I feel like this chapter took a year of my life, but here it is after all. Thanks for your patience. I hope it meets your expectations! xo

LEXA | ALICIA

I've once been taught that the ultimate sense to evoke a memory is smell. It's indeed very powerful. The scent of wet timber instantly brings me back to the pine forests we used to go camping. One hint of a specific herb and I find myself in my grandmother's kitchen again. And ever since I remember it all again the pungent aroma of smoke and ashes conjures up images of funeral pyres more often than not.

I don't agree it's the utmost one though, at least not for me. For me the key to a memory lies in the sound of a voice.

It might be close to impossible to exactly recall a voice after many years, even when you try your hardest, but there's something almost magical in actually hearing it again. As soon as it reaches you, you recognize it. Immediately. Without any doubt. Voices may look very similar sometimes, but they never exactly are. And when they belong to someone who matters, they can't deceive you.

That's why I know. When she calls my name, and nothing other than that, I know, even before turning around. I know it's her.

And in that second of realization there's nothing else. The world around me turns blurry before my eyes. All sounds fade out. It's as if everything turns still, as if every living being forgets how to breathe - me included. In that one second it's like the planet stops spinning, leaving me with only one thought: she's alive.

Not quite remembering how to move, I manage to slowly turn until I face her.

She's standing at the other side of the field. This small figure, holding her hand above her eyes to have a better look. The distance between us is too big for any further details, but I don't need them.

"Alicia? Is that really you?" she asks again, aided by the wind that carries my name across.

For a moment all I can do is stare at her, without blinking, and without moving. I am vaguely aware that my mouth has fallen open, but nevertheless I'm still not breathing until finally my lungs give up and the air I am holding inside comes out in a deep, shaky breath.

"Mom?"

My own voice comes from afar. It's low, not more than a mumble, and impossible for her to hear.

I wet my lips, swallow and try again, while taking a wobbly step in her direction.

"Mom."

It's no longer a question.

I'm hardly aware of the next few seconds, but I think my legs just start moving on their own, leading me towards her, and hers must be doing the same, because all of a sudden we meet each other halfway - all of a sudden I find myself right in front of her and then, without giving it a second thought, I'm back in her arms.

I can't remember an embrace as tight as this one, and if anyone would tell me I can never let go again, I wouldn't mind.

Where I'm still lost for words, Mom's clearly not. "Oh my god, oh my god," she repeatedly murmurs close to my ear, her voice now heavy with emotion, but at the same time exactly as it used to be. "My baby, my precious baby, I can't believe it. You're here. You're really here."

After what might be forever she loosens her hold on me, just enough to give us a close look at each other. It's the first moment I really see her, really see what has become of her. I hesitantly bring my hand to her face, then touch it as gently as possible. The scars beneath my fingertips feel surreal.

"Is this real?" I whisper. "Are you real?"

She takes my hand in hers, directing it away from her face, and lifts her other hand to wipe away my tears. I didn't even realize I was crying.

"Are you?" she asks.

"I'm honestly not sure," I gasp. "What happened? I found your letter, and you sounded so determent, so..."

"I was," she nods. I expect her to go on, to explain herself, but then I note she's distracted by something or someone far behind me. Squinting over my shoulder, her eyes narrow down as she tries to focus on the small group of people standing about forty yards away from us.

"Where's your brother?" she asks me, still scanning the surroundings in the distance. "Where's Nick?"

I swallow again.

"Mom," I quietly start, trying to make her look at me again. She does, though with clear resistance, as if she needs to physically force her gaze to withdraw itself.

"Alicia, where is he?" she tries again. There's a glimpse of hope in her question, but by the look in her eyes I can tell she's already bracing herself for the worst.

"He's gone," I tell her, unable to withhold the sob that wells up. "We lost him. Shortly after... after we lost you."

As soon as the truth is out she pulls me in for another hug. This time there's no flood of words. There's only her and me. The last two standing.

"Oh honey," she just sighs.

Hardly aware of the wind picking up, and not bothered one bit by the first raindrops that are starting to come down, mixing with our tears until you can no longer tell the difference, we just stand there, in the middle of this wide, open field; vulnerable for this world full of danger around us, but at the same time completely careless and almost at peace. Would this moment be our very last at least we'd go together. It's a strange sensation, but not a bad one.

When Mom finally lets go of me, she takes my hand again. "Come with me."

I don't ask her where to, I just nod. Yet when she's about to turn around I stop her. "Not without them."

I look over my shoulder, and when my eyes meet those of my people they start moving towards us.

"Who are they?" Mom asks, back on her guard at once, until she spots a familiar face among them. "No way! Victor?!"

