Hey guys. Thank you, as always, for the reviews and for reading. I genuinely do appreciate it. And thank you for putting up with my inconsistent uploads. Life has a way of getting in the way of things, as I'm sure you all know. More notes at the end.

"Clarke, do you want me to come with you?"

Her ears were ringing, the sound blending in seamlessly with the low humming of fluorescent lights. It was like she was in a trance, some sort of hollow, dull hypnotic state. The only thing she was aware of was the buzzing and the high-pitched ringing in her ears, and even so, she didn't really register any of it. It was like she wasn't there. Like she didn't exist.

"Clarke, are you okay?"

She just felt so numb. Her breathing was slow and quiet, her body felt heavy. Even the physical pain was barely noticeable. Her body and mind were just so tired. It felt like she'd been here for days. Time didn't feel real, it didn't feel concrete. Nothing felt real. She didn't even feel real. Everything just felt numb. Empty.

"Clarke?"

It was like her mind was in two separate places. It was back in her apartment, back in her bedroom. Everything was replaying in her mind. It was the only thing she could think about. But at the same time, she didn't feel any of it. Right now, she wasn't feeling the terror or the distress or the hopelessness or the pain. Right now, she wasn't feeling anything. She was enveloped in some dissociative state, some headspace where nothing felt real.

"Clarke?"

She snapped out of it, sucking in a quick breath. She made eye contact with Octavia. The brunette was standing in beside her, about a foot and a half away. Her expression was concerned, but it wasn't overbearing. She wasn't looking at Clarke like she was made of porcelain, or like she was worried that Clarke was on the verge of exploding. It was just a very genuine, gentle concern, almost like she understood.

"Huh?" Clarke asked numbly.

She glanced between Octavia and the nurse standing in front of them, momentarily confused before she remembered where they were, what they'd been talking about. She'd missed most, if not all, of whatever the nurse had told her, but it didn't really matter anyway. Not in the long run. Clarke was a doctor. She knew what she needed to know already.

"Sorry, I spaced out for a second," she sighed, shaking her head lightly.

"That's okay," the nurse offered her a small smile, waving her hand dismissively. "I was just asking if you'd like to have someone come in with you, or if you'd like to do this privately, just you and me. Whatever you're comfortable with is completely understandable, and if you'd like to change your mind at any point, that's totally okay."

"Oh..."

Clarke's mouth hung open for a moment and her eyes drifted to the white tiles of the hospital floor. She hadn't thought about that part —about the fact that there was an option to even have someone in there with her. And she wasn't sure what she was comfortable with. One one hand, the idea of doing this alone was daunting. But the thought of one of her friends being in the room with her made her feel a little sick. The thought was humiliating, embarrassing, too raw.

"I can go in with you," Octavia offered quietly. "If that's what you want."

Clarke shook her head, straightening up and swallowing the knot in her throat. She took a breath, regained her composure. She was fine. She was fine. She could do this. She knew what to expect, she knew approximately how long it would take and what it meant. She even knew the nurse —not extremely well, but she'd interacted with the woman plenty throughout the years and years that she'd spent in this hospital. She could handle this on her own. She was fine.

"No, I'm good," Clarke responded, her voice sounding stronger than she felt. "I just want to get this over with."

"Are you sure?" Raven asked. "If you need us for anything-"

Clarke had nearly forgotten that Raven was even there with them. The engineer had been quiet throughout most of the hospital visit, offering to grab coffee or snacks for the three of them now and then. She'd asked a few times if Clarke was "okay." But that was about it. She'd barely made eye-contact with Clarke since earlier that day, when she had told them what had happened to her. It was... awkward. A little uncomfortable, even. Clarke knew that she couldn't blame Raven for the reaction. She knew that Raven wasn't really doing anything wrong, that the engineer had absolutely no bad intentions. She knew that Raven cared. But she couldn't help but feel a little frustrated. Raven just kept looking at her like she was going to fall apart at any moment. Like she was some completely different weak, fragile person.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Clarke cut her off with a sigh, turning around and rolling her eyes slightly.

She stepped through the open door of the examination room, trying to push down the sense of unease in her gut. The nurse followed, shutting the door behind them and leaving Octavia and Raven on the other side of the wall. On a normal day, she would feel guilty for being so cold toward her friend, for turning and leaving like that. But today wasn't a normal day. Last night wasn't a normal night. And Clarke really didn't think there would ever be such a thing as "normal" for her anymore.

