a/n: trigger warning for panic/anxiety attacks


Clarke was elbow deep in paint when her phone rang. She glanced to see a restricted number and she felt her heart immediately sink. Her gut started churning as she sat, frozen, staring at the screen. The call dropped after five rings, but after a moment it started to ring again. She wiped her shaking hands as best she could before answering.

"Griffin." The voice on the other end of the call was crisp, and to the point. Clarke found herself answering automatically, without truely processing the actual words exchanged

The click at the end of the call was sudden. Clarke followed the track of her phone as it slipped through her fingers and fell to the floor. Her mind raced in circles, trying to reconcile what she'd just agreed to, what she'd been asked to do. Before she could fully process anything, her body rebelled and she only just made it to the bathroom before hurling up everything in her stomach. She flushed the toilet, but didn't wipe the bright red streak left behind on the seat. She stared at the color, red on white on white on white.

Her limbs felt weightless and cumbersome all at once as she tried to stand and found she couldn't - her legs were not cooperating. A deep and oppressive weight was settling on her chest, painful and empty and heavy. She managed to drag herself into the shower and turn it on. As the scalding water hit her still-clothed body, her mind started to replay everything she was normally able to block out, all at once.

Clarke had experienced helplessness before, but she had never allowed herself to feel weak. She held onto her inner strength as if it were a spark in a rainstorm. Her strength had gotten her through the hazing during training (and the training itself), had helped her ignore everyone who said she was too young, too stupid, too female to ever amount to anything in the Corps. As she gradually gained the respect of her peers and her superiors, and as she moved up through the ranks, that spark had become a burning flame that carried her through the difficult times. It led her through enemy fire overhead while she applied pressure to the remains of an arm. It let her lend her strength to her squad when they were starting to crack. Through every experience, Clarke had held onto the belief that she was strong.

Which is why, sitting in shower in a city she'd been growing to love, her weakness overwhelmed her in such a consuming way; coming in the form of extreme self-doubt, in falling back to the belief that she was only floating on the surface of a life she didn't deserve. She was actually drowning. Locked in an eternal night, a darkness so profound that she couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't feel. She was numb all over, and so consumingly vacant.

Everything was hazy around her, but after an intermittent amount of time she sensed the water being turned off and someone -several someones? - yelling (she assumed it was yelling with only passive interest, like a person would notice the ocean looked blue instead of green). The images running in front of her eyes were constant - watching all her squad be tortured, seeing their captors, and shooting Finn. Finn. Finn. Pointing to his chest, knowing that she had no choice, that she had to. I had to, I had to.

Someone had her face in their hands. Clarke couldn't see who. I had to. Someone was carrying her...or half-dragging: she couldn't tell, and didn't care. She was no longer vertical, and someone was tugging off her feet. No, her shoes. She thought she heard her name, but she closed her eyes. Time passed, or didn't pass, but her shirt was being tugged and NO! She lashed out with fists and legs, connecting solidly with something (or was it someone?). Clarke knew she was screaming because her throat hurt - it was the only thing she could feel - and made herself stop, wrapping her arms around her knees.

She'd been responsible for everyone for long enough; that singular thought forced her to start her way out of the darkness. She concentrated on her raw throat, allowing her mind to follow it to dry mouth and the words she was forming. I had to. She concentrated on the breath between the words, then on breathing through her nose and shutting her mouth. She started to smell fresh linen, and jerked at the unexpected thought that she'd changed her sheets that morning.

She felt the crisp sheets below her and released her knees to grab the sheets. Her left hand felt tender. She waited until she could feel every one of her fingers before releasing her grip to roll onto her back, bringing her arms over her eyes. She repeated the process with her feet, placing them firmly down and curling her toes around the soft linen. She wiggled them individually before straightening one leg, then the other. Her clothes were soaked. She started taking deep breaths, realizing that she was crying when she hiccuped. Her hearing came back slowly, and she heard a familiar voice.

"...good. Take another deep breath for me, Clarke. In 2 - 3 - 4 - 5, Hold 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 -, out 2 - 3 - 4 - 5." She recognized that voice, wondered if she'd been listening to instructions from that voice all along. She continued breathing for a long while, until she had stopped hiccuping, and wiped her eyes. No one in the room was talking, but Clarke could sense them in the rustling fabrics, in the creak of the floorboards, in their varied breath sounds.

"Water?" She croaked. Talking was painful. She heard someone leave the room and the sound of a distant faucet running before they returned.