While closing the last few yards, he widely grins at her.

"Madison! As I live and breathe!"

As I step aside, giving them room to embrace each other, my gaze finds Clarke's again. We exchange a quick look, one filled with understanding. I'm okay, I tell her. It's okay, she tells me, right before Mom turns towards them - ready to be introduced.

"Mom, these are Clarke and Madi," I tell her.

They share a smile, followed by a short nod. Polite, yet friendly. "Hey," Mom says.

"Hey," Clarke and Madi respond in one voice.

I'm not sure what else to say, not in this moment that is, but it doesn't matter, since Mom already turns around. She points at a young man at the edge of the field. He's sitting on a fallen tree trunk, which is probably why I hadn't noticed him before.

"That's Jaime. He's with me."

Without saying anything else she starts making her way towards him. The four of us share a short look, then swiftly follow her. As soon as we get closer I notice how young this Jaime actually is. I quickly estimate he must be about Madi's age. His baseball cap is hiding most of his messy, light brown curls and he's wearing sunglasses that seem too big for him.

"He lost his sight at a very young age," Mom explains, as if she can read my thoughts.

"How long have you been traveling together?" I ask her.

"Just a few months. Since this place fell."

He saved her, I instantly realize. He got her out of there when she was about to give up. And then, well aware this is about Mom, it hits me. I finally get what she was about to tell me before, why she didn't persist. She was needed. This kid needed her, enough to thwart her plans - her simply being unable to let an innocent child get killed. She saved him. And by doing so he did the same. He's the reason that she's still here. It might not have been his intention, but it's enough for me to care for him and owe him the world - or at least my protection.

Despite crossing the last ten yards in silence, our approaching footsteps don't seem to startle Jaime. His hearing must be sharp enough to distinguish a voice from quite a distance. Or maybe he recognizes Mom's tread by now?

When we reach him Mom introduces us, though in kind of a hasty manner. Catching her briefly glance up to the sky again I get why: the weather is getting worse.

"Let's save the further acquaintance for later, before this storm gets the best of us," she suggests. "Come, our hide-out isn't too far."

Jaime gets up and starts leading us the way, which I have to admit impresses me.

It's about a fifteen minute walk, in which we don't speak much as our focus needs to be on our surroundings. Apparently there's still quite some danger lingering in this part of the area. I don't mind though, as it gives me time to take a breath and adjust a little to this new reality. Or try to, at least.

Mom survived. She really did.

The words keep racing through my head, over and over and over again, while my eyes search for her every other minute, just to make sure I haven't made it all up. Relying on everyone else to keep us safe it's the only thing that's on my mind right now. The fact that she's really here.

It's the sensation of the lightest brush against the back of my hand that finally pulls me out of my daze and makes me look aside. It's Clarke.

Without thinking I reach for her, about to take her hand in mine, to hold her close and share this endless stream of thoughts running through my head right now, not to mention the jumble of emotions. Just like I would do at any other moment. But something stops me, something coming from within, and I feel bad about it right away.

"It's okay," she mouths soundlessly, repeating her reassurance from before. She smiles at me. "There's no rush."

I lean closer towards her, keeping my voice as low as possible. "I don't want to lie about you. But..." I fall quiet. I have no clue what I want to say. I just know there's a but.

"You're not," Clarke helps me out. "You're just taking it one step at the time. Which is the only way."

I exhale, releasing the tension I was holding inside, then nod. Liking it or not, I know she's right.

"How do you feel?" Clarke asks after another quick glance at the others, and one person in particular. Though Mom keeps searching for me the way I do for her she seems mostly occupied with keeping us safe - unlike me, obviously. Also I get this feeling that she's giving me space on purpose. Or maybe she needs it herself?

"Confused," I admit. I shrug clumsily. "And overwhelmed. I mean... it's a lot!" I look at her again, watch her nod in comprehension. "But I think I mostly feel happy."

As I finally allow myself the feeling, as well as the small smile that comes with it, the corners of her mouth quirk up even more. "Well isn't that something," she laughs, playfully bumping my shoulder with hers. "No wonder you're confused. Isn't happiness high up on your notorious weakness list?"

I shake my head, chuckling, and cast her a fleeting, mischievous look. "You proved me wrong about that a long time ago."

"I know," she winks, before her expression turns back to serious. "I also know it scares you."

I can feel how my face falls. She's right. I just don't want her to be. Not about this. Not anymore.

Looking up again my gaze finds Mom's. I'm not sure how long she's been watching me this time, but as soon as our eyes meet her face lights up in this way that makes me forget everything else. Even those scars that are right there, constantly telling me there's so much I don't know yet.

