LEXA

"You are not going to-" Lexa heard gunfire as she collapsed to the floor.

A bullet pierced her left thigh, leaving her stunned and breathless. The pain came in waves. The blood gushed hot on her cold skin. She has to stop the bleeding. But her hands were tied. She pressed as best as she could.

"Fuck!"

"Relax," Clarke was saying. "Let your body do the job."

What the actual fuck? She was about to reply to Clarke when she felt it. The bullet moving inside her skin, slowly but surely. She kept staring at the wound, she must be imagining it. Because it still hurt so much that she wanted to scream. Yet, her gaze was transfixed on it. Clarke sat back down on the edge of the coffee table and placed the pistol on the table. She lit a cigarette as she waited for Lexa. The bullet fell out. The skin around her wound started to knit together, leaving a tingling, itchy feeling. She touched it lightly, the dull ache was still there. There was a bloodied stray bullet lying on the floor. The bullet which was in her leg a few minutes ago. No, this is not possible. This is not fucking possible.

"Why does it have to be so goddamn slow the first couple of times?" Clarke was muttering to herself. She took another drag of her cigarette. Lexa sat up more and scooted backward on her butt. Clarke sat still, patiently waiting with a raised eyebrow.

"You shot me," Lexa said, bewildered. Her voice came out a pitch higher like someone had strangled her. She had felt the pain. Drowned in the suffocating agony of it. Seen the bullet going in. There was blood trickling down her thigh. There was a hole in her jeans where the bullet had entered. There was a bloodied bullet for christ's sake. A bullet that had gone through her thigh for fuck's sake.

"Yes," Clarke stubbed the cigarette on the ashtray. "Are you gonna listen now? We have just started. So, please." She gestured back to the sofa.

The evidence was in front of her. She was seeing it with her own two eyes. The logical conclusion would be that she was like them. That somehow she could not be killed. But she was not like them. Or that's what she had thought her whole life.

"I'm sorry I shot you," Clarke said sincerely. "I'm sorry I abducted you. I am sorry I hurt you. None of it was your fault. I had no choice. There is some shit going on that you should know. I am happy to -"

"I am not like you," Lexa said. She shook her head. She needed to say it out loud.

"I am sorry?" Clarke asked, stepping back, physically making the distance between them.

"I said I am not like you. You - you are killers! And monsters -"

"Everybody is somebody's monster."

"You killed and burned fifty of my men."

"Men you sent to kill us!" Clarke raised her voice. There was a blue fire in her eyes.

"You kill people! You are murderers!" Hatred rising off of her in waves.

"There is a difference between what we do to survive and who we are. Sometimes it's not a choice." Clarke clenched her jaw as if controlling herself to not shout. But Lexa was having none of it. She wanted to wake up from this nightmare. Wanted someone to shout at her and say that this was all bullshit. A sick joke. Anything but the truth. "Besides, your so-called natural people have killed more people than we ever could."

"You destroy people's lives. You are not human. You are not meant to exist." Lexa spat the words she had heard Titus whisper in her ear for years. They felt foreign to her but she needed to let them out.

"So, existing is our crime?" Clarke was walking forward, forcing her to step back to the wall behind her.

"Your crime is against people. Against the human race. You refuse to share your gifts. You murder people and get away with it."

"Don't you? Doesn't your company, your soldiers get away with killing. Don't armies and police and politicians get away with it? But their crimes are not crimes because their enemies were what? Less human? Their reasons were what? Valid? At least we are not pretending to be high and mighty. And our gifts?" Clarke scoffed. "Did you share the fortune you got from your father with the world or did you hold onto it like dear life and dedicated every moment of your life to increase it so that you could have a purpose in your life?"

"You-"

"We are what? Unnatural?" Clarke raised an incredulous brow. "Who the fuck decides what's natural and what's unnatural. Nothing is unnatural. Whatever is possible is also natural. Nature does not allow what is not possible. Our life, our powers, or whatever the fuck they are as natural as photosynthesis. And we don't owe anything to anyone!"

Lexa's back hit the wall. Clarke was close to her. So close that if she tilted her head, they would kiss. To be effective in battle a warrior must not feel for his enemy, Titus said in her head.

"Fuck! Then why do you hide? Why do you live like this? Why do you ruin people's lives like monsters?" They were practically screaming at this point. As if raising their voices would make the other one understand.

