"You don't ease pain," Clarke said to ALIE, her mind racing as she let her thoughts and worries coalesce into certainty. There was no turning back. Not anymore. "You over come it," she turned back to Becca to find relief flooding the woman's face. "And we will," she reached out for the lever, her hands just barely shaking, her heart beating so ferociously in her chest.

And then she pulled.

Clarke didn't know what to expect, perhaps a blinding flash of light, perhaps a searing pain that raced through her mind. Yet nothing so severe came. But as Clarke looked up from the lever she found Becca had disappeared without a sound, without any sign that she had even stood by her side. Clarke looked for ALIE, in an attempt to understand if what was happening was a ploy, some kind of trick that had been played on her in an attempt to stop her. And yet, just like Becca, ALIE had vanished.

"Hello?" her voice called out into the room, it echoed off the space station's bulkheads and she couldn't help but to feel dread beginning to creep into her heart. "Becca?" her voice sounded smaller than it ever had as she turned around, as she searched for anything that would give her any sign that she had made the right decision, that she had saved her people, that she had truly shut down the City of Light.

"Clarke."

She spun around at the voice to find Lexa standing at the far wall.

"I—" Clarke paused for she didn't know what to say, how to voice her worries.

"It worked," Lexa said as she slowly began to walk forward. "You have saved your people— our people again."

But Clarke couldn't understand, not entirely. How could she have saved her people if she was still there?

"How?" and Clarke found herself searching Lexa's eyes for truth and lie. "I don't understand, Lexa."

Lexa seemed saddened for a moment, perhaps because of something Clarke had done, perhaps for something she had said. But that moment of sadness faded away as quickly as it had appeared as she reached out and took hold of Clarke's hand in her own and squeezed it.

"You succeeded, Clarke," she said quietly.

"But," and Clarke shook her head to try and shake the confusion. "I'm still—" she trailed off slowly as realisation began to dawn on her. "I'm not still here," and she closed her eyes as the reality of her actions finally took hold.

"Your spirit has joined with the other Commanders, Clarke," Lexa said, her hand still held, her eyes softer, kinder than Clarke thought she had ever seen them.

Maybe Clarke should have put it together sooner, perhaps if she had more time to really consider what implanting the flame into her would do she would have realised at least part of it. Of course her consciousness would be copied in some way, of course she would be uploaded into the flame, join with the others that were already present.

"I—" Clarke felt the weight of her decisions beginning to pull her down into a pit of turmoil and uncertainty. "I'll never see anyone again," and she turned from Lexa as pain began to etch itself into her face, as she felt tears beginning to well.

Clarke knew she sounded childish, she knew she sounded small, ungrateful for everything that had happened. And yet the realisation that she would be stuck in the flame forever came crashing into her heart, into her mind, into her soul and spirit as forcefully as any sword, as brutally as any broken mind.

And so Clarke screamed, she roared out her angers and frustrations she had bottled up for days and weeks and months. Her voice screamed out into the flame as loudly as she could force it to, her voice broke, it grew hoarse and ragged and she didn't know what to do, didn't know what to think or say or feel.

She didn't realise she had come to her knees until the cold bite of the floor began to seep into her bones, she didn't realise that she slammed her fist into the nearest object until pain flared out across her knuckles and she didn't think she could understand, make sense, come to terms with—

"Clarke," Lexa's voice was soft, gentle and kind.

But it was enough to break her agony for just a moment, for just a fraction of a second.

"Clarke," she sensed Lexa kneel down beside her. "Look at me, Clarke."

It took her a moment or two before she let herself open her eyes and look at Lexa beside her. Perhaps she was afraid of what she'd see, perhaps she was afraid because she didn't know what she'd see.

"What do we do now, Lexa?" Clarke asked and she tried not to think about what her other self must be doing in that moment, whether she had woken already, if she had even considered the fact that she was still in the flame.

"We leave this place," Lexa said quietly, her hand once more taking hold of Clarke's as she pulled them both to their feet.

And perhaps that was all they needed, all they could do. Clarke was sick of levers, she was sick of decisions, of regrets and angers and pains. It was funny. Everything she felt, everything she was tired of, sick of feeling would have all been wiped away in the City of Light. But it would have been too perfect, too calm, too pure for it to be real.

And so, as Clarke took one last look at the room, at the lever, at the Earth that they orbited, she found herself thinking eternity in the flame couldn't be so bad. Not when she had someone else to share her burdens with.

