Athena's eyes opened slowly. It took her longer than it should to remember where she had been and it took her longer than it should for the feeling to return to her fingers. Her vision was blurred, her head ached for a second and her body felt stiff, leaden, dulled and too slow to react to her commands. It took a second longer before she remembered where exactly she was and what had happened.

Athena took in a steadying breath, she knew the dizziness would come, and she knew it would pass given time. She didn't know if she should feel embarrassed, ashamed, scared of what Clarke would think, but she didn't quite let herself dwell too much longer on those thoughts. She never did, not when it involved Clarke. She couldn't let herself. No matter how much she wished to do just that.

It didn't surprise Athena that she heard two voices in Clarke's home. The first she recognised as Clarke's quite timbre, the way it seemed to lower just a touch at times when she was stressed over analysing any and all situations she would have found herself in. The second voice Athena heard was that of a man's, whose voice was soft, gentle, something that contrasted so very deeply with who it belonged to.

She took in another breath, this one perhaps an attempt to stave off whatever explanations she would need to give when her consciousness was noted.

And so Athena sat up from wherever she had been lying and she hoped that Lexa had in some way been able to say what she had been too weak to say for far too long.


Clarke needed time to think over every little thing that had happened in her life. There were so many things she didn't understand, from how exactly ALIE 2.0 had become what the grounders considered a deity, a god, a spirit. She didn't understand how consciousness were passed down through the flame, nor did she understand the science behