Don't let the chapter title fool you, there is still more coming! As always, you likey you reviewy. You no likey you still reviewy.


When Abby opened the door six hours twenty-three minutes and fifty-seven seconds later, the burst of sunlight nearly blinded Clarke. She lifted a canteen of water to her lips, letting her suck it down greedily. "Lexa?" Her voice was still hoarse, but at least the worst of the pain was over. She hadn't screamed since Abby had left her. It wouldn't have done any good.

"Asleep, but stable." Clarke nodded. "I don't want to treat you like this. Can I untie you?" She bobbed her head. Abby hadn't tried to kill the commander. It was clear to her now. She wouldn't attack her even if she had the strength.

She cried out in pain as she shoulder dropped. "Let me fix that."

"It can wait. I have to see her." She scrambled to her feet but fell back against the wall, hurting herself even more.

"She is unconscious, your only help can be to be there to encourage her when she wakes up. You can't do that looking like this." She helped her out of the closet into the operating room it was attached to. Lexa was still on the other side of the tiny hospital. "Bite." Abby ordered, inserting a stick between Clarke's teeth. She obeyed and squeezed her eyes shut as her mother situated her hands around her joint. "One…Two…"

Her back arched in pain for a short second until it receded, the shoulder back in place. "That trick doesn't work on me anymore." She had seen her mom do it to every kid on the Ark. Let them think she would count to three, then do it before they expected, the shock easing the pain.

"Habits." She said, wrapping a rag around her arm to use as a sling.

"I'm sorry."

"You shouldn't hurt yourself like that. I needed you away so you wouldn't interfere with the surgery. You should never have to witness a loved one like that."

"I know." Her mother had done the same thing to countless people on the Ark when one of their family members was injured. It was better for them to spend a short time in a cell than have to bear the same pain as the patient. "I meant about saying… well."

"I know." Abby sighed, brushing her daughter's frazzled hair out of her eyes. "That fear, it can make us think and say things that are not right."

Clarke pursed her lips. "I still want to find who did this." Abby let out a soft noise, agreeing with her. "Can I see her now?"

"Yes, but you have to promise me you won' do anything. Her vitals are regulating, but she lost a lot of blood and her insides, well we're not sure yet. You can't jostle her."

"I won't." Pulling aside the thin curtains that functioned as the walls between rooms, Clarke made her way down the thin corridor. All around were the coughs and whines of sick and injured grounders. Normally, she would have stopped. She would have peaked in to see if there was anything she could do to help any of them, but she only had eyes for one of the little blocked of sections.

They had moved Lexa out of the first clinic room into one of her own off to the side after the surgery. It was best not to let too many grounders see the Heda so fragile. The blood was washed from her face, and her clothes had been cleaned and piled next to her cot, replaced with a thin homespun frock.

Her tanned skin was paler than usual and her lanky. They hadn't been able to get the mix of crimson mud completely out. "She can still make it. Every minute is a better chance." Abby whispered from the doorway.

"She will make it." Clarke growled more forcefully than she had intended. She vaguely registered her mother ducking her head and leaving them be.

A little rickety stool stood in the corner and Clarke pulled it over to the bedside, picking up Lexa's delicate hand. It was the same one that had perpetrated the no man's land the first night they shared the bed. The one with the so distinct fingerprint on her pinky. The memory made her smile. They would make more memories like that. They would.

Clarke lost count of the seconds, but at least now she could see the run through a dust worn window at the top. It was dark when Bellamy came in with a goblet of wine and some bread. He didn't say anything, just left it at the foot of the cot, leaving his quiet condolences with a brief moment of eye contact before Clarke turned back to her wife.

Wife. What a strange word. They hadn't even kissed since their wedding day. Everything she had ever imagined her marriage to be like, they weren't. How long had they been…together? If that was the right word. Twenty days, she realized. Not even a month, but a day short of her three weeks. When Lexa woke up, would she still want Clarke to go? The thought sent of a pang through her chest.

She must have dozed off at some point, because when she woke up, pink rays were bursting through the window. The wine and bread were gone, replaced with something like looked like turkey and a vase of water. For a fleeting moment, Clarke wondered how her mother was explaining their absence. It had been what, some thirty hours since either of them were last seen?

The thoughts quickly flew out of her head. "Clarke?" Her voice was husky, but strong, her fingers curling back into Clarke's. "You're here." Lexa smiled.

"Lexa." She nearly threw herself down on her before remembering her injures. She squeezed back her hand, her eyes wet with relief.

"You're here." She repeated.

"So are you. You're still here." Clarke looked up at the beamed ceiling, trying to stop her tears from falling, while her breath came in short shaky gasps.

"Hey." She turned back to her commander. Lexa released her fingers from her hold, bringing them up to cup her cheek, wiping away the stray water. "We're okay."

Clarke bobbed her head, unable to force her vocal cords to work. She grinned against the calloused hand still stroking subconsciously along her jaw. "How much did you hear?"

They both knew what she was talking about. "A lot." They both gulped, neither knowing how the other would react. "And you can, Clarke. I promise you, you can."