Clarke's lips trembled with something Lexa didn't recognize. She would have termed it rage if it weren't directed so inwards. "Because of people like you! Because of people like Titus Flame and Cage Wallace and companies like Tree Crew and Mount Weather who think we owe them our lives. Because of religions that forbid everything that isn't written in their books. Because of witch hunts and holocausts and crusades. Because we don't want to be hunted and bound for the rest of eternity."

Behind the guilt, her anger was rising, slow, and dull. Her heart was hammering in her chest like she had swum a mile. She could see Clarke's chest was heaving too. They were sweating even though it was cold outside. Neither of them blinking. Desperate to prove their point. Clarke lifted her bloody palm and placed it flat on the wall behind Lexa, effectively bracketing Lexa to the wall.

When Lexa stayed silent, Clarke continued. Her voice sounded hoarse, like a rock against rock.

"Maybe we are the gods they worship. Them with their short lives and their hunger for money and little greedy needs." Her anger spread like a bushfire, burning every word into Lexa's heart. "When they see real power, they can't wait to stamp it out, can't wait to put it on a cross, can't wait to burn at a stake, can't wait to replicate, can't wait to cage. Your company hunted us for years!"

"You killed my father!" Lexa finally gasped out. Her voice sounded strange to her own ears. Her anger spilled its banks like Clarke had touched a raging nerve inside her. Like she was drowning and thirsty at the same time. Her pain was heavy on her chest like the ocean itself. "You hurt my sister! My mother could've been alive if - You took everything from me!"

Clarke was taken aback by the outburst. She stepped back, lowered her hand, and looked at Lexa like she was seeing her for the first time. Lexa looked at the top of her blonde head through her tear-filled eyes. She was ashamed at what she had said. Everything possible was also natural. And that these people were more than killers. Deep down she knew she was an immortal now. She was an immortal and she was fighting no one but herself. Fighting for something good. Fighting for some reason to hold onto the last twenty-two years of her life. She knew that little voice in her head that sounded like Titus was wrong.

The rage in Clarke was gone, and it was as if some flame had gone out with it. "I am sorry," She said. It was barely audible. Lexa would have missed it if they weren't standing so close. But she was genuinely surprised when the apology came from Clarke.

Me too, Lexa wanted to say but it came out as a silent nod.

"You should rest." Her voice was small, head lowered as if she was afraid to look at her. "Just, just think about it." She raked her fingers through her blonde hair. "I am sorry. I-I just need some air." Something in the way she spoke drained Lexa of all anger and left her with an all-consuming grief.

Lexa pressed her lips in muted apology as Clarke left the room leaving the door open. She closed the door herself, covering her face with both her hands and sliding down against it. She squeezed her eyes closed, desperately trying to wake up from this nightmare. Was this some kind of punishment for hating them for so long? And she was tired. So fucking tired.

The truth was like she was being sucked into that wave you hope never finds you, the one that takes you under, takes your breath, your bearings, your sandcastles, and disorients you completely. The wave that fights against your beliefs before letting you go back to the surface again, shattered. What would her father say now?

Exhausted from the toll of what had happened in a week she slept for the rest of the day. She chose the comfortable queen size bed with soft-looking comforters. Since Clarke was not using it, she might as well use it herself. She intended to wake up at night. If Clarke asked her to move, she would. But for now, her eyelids were drooping and she felt like she could sleep for the rest of her immortal life. It was strange thinking like that.

Her every thought and every judgment was corrupted by the reason she had to be alone in them. If the immortals had come out and offered their help then her mother could have lived longer. Her father would've been alive. She would've had a family. A normal life. Or would she? She knew she was selfish to think that, she knew that much. But the immortals were even more so. They would have come out if they were human if they had empathy.

That was why she believed Titus when he said that they were less than human - demons, unnatural. Because what kind of human would live a thousand years witnessing misery and death and not come out to help the world get rid of it, choose to hide and spread destruction wherever they went. They were the reason her father was not with her. They were the reason her sister chose the life of a warrior. She had been chasing them ever since. They had chained her. They had repeatedly invaded her nightmares and dreams.

She was dragged back to the warehouse, the bloodied town, her mother's funeral, and the school locker again and again if not by them then by Titus who kept fuelling her rage. His words were the only words that kept her rage in check, that prevented her from drowning in misery, gave her a false sense of purpose, and made her feel a little less alone in her vengeance. It was the promise of fulfilling her father's goal that let her sleep at night, that drove her every day, that kept his ghost at bay.