"Maybe it's time to put an end to that?" I answer Clarke without averting my eyes from Mom. "Would you help me try?"

"Always," she says. The warmth in her voice tells me she's smiling again.

I want to thank her, but right then we reach the lake, where Mom points at a stranded boat on the shore. I don't have to ask her why it's not in the water. The hole in the hull is almost big enough to crawl through.

"We're here," she tells us all, before turning to Strand. "Welcome to The New Abigail."

Strand raises his brows. "New?!"

"Wanna sleep outside?" she warns him.

I don't wait for his answer. Instead I step closer to the boat, that looks not even close to The Abigail, as it isn't even half its size and looks indeed like it's fifty years old - at least! When I stroke the old wood, cautious not to get a splinter, I look over my shoulder at Mom.

"This is your home? It looks... awful."

"Does it?" Jaime answers before she can, "I never noticed."

He passes me and when he drops to his knees I realize that the gap I noted before actually is the entrance. I look at Strand, unable to stop from grinning. "Good luck with that, big guy!"

Two minutes later we all made it inside, though Strand not without some serious swearing. Jaime closes the gap behind us by sliding a heavy board in front of it, while Mom lights a couple of gas lamps. Now that we're finding ourselves within the hull I have to admit it's bigger than I expected. However, they don't seem to use it for anything other than storage room.

Mom hands Strand a lamp, takes the other one herself, then directs us towards a small ladder that leads us straight up, into a somewhat cramped space they turned into some kind of living room. It's got a table, some wonky chairs and something that might have been a couch in a past life.

We don't get a chance to absorb our first impressions.

"That door brings you to the captain's hut, that one takes you outside. Careful though, the deck is slippery." Spinning on her heels Mom goes on in one breath: "Behind that door are three small cabins, two of them with bunks. It's not much, but it should do. We use the third one as a caboose. Anyone hungry?"

Nobody answers, which tells me they're all once again waiting for me. Yet in this moment my brain is incapable of forming any clear thoughts, let alone of taking the lead.

Ignoring all them I take a step towards my mother, who in her restlessness suddenly feels like a stranger to me.

"Mom? Can we maybe just... sit for a bit?"

"Y- Yeah," she stammers, confirming she must feel at least as lost as me, which in a way is helping. "Of course. Come here. Sit... sit."

Taking my arm she leads me to the couch, makes me sit, but forget to do so herself until I remind her to.

The room is about to fall quiet again, but this time it's Clarke who steps forward. "Jaime, can you show us those cabins, so we can drop our stuff? And maybe help us make some food?"

He doesn't need to be asked twice.

We watch them follow him, and when they've all disappeared behind the narrow door Mom turns to me again.

"I still can't believe it," she sighs. "You need to tell me everything."

My eyes widen. "You need to tell me everything! How are you here? How are you even... alive? You were trapped! We saw the fire, we watched the stadium go down..."

She shakes her head. "I don't know. You're right, I should be dead. I was this close. I was closed in by fire and death, both rapidly getting near. There was no escape. Except there was an upside about the huge amount of Walkers around me. Their weight made the floor below me collapse, making me fall into the hollow space underneath. I got trapped in there, in this little oven that nearly burned me alive, yet by some miracle also got shielded from the flames by the pile of roasted bodies above me. It was sheer luck."

I flinch, not able to hide the terror crossing my face. "Luck?! That sounds like hell. Literal hell!"

"Oh yes," she nods, "it was definitely hell. I got stuck in there for days, weeks even. When I was finally found and rescued you were far gone. But I was alive. And as far as I knew you were, too."

"You never stopped believing that?"

"Never!"

My eyes drop to my hands in my lap. "I hate that you were wrong."

"Me too, baby." She rests her hand on top of mine. "Me too."

As we stay quiet for a moment I try to come up with something to say, anything really to change the subject, but my brain is still a mess, and unlike me Mom's not done with the heavy part.

"Were you with him?"

I just nod.

"What happened to him?"

Still not looking at her, I sniff. "He got shot."

Visibly affected, Mom shifts in her seat. "By who?" And then again, when I don't answer her, "Alicia, who shot him?"

When I look up her eyes pierce into mine. I swallow.

"Charlie."

"Charlie?" She stares at me, wide-eyed, exactly as I imagined she would. "Ou- our Charlie? The orphan we took in?"

I nod again.

"But why?!"

I shrug - not that I don't care, but because I never really got to understand. I mean, I know Charlie witnessed Nick kill that Vulture, the one he held accountable for the fall of the stadium - and Mom's assumed death - and who happened to be her kind-of caretaker. But I honestly believed Nick meant ten times more to her than that asshole ever did. Clearly, I was wrong.