"You can go ahead and have a seat when you're ready, Dr. Griffin," the nurse spoke gently, turning and opening a drawer. "There's no rush at all throughout any of this. We can go at whatever pace you're comfortable with, and if at any point you want to stop and take a break, all you have to do is let me know."

The nurse's name was Alice. She was an older woman, probably in her late fifties or her sixties. She'd been working here ever since Clarke was a kid, almost as far back as Clarke could remember. They didn't know each other —not well enough that they'd ever interacted outside of the workplace. But when Clarke was in kindergarten, Alice was one of the many nurses who would have to watch over her when one of her mother's shifts ran late. When Clarke was in elementary school, Alice had let her explore the "fun" areas of the hospital, like the NICU floor and the surgical wing. When Clarke was in middle school, Alice had helped her study a few times for upcoming bio exams. When Clarke started high school, Alice had been among the many doctors and nurses who had attended her father's funeral.

They weren't close, but they knew each other in a way that extended at least a little bit beyond the workplace. Alice had practically watched Clarke grow up, and maybe that was why Clarke felt comfortable having the older woman perform the exam. She knew Alice was one of the kindest nurses in the hospital, that anyone and everyone would agree that she had a warm, gentle presence. She was someone Clarke could trust, someone who wouldn't pass judgement or treat her differently.

"Thanks, Alice," Clarke responded with a soft sigh. "And can you just call me Clarke? Everyone's been all formal and weird with me all day. It's kind of exhausting."

She shut her eyes, took a breath. She leaned against the wall and crossed her arms, taking a moment to collect herself. She knew what to expect, but she couldn't help the anxiety that had settled in her chest. She couldn't help but feel apprehensive, couldn't help but feel nauseated.

Then there was the overarching fear that her mother would find out she was here.

Throughout the first couple hours that she'd been here —waiting in the ER, getting the x-rays done, getting her physical injuries examined— she'd been paranoid. Four months had passed since the last time she'd worked in this hospital. Four months had passed since she'd last spoken to her mother. Clarke was one of the best general surgeons in Polis, and before she'd left four months ago, she was in line to be the next head of general surgery at Arkadia North. Almost everyone who worked there knew who she was, and everyone who worked there knew who her mother was.

After all, her mother was the chief.

So Clarke's paranoia was understandable. She'd worn a sweatshirt when she got there, she'd kept her hood up, and she'd kept her head down. With each nurse and doctor that she'd interacted with, she'd instructed them not to tell anyone that she was there and not to inform her mother. Up until now, she'd lied. Her injuries had all been looked at thoroughly, the most pressing of them being her concussion, a fractured eye socket, a few bruised ribs, and a fractured radius. When she'd been asked about how she'd been injured, she'd told the doctors that she'd gotten mugged. She'd kept up the story that it had been a random attack, that all she'd lost was her purse and her dignity. Given the bruising on her neck and the severity of her injuries, she knew that her story probably wasn't as believable as she wanted it to be, but it was better than the truth. She wasn't about to tell her former colleagues that she'd been sexually assaulted. That wasn't an option.

If she really had a choice, she would have gone to another hospital. But she sure as hell wasn't going to go to Sanctum Med —not when he knew that she worked there. Unfortunately, Arkadia North was the only other reliable hospital in the vicinity, and as paranoid as she was about someone telling her mother that she was there, it really was the only hospital where she felt safe. She'd practically grown up there, and she was confident in the competence of its staff. It was someplace familiar, someplace she could trust. As long as her mother didn't find out she was here.

"I, uh..." she paused, took a breath, looked up at the ceiling. "My mother can't find out about this. I don't want her to know that I'm here, and as far as anyone else her knows, I was only mugged. I know it kind of puts you in a weird spot, but I just really don't want her to know about any of this."

Alice turned around with a slight frown on her face and soft eyes. She nodded her head slowly, tilting it slightly. Clarke made eye contact with her for a moment, then looked down at the ground again.