But at the end of the day, the truth was that the people she had resented and sought vengeance from her whole life were the ones she will have to live with for hundreds and hundreds of years while everybody else would turn to ash and be washed away by time. In solitude, Lexa understood the weight of Clarke's words. She understood why they chose to live like this. Public life was already hard enough but to live it for hundreds of years unchanging and undying was something else.

She had devoted her time and resources and sister to find them. She had wanted to tell the world about them. She had wanted to force them to come out and share their gifts. She had wanted them to be held accountable for the lives they had taken. She had wanted justice. But what now? The delinquents weren't faceless anymore. They were real people with anger and happiness and flaws. It had been easier to hate them when they were faceless criminals. But what now?

What now when the power was in her hands? What choice would she make? Would her choice define who she was? She doubted it. Choices were a luxury she hadn't been able to afford, much like Clarke. And now with the choices that she had, she wasn't as decisive about them as she once would have been.

There was a reason these people were running from Mount Weather. She needed to know that reason. She needed to understand. If they had the decency to not out her to the world, then she was not going to out them as well. That was the choice she made. Sometimes to know your enemy you must become your enemy.

CLARKE

Clarke knew she would be atoning for the lives she had taken long into this life and the next one. But hearing it from Lexa unraveled something inside her. They had lived their lives as survivalists. Never getting too attached to a place or a person too much. But they had always lived to see the consequences. Always have been there to witness the worst of humanity yet not being able to do anything to stop it. Sometimes they had done nothing. Sometimes they had done their best. But they had never been able to do what was best for the world despite how much they tried. The world always went to shit no matter what.

And how many people had they killed whose children and wives had grown to hate them? Was it all justified because they were fighting for the greater good? Fuck. She wanted to tear her head apart, raking it to find something - anything good to hold onto.

She leaned against the railings and stared into the vast unchanging ocean. The ocean was calm and powerful at the same time, she wasn't either. She had lost control with Lexa. She had pushed her beyond boundaries. Zeus, what the fuck was she thinking? She should have been more patient. Should have explained better. She knew better after all. Lexa's hatred hadn't started with them. It had started with her mother. But it had grown because of them, because of their decisions.

"It's been a while since you have had 'the existential crisis' face on." Jackson's voice brought her out of her thought wreck.

She chuckled. "How is your -" She gestured to her own throat.

"As good as new," Jackson answered, his eyes fixed ahead on the ocean. "And how is she taking it?"

"Worse than expected." Clarke sighed, wringing her hands together. "She thinks we are monsters."

"Understandable." He nodded slowly. Clarke looked at him with disbelief. "What?" He said. "We do horrible things. Seven out of ten times our intentions are good but the results end up being shit anyway. That's just how the world works."

"Yeah." She sighed, wishing she had worn an extra sweater. The wind was cold. "I told her the same thing. She just… she was hurt by us or someone like us… I don't know… how to deal with that… they hurt her. How am I going to convince her otherwise?"

"By showing her who we truly are. Just be us. We trust her with everything we have got and let her make her choices."

It was easy to say it like that but after the incident, Bellamy and Miller had been adamant about not taking any chances with her. Clarke bit her lower lip nervously. "So far I have been doing a shit job at it."

"Don't forget you are talking to a guy who killed his own soulmate multiple times before realizing that he couldn't live without him. We were taught to hate each other as well. Now, look at us." Jack huffed out a laugh. "Give her some time, she will come around."

Clarke nodded and looked around the deck. Bellamy and Echo were manning the cockpit. Raven was working tirelessly to remove any footage or picture with their faces on it from that day. It was the 21st century, everyone had the means to document everything and anything. Hence it was harder for them to stay anonymous.

"We don't have time." She quietly said. "Anya is not going to stop until she finds her. Mount Weather is so close to Tree Crew that… What if Bellamy is right? She's seen us. What if she still sells us out to Mount Weather before we could convince Lexa? What if Lexa sells us out?"

Jackson shrugged. "It was a risk we all agreed to take. Don't beat yourself over it. As I said, we have to trust her. We have to trust her choices. She is gonna live with this for a thousand years, the acceptance has to come from inside her or she will just keep fighting herself. Besides, there was a reason she was chosen to be like us."