"Did you revenge him?" she asks.

I don't know what to say. How can I explain to her that I tried and failed? That we got passed it? And that she's actually still with us, with the people I still consider mine?

"It's complicated," I mumble.

"I get that," she nods, much to my relief, even though I know for sure she's not done with it. "It's a lot, and it's been such a long time. It will probably take us forever to catch up."

I shrug again, though this time in a more casual way.

"I've got forever."

She mirrors my smile. "Me too."

There's another moment of silence, one I'd say is somewhere between slight discomfort and utter bliss. Who knew those emotions could combine that easily?

Still looking at me in disbelief, Mom reaches out and caresses my cheek. A deep sigh falls off her lips. "God, look at you. All grown up. A woman now..."

Following her I lift my hand, slowly as I don't want to scare her. I carefully touch her face, just like before. This time she doesn't stop me. The burn scars that cover part of her left cheek extend to her neck, where they disappear under her collar.

"Does it hurt?" I ask, afraid for the answer.

"Not anymore." She must read the doubt in my eyes, which are still glued to her face, trying to sound as convincing as possible when she goes on, "I'm fine, honey. I really am. Are you though? I mean... is life treating you well?"

Is it? It's hard to tell in a world as fucked up as this. On the other hand, I'm still standing. I got to escape the heavy burden that comes with being the Commander again. And most of all, I'm not alone.

"I'm good," I nod. "I've got people."

Mom's lips turn into an amused grin. "Yeah, I noticed. I can't believe Victor Strand is still around!"

"He's not that bad. Quite the character, but not bad. Thanks to you teaching him a lesson or two."

She narrows her eyes. "Is that how he calls it?"

We share a chuckle, leaving the answer in the middle.

"We're staying near DC," I keep going instead. "Luciana is still with us. June, too. You might remember her. And then there's a bunch of new people, of course."

"Like Madi and Clarke?" She suggestively raises her eyebrow. Does she distrust them?

"Yes," I answer, suddenly not knowing what else to say.

"Nice of them to come all this way with you," Mom goes on.

I avert my eyes, suddenly engrossed by an invisible piece of lint on my sweater. "Well, they're nice people," I murmur. When Mom lays her hand on top of mine, stopping me from picking my sleeve, I look up again.

"I'm not attacking them," she smiles at me, "I can tell they matter to you. And you know I trust your judgement. I trust you."

I bite my lips, letting her words sink in, then nod again. "They do. Matter, I mean. A lot."

My gaze moves back down. Her hand is still resting on mine, showing more burn scars.

"Good, I'm glad. To know you've found friends who-"

"She's my girlfriend." The words are out before I know it, and when she stays quiet I force myself to look up. "Clarke. She's my girlfriend."

Mom just nods. There's no sign of shock, nor of surprise. Not on her side, that is.

"You knew?!" I exclaim, wide-eyed.

"Well, no, but I figured as much. You two are pretty obvious."

"You've hardly seen us together!"

"I've seen enough." She tilts her head. "I'm still your mother, remember?"

I heave a sigh, pull my hand away from hers and cross my arms, subconsciously hugging myself.

"Are you... okay with it?"

I watch her through my eyelashes, watch how her frown draws a deep line between her brows.

"Is there a reason why I shouldn't be?" she asks me, unable to hide the concern in her voice.

"N-No. But, you know... because she's a g-"

"Is she trouble?" Mom cuts me off. "Dishonest? Selfish? Untrustworthy? Is she bad for you, in any way?"

"Not at all!" I cry out. My eyes find hers again. "Clarke is the best. She would never hurt me."

"You're sure about that?"

I nod vigorously. "More than anything. I trust her with my life!"

She cocks her head again. "And I assume you'd give yours for her, if you had to?"

"Without a doubt. I owe her that much."

"For what?" Mom asks, her eyes squinted again. "For loving you?"

"For saving me," I answer, and I feel my heart glow just thinking of her. "In every possible way."

Leaning forward Mom takes my hands, holding them both tight in hers.

"Then you explain to me why I shouldn't be anything but happy for you."

I deeply exhale, feeling ten pounds lighter now that the truth is out. And then, without another word, I find myself nestled in her arms again. Exhausted by this endless day and the many, many emotions that came with it. But most of all blessed and serene. The hard part is over.

We sit like that until Clarke returns to inform us dinner is ready in ten.

Mom lets go off me and smiles up at her.

"Come, sit with us," she invites her, gesturing at one of the questionable chairs. "Tell me all about you. For starters, how did you girls meet?"

... ...