"Of course, Clarke," Alice responded, her tone genuine. "Chief Griffin might be my boss, but that doesn't change the fact that there's doctor-patient confidentiality here. Any records will be completely confidential, and there's no reason why she should ever find out that you were even in this room unless you explicitly tell her."

Clarke just nodded, exhaling slowly and closing her eyes. She took another breath, then opened her eyes.

"Okay... let's just get this over with then."

Clarke knew what a rape kit entailed. She'd never performed one before —that wasn't something that surgeon had to do— but she'd learned about them. For the most part, she knew the different steps. She knew how lengthy the procedure was. She knew how thorough it was. She'd heard before that this kind of an examination could be almost as traumatizing as an assault itself. But she hadn't anticipated how vulnerable she would actually feel. She hadn't anticipated how awful, how draining, how sickening it would feel.

And so far, she'd only gotten through the easy stuff. The least invasive steps. And she was already feeling terrible. She found herself glancing at the clock on the wall every two or three minutes. It felt like she'd been in there for an hour or more already. In reality, it had been just over twenty minutes. Just over twenty minutes, and every cell in her body was screaming for her to get up and leave. To forget it all, to walk out of that room and out of that hospital without another word, without a second glance.

"Clarke?"

"What?" Clarke asked, realizing that she'd missed something that Alice had said. "Sorry, I- I didn't hear you."

"I was just asking if you'd like to take a break," Alice responded gently, her tone patient. "If any of this is too much for you, or if you'd like me to step out for a moment, we can do that."

Clarke shook her head. She shut her eyes and willed herself to keep it together. She was fine. She was fine. She could do this.

"No, I'm fine. I, uh-" She swallowed hard. "I just-"

She could feel her own heart racing. Her hands were balled into fists as she tried to force herself to calm down, to quell the anxiety that was rising in her chest. She bit her lip, took a breath, held it, let it out. It had only been twenty minutes. It had only been twenty minutes, and she was already struggling to keep herself from falling apart. It had only been twenty minutes, and it was already becoming unbearable. Could she really do this alone? Should she really do this alone?

"Can you actually... can you get my friend?" Clarke asked hesitantly, her eyes still shut tight. She felt a tear escape. "Octavia, the taller one. She was wearing the black jacket?"

"Of course," Alice responded as if it wasn't a problem. "I'll only be a minute, okay?"

Clarke nodded.

She clenched her jaw, clenched her fists so hard that her nails were probably digging into her palms a little bit. She needed to keep it together. At this point, it wasn't even that she was ashamed of crying. It wasn't even that she wanted to appear strong. She was just so tired of crying. It hadn't even been twenty-four hours. A day hadn't even gone by yet, and she was already so tired of crying. So tired of falling apart. She just wanted to be able to keep herself together, to get through it without shedding tears or breaking down or struggling to breathe steadily. It was all just exhausting.

Clarke's head turned immediately when she heard the door open back up. Alice stepped in, followed by Octavia. She couldn't help but feel a massive rush of relief when her friend entered the room. She just didn't want to go through this alone. She didn't want to be trapped in her head like she was. At least with Octavia there, she could feel a little bit more grounded.

Octavia couldn't help but feel relieved as well when Alice told her that Clarke had asked for her. She didn't want Clarke to have to go through this alone. She didn't want Clarke to suffer through this alone when she had friends who wanted to support her. The fact that Clarke was willing to ask for help of any kind was huge, and it gave Octavia a little bit of hope —a little bit of hope that Clarke would actually let them be there for her instead of shutting them out.

When she stepped into the room, she hadn't expected to see the pain in Clarke's expression. There was something indescribable in her eyes. It was almost a pleading look, a sort of painful despair with a hint of desperation. And that's when it hit Octavia. Right now, in this moment, Clarke wasn't just asking for help. She needed her. She needed her friend's support, she needed a hand to hold during this. And Octavia wouldn't hesitate to be that friend for Clarke in this moment.

Octavia held her hand throughout almost the entire thing. During the steps where Clarke was exposed to some degree, Octavia looked away as best as she could. But there were times where the severity of Clarke's physical injuries became more apparent to Octavia.