"There was a reason ?" Clarke raised a teasing eyebrow.

"Uh-huh, everything happens for a reason."

"That's such bullshit." She slapped him on the shoulder. "I can't believe that you still believe that. The universe is as random as Murphy's ass-hair."

"Ew," Jackson gagged, slapping her on her shoulder. "Please don't remind me of someone's ass-hair ever again, especially his."

They shared a hearty laugh remembering the day Murphy had 'accidentally' dropped his towel, flashing them his ass. Once they had seen it, there was no un-seeing it. "Where's Miller?" She asked after a bit.

"He and Murphy are cooking today," Jackson answered with a fond smile.

"Is that safe? You know Miller and fire are a dangerous combination-"

"Yes, yes. I do remember the Frankfurt incident. But Murphy is with him so I guess they will kill each other only a couple of times." Jackson said. "He is holding a grudge against Lexa. It's childish."

"He is worried about you."

"I know and I love him for his soft protectiveness but it's still childish. Lexa was scared and confused. She had just woken up from a traumatic incident. We literally abducted her from her home. It was an honest reaction. Besides, if I were to die, I could die from a mosquito bite. Death is inevitable. We were lucky to have the time to love each other for centuries. Even though it's not enough, it'll never be enough, we are grateful for it."

Clarke had witnessed their love in war and in peace. It was one of the purest things that had remained with them despite all the pain and death and bloodshed. There was something inherently good about Jackson and Miller which could not be touched no matter which millennia they were living in. But it was dangerous nonetheless. This sort of all-consuming love was devastating. When you love someone in that way - so deep and all-encompassing - losing them would render you hopeless like it had done to Jasper. She wouldn't wish it on her worst enemy.

"Lexa will ask questions," Clarke said after a beat. "I can handle the what and when and who, dodge the how. But even after all these years, I don't have an answer to why."

"Ah," He clicked his tongue. "Finally the existential question. I was waiting for it." He smiled at the ocean.

"No, honestly," Clarke said. "Doesn't it bother you? Our uncertain immortality? This is gonna sound so lame but why are we here? What is the purpose of our existence?"

"We are here to put some good into the world." He simply said with a shrug.

"Of course, that's what you would say." Clarke snorted. "That's who you are." Who you will always be. "But no matter what we do, the world becomes more and more of a hell every day. Wars and famines and poverty, we haven't even made a dent in it."

"So what?" Jackson held her gaze. "We do better anyway. Like Monty used to say. If not for the world then for ourselves. We have to look in the mirror and face ourselves. We do better today than we did yesterday."

Be the good guys, that's what Monty used to say. After him, they had lost sight of that somewhat. "Thank you." She said. There was some clarity. She knew what she needed to do. Even though the constant weight of her immortality still hung in the air. Sometimes it was good to be reminded about what they were trying to achieve.

"Can you ask Raven to share the file she has on Augustus Woods? About how he died and everything?" She requested.

"Yeah, sure." He nodded.

"Thanks again," Clarke replied. "I should go check how Lexa is doing."

Clarke left with that but she didn't go straight to her. The boat was running on minimal crew; there were things to be taken care of. She had left the door open as a sign of trust. If Lexa wanted to come out, she could. But when she didn't, Clarke sent her dinner through Jasper. She helped in the cockpit to set the course for their next day. They weren't particularly headed anywhere but they still steered clear of the crowded waterways. When night fell, she accidentally fell asleep in the cockpit.

She woke up the next morning with a severe headache and Raven nagging her about some pipe leakage. She spent her afternoon fixing it with Miller. She made sure to send food and water to Lexa who still hadn't come out. Was she still scared of them? She didn't get much time to ponder over it as a drunk Murphy and sober Octavia started a mock sword fight in the middle of the kitchen while preparing dinner. Bellamy, as always, was trying to mediate it as Raven held up a camcorder to record their bullshittery. She had to jump in between with her own sword and threaten to kill them to stop it from escalating. Finally, Octavia had stepped back because she didn't want to get blood on her favorite top.

When she finally got the time to get back to her room, Lexa was already sleeping on her bed. Clarke sighed. They wouldn't be able to talk tonight then. The bedsheets were hanging on one side with Lexa only half covered. Clarke went to tuck it back up but stopped when she saw the glint of silver on Lexa's wrist. She had forgotten to remove the fucking handcuffs. They were only meant to be a precaution.