Life in the flame wasn't so bad, Clarke had come to conclude. It had its ups and down, its oddities and its charms. Days and nights came and went just as they always did and yet the passing of time seemed strange, something she couldn't really grasp. Perhaps she'd never understand the why of it. Perhaps she didn't even need to try. Of course the other Commanders were there to learn from, to grow with, to even teach in her own way.

And truthfully, it wasn't so bad. Not when she had Lexa by her side. They even had their first argument in the flame. Well, not their first argument. But one that felt oddly domesticated, oddly free of burden and worry. They had both realised it almost at the exact same time, and that realisation had been enough for them to forget what it was that they had even been arguing about.

And that, she thought, was the gift of the flame, was the gift of another day with Lexa, with someone she had seen slain in front of her very eyes.

It had taken Clarke days to come to terms with her place in the flame, she had even needed help from those who had shared her same experiences. It shouldn't have surprised her when she discovered that Becca Pramheda, the first Commander was part of the flame, was someone who had always been part of the flame. Perhaps their shared understanding of technology had been the thing to help her come to terms with what was now her life.

And so Clarke sighed as she trailed a lonely finger across Lexa's stomach, the motion gentle, loath to wake the other woman as she remained in peaceful slumber by her side.

But Lexa always seemed to wake, always seemed ready and willing to embrace whatever touches were shared between them.

"I didn't mean to wake you," Clarke whispered as Lexa's eyes blinked open slowly.

"It is ok," Lexa said just as quietly as a smile graced her lips.

Clarke let her own smile spread across her face as she took the time to gaze up Lexa. She found herself lucky, thankful for the second chance she had been given. And though she had come to terms with the way her life had played out, she always felt just the smallest pulls of guilt and uncertainty that tugged at her heart as she thought of the other Clarke, the one who must have been doing everything she could to rebuild her people in the wake of ALIE's conflict.

Clarke didn't even know if she had survived whatever fallout ALIE's actions had caused, she didn't even know if she was still alive. And she wouldn't. Not until someone else took the flame. But she didn't think that likely for years because Ontari had killed each and every nightblood that had been present in Polis.

"You think too hard, Clarke," Lexa said, her voice enough to bring herself to the present.

"Sorry," Clarke whispered as she rolled a little closer to Lexa. "I was just thinking."

"About?" Lexa asked.

It wasn't the first time they had delved into more philosophical conversations, ones that required deeper understandings than either of them knew how to broach. And yet Clarke had never voiced her worry about Clarke. How could she?She knew she could change the subject and that Lexa would let it drop, would give her the time and space she needed or wanted. But she thought it good to talk, to be more open than she had once dared to let herself be.

"I don't know if I'm still alive, Lexa. Out there," it felt weird to voice her worries so plainly.

"Why?" Lexa asked and she seemed to wake more completely.

"I don't know," it was truthful. Perhaps she was merely worried because she felt guilt. Because for Clarke, Lexa had died, she was alone trying to put back together every piece of the puzzle that had been thrown onto the floor in front of her without instructions, without guidance, without anything to lessen the burden.

"She is still alive, Clarke," Lexa said, her voice firm, strong, sure and certain. "You are still alive. Your spirit lives in in the flame with me, just as it does in her."

Clarke didn't know how much of the flame, of the AI and ALIE, Lexa understood. She didn't even think she'd ever broach the topic lest it tread a little too close to sacrilege. But perhaps Lexa's unwavering belief and her resolve was enough to sway her fears, give her a steady shoulder to lean on in times of uncertainty. And yet she still felt guilty. Perhaps Clarke always would.

"I feel guilty," Clarke said quietly.

"Clarke," Lexa reached out and brushed a finger against her cheek.

"How can I not?" perhaps Clarke just needed to vent.

Lexa's lips parted as she began to speak but Clarke interrupted her with a half shake of her head and her own fingers coming to rest against her lips for just a moment.

"I just need to vent, Lexa," and she sighed, shook her head and sat up in the bed, the furs pooling around her waist.

Lexa came to sit, too, her hair a cascading mess of brown curls that seemed so unruly and wild in the morning glow.

"I've always felt guilty," and Clarke took in a steadying breath. "Ever since I pulled that lever, ever since I shut down the City of Light and stopped ALIE and find myself questioning whether I made the wrong decision or not, I found myself thinking that maybe I made a mistake. What if everyone had the chance to live their life just as we're living it right now?" and she gestured around them at the room. "We don't worry about anything, we don't have troubles, we don't fear getting hurt on a hunting trip or becoming sick," and she shook her head. "But everyone out there does, everyone out there still needs to fight to survive. What about those that wanted to live in the City of Light. Those whose decision I stole from them?"

Lexa moved across the bed until she sat in front of her, green eyes open for her to see whatever emotions existed in her mind.