With the hospital gown on, the bruising on Clarke's neck was pretty much entirely revealed, covered only slightly by her hair. A large, purpling bruise on Clarke's chest was peeking out of the neckline of the gown. Clarke's arms were visible to Octavia for the first time. While the blonde now sported a cast on her right wrist, both of her arms were littered with bruises. There were red marks all over her arms where her attacker must have grabbed her or held her down. There was a deep red circle around Clarke's left wrist, and Octavia figured that an identical bruise existed underneath the cast on Clarke's other wrist. Similar patterns of bruising were clear on Clarke's calves, too. A few small marks where he must have grabbed her, and then deep, red marks on her ankles where he must have used something to tie them together. At one point, Clarke had to disrobe from the waist up for the nurse, and just before she could look away, Octavia caught a glimpse of a large, deep bruise just below Clarke's shoulder blade and of the bruising along Clarke's right side. Octavia didn't even see what injuries might have covered Clarke's torso, or her abdomen, or her thighs. And she didn't want to imagine what injuries lied there.

But as nauseating as it was to see those bruises, Octavia didn't believe for a moment that they meant that Clarke was weak. If anything, they were an indication of how genuinely strong she was. They were an indication that, clearly, she had fought back. That she'd fought him. Sure, even if Clarke had frozen and if she hadn't put up a physical struggle, Octavia would still have known that none of this was Clarke's fault. But the fact that Clarke had fought was a reminder that she was strong. Octavia had to believe that if Clarke could survive the attack, then she could survive the aftermath of it all. She had to believe that Clarke would be able to get through this, no matter how long it would take. Clarke had to survive this.

Clarke, though, didn't feel the same way. She felt exposed, and vulnerable, and weak. As much as she loved and trusted Octavia, it made her sick to think that Octavia could see even the simple injuries, the ones that didn't make her skin crawl quite as much. The bruising on her arms was nothing compared to the bruising on her thighs. The marks on her wrists and ankles were nothing compared to the splotches of red along her chest. The bruise that was undoubtedly forming on her back was nothing compared to those on her hips. While Octavia definitely saw some of the most medically severe bruises, she didn't see the ones that made Clarke's stomach turn.

But Alice did, because that was what Clarke was there for. Clarke had signed up for this, literally. She knew what she was getting into when she'd asked for the exam, so she knew that this process would leave her feeling exposed. But there were no words that could describe how vulnerable she felt as the nurse photographed each injury. She understood that it was necessary, that it was part of the process. But she hadn't even brought herself to look in a mirror yet. She knew that there were bound to be bruises and marks and cuts and scrapes in different areas of her body, but she hadn't really seen most of them. She knew they were there, but she didn't want to look at them. Not the ones on her neck, or her torso, or her legs. Even when she'd changed her clothes, she hadn't looked down at herself. But here she was, standing in front of a camera, each and every physical injury —big and small— being photographed.

By the time the examination was finished, she was completely drained. Somehow she'd managed to get through most of it without needing to take a break. There were a few moments where she'd needed to pause, to take a minute or two to breathe, but she'd gotten through it. There were a few moments where she was sure that she was going to break Octavia's hand from how hard she was squeezing it. But she didn't. She let herself zone out at times. She let herself disconnect, let herself get lost in the buzzing of the lights and the numb dullness that she'd settled into before. And she'd gotten through it. Somehow, she'd gotten through it.

"You said this hasn't been reported to the police yet, right Clarke?" Alice asked gently.

Clarke shook her head, biting her lip hard.

"Not yet."

She knew she needed to go to the police. But the thought of it was overwhelming. The thought of telling them the details of what had happened —of what he'd done to her— was terrifying. Plus, she'd gone to the police before. She'd gone to the police before it had ever gotten this serious, and she'd been dismissed. She'd been gaslighted into believing that she was crazy for feeling scared. And look at where that had gotten her. So no, she hadn't reported her assault yet. And a part of her just didn't want to.

"Alright," Alice nodded, passing no judgement. "Well, if you ever do decide to file a police report, all you'll have to do is contact the hospital and ask us to send everything to them and we will do just that. Of course, like I said earlier, all of this is confidential. Right now, the only people who know about this examination are the people in this room."

"Thanks." Clarke's voice was rough, her exhaustion dripping through.

Alice nodded once more, offering Clarke a small smile.