Clarke searched her pockets for the tiny key as she sat on the side of the bed. She lifted Lexa's wrists and gently removed the cuffs. She placed them in the bedside drawer and started to stand up when she felt a soft hand holding her arm.

"Clarke," Lexa spoke like she was afraid to spook Clarke.

"You are awake," Clarke observed.

"I couldn't sleep," Lexa answered. The room was dark so Clarke couldn't see her face. But just the silhouette was enough to make her heart beat faster. "Are you mad at me?" Lexa suddenly asked.

"For what?" Clarke really didn't have any clue.

"For hurting your friends. For the way I talked about you. I let my personal feelings cloud my judgment. And you didn't come back after so I thought you were mad. As you should be - " Lexa stated.

"Lexa-"

"I should have listened better. I was emotional and my love for my family was a weakness-"

"Lexa, stop." Clarke gently placed a hand on her cheek. "You are allowed to have feelings about your family and loved ones. I understand our situation is fucked up. But we can't change the past. Neither can we suppress how we feel about it. It is okay to be not okay with it. None of us were okay with it when we first found out." Except for Murphy, he was ecstatic, Clarke thought but didn't say.

Lexa nodded. She seemed calmer. Maybe she was ready to give them a chance, maybe she was just fooling them to escape. It didn't matter. She didn't care. Clarke had told her the truth, now what she did with it would be her decision alone. And Clarke would respect it.

"But love is weakness, Clarke -" Lexa started.

"Isn't that what the bald guy keeps saying?" Clarke raised an eyebrow. "He said it like five times when I was there." Lexa shook her head with a chuckle. "He has got it completely wrong, by the way. Love is not a weakness. It is one of the strongest things in this world. I am immortal. You should take my advice."

She heard her muffled laugh through the darkness and it shot her dead with unfamiliar happiness. She decided she needed to make her laugh more. When She started to stand up again, Lexa tightened her grip on her arm.

"Would you like to sleep - I mean, stay here?" Lexa tentatively asked. "Only if you are free and it's your bed, of course -"

"Yes," Clarke said. "If you don't mind."

"Of course not," Lexa said. She scooted a little to make space for Clarke to lay down beside her. "I just don't want to be alone."

Lexa flipped the blanket to cover both of them. They laid side by side, facing each other, a hand tucked under their heads, with respectful space left between them. Lexa was framed in the light from the room. Clarke could spend the rest of her days just looking at her like this. An errant lock of hair fell on Lexa's face. Clarke lifted her hand to tuck it back. She hesitated, hand hanging mid-air. When Lexa nodded slightly, granting her permission, she tucked the piece of hair behind her ear. But her hand stayed there. Her hair smelled like jasmine. Clarke combed her fingers through it once, she saw goosebumps rise on Lexa's arm. She realized what she was doing and pulled her hand back. This was too soon. Too fast. Lexa seemed upset at the loss of contact but she didn't say anything.

Clarke cleared her throat, trying to suppress the wildfire of growing desire to touch her. "You have questions. Ask them."

Lexa contemplated her for a moment. Eyes soft and lips frowned. "How?" Her voice was barely above a whisper as if telling a secret. "How did you know I was like you ?"

"Do you remember the day we were in the harbor?" She had sent soldiers to capture them. They had them all burned. It wasn't their ideal moment but they couldn't change history.

"Yes," Lexa's voice was soft as if she was afraid to acknowledge it. With each fact, each confirmation, her immortality would become more and more real.

"You died that day for the first time," Clarke said. "That day, you saw the world through my eyes and I saw the world through yours." She intentionally bypassed Jackson's theory of soulmates. It was a stupid theory anyway.

"I- I remember that. I'd taken a sip of that poisoned whisky. I was on the harbor and Anya was there. I thought it was a dream."

Clarke debated telling her that it was Titus who had poisoned her but decided against it. They had no proof except for a dying man's word and a dying man would say anything to buy time. "You were not dreaming. It happens when you die for the first time. Like Jackson saw Miller and vice versa when they became immortal. Bellamy was Echo when she was shot for the first time. I saw you and I had to find you."

"Why?"

Her voice was quiet when she answered. "There were two reasons. One, we didn't want to leave you alone. Immortality feels like a gift at first but soon you would start to notice that the people you once loved were getting old and, having children and living their finite lives while you are just there. Unchanged, unaged like the mountains. Every life you touch, every person… will grow old and suffer and die. You would start to question why you didn't die with them.