"You made the right decision for our people, Clarke," Lexa said.

"How do you know that? How can anyone know that?"

Lexa took a long moment to consider whatever thoughts she was considering. Clarke let her, she didn't push for an answer, perhaps she didn't even want an answer. And yet she did. Perhaps to sway her fears and guilts, perhaps to find a reason for why she got her second chance when the other Clarke didn't.

And there it was again, that guilt, that fear, that responsibility she had to live with forever.

"I do not have the words to convince you of something with which you cannot convince yourself, Clarke," Lexa said eventually. "And yet I believe you made the right decision just as you always did. Just as you always will."

Clarke smiled as Lexa's words quietly settled between them. She didn't know why, but Lexa always seemed to calm her nerves and settle her mind. Perhaps it simply was because she had faith in her, however misplaced Clarke thought it was at times. Or maybe it was purely because Lexa let her vent, let her say anything she wanted without question, without judgement.

"Thank you, Lexa," Clarke said eventually. And she meant it. She'd always mean it. Forever.

And so Lexa smiled as she rose from the bed, the furs slipped from her body as her skin was bathed in gentle orange light.

"Now come, Clarke," Lexa said as she began to walk to the washroom. "Eamon will tease us if we stay in bed all day again."

"It's designed to store enough power to continue operating for centuries, or indefinitely if implanted into a nightblood," Becca said as she walked around her lab, the white of the walls and the shimmering displays contrasting so starkly with the other places that existed in the flame.

"What happens if another nightblood isn't found? If no one is around to power the flame?" Clarke asked and she worried her lip as she watched Becca's head tilt to the side ever so slightly, the motion just a little too close to ALIE's long since gone mannerisms.

"Eventually it'll go into power saving mode," Becca said with a sigh. "But again, that won't happen for centuries, and then we'll continue to exist for centuries more."

"What exactly is power saving mode?" Clarke asked, perhaps because she was curious, perhaps because she wanted to know what to expect if another nightblood was never found.

"As the flame gets lower and lower on power we won't be able to create as many places to explore from our memories," Becca said with a frown as she seemingly tried to think of the best way to describe whatever it was she needed to. "Honestly, Clarke," and she shrugged. "I don't exactly know what it will be like if we ever get to that point. I assume it'll all just be us sharing a single space, and if it gets to the end everything we see might just cease to be."

"Comforting," Clarke said though she found that existence just a little uncomfortable.

"I have faith that our people will continue to survive, Clarke," Becca challenged with a gentle smile, the expression, Clarke had come to realise, was shared amongst all Commanders. "Maybe selfishly, that survival involves another nightblood. But even if that doesn't happen, we've all played our part to ensure they can live another day."

"Yeah," and Clarke worried her lip again, perhaps because part of her felt frustrated that she had no way of helping her people in the outside for lack of a better word. She had no way of even helping herself, no matter how hard she wanted to.

"You think too loud, Clarke," Becca said.

"You've been talking to Lexa too much," Clarke challenged with a sigh.

"Not really, no," and Becca shrugged and smiled. "But you are thinking too much," and she gestured around them. "When I created this I didn't entirely know what it was going to be like. I didn't realise just what it meant to copy a consciousness and then to store it in the flame. But it's given me enough time to think about it, to learn not to worry about the outside world until we can do something about it. You just have to let go, Clarke."

"You have a way with words, Becca," Clarke said with a laugh, perhaps whatever stresses she had felt now slowly fading away as Becca continued to smiled at her with a gentle calmness.

"Well," and Becca smirked just a touch as she lifted her chin, squared her shoulders and let an eyebrow raised in rehearsed confidence. "I am the first Commander, aren't I?" and she laughed as Clarke rolled her eyes. "Doesn't that give me the right to be a bit wordy every now and then?"

"Maybe," and Clarke reached out and squeezed Becca's hand as she began to head for the exit. "Thanks, Becca."

"You're welcome, Clarke."

Something was happening. Clarke couldn't quite put her finger on it, but something felt different. There was a prickling at the back of her neck that felt oddly familiar.

"What's going on?" Clarke asked as she fell into step beside Agamemnon as he walked down a long hallway.

"A nightblood is ascending," he said, his back straight, his eyes piercing as he looked down at her.

Clarke's eyes widened and she turned at the sound of other footsteps to find Lexa and a few others following them. She nodded at Agamemnon before falling out of step with him to let Lexa catch up.

"Was this the same for you when I got given the flame?" Clarke asked quietly as they continued to move down the hallway.