"Absolutely," she responded warmly. "You can change back into your clothes, stay in here for a while if you'd like, whatever you need. There's no rush. I'll have your prescribed antibiotics and medications and everything at the desk whenever you're ready. But again, no rush. Take all the time you need, Clarke."

"Thank you, Alice," Clarke responded genuinely, making eye contact with the older woman.

She was genuinely grateful. Most of the nurses at Arkadia North were great people, but Alice was just such a kind, compassionate, and genuine person. As awful as the process of the examination had been, Clarke was grateful that the older woman had been willing to do this for her.

A few minutes later, Clarke emerged from the bathroom wearing the sweatshirt and track pants that she'd arrived in. They were comfortable and, much to the benefit of her injuries, didn't restrict any movement or apply any kind of pressure anywhere. Clarke really hadn't realized how serious her bruises and injuries were until after she'd woken up from the brief couple hours of rest that she'd gotten earlier. The throbbing in her wrist had been much worse, along with the headache. Somehow her eye had managed to swell up even more when she'd napped, and both the concussion and the swelling had led to some difficulty seeing clearly out of that eye. The bruised ribs might have been the worst, though. She'd known that her side had been hurt —that there was definitely some bruising— but she hadn't known how seriously, and she hadn't realized how much it actually hurt to take many deep breaths.

She didn't leave the examination room quickly, though. Octavia was still sitting in there, waiting patiently and not urging Clarke to rush at all, which the blonde was grateful for. Clarke just sat in a chair next to Octavia and pulled her knees up to her chest, frowning. A few minutes passed, neither of them saying anything, and Clarke finally made eye contact with her friend.

"Thank you," she spoke, her voice low. "For being here, for staying through all of that... I know it was a lot."

"Thank you for trusting me to be there," Octavia responded, just as serious as Clarke was. "I know that couldn't have been easy, Clarke. I'm just glad that you let me be here for you."

Clarke sighed deeply and closed her eyes, resting her chin against her arms. She was exhausted, and to be honest, she didn't want to leave the near-silence of the room. Sure, the examination had been hell, but at least she'd known she was safe. She knew that, once she opened the door, she'd be met with the bustling chaos of the hospital. The noise, the people walking back and forth, the high tensions. If she was really unlucky, she'd be met with the presence of her mother. No, in that room, with just herself and Octavia sitting in silence, Clarke could breathe a little bit more easily. She didn't want the world to start spinning again. She didn't want to face the next big step of the day. She just wanted to sit in the silence a little longer, to embrace this brief but relieving pause for a moment.

A few minutes went by. Neither of them said a word, neither of them moved. They just sat in the quiet, each lost in their own thoughts. Clarke's mind had been going a mile-a-minute throughout most of the day, but right now, there was only one thing she was really thinking about. Raven. The engineer had been acting strangely. It was like she was tiptoeing around Clarke. She was looking at her like she was fragile. Awkward moments were pretty normal for Raven —usually in an endearing way— but this was something else. It was uncomfortable.

"Raven's being weird."

Clarke broke the silence without opening her eyes. She was too tired to care. Octavia was caught off guard, surprised not just by how blunt Clarke was, but by the statement itself.

"What do you mean?"

"She's being weird," Clarke repeated, sighing and leaning back in the chair, folding her arms across her chest. "I just— I don't know... She's just being weird about it."

Deep down, it was more than that. Clarke couldn't help but worry that Raven's uneasiness was permanent. She couldn't help but worry that Raven, and whoever else were to find out, would always look at her like she was going to crack at any second. Clarke already felt uncomfortable in her own skin. She already felt broken. She didn't need to see a reminder of it all in Raven's eyes, in Raven's actions or words.

She looked sideways at Octavia. There was a sadness in her eyes. The brunette let out a quiet sigh and bit down on her lip, taking a moment to think through her words before she spoke.

"I think she just doesn't know what to say," Octavia spoke, her voice low and serious, but soft. She made eye contact with Clarke. "She's worried about you, but she doesn't know what you're feeling right now. She doesn't understand it."

Clarke held Octavia's gaze for a moment. A heaviness set in her heart as she thought through what Octavia had said, as she thought through how well Octavia had seemed to understand exactly what she'd needed so far since she'd told them what had happened. And then it clicked, and she understood why —for the first time pretty much ever— Octavia was able to offer support while Raven seemed so 'off.'