"You have to sit up to drink it, Clarke. Can you do that for me?" It was Lexa's voice, because of course Lexa would be there. Clarke nodded. Here eyes were still closed, so she opened them slowly. She flinched initially, with four people-shapes hovering above her. One of them motioned the others back, and Clarke's vision started to clear as she shuffled herself up to the headboard, wincing as she put weight on her hand. She lifted it to see it purpling rapidly. She had a side thought that she'd probably broken a bone, and then another thought as she suddenly focused on the people around her to see who she'd hit. Lexa, Raven, Lincoln, and Octavia all surrounded her bed. Of the four, Lexa was closest and shielding part of her face with her hair.

"Lex?" Clarke tentatively reached forward and saw uncertainty flicker across Lexa's face. Clarke knew what that meant, and drew her hand back, starting to tear up again. Lexa's eyes widened and she hurried to reassure.

"I am fine, Clarke."

"I hurt you." She felt her breathing rate increase again. Lexa crawled to her side slowly, leaning Clarke forward enough to slide behind her. Clarke let her, needing the contact in a way she had not realized. Lexa wrapped her arms around Clarke from behind, and tucked her feet under Clarke's knees.

"Calm, Clarke. Feel me breathing," The position and tone of Lexa's voice had Clarke relaxing- she didn't realize how tense she'd been until she leaned back into Lexa's embrace. Octavia came forward with the water as Raven perched herself on the end of the bed. Clarke's hands were still shaking, so Lexa took the water and helped Clarke sip it. Octavia withdrew and she and Lincoln slumped to the floor together by the bed. Once the water was half-gone, Lexa put it on the night table and returned to hugging Clarke tightly. Clarke let herself melt backwards even more, exhaustion finally making itself known in every cell of her body. No one said anything, but Clarke could tell what the three in front of her were thinking.

Raven and Octavia were both a bit freaked out; Octavia was a bit unsure of what she should be doing (she seemed to be a restless person by nature, and now she was fidgeting with her fingers, not to mention she and Clarke did not know each other well), and Raven was half surprised and half feeling helpless and confused. Lincoln met her stare with nothing but understanding, and Clarke was glad of his quiet strength.

"Sleep, Clarke. We are here." Clarke felt the vibration of Lexa's voice through her back, and that was all it took for her to slip away.

C.G.C.G.C.G.

She woke hours later in the same position, with Lexa murmuring quiet reassurance in her ear. Clarke's whole body was sore, and she stretched within the safety of Lexa's embrace, noting that though her clothes were still damp, they were under the covers now. Raven was still in the room, passed out in a ball on the end of the bed, but Lincoln and Octavia weren't there.

"They went to cook dinner," Lexa sensed her looking for them and answered her unasked question. Clarke nodded and shifted again, aware of how, despite the fact that being in Lexa's embrace was comfortable, damp clothes were not. Also, her hand was throbbing.

"Clothes?" She croaked. Lexa chuckled behind her and withdrew her arms slightly, running her hands up to Clarke's shoulders as Clarke started climbing out from the covers, which woke Raven up (the woman was a light sleeper).

"Clarke?" They made eye contact, and Clarke managed a small smile, happy when it was returned, even if Raven looked more uncertain than Clarke had ever seen her. She swung her feet to the floor, standing up slowly and feeling Lexa shift to the edge of the bed. She made her way to her dresser, pulling out dry clothes for both her and Lexa. Though it was fairly dark in the room, Clarke still saw Raven's look of surprise as Clarke stripped off her wet clothes in front of Lexa, exposing bare skin. Lexa grabbed a set of clothes as she passed Clarke on the way to change in the bathroom, dropping a small kiss to one of Clarke's shoulder blades.

When they were both dry, Lexa grabbed her hand and led her to the living area. Clarke got a brief glimpse of Octavia straining pasta before she was pulled to the couch to sit. As she did, she caught full sight of the right side of Lexa's face.

"Shit! I…." Lexa took both Clarke's hands in her own.

"I am fine, Clarke. It looks worse than it feels." Lexa ran her thumbs over Clarke's knuckles and Clarke winced as pain shot again through her left hand. Lexa frowned and pulled the hand closer. Clarke pulled it back gently out of reach.

"I'm pretty sure it's broken."

"We need to get that set as soon as possible," Octavia said, coming around to take a quick look at the had. Clarke turned to her. "We'll take our meal to-go and head over to Hersom. I'll call us ahead." Before Clarke could protest, she was heading back to the kitchen, snapping orders at Lincoln and calling Raven to show them where the tupperware was. Clarke thought it was to give her and Lexa a moment alone, and she was grateful.

"I really am sorry, Lexa." Clarke said, reaching out her good hand to cup the other woman's face.

"I know, Clarke. I have survived worse, I assure you."

"What kind of statement is that? I broke my hand on your face!" Lexa was pursing her lips tightly. Clarke at first thought it was in displeasure, but then saw laughter in green eyes. They both started giggling at the same time.

"Okay, I'd say you're both good to head out now," Raven said, reappearing with a travel mug in hand, which she offered to Clarke. "It's tea, you know, for your froggy throat." Clarke smiled weakly at her.

"Thanks, Reyes."

They trooped downstairs, waving to Miller, who looked at them with only slight confusion as they passed. Clarke wasn't surprised the man had picked up on the tension that was between them all.

A short ride in Raven's SUV later, they pulled up at the hospital, where because of Octavia's connections, Clarke was seen right away. After an X-Ray, Clarke was informed that she wouldn't need surgery and would only need a fracture-brace rather than a full cast, as it was only a hairline fracture.

The ride back was nearly silent, only Clarke addressing Octavia and Lincoln once to thank them for cooking. Octavia nodded, while Lincoln met her eyes a moment, doing a silent assessment before nodding. The silence began to feel awkward the closer they got to the apartment.

As they all trooped back inside, Clarke noted that someone had put away her paints. She guessed Lincoln, but supposed it didn't really matter. Raven saw her looking at the unfinished canvas and spoke up as everyone else hovered.

"I know we shouldn't have moved you so much, but in our defense, there was fucking red paint everywhere and…" Clarke looked sharply at Raven, who flinched back slightly. Clarke refused to be sorry.

"You thought I - that I would - after everything I've lived through…" she trailed off as Raven's eyes started to water before she blinked them rapidly, looking away. Walking over to Raven while the other woman tried to collect herself, she turned Raven's face back gently. "Never, do you hear me? I'm sorry I scared you, Ray." Raven threw her arms around Clarke then, burying her face by Clarke's neck. Clarke met the other eyes in the room. "I'm sorry that I scared all of you." Octavia did a jerky nod, and Lincoln stepped forward as soon as Raven released Clarke.

"We fall apart in our own ways. Our strength guides us through when it can, and you have us to lean on when there is too much." His sincere eyes held hers before pulling her forward. He kissed her forehead and stepped back, giving her an encouraging smile.

Lexa appeared beside her, holding another glass of water, which she offered to Clarke. The others drifted toward the couch, starting to bicker about what show to watch. To Clarke their talk seemed forced, but she decided to ignore it. Instead, she took Lexa's hand and tugged her into her room, shutting the door behind them. She took the water from Lexa, downing nearly half of it before putting it down on the bedside table.

Lexa opened her mouth to speak, but Clarke put a finger to her lips. There would be time to talk: later tonight, or tomorrow, but she wanted to delay that. Instead she pulled Lexa to the bathroom and turned on the light.

Clarke noted absently that someone had cleaned the room as she motioned to Lexa to hop on the sturdy counter by the sink. She then used the bright light to look fully at the damage to Lexa's face. Her right eye was puffy and a spectacular array of colors that bled slightly into her cheek: overnight, Clarke knew it would darken. She lifted fingers to run lightly along the edge of the bruise and Lexa closed her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak again, only for Clarke to tap her lips again. Lexa huffed and her green eyes looked to Clarke's again.

Clarke often felt that when their eyes connected, Lexa could gaze into her soul. Lexa could convey complicated thoughts and emotions with her expressive eyes, and right now, her eyes were showing concern but also wariness. Clarke sighed and leaned their foreheads together. She felt Lexa tangle her hand into the hair at the back of her neck and sighed deeply.

"Lex-" she started, but Lexa interrupted her.

"No." Clarke pulled back slightly, head tilting in question. Lexa just shook her head and Clarke knew that neither of them was in a state to listen to the other at the moment. For tonight, they would just be.

C.G.C.G.C.G.

Clarke managed to extract herself without waking Lexa (who, she saw with a pang of guilt, had developed a remarkable shiner) early the next morning, rubbing her face with her uninjured hand as she made her way softly out of her bedroom. Blinking her eyes in the grey early-morning light, she froze as her eyes caught Lincoln, sitting stiffly on a stool in the kitchen talking quietly with Raven. She stopped her forward motion, but Raven spotted her and Raven's expression caused Lincoln to turn around. Clarke looked down.

"I take it you heard, Linc?" She saw him nod in the corner of her vision, but Raven started clunking toward her, stopping a few feet away.