"Yes," Lexa said and she seemed to frown just a little. Clarke felt the discomfort increase a fraction at the back of her own neck, her hand coming to rub against the pressure she felt building.

"How long has it been?" Clarke asked. "I lost track of time weeks ago."

"Months," Lexa said quietly.

"Seven, almost Eight," Becca said, the woman having overheard them.

"I—" Clarke shook her head, perhaps to try and understand or make sense of the fact that a nightblood had been found at all, perhaps to try and understand how old they must have been. "They can't be trained, can they? Or a baby?" Surely the clans wouldn't give an infant the flame. Surely she wouldn't let them give it to a child not even a year old.

"We will find out, Clarke," Lexa said and she squeezed her hand as they seemingly all spilled out into an open chamber.

Flames and candles danced their light across the space, a gentle breeze filtered in from somewhere she couldn't place and a throne, the throne sat at the far end. Clarke looked around at every other Commander who had gathered, each one clearly curious as to who would be the next to seek their guidance. Clarke was truthfully so very fascinated, in part because she didn't know what to expect, in part because she thought it would give her the opportunity to help her people, to see how they had survived, how they had overcome ALIE's threat.

And then something happened.

Clarke didn't quite know how to describe it, perhaps it was more felt than not, but seemingly out of nowhere the room shifted. Or perhaps not. Where once the throne had been vacant, it suddenly was occupied.

A woman—

No, a child, a youth, sat, their head slumped forward and their chair a wild mess of tamed flame red hair that cascaded down their shoulders. The other commanders remained quiet as they waited for the newcomer to wake from whatever slumber they were in. Clarke didn't speak, didn't dare look away as so many emotions came crashing through her mind, as memories, loves, hates, regrets and cherished moments seemed to come into existence before she had even a chance to understand. And then she realised.

She realised that the flame must be sharing existences, memories and emotions between every single Commander as the new nightblood's consciousness was merged with the flame, as it was uploaded into the systems and downloaded. For the briefest of moments Clarke felt a flash of her own embarrassment as she realised every other Commander must have felt exactly the same when she had been uploaded. But her attention was snapped back to the newcomer as their head lifted, their chest rising rapidly with each breath they took.

A girl looked around the room, her eyes a vibrant green, her face round and still clinging to a youth Clarke hoped wouldn't be torn from her too soon. She blinked once, twice, thrice as her vision must have cleared before her eyes widened as she took in every person who stood in front of her.

Becca stepped forward slowly, her hands opened in an offering of peace and welcome.

"My name is Becca," she said quietly as she stopped a short distance from the girl.

The girl's eyes widened even further as she snapped up from the throne and bowed her head.

"Becca Pramheda," her voice was soft, rushed, full of deference as she must have realised just who she was speaking to.

But Becca laughed quietly as she shook her head, reached out and let her hand rest atop the girls shoulder.

"Please," Becca whispered quietly though her voice was seemingly able to carry throughout the chamber. "It's just Becca to you. You're the Commander now."

The girl looked up at Becca.

"What's your name?" Becca asked.

The girl swallowed hard before answering.

"Athena."

"Athena," Becca said. "Welcome to the Flame."

Athena's eyes, ever wide, smiled awkwardly at Becca before she looked over the woman's shoulder. Clarke watched as recognition dawned on the girl's face as she looked at every single other Commander that stood before her. Until her gaze landed on Clarke.

And Clarke knew something changed, must have happened on the outside.

"Clarke," Athena's voice was confused, awed, there was a hint of something in it Clarke had only ever heard in Lexa's— "Lexa," shock and confusion and uncertainty coloured Athena's tone as she looked between them both.

The first thing Clarke realised was that Athena had clearly already met her on the outside, that Clarke had in some way helped her, guided her, been by her side. An odd sense of pride filled her heart as she realised she was still helping, that for whatever reason she had not given up on her people.

And yet the second realisation, the second understanding that began to dawn on her was one very simple fact.

When Athena had joined with the flame Clarke had suddenly been exposed to every single emotion Athena had. And she knew every other Commander had shared those exact same feelings. And just as Athena's emotions had exploded throughout the flame, so too had Clarke's, she realised. And Clarke had loved Lexa just as much as Lexa had loved her.

All the other Commander's had had the preparation and training to know how to handle the new emotions, had been given the guidance on how to separate past lives from others. And yet they had never been forced to exist in the flame with two lives that had cared for each other so intimately, even they had struggled for a moment or two before learning to understand it.

That caring, that love, that intimacy that had once been shared between two in the flame, was now home to a third that had been thrust into it with no preparation, no training, no idea of what to expect.

And that, Clarke quickly realised, complicated things so very much.