Clarke's nose scrunched as smells began to invade her sleeping mind. Her mind grasping onto the scents of fresh buttermilk pancakes, bacon, eggs, and coffee but with an underlying scent of cleaning products. In her barely conscious state, she stretched slow, toes curling before she relaxed to snuggle deeper under the covers with a satisfied sigh.

Noises began to filter in, and the sounds of breakfast reached her, the sound of sizzling fat with an occasional pop of grease. A spatula was moving inside a skillet or pan. And a voice. A voice that was speaking soft yet firm. It was a familiar voice, and it caused Clarke to frown as she shifted in her bed.

That's when memories of yesterday rushed forward, and Clarke was awake. Lunch at Grounders with Quinn. Their trip to her apartment. The hospital. The out of control drug addict brought in. The dogpile when the gurney fell. Fighting the addict's attempt to bite her face off. Quinn bodily heaving him off her and getting hurt in the process. And eyes of a verdant green forest that have haunted her since the restaurant.

Clarke groaned as she stretched more fully on the pull out couch that had served as her bed. She reluctantly opened her eyes and, with a sigh, pushed herself up against the back of the sofa. Looking back to the kitchen, Quinn was still on the phone, but it was tucked between her head and shoulder as her attention was on the stove. She sighed again and reached for her phone that was on the end table.

Unlocking it with a quick swipe of her finger, she checked her messages and emails. Nothing too important so, she shot off a few replies before turning to the mindlessness of social media. Unaware as she was lost in trivialities, she let out an undignified squeak when a coffee cup appeared in front of her. With a huff and glare at Quinn, she took it from Quinn's outstretched hand.

Quinn chuckled and sat down at the bottom of the bed, sipping her cup. Clarke set her phone aside and let the warmth of the cup seep into her hands before taking a tentative sip of her own.

"Who're you on the phone with," Clarke asked, settling herself more comfortably.

"Funeral Director of Ark Memorial," Quinn answered. "I've set up a meeting with him for Monday at two."

Clarke nodded, "Are they good?"

Quinn shrugged, "Dunno, but that's who Dad requested we use. He pretty much had everything written down already. Funeral Home, casket, flower arrangements, songs, epitaph."

"Don't tell me that it's something cheesy," Clarke groaned slightly, taking another sip.

Quinn chuckled and shook her head, "No. He's given us a few Arthur C. Clarke quotes to choose from. I've written them down so that Charlie can give her opinion. Bell too."

"Any way we can send them to Rae and O," Clarke asked, her heart hurt a little more that they wouldn't be at the funeral.

Quinn scrunched her brows in thought and then shrugged, "We've got their personal emails, and I've got Rae's Navy one. I can shoot them a quick email, but I don't know how soon they'll be able to get back to us."

"They should have a say, Quinn. They were as much his daughters as we are," she argued.

Quinn smiled, "You're right. I'll email them after breakfast."

"Thank you," she replied and took another sip of her coffee. "How's your head?"

"Much better after you stopped waking me up every couple of hours," she replied and stood up. "Breakfast is ready."

"You didn't have to make breakfast, Q," she said, unwrapping herself from the bedsheets.

Quinn just shrugged and headed over to the kitchen to grab the food.

"I'm serious, Quinn," she argued after seeing her sister being dismissive. "You're recovering from an injury. A head injury. You shouldn't be putting yourself through unnecessary strain."

"I've had a lot worse injuries than a little bump on the head, C," Quinn retorted with a touch of exasperation. "This is nothing, and breakfast is hardly strenuous. Now, come on, food's getting cold."

Clarke walked over to the breakfast bar and sat on a stool. She watched as Quinn split the food evenly between them. Quinn stayed on the kitchen side and began to immediately dig in intent on ignoring everything in favor of food. Clarke let out a frustrated sigh and let Quinn deal with whatever had crawled up her ass in silence.

After a while, Quinn set her fork to the side and looked up at Clarke, "I'm not trying to downplay my injury, C. Or act flippantly. I know yesterday scared you more than you're letting on."

"Of course it did," Clarke snapped back, slamming her fork down and glaring at her. "We just lost Dad. This isn't a fucking warzone, Quinn. You don't need to put yourself out there unnecessarily. Risking yourself like that."

Quinn scoffed, "I wasn't the only one risking myself, Clarke. You jumped in without regard to your own fucking safety! It wasn't your job to get involved. You had no obligation. You should have let the staff on shift do their jobs."

"It is my job, Quinn," she bit back. "My obligation. I have been dealing with this for months. I knew exactly what I was doing. So did everyone there."

"That may be so, but it wasn't your fight. It wasn't our fight," Quinn finished with a frustrated sigh and ran a hand through her hair. "Look, with everything going on, neither one of us can afford to act without thought. Yesterday was the epitome of reckless behavior. I just hope that they don't realize our connection to Skaikru."

Clarke's anger left in a rush as confusion hit her, "They? They who? What are you talking about, Quinn?"

Quinn leaned her hands on the kitchen counter in front of her and looked at her sister seriously, "Trikru. Those two that helped us were high ranking members of Trikru. If they find out who we are, it can complicate things."

Clarke frowned, "How?"

"It created a debt," she explained. "Nothing Trikru does is free. They always get something in return, and it can be anything. And I mean anything. As Griffins and council members…it's like giving them a golden ticket to Skaikru. If they don't call on it in our lifetime, the debt passes down to the next generation."

Clarke blanched at the implication, "What if we refuse to honor it?"

"They can demand blood," she replied in all seriousness. "They're huge on honor. A handshake, verbal agreement, helping hand, it holds the same weight as a legal document. They've been known to go to war over broken promises."

"So, what can we do to avoid bloodshed," she asked, just as serious.

Quinn bit her lip in thought, "If they connect us to the Skaikru Griffins, the easiest is to repay the debt before they call us on it. Give them Dr. Tsing and the research we've done. That might appease them enough. How secure is your social media accounts?"

"Um," Clarke faltered at the change of questioning. "I've never really looked at it."

Quinn sighed, "First things first, we up the security on all your social media. As a member of the council, it's a smart move anyway. We'll get with Monty later and do that. We'll do the same to Charlie's accounts too."

"And second?"

"We convince the council to hand over the information to Trikru. None of Dad's notes gave any indication that anyone knew that the data was coming from live subjects or that Polis was the testing ground," Quinn explained.

"How do we keep that from biting us in the ass? Once they know that we had the information, couldn't they demand reparations or something," Clarke asked as she began to think about the situation.

"Offer to help," Quinn replied quickly. "We have better medical facilities and doctors at our disposal. Our people are better suited to finding a cure and distributing it."

"Would that be enough, though," Clarke asked, leaning back. "If these were our people, I'd not only want the cure but also help in stopping it from coming into our city. We've had this information for a few months, Quinn. Polis has been dealing with this for nearly a year."

Quinn sighed and leaned harder on her hands, "You're right, but it's not up to us to decide on the level of help we give. More than likely, we'll only be able to convince the council to deliver the information anonymously. The council will want to pretend that Skaikru did not know."

"That's not right," Clarke cried out indignantly. "Polis has been suffering. People have been dying, Quinn. Families have been torn apart because of this drug. If we have the means and knowledge, we should be doing everything in our power to help them."

"I don't disagree with you, Clarke. But it's not up to us. It's up to the council. Some will want to keep our isolation and remain as uninvolved as possible. Others will see this as an opportunity to weaken Trikru. It may just be the two of us that want to do more than just passing the information on," Quinn tried to explain.

"What if," Clarke began to say but paused. "What if we told them that we owe them a debt for yesterday? Would that convince them to get involved?"

"Absolutely not," Quinn replied, shoving off the counter to glare at Clarke. "Under no circumstances can we let them know about the debt. They'll see it as a weakness and could challenge us for our positions. We're going to have a hard enough time arguing our legitimacy as it is. We can't give them any ammunition to use on us."

Clarke sighed dejectedly and ran a hand through her tangled hair, "Alright. God, why does this have to be so fucking complicated? We haven't even gone to the damn meeting, and I'm already getting a headache."

Quinn walked around and pulled Clarke into a side hug, "You could have remained blissfully ignorant, sis. You chose this."

Clarke groaned into Quinn's shoulder, "Don't remind me. I don't like this, Quinn. I'm afraid that the more we look into Dad's death, things will only get worse."

Quinn squeezed her shoulder in comfort and kissed the top of her head, "I know. I don't like this either. If I'm right that Dad's death wasn't an accident, things are going to become more dangerous. That's why I'm going to do everything I can to keep our family safe, Clarke."

"We, Quinn. We're going to do everything we can to keep our family safe. You're not doing this alone," she argued, pulling away to look at Quinn sternly.

Quinn nodded in understanding, "Okay." She sighed and moved away from Clarke, "Let's get ready and head over to the house. Spend some time with Charlie before we need to get ready for the meeting tonight."

"Sounds good. I could use a distraction," Clarke replied as she picked up her plate and moved to the kitchen.

"Distractions are good," Quinn said as she started helping.

They quickly got the apartment back in order. After taking turns showering and dressing, they were soon down the stairs and in Clarke's car. As they drove to their parents' house, their silence led both to think about the meeting and the probable outcomes. Both hoping that it wouldn't be as bad as they thought, but neither believing that it wouldn't be without difficulties.