Chapter 35/40


Clarke couldn't sleep. Her mind was restless and with each passing second she found her thoughts drifting from one thing to another. Her old quarters didn't feel like home to her. She didn't think anywhere really felt like home to her anymore. She couldn't even remember the last time she had been able to sleep without worry or care.

She rolled onto her side, she ignored the ache from her ribs and she tried to stifle the cough that followed as she fought to ease her mind into thoughtlessness. But that didn't seem to work for Clarke rolled onto her other side, she winced at the slight pain in her arm now pinned under her body and so she settled for lying on her back, just as she had been moments earlier.

She missed lying under the stars, she missed the sounds of the forests, the animals and the wind. Staying at Alexandria and Nessa's had given her the time to find herself, or as much time as she could be spared. She knew she wouldn't be able to sleep in amongst the warriors yet, Lexa had made that more than clear. Clarke had all but been forced into her old quarters before she could even really decide where she wanted to rest for however long they'd stay at Arkadia.

Guards were even posted outside her door. And not just the door to her quarters, but the door to her bedroom. Two were just outside, and another two outside the main quarters. Even more at either end of the hallway. And thought she thought it a little over the top, that too, she couldn't hold against Lexa.

She sighed again, and this time she opened her eyes and found herself looking up at the bulkhead above her. She could see the rusted rivets she had counted so many times in her youth, that kept the metal plating from falling down on her head. She could see signs of stress in the metal, the Ark's re-entry to Earth clearly leaving its mark. She could see so many things that did little to calm her mind that she thought the only thing she could do to cease the noise was to get away, put some distance between her and whatever uncomfortable familiarity now clung to her and etched itself into her very psyche.

And so Clarke sighed, she took in a breath and she exhaled and then she sat. Clarke winced as a muscle protested her movements and she ignored the pain as she swung her legs over the side of her bed. She dressed as quickly as she could, the clothes Lexa had given her, with their hidden weapons still in place, oddly comforting for her to wear. She didn't really want to even contemplate why she liked wearing them, and so she told herself that it was simply because they were comfortable.

At least that wasn't a lie.

Clarke checked herself over one last time before she stepped out of her childhood bedroom.

Both warriors standing guard straightened at her appearance, Clarke nodded to them both and she began moving for the exit. She wouldn't even bother asking them to give her some privacy as she wondered, she knew it would be so far beyond pointless. That same interaction was repeated yet again as she exited her quarters to be greeted by the two other warriors who stood outside. She turned left, and as she looked over her shoulder she saw the two other warriors stationed at the far end begin moving towards them, their feet moving quickly to make up the distance.

It didn't surprise Clarke when she noticed each one had their hands on a weapon, even two had bow and arrow already prepared to fire at a moment's notice. They came to the end of the corridor then, and Clarke nodded at the last two warriors who had been standing there.

And so Clarke found herself feeling just a little self conscious as she began walking aimlessly through the ark, four warriors to her front, and four to her back.


Clarke wandered the broken halls of the Ark. Her footsteps echoed out around her as the flickering of light and the ghosted step of those who followed her shadowed every step she took. It was late, or perhaps early, she didn't really know. At times she thought she could hear the gentle hiss of the wind as it some how snaked its way through the Ark, at times she thought it the ventilation systems breathing oxygen through the arteries of the Ark. And at other times, she thought it her mind, she thought it her imagination and her thoughts that danced shadows in the corners of her vision.

She didn't know why she was thinking of such things. Not quite, any way. Perhaps the only thing she had become used to was that her thoughts would bring up uncertainties and emotions she couldn't battle with at any time without care or worry for the state of her mind. But maybe it was easier in that moment because she wasn't alone. Not when she had warriors who moved with her with such silence she could almost forget they were there. She wondered if Lexa had selected warriors she knew capable of being as silent as they were, she wondered if Lexa had slaved hour after hour trying to determine who amongst her warriors could do what they needed to do without disturbing her. That wouldn't surprise Clarke though. Not when Lexa had so very clearly chosen clothes for her to wear, boots for her to slip her feet into, things that fit her with such precision that Clarke could be forgiven for thinking them tailored to her.