"And then you would just feel alone. A deep-seated loneliness would reside inside you which couldn't be erased no matter how many people you surround yourself with. You would be too afraid to love someone because they would have an expiry date over their heads. You wouldn't stay in one place because people would start to question whether you are a god or demon or vampire or witch or some scientific miracle. You would have all the time in the world to learn everything, master every skill, be anyone. Yet, you will just be alone. It's a terrible feeling. I have seen it happen to others and it has happened to me. I didn't want you to go through it."

Clarke saw the pieces settle in Lexa's mind by the way her eyes moved with Clarke's lips. "And the second reason?" She asked.

Clarke let out a wet chuckle. "It's a more practical one rather than philosophical. You were too close to Mount Weather for our comfort. And we weren't sure whether you were involved in illegal human experimentation or not. If they got to know that you were like us, they could have hurt you. Or used you to hurt us."

"Hold on," Lexa said, placing her warm hand on Clarke's cold one. "How is Mount Weather involved in this?"

"You don't know then?" Clarke picked herself up slightly and reached for the bedside drawer on the other side. She took out the small vial. Laying back down, she handed it over to Lexa, "This was manufactured in Mount Weather. Anya had it with her when she was at the harbor. It is made with our blood. In a small amount, it is highly addictive. In large amounts, it could probably kill us, or turn us into mindless zombies."

"Clarke," Heat and shock rushed through her face. "I never agreed to anything like this. I'd never sanction biological weapons. And Mount weather is a recent deal. We haven't even cleared out terms of engagement. That day when you opened up the tunnel, it was the first time I had seen it. I thought you guys dug it for - for something."

"We didn't." Clarke simply shrugged. "We just found it. Bellamy had to infiltrate into Mount Weather to find out about this compound. But he found out tons of information about other illegal shit they are doing and funding. That's why it was necessary to get you out of there."

"I understand that. But why would Anya agree to use this? Our mission that day was to only capture you." Lexa almost looked ashamed. Almost. "Then hand you over to the authorities. I don't understand. And you said we are immortals-"

"We are but it could end anytime. We are effectively immortal."

"How?" Lexa asked.

"You are asking the wrong question. Not how, when."

"So, when?"

"You could go for two thousand or three thousand years. Get stabbed, shot, drowned, burnt alive, doesn't slow you down. Then one day you fall from a horse or just get a fever and you are done."

"That's… that's really depressing."

Clarke snorted. "It will feel like a fucking blessing after you have lived enough."

"So, if I could die… then why did you jump in the river?"

"You are too new," Clarke said. "And too stubborn."

Lexa regarded her for a few minutes in mock offense but let it go.

"So, this compound, it can undo our immortality?"

"We don't know how it works, it's just a theory. But we do know how it is made, the more of us they have, the more of us they can kill. The death part we can handle. We have lived long enough to make peace with that knowledge but it's the being trapped in a cage forever part that bothers us."

"Did you-" Lexa hesitated. "Did you think the Tree Crew was aiding Mount Weather?"

"It was," Clarke said truthfully. "That is why we couldn't trust you at first. That is why we had to take you away from there."

"I understand. I should have known about it. I never agreed with Mount Weather. It was Titus. But, of course, that is no excuse. I signed a deal with them-"

"Lex," Clarke said. "It's okay. I understand. You didn't know. And since you joined, Mount Weather has been more and more desperate to get to us probably because you were looking into them."

Lexa furrowed her brows. She didn't look convinced, still, she nodded, changing the topic altogether. "In my office - the painting - I saw your painting. Were you really the artist Anya had commissioned?"

"No," Clarke said shyly. "We kind of got rid of that artist so that I could get inside. That is why I was just staring at the wall on the first day."

"But the painting was really good," Lexa said sincerely. Clarke blushed a little. Lexa scooted even closer, biting her lips.

"Clarke," Lexa said. Clarke loved how she said her name. There was a slight inflection on the 'k'. She wanted to kiss the place where the sound was coming from. But Lexa had other questions. "How many of us are there?"

"Nine in my team. We know Mount Weather probably has one. There are others who lost their immortality and are living normal lives."

"But how do we get and lose these powers?"

Clarke chuckled. "Nobody knows."

