy smile playing at her lips as she was still trying to catch her breath, the stars behind her eyelids growing faint.

When Clarke opened her eyes again, the only thing in her view was the dying fire - no 14 on the couch - and a wave of panic coursed through her before Clarke remembered that she was naked. She turned over to see 14 asleep in the space next to her on the bed, her face peaceful as she breathed deeply, lost in dreamless oblivion. She watched her for several long minutes, the rise and fall of 14's bare chest in the low light, tiny shadows cast by some of her more prominent scars on her abdomen, and the mystery of what unseen places on her felt like, still hidden by the blanket gathered around her hips.

Clarke's mind flashed back to a few hours ago, again feeling the tightness in her throat and pulsing warmth in her center, now merely an echo of the intensity she had felt then. It almost didn't feel real. She reached her hand out, the pads of her fingers gently touching on the most recent scars on 14, the ones that had made her eyes water and her heart ache for a stranger so many weeks ago.

"Awake?" 14 mumbled, not opening her eyes.

Clarke leaned against her elbow, her left hand continuing to trace along 14's skin.

"Yes. Sorry," Clarke said, feeling her cheeks flush slightly as she remembered not being awake immediately after 14 had done whatever incredible thing she did that was still sending pulses through Clarke's body whenever she thought about it.

14 opened her eyes and turned her head towards Clarke, which Clarke took as an invitation to press their lips together again.

"Can I make it up to you?" Clarke whispered against 14's lips as her fingertips hesitated just underneath 14's waistband. She leaned in to kiss her again, letting her tongue run along 14's upper lip, feeling 14's hips tilt upward towards her hand in answer.

Clarke felt the breath slam from her chest, the familiar weightless, dropping sensation settle in her stomach as her fingers explored 14's warmth. She watched 14's face, watched her eyebrows knit together and relax, lips parted in silent prayer, as Clarke sought to find the rhythm and pressure she liked best. She was about to move her hand down lower, to feel 14 from the inside, but as if she knew what Clarke was thinking, 14's hand wrapped around Clarke's wrist, keeping her exactly where she needed. Clarke thought about how quiet and reserved she still was, even in pleasure, and wondered, sadly, if it had been born out of necessity, knowing the consequences if she were ever caught. She could taste the salt of dried sweat on 14's skin, watched her abdominals flex as her hips rolled along in rhythm with Clarke's hand; coming apart in one shaking breath, her head thrown back and pressed against the pillow, the muscles and veins in her neck straining as she allowed one gasping moan to pass her lips before collapsing, trembling, curling herself against Clarke's body.

Clarke lay with her head on 14's chest, soothed by the steady, wet thumping of 14's heart as she idly stroked her fingers along Clarke's back. The electrified, desperate passion they had felt earlier, now morphed into comforting reflection.

"What was her name?" Clarke asked, her fingertips still tracing constellations between 14's scars.

"November."

"Were there others named after months?"

"No. 'N' is the 14th letter of the alphabet. Old military code-names. Alpha, Bravo… I'm not sure if I was paired with her or she with me, but the names and numbers always corresponded."

"Did you love her?" 14 asked, after a long pause.

Clarke's heart thudded in her chest. She had been trying not to think about Lexa. But trying and doing aren't the same thing and more than once she had wondered if she hadn't stopped their kiss in her tent that day how far things might have gone.

"No," Clarke replied, honestly. "But… I think I wanted to."

Clarke felt 14 kiss the top of her head, deeply breathing in the scent of soap as it clung to her hair.

Clarke awoke without any memory of dreams, sunlight spilling through the skylight as 14 lay pressed against her back, her arm draped over Clarke, hand resting against her heart.

It was time for them to leave this place. The harsh, unforgiving cold having given way to the crisp dampness and new green of Spring. Where they would go, she wasn't sure. Arkadia? Polis? Somewhere else? She wasn't even sure if 14 would come with her, though she felt like their fates were bound together now.

She felt 14 squeeze her arm around her, consciousness having arrived.

"It looks like it's finally not going to rain every second of every day. Maybe we should think about heading out?" Clarke asked.

"Not yet." 14 murmured, nuzzling softly at the back of Clarke's neck. "Tomorrow."

14 gently pulled her arm from around Clarke's chest, a hand pressed on her hip, maneuvering Clarke onto her back as she slipped underneath the blanket in search of more ways to delay the inevitable.

Clarke listened to the sound of the woods as they walked, her chirping birds having returned to their perches and the leaves now mushy and decomposed from their long, rainy winter, making squicky sounds beneath their feet. They had decided to leave the bunker for a short walk, hoping the decision of where to travel next would be revealed during their explorations. It felt good to breathe in the fresh air, to feel sunlight on her face again, and not have to race inside once her ears and nose were red and raw. Clarke felt like she had found her peace, or at least had made peace with the horrors of her past in this moment as they walked.

Her adrenaline spiked before she had even processed the plinking sound, followed by a loud hissing. As she saw the brightly colored smoke obscuring everything around them, she was filled with dread, remembering the last time… the time The Mountain Men had come to claim her and her friends for their experiments. But they were all dead. It was her fault. But they were dead. She spun around, searching for 14 who was almost invisible not an arm's length away.

"No!" shouted 14, her eyes wide as she coughed and tried to reach for Clarke.

The world disappeared amid shouts and birds and fog and darkness.