It surprised Clarke to find that her wandering had taken her to a stairwell that rose up and up and up into the higher levels of the Ark. She knew the upper levels hardly used now, the spaces above simply too annoying for people to access now that they had the space on the ground to spread out into. Maybe it was the perfect place to sit, to find a moment of calm, of quiet without most others. Maybe she'd be so high up that the wind could trick her into thinking she wasn't even earthbound anymore. And maybe that could do her some good. At least until she could figure out her own thoughts.

And so Clarke climbed. She climbed the stairs, she let the cold of the metal chill her body and she tried not to think too much until she found a place she could really think, a place where she could really let herself forget.

Clarke climbed the stairs as far as she could until the Ark began to slope, until it began to curve back on itself, where gravity began to take hold and would threaten to slide her back down and down and down to the earth so far below. It felt like a dream, the Ark, everything seemed to tilt ever so slightly, just enough that if she didn't pay attention she would lose her footing, she could trip and fall and slide just enough across the ground that she'd know things were different.

A warrior seemed intrigued, a warrior seemed confused, one a little cautious as they all continued to follow her. One warrior, a slender woman, whose face was as kind as her eyes were sharp, picked up a small piece of metal, perhaps sheared off when the Ark crashed to the ground. She held it in her hand for a moment as if to inspect it, as if to commit it to memory and then she set it on the ground with such care Clarke could picture it an animal, a kind creature that would scamper about under foot.

That piece of metal began to slide across the ground as it chased the Earth's gravity, it began to roll just enough and it continued to twist, tumble and bounce its way across the ground as it rolled away further and further and further until the darkness of a broken light swallowed it whole.

"It was different in the sky," Clarke said lamely as the woman straightened and met her gaze with inquisitiveness and wonder. But her answer seemed to satisfy the warrior for she nodded to herself before fading back into the silent mask of the shadow she had been.

They continued to walk for a short while longer, enough that Clarke's breathing became a little more laboured. Perhaps it was fate that she found this spot the place to come to a pause though. She didn't mean to, she did't realise, but as she stilled her feet, as she stilled her steps, she found herself standing in front of an airlock, the first set of doors sealing the entrance from her, the second only waiting for the command to open out into the nothingness of space.

But this time, as Clarke looked through both set of doors, she saw the ever so purple light of a slowly approaching day. Stars were still so very visible, clouds just barely there drifted by and perhaps if she squinted hard enough she could spy the occasional bird that ghosted through the dark.

Memories of standing before an airlock what seemed like lifetimes ago seemed to filter into her memory. they weren't happy memories, they would never be happy memories. She didn't think she wanted to remember them more than she already was. But some part of her wanted to embrace them, some part of her dared itself to leap feet first into the tempest of her mind.

She had promised herself she wouldn't hide away from such things anymore, she had promised herself to never look back. So maybe all this aimless wandering, all this hopeless uncertainty had really been a trick of her mind, something to force her to embrace the things she should embrace before she lost herself to them forever.

Clarke reached out for the small access panel recessed into the wall. A simple lever was set into it, its handle worn, beaten and so very old. Her fingers seemed to close around the lever with such familiarity that she thought it cruel. There was even a warmth to the metal, a softness to its rusted body, and for a moment, for one tiny fraction of a second, she found herself remembering her father's smile as he was sucked into the vacuum of space.

And then Clarke pulled the lever.

She waited for a moment, she waited for a second, perhaps a minute, maybe an hours, but nothing seemed to happen. A frown creased her forehead and she set the lever back into place before pulling it once more, and yet again she found that the doors didn't open as they should.

Clarke stepped towards the airlock doors, she eyed the crack in the centre and she reached out, perhaps to see if she could will the doors open, perhaps even to check that the doors were really there, that she wasn't imagining them sealed away forever. But her finger tips touched the cold of the metal, they touched the harshness of an icy bite and she withdrew her hand with a quiet gasp.

But two warriors stepped forward, both men, both far larger than any man had any right to be. They barely made a noise as they reached out, as they somehow, someway wedged their fingertips into the crack and braced themselves. And then they began to pull. There was a groan, something barely there that Clarke knew not if it was from either of them, or if it was from the doors protesting such a violent intrusion into its peaceful slumber.

Clarke could hear gears slowly creaking, she could hear metal beginning to scrape against metal, and she could hear the grunting of both men as they battled with the Ark itself. There was a subtle whirring, a gentle hiss of something and then there was silence.

The warriors stood back as the first set of doors hissed open to reveal the airlock itself. It was a small room, just large enough to fit a standard crate inside. Yellow and black warnings were painted on almost every surface as if the emptiness of space beyond the last set of doors was not warning enough for any inside the airlock.

Clarke didn't think she had ever been in an airlock before. They had never had a use for them in space. Or none that she wanted to experience. They had always been a fear for the youth, the young and the rebellious. Always an ever present threat should you fall prey to the foolishness of life.

It had once been her destiny to live the last seconds of her life in an airlock. She had been given a year to come to terms with that fact. She had accepted it in some way, she had grown use to it, too. Maybe she had even relished it. At least it would let her see her father again. But maybe that had simply been a lie she had told herself in the hopes that she could trick her mind into truly believing that death wouldn't be so bad.

But now, after everything she had been through, she didn't know what she wanted to believe.

Clarke stepped forward, her footsteps seemed to echo out around her more loudly than they had done moments earlier. She continued to step forward until she found herself at the other end of the airlock. She was so close that she could press her cheek to the glass of the final doors, she was so close that her breath ghosted against its unforgiving surface, so close that she felt her stomach flip, her stomach dance as she looked down at the Earth so far below.

Clarke was so high up that the world below seemed miniature, full of ants and beetles, small animals and sprites and playthings that were nothing but a thing for young children to pass the time with.

And it was beautiful.

The trees stretched out so far below, their bodies melded together with such gentleness that they seemed to blanket the lands, dance with the shadows and soothe her weary mind. Clarke imagined herself a giant, something so far removed from the world that nothing could hurt her. She imagined the forest that she looked upon to be nothing more than a bed for her to lie upon, to rest atop, to find comfort and beauty within.

It didn't really surprise her that she found her forehead resting against the glass. It didn't really surprise her that a tear or two slowly made themselves known upon her cheek, and it didn't really surprise herself when she found that her hand had taken hold of one last lever recessed into the doors centre.

Clarke leant her weight against the airlock's last door, enough that she would topple forward with no hope of return should its presence vanish. That lever in her hand was nestled against her chest, against her heart. She was close enough that the warriors with her couldn't see what she held, she was pressed against it enough that they wouldn't be able to catch her should she fall. She was close enough to the open air that it wouldn't take much at all to live the rest of her life.

It'd be easy to pull the lever. It'd be easy to leave her fate up to chance. She didn't know what would happen if she pulled the lever. She didn't know if she would be disappointed if the doors opened or if they remained shut. Part of her didn't care, part of her thought it so fitting, and part of her wanted to know, needed to know, begged to know which answer would disappoint her.

Maybe this was what she had been hiding from. Maybe this was what she had been trying to avoid for so long. Maybe she had been tired of living, maybe she had been tired of doing nothing but surviving for day after day without reprieve from her thoughts, without reprieve from her demons, without reprieve from hate, from guilt, from agony and love.

And so Clarke took in a deep breath, she held it for as long as her tired soul could hold it for before she exhaled and it was so sweet. It was calming, gentle upon her lips and so bitter within her heart.

And then she pulled the lever.

She'd live with the consequences if it was the last thing she ever did.