"But you do?" Clarke spoke.

It was more of a statement than a question, with the look of empathy that had been in Octavia's eyes serving as a pretty clear answer. Octavia looked at Clarke sadly, letting out a soft breath. There was a pause, and then she nodded.

"In my own way, yeah."

Clarke closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall. A knot formed in her throat and she exhaled deeply, clenching her jaw to keep herself calm. Octavia grabbed her good hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, one of both reassurance and solidarity. As much as Clarke hated that Octavia understood, she was grateful that she didn't have to feel as alone in this as she had.

"This sucks," Clarke muttered, fully aware of what an understatement it was.

"I know."

She was exhausted. She was more exhausted than she'd ever been in her life. Clarke Griffin had been through a lot in her life. She'd been faced with mountains of grief. She'd practically raised herself after her father had died. She'd spent most of her college experience with her face buried in her text books, skipping meals and sleep to keep up with her own expectations for herself. She'd worked 24-hour shifts fueled by nothing more than coffee and water. She'd been through loss, and heartbreak, and physical strain. But never in her life had she ever felt so exhausted.

All she wanted was to go home, to sleep. She wanted to the day to be over. But even now, after the hours at the hospital, there was more to do. And Clarke had the sinking feeling that this would be an even longer, much more draining process. If that examination hadn't already solidified the reality of what had happened to her, this would.

They'd been sitting in front of the police station for twenty minutes now. Octavia in the front seat, Clarke in the passenger's seat, and Raven in the middle seat in the back. Twenty minutes in almost complete silence. Clarke had thought that, if she just took a few minutes to breathe, she would be able to build up the courage to get out of the car and walk through the precinct doors. But now, as she stared at the entrance to the building, watching the uniformed officers walking in and out, her anxieties only grew more intense.

"I can't do this," Clarke breathed, mostly to herself. Her mind was spinning.

"Clarke-" Raven tried from the backseat, leaning forward.

"No, Raven, you don't get it," Clarke cut her off.

She sighed heavily, shutting her eyes and shaking her head. She took a breath, then spoke again, her voice low and firm.

"I already tried this a month ago." She clenched her jaw, newfound anger rising in her chest. "When I knew it was serious, I went to the police, and they just about laughed in my face. Why the fuck should I believe that it's gonna be any different this time?"

"Because it is different this time," Octavia responded firmly.

She placed her hand on Clarke's, and the blonde just shook her head, still not opening her eyes. Her frustration —no, her pain— was evident, and neither Octavia nor Raven questioned it. Each knew that, if they'd been in Clarke's position, they would've been fuming. The police were supposed to protect her. They were supposed to be a beacon of light. They weren't supposed to scare Clarke. They weren't supposed to be the enemy, especially not now.

"Yeah," Clarke scoffed bitterly, turning to look at Octavia, her eyes sharp and angry. "Because I got raped."

The word came out cold. Cold, and angry, and laced with the most intense pain imaginable. Both of the other women were quiet for a moment, temporarily caught off guard and sucked into their own sort of hurt at hearing the word. Something about hearing it felt unreal, like there was still some sort of disconnect. But it was real. It had really happened, and all three of them knew it. And god, did it break Octavia and Raven's hearts.

"No," Raven finally spoke, catching Clarke's attention.

Her voice was soft, but firm —gentle, but determined. She herself sounded a little uncertain, a little wary of whatever was to come next, but there was resolution in her tone. She meant what she was saying, even if it was a little daunting.

"It's different because you've got us this time. We're right here with you, Clarke. No matter what."

Heavy chapter. I don't plan to include too much of her actual interactions with the police in the next chapter. There will be bits and pieces, but it's not something I want to focus on in too much detail yet. Also, I do plan to include Lexa somewhere in the next few chapters. She won't show up until we've had a decent time jump (because I'm not going to have Clarke falling in love and getting into a relationship right after an intense and serious trauma, because doing so would downplay the severity of a very real trauma), but she'll show up sometime soon.

Please leave a review or just your thoughts if you'd like. I know I rarely respond, but that's more-so me being extremely forgetful. They really do mean a lot, and for each and every one of you who's told me that this story means something to you, I hope that it can bring you some sort of comfort, wherever that comes from.

Much love, stay safe,

NF