"You said you had answers." She slapped Clarke's shoulder incredulously.

"I didn't say you would like them." Clarke moved her hand exasperatedly. "Of course, everyone has their theories. Raven thinks we are descendants of some alien race that came on earth and had sex with humans and we were created which is bullshit because Raven reads way too many sci-fi books." Lexa laughed. "Jasper thinks it's like some game where we get 'X' number of lives before it's a game over. Jackson says there's nothing different with our blood. Once it's out of our body, it's pretty normal. Still, we take precautions. Perhaps we don't have the technology to decode it yet. But someone might be able to decode it in the next hundred or fifty years."

Lexa just nodded and stayed silent for a bit. "Clarke," she said. "Was it in me from the very beginning? C-could I have helped my mum - or dad - if I had known?"

Clarke furrowed her brows, rubbing her thumb over her knuckles. "You couldn't have known. None of us did. Some of us even have scars from back before… before we became immortals. So the hypothesis is that it wasn't there before."

"But Clarke…" Lexa was thinking deep. Her brows knitted together in question.

"Yes?" Clarke whispered. She knew what was going to come next. It was the question, she had been dreading so far, the question every one of them had been asking for decades. You can run but only so far.

"Then why me? Why now? Why you? Why any of you? Is there a purpose to our immortality?" Lexa asked earnestly.

"I don't know. Jackson says, 'so we could do some good in the world'. But after all these years, that just sounds like a pipe-dream. The world just never seems to get better. But we try to do better anyway. Sometimes it works out… sometimes it doesn't."

Lexa just stared at her in the dark. Clarke could feel the warmth of her body, could hear her breath, only hear her breath. It was like someone pressed mute on the whole world because this woman was about to speak. "Clarke," She found Clarke's hand under the sheets, clasped them together, and brought them to her lips to kiss them softly. Clarke felt electrocuted, hairs rising from her touch. "I want to do better too."

Clarke didn't remember what they talked about after that or whether they talked at all. When she woke up, Lexa's head was over her heart and her hands were around Lexa's torso, holding her close. Clarke shut the sunroof which was getting too bright too soon and pressed her nose into Lexa's hair, inhaling a scent that was jasmine and coffee and pure Lexa. She was intoxicated with it.

"Good morning," Lexa murmured over her heart.

Clarke smiled. Her groggy sleep meddled voice was insufferably cute. "Good morning Lex,"

Lexa lifted her head a little to come eye to eye above Clarke. She looked like she was trying to decide something. She bit her lips and smiled shyly. The undeniable attraction between them was as palpable as their breathing. Clarke could see where this was going and just wished her heart would beat a little slower. She didn't want to die of a heart attack before kissing Lexa. Clarke, impatient as always, lifted her head to get closer.

"Your Highnesses!" Raven loudly knocked at the door and opened it. Startled, Lexa tried to sit up but fell over Clarke instead because of their huddled limbs. She buried her face in the crook of Clarke's neck and groaned slowly.

"What is it, Rey?" Clarke asked, irritated.

"I was just here to inform you that breakfast is ready." Raven smiled mischievously. Eyebrows rising in amusement. "But if you are preoccupied, as I can see, we could arrange breakfast in bed-"

"Oh, piss off!" Clarke threw a pillow at her which Raven easily dodged. "We will be up in a minute."

"Take your time. You could eat someone else for breakfast too-"

Clarke threw another pillow but Raven was already out of the door, slamming it behind her. Lexa sat up and pressed her forehead against Clarke's once the coast was clear.

"I am sorry," Clarke said, combing her fingers through Lexa's hair. "They could be too overwhelming sometimes."

Lexa lifted her head and moved away from Clarke. Her face had the faintest hint of a smile. "It's okay. I-I shouldn't hold you back. They must be waiting for you."

"You should come too, you know." Clarke offered. "They would be thrilled to meet you. Especially now." Clarke added.

"Are you sure?" Lexa said, unsure of herself. "I mean, I did hurt them-"

"So did we. But we said we would do better, didn't we?"

"Yes." Lexa smiled and kissed Clarke's forehead lightly. "Just give me a minute."

"Sure," Clarke grinned as she left the room to threaten Raven.

ANYA

From: elbtazcrgphdntqvxf

To: anyawoods1

Date: 29 Sept, 2019 8:10 A.M.

Sub: Lexa

Fort Lauderdale, Florida.