Author's note: thank you for your continued reading! I took a break for RL stuff, so I decided to do an extra long chapter. I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 32

Clarke had tried to ease Lexa into the conversation several times, but Lexa was not being cooperative. There was always an excuse as to why she insisted Clarke stay near that seemed valid on the surface, but Clarke knew better. She would try to go spar with Octavia, but suddenly Lexa was free to spar with her herself. She enjoyed sparring with Lexa, but Lexa was holding back even more than before. She knew Lexa wasn't doing it maliciously, but it still stung that Lexa now saw her as weak.

Clarke felt more at peace emotionally than she had in a long time. She knew she still had issues to work through, the evidence written on her skin whenever she changed clothes, but she felt capable of doing so. For nearly a month, she had avoided the cells, knowing she would eventually have to face two of the men who had scarred her in so many ways, but she felt stronger every day and knew the time was coming. Lexa, however, had unofficially banned her from going to the cells. She seemed content to let the men sit there for eternity, but Clarke knew that that wasn't an option. Her experience with Emerson also showed her that banishment could cause way more issues than execution, but she was loathed to just say to execute them both.

She did have some private moments with her friends in the tower, when Lexa was certain that they wouldn't leave. Clarke was fairly sure that she had ordered Octavia and Lincoln not to let her out of the tower, but she chose not to confront it with her guards. They would sometimes just chat, but lately the conversation had turned to Pike and Johnson.

They were in favor of execution for both men. For Johnson especially, there seemed to be no other choice and the laws of the coalition, even without blood must have blood, dictated that he be put to death both for his crimes and his threat to others. Death by a thousand cuts was the typically prescribed death sentence for such crimes and even Raven felt this was the most appropriate punishment.

Pike was another story, though. At least to Clarke. Johnson, Dirks, and Emerson did what they did out of sadism and revenge. While Johnson and Dirks may have convinced Pike that they were doing what they did to support his cause, it was clear to Clarke that they didn't actually care about their people and had simply used that as an excuse to do what they did.

Pike actually believed he was saving his people through any means necessary. He was wrong, but he didn't know that at the time. Hadn't Clarke done things to save her people that others would find abhorrent? Hadn't she killed innocent people? Children? People who were no direct threat to her, but were too close to the ones that were that they were caught in the deadly crosshairs? History is written by the victor and she knew, if she had failed, she would have been written as the villain for the actions she had taken to try to save her people. She and Pike weren't all that different.

But it wasn't just Clarke who was harmed by Pike, therefore it wasn't just her choice for what should be done with him. He had ordered the attack on the Trikru village and it was only because of Octavia's actions that no one in the village was killed. Clarke had an idea of what she wanted done with Pike, but she was nervous about suggesting it. She needed to talk to Roan and Indra to see if it was even an option. It would have to be executed extremely carefully for it to work and at least one of them would have to be completely on board. She felt confident that Roan would back her, but he was still in a somewhat vulnerable position after taking his mother's place as the Azgeda ruler. She didn't want to put him in a position for his people to mutiny for him to support her plan.

Indra might be a much harder sell, but she was Clarke's first choice for the consequences she wished for Pike. If she could get the surly Trikru leader on board, it would be both the best thing and a miracle.

However, she hadn't had a chance to even try to talk to either of them with Lexa hovering over her as if she were a toddler who might accidentally throw herself off the balcony or walk into a river. She was starting to feel how she felt in medical: smothered and infantilized. She was significantly more healed, mentally, emotionally, and physically, than she had been when she made the rash decision to just walk away from the camp in the night. She knew just walking away was not an option and would no doubt make Lexa even more cautious about letting her out of her sight.

Clarke scoffed. If she did that, she could picture Lexa locking her in her room with guards posted both inside and out. No, that wasn't an option. It wasn't really even an option Clarke was considering; doing that would hurt Lexa and her friends, and that was something she couldn't do. She had to talk to Lexa, if Lexa would only let her.

They shared the evening meal together and made small talk. Clarke could tell that Lexa knew she wanted to talk, but kept finding new subjects that needed to be discussed. She wasn't trying to talk over Clarke, but that's what she ended up doing.

Clarke finally sighed and gave up trying to bring it up. They fell into uncomfortable silence after a while, with Lexa knowing Clarke had things she needed to say and Clarke knowing Lexa didn't want to address any of it. It wasn't that Lexa was content with how things were. She wasn't. She was a mess. She hid it well enough, but those closest to her could see it. She knew what it was: fear. She had nearly lost Clarke again and it was only luck that John Murphy and Emory found Clarke before she was killed. Before they had a chance to do more than scar her body with killmarks. Before Lexa and her companions found her remains and the evidence of the evil they would have no doubt done to her. For hours, Lexa had searched believing her love was dead. She had told Clarke before she had been taken the second time that she couldn't go through that again, couldn't risk losing her again, but she had still allowed her to leave and came so close to losing her. She shuddered and held Clarke just a little bit closer when those thoughts would hit her at night. It seemed like something horrifying happened every time Clarke left, or even tried to leave. The gunshot she received should have been an omen: there were too many things and people that wanted Clarke dead. She should have never let her go. Clarke was a death magnet.

They did their nightly ritual of getting into their night clothes and laying down. Clarke kissed Lexa and Lexa kissed her back, but she held back, didn't let the passion she still felt go into the kiss. Clarke frowned and sighed, rolling onto her side facing away from Lexa. Lexa wrapped her arms around her and pulled her closer against her. She sighed, too. She knew what she was doing wasn't right or fair, but she couldn't seem to stop. When she thought about losing Clarke, she couldn't breathe and the only way to ease that panic was to have her close. Close, yet at a distance emotionally. The emotional distance wasn't really intentional nor was it a way for Lexa to protect herself. No, it hurt her heart to not let herself kiss and touch Clarke like she wanted to, like Clarke wanted her to, but she knew she was upsetting Clarke by keeping her under her watch and felt that trying anything else would make Clarke feel like she was being used or taken advantage of.

They slept through the night and this night the nightmares stayed at bay. Clarke didn't really wake up feeling refreshed, though. Her stomach was a mess of knots knowing what she had to do. She had had too much time to think, while pretending to sleep, the night before. Lexa may very well hate her after today, but it was the only chance to fix things. If Lexa wouldn't listen to words, wouldn't even let Clarke talk, then actions would have to do.

They dressed and Lexa noticed that Clarke dressed in more layers than she needed. They both knew that Lexa had no plans today, that had been addressed in their small talk during the evening meal. Lexa planned to not leave their room. Clarke, unknown to Lexa, had very different plans.

Clarke announced that she was going to use the bathroom and wash up a bit. She saw Lexa fight with herself about letting her go by herself.

"I'll come with you," Lexa finally said, not making eye contact.

Clarke sighed, "I can go to the bathroom by myself. I might be brain damaged, but I still know how to do that."

Lexa flinched at her words, covering it just after Clarke saw it, before nodding, "Just don't be gone too long. I told your guards we were staying in and they could have the day off. I believe they have gone riding."

More things Clarke already knew. She also knew Raven and Bellamy would already be at the shop, where Bellamy had decided to join the others for his living arrangements. She had only seen it twice, but knew it was going well.

She took the lift all the way to the ground floor. She knew she didn't have long until Lexa started looking for her. As she went down, she took out the note she had managed to write when Lexa wasn't looking and set it gently in the far corner, folded neatly with Lexa's name plain to see on the outside.

When she exited the lift, she held her head high and nodded at the guards. She saw them stiffen; they probably had orders to not let her leave, but her reputation still caused some of them fear. Besides, she acted confident in where she was going and their Heda also might not like it if they tried to stop her.

She made it to the outskirts of the city and then kept going. She felt both free and full of anxiety. This could kill her relationship with Lexa, but staying as a loved-prisoner would destroy both of them anyhow.

Lexa paced in her room, wondering how long was too long for Clarke to be gone. She couldn't stop images of something happening. Some random clan member deciding they wanted the power of Wanheda. A slip and fall. Anything and everything that could possibly befall Clarke went through Lexa's mind as she warred within herself. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. Besides, Clarke should be back by now.

She went to the lift and waited with nervous energy as the contraption made its way up. Raven, through some miracle she didn't quite understand, had made it work through tech and it no longer had to be manually lifted up and down. Raven hoped to get the entire tower running on tech, but Lexa wasn't sure if she wanted that. For now, the lift was plenty.

The doors opened and Lexa had hoped that Clarke would already be on the lift, but it was empty. No, not empty. Her eyes were immediately brought to the folded paper in the corner. She recognized Clarke's handwriting and her own name. Dread immediately filled her; she had a suspicion of what was on that paper and, for a moment, was frozen as she stared at it. She tentatively walked over to it and picked it up as if it might disintegrate in her hands if she wasn't incredibly gentle. As she unfolded it, stepping off the elevator, she forgot how to breathe.

Lexa,

This can't work unless you trust me. I can't stay as your live-in prisoner, no matter how good your intentions are. You once told me that I had the makings of a great leader. I don't know if I'll ever be a leader again, but I know I can't live like this.

You say I'm strong, but you treat me like I'm weak. You have to pick one: either I'm strong enough to take care of myself or I'm so weak that you have to keep me in your sight at all times.

I know this is going to upset you. I'm sorry for the hurt it will cause, but I'm not sorry for doing it. I can either be your prisoner or your partner, not both. Partners trust each other. If you wish me to be your prisoner, then I can stay in the cells with the other prisoners until you decide what to do with me. If you want me to be your partner, then trust me. I'm asking for one hour. Just one hour. Trust that I will come back to you. If you try to find me, and we both know you will find me, I won't return to our room. You'll have to put me in cells.

I love you, Lexa. I love you enough to risk this.

Clarke

Lexa's head began to swim, her breath still caught in her throat, as the fear she had been battling since finding Clarke had been taken again multiplied tenfold. Finally, shaking, she gasped in air as sobs took over her. She nearly rang for her guards, her hand reaching out, to order them to find Clarke, but stopped herself at the last second, swallowing down her sobs, though the tears still came down. She knew Clarke meant what she wrote: if she came to find her, she wouldn't return to their room. To Lexa. A part of Lexa thought maybe it would be safer to keep her in the cells, to try to get through to her how dangerous it was out there for her, but she couldn't do that do Clarke. Besides, she could never put her so close to the monsters who had hurt her and knew that Clarke knew that, too.

She gathered her composure long enough to slowly walk back into her room. One hour. That's all Clarke had asked for. It wasn't an unreasonable request. Lexa knew this, yet she still shook with terror at what could happen. Didn't Clarke know that it wasn't that Lexa didn't trust her, but that she didn't trust that others wouldn't try to harm her?

Lexa sat stiffly on her sofa. Her body felt like it was vibrating, pent up fear being forced to come to the surface. As often happens, fear turned to anger. And she was so incredibly angry at Clarke. Anger turned to rage, her emotions needing an outlet. She grabbed the first thing she could put her hands around and threw it against the wall. Then another. And another, allowing herself to scream out her rage as she did so. She didn't stop until she unintentionally grabbed some of the art supplies that she had gotten for Clarke. A part of her wanted to rip the paper to shreds, but she couldn't. It was like that paper was Clarke and she couldn't harm it any more than she could harm Clarke.

The rage disappeared as grief and fear took its place and Lexa fell to her knees sobbing, holding the sketchbook to her chest. One hour. One hour where so many terrible things could happen and she was expected to just sit there. She briefly considered going down to the cells and quickly ending both Pike and Johnson so that she could have her guards retrieve Clarke, but she knew she couldn't do that. Both men had been on the backburner for a while now, but it needed to be up to Clarke what was done to them. For Lexa to take that away from her would be to violate her and that was something Lexa could never do.

So, she sat on the floor in the mess she had made, crying and thinking. She knew she had been overbearing, that she was taking choice away from Clarke to protect her. That she wasn't listening to Clarke. Even if her intentions were good, it didn't make what she did right. She knew that. She knew that as she did it and still chose to do it. She thought back to so many lessons from Anya and Titus about fear. Somehow, she had forgotten all of them when it came to Clarke and had let her fear dictate her actions.

For an hour, she alternated between knowing Clarke was right and being incredibly angry with her for just walking away. Hadn't she promised Lexa that she wouldn't do that? Lexa knew it wasn't the same type of walking away, but a part of her feared that Clarke had left for good and was giving herself an hour head start. Lexa knew this wasn't actually true and that Clarke would know that an hour wouldn't be nearly enough.

So, she just sat and tried to trust Clarke. She did trust Clarke, but she needed to trust that Clarke could take care of herself if trouble arose. The thought of trouble made Lexa's chest feel tight, but she forced herself to stay where she was. She knew that, if she even got up from the floor, the fear would win and she would order her guards to find Wanheda and bring her back. She knew Clarke would fight until Lexa had no choice but give into her demands to be put in the cells. She knew that they likely wouldn't recover from that type of violation and that is what kept her stuck to the floor, refusing to move.

She didn't move when she heard the lift doors open, her ears searching for the sound that might mean an end to the waiting. She didn't move as she heard the door to her room open, her back to it. She didn't move as the person who could control her without even meaning to walked around the damage to stand in front of her. She didn't move as Clarke simply sat down across from her. It was only when Clarke reached for the notepad that Lexa showed any sign that she was aware of her presence. When Clarke tried to pull it out of Lexa's hands, Lexa gasped and pulled it back, hugging it to her chest.

Clarke had been a nervous mess as she simply walked around the outskirts of Polis. It felt good to be out, but she knew what awaited her when she returned could be devastating. Several times she had seen one of Lexa's guards and wondered if Lexa had sent them to retrieve her, but none of them approached her, though a few gave her a concerned look. She kept track of the time and knew exactly when she needed to return back; if she wasn't back within the hour, Lexa would absolutely come looking for her and all of this would be for nothing because she hadn't kept her word.

She made her way back to the tower easily. While people were friendlier than they had been the first time she had come to Polis, they still tended to give her a bit of a wide berth, especially if she wasn't with the Commander, as rare as that had been. No one questioned her as she got on the lift and she prepared herself as best she could for what awaited her. She knew there was a chance Lexa would be angry enough to lock her up or send her away, but also knew that chance was almost non-existent. She took a deep breath as the lift stopped and the doors opened. She was glad the other inhabitants of this floor wouldn't be here today. Slowly, she walked to the door to their room. She thought about knocking before realizing that that was silly; she'd shared this room with Lexa for months now.

When she opened the door, her eyes grew wide at the destruction Lexa had caused in less than an hour. The sofa was flipped over and pieces of wood and glass littered the floor. It looked like a battle had occurred in the room.

But it wasn't the destruction that made Clarke's heart rate pick up, it was the woman sitting on the floor with her back to her. She hadn't moved, hadn't acknowledged that she was no longer alone. Cautiously, Clarke stepped around the debris to stand in front of Lexa, expecting her to look up or in some way acknowledge that she was there, but Lexa didn't move. Clarke sat down across from her and took her in for a minute. Lexa's eyes were wide and her cheeks were tear stained. In her hands was Clarke's sketchpad, her knuckles white and the pages slightly indented from the tight grip she had on it. Gingerly, she reached for it and Lexa finally reacted, gasping and pulling the sketchbook to her chest as if it were the most precious thing in the entire world.

"Lexa…," Clarke said cautiously, questioningly.

Lexa finally looked at her, her eyes red-rimmed and still filled with unshed tears.

"How could you do that to me?" Lexa said so quietly that Clarke almost didn't hear her.

"I only went for a walk," Clarke said, sensing that Lexa was close to breaking…breaking through or breaking down. Clarke's words gave her an intentional push to pick one.

"A walk?" Lexa's voice was no longer quiet, anger winning again, "All that because you just wanted to take a walk?"

Clarke met her eyes, but didn't speak. She knew from personal experience that Lexa needed to get it out; Clarke wasn't the only one damaged by what had happened.

"You left! You left a fucking note saying that I couldn't even look for you or you'd force me to put you in the cells! You know who's in the cells and you know I couldn't do that," Lexa stood up and dropped the notebook, no longer as precious as it had been now that the girl it represented was in front of her. The girl she was now so angry with she almost wanted to shred the notebook again.

Clarke stayed sitting cross-legged on the floor, taking Lexa's rage and not speaking a word.

"You promised me, Clarke. You swore you wouldn't just walk away and then you leave me a note?! Clarke! Why would you do that?" Lexa knew why she did it, the rational part of her fully understood that Clarke had to, that she had given her no choice, but the rational part of her wasn't in control. Her fear and her anger were dictating her actions and words right now. To say it was a rare occurrence was an understatement; she didn't give into her emotions. At least not until Clarke.

She was pacing again, not caring what her feet kicked out of the way, not even aware that she was doing it. Her hands were animated as she continued yelling at Clarke, at the world, at fate. She wasn't really sure who or what she was raging at, only that it had finally bubbled up.

"Did you want me to put you in the cells with…Johnson and Pike?" she said their names as if even speaking them caused a bitter taste in her mouth, "Do you crave pain and death?"

Her hands went to her hair, pulling it slightly. "Every time…every time you're out of my sight something happens. I told you…I told you I can't go through that again!"

The pacing had slowed, replaced by the tears that she had been fighting since Clarke walked back in the room, "But then I let you leave. I didn't want to. I knew something bad would happen."

Lexa stopped and faced Clarke, her face full of pain, "I thought you were dead! For hours, I thought I was searching for your body! If John Murphy hadn't found you, you would have been dead!"

Lexa's eyes suddenly grew wide, feeling everything she had felt and pushed down when she saw the empty chains and pool of blood. Her legs gave out from beneath her as she fell to the floor, her hands coming to her face, as gut-wrenching sobs wracked her body.

That finally prompted Clarke to move. She didn't even think, she just immediately went to Lexa and wrapped her arms around her. Lexa resisted for a minute before fully collapsing into her. Clarke held her while she cried, whispering gentle words and caressing her. She let her get it all out, just as Lexa had done for her so many times.

Finally, when Lexa has calmed enough, Clarke spoke, "Lexa, you would have found me before they killed me, Murphy just beat you to it. You were a few hours behind him. You would have found me."

Lexa's eyebrows knit together as pain showed on her face, her anger washed away with her tears, "And what more damage would they have done in those hours if I had somehow managed to find you before they killed you? Clarke, what they did while they had you was bad enough, but what they could have done…what he was going to do…." The tears came again.

"Lexa," Clarke said, letting her own tears come, "we can play 'what if' forever, but that's not what happened. I told you that I would never walk away, never to be seen again. I've kept that promise. I was only gone for an hour. Not even an hour."

Lexa broke eye contact. She knew that was correct, but it didn't shake her fear. Clarke tilted Lexa's chin up to look at her again, seeing the fear and understanding it.

"Every time," Lexa finally whispered, stopping to try to get control of her emotions and failing, "every time you're not with me, not within my reach, I see that blood pool. I see those chains, your body broken. I see you dead or in pain, the awful things they did to you. And it's my fault because I let you go. I couldn't protect you!"

Clarke lifted her chin again, her hands going to either side of Lexa's face, "You can't protect me all the time, Lexa. That's what this has proven. Even if you kept me locked in this room forever, you still can't guarantee that something wouldn't happen to me. You have to trust me to take care of myself."

"How can I do that, Clarke? I feel like I'm drowning even thinking about it," Lexa said.

"You practice. You let me go, just for a little bit. You trust me. Can you trust me?" Clarke said, hoping that Lexa wouldn't break her heart.

"Clarke," Lexa said, chuckling without humor, her tears a sharp contrast to it, "I do trust you. I know you're strong. You're so strong, stronger than I am. It's not you I don't trust."

Clarke leaned her forehead against Lexa's, "Then let me prove it. Let me be your partner, not your ward. Let me be your lover."

Lexa nodded against Clarke's forehead, the emotions she had finally let herself fully feel now bringing exhaustion. She looked into Clarke's eyes, feeling ashamed at her own behavior, her rational side taking back over.

"I'm sorry, Clarke," she whispered, "for all of it. For how I've been acting. I'm just not sure how to stop."

"I understand," Clarke whispered, her forehead still against Lexa's. And she did. She knew that what Titus had feared all those months ago was true: she was Lexa's weakness. But Lexa was also her weakness, yet, together, they each made the other stronger.

Lexa's eyes glanced down to Clarke's lips. Clarke noticed and smiled slightly. That was all the encouragement Lexa needed as she crashed her lips onto Clarke's, putting in all the passion she had withheld in the last month.

When the kiss finally ended, Lexa wrapped her arms around Clarke, "I'll try. I can't promise that I won't fall back into making you stay in my sight at all times, but I'll try, Clarke."

Clarke smiled before leaning in for another's kiss, "That's all I ask."