"You told me you retired," Raven stated. Her tone was hurt and accusatory and confused all at once, and Clarke steeled herself before looking back up.

"I was put on mandatory leave until such time an independent investigation was wrapped. At such time, I was offered the choice to reevaluate my continued service." Clarke threw her shoulders back. "It was a condition that I not discuss my status with anyone -"

"Bullshit," Raven bit out loudly, stepping into Clarke's personal space. Clarke's eyes darted to her closed bedroom door, where she hoped Lexa was still sleeping.

"Raven," Lincoln called softly.

"No." Raven snarled, anger and betrayal taking over her tone now. "She said she had a choice. You told me that she's going back." Her voice rose as she got more worked up. "And she lied to us the whole time."

"I couldn't tell you!" Clarke yelled back. "You don't think I wanted to? Every single day, at the back of my mind was the thought… and then they actually called -"

"And look what you did!" Raven gestured at her bandaged hand. Clarke heard the door open behind her, and Lexa moved cautiously into her field of vision. "You are clearly not ready to…" Clarke closed the final distance between them and grabbed the front of Raven's shirt.

"Stand down, Private." Raven blinked at her and then looked down.

"Pulling rank in my own house, Griffin." She didn't need to say more: Clarke was aware that the way she'd handled the confrontation was not the best. She released Raven and moved past her to the kitchen, up to Lincoln who hopped up off the stool automatically. Aware of Lexa watching her every move, she motioned him to relax. He did, watching her warily.

"How did you hear?"

"Murphy."

"And how the fuck did he get his hands on this sort of information?" She knew Lincoln wouldn't know: hell, even she was wary of asking Murphy his sources. He was canny and elusive, and had a knack for gathering intelligence. Clarke knew that they'd given everyone in her squad the option of honorary discharge: as far as she knew, she was the only one who'd deferred the choice and been put on mandatory leave. Without waiting for Lincoln to answer, Clarke turned back to Raven (and Lexa, who was still looking slightly confused and very adorable, still sleep-ruffled and oh fuck, what the hell am I doing?).

"I got a call yesterday saying that everything was wrapped, and they wanted me in for a final debrief. Then they asked if I'd made a decision to continue my service. I told them I had." Raven just looked at her for a moment.

"And then you had a massive anxiety attack that ended with a broken hand." Raven ran her hand through her hair in exasperation. "Jesus. You think you're ready to go back into a fucking war zone?" Clarke heard a sharp intake of breath from Lexa and refused to look at her. "Do you not remember what happened the last time you were deployed?" Raven was toeing a line.

"I have skills that are needed. I can make a difference."

"That's government reasoning, Clarke, and you know it." Clarke set her jaw, and opened her mouth before she could fully process her words.

"That's the reason I joined in the first place! I can make a difference: they are so short on medics. I didn't join to follow some random crush across the world!" Raven's face betrayed hurt for a split second, and she saw Lincoln take a step toward them. Raven recovered quickly, however.

"Well, you were shit at making a difference for him, weren't you?!" Clarke recoiled, but stood her ground.

"There was no other way! You weren't there! The whole squad was depending on me! Do you think I wanted to shoot him? He was dead anyway! His fucking carotid was severed! And we were able to secure the building and escape. Finn…" she choked only slightly on his name, and noticed Raven was crying silently. She lowered her voice calmly and went on, "I know that you loved him, Raven. I'm truly sorry that you lost him, that I was the one to cause you all this pain. If I could've…" She trailed off as Lincoln pulled Raven into his arms. Raven went limp as he rubbed her back. Clarke was startled when her hand was taken by Lexa, and turned to find green eyes shining.

There was no immediate need for words, just comfort offered from a woman she'd known only a few months. Clarke felt her heart jolt, but quelled her rising emotions quickly and allowing Lexa to just be there. Her body was still sore all over from the previous day, and her entire future had definitely changed in the last 24 hours, but for a moment, Clarke took what Lexa offered. She turned as Raven cleared her throat, stepping back from Lincoln once again.

"I need a minute," she mumbled, limping into her own room. Lincoln raised his eyebrows at Clarke and she nodded toward the door. Lincoln headed that way without another word, grabbing his jacket on the way out. Clarke tugged Lexa to the couch.

"Come on, we need to talk." They sat sideways facing each other, their hands still tangled. Lexa immediately drew her free arm over a bent leg, leaning her chin on her knee. Clarke thought that, as controlled as Lexa's expression normally was, Lexa was letting more show than she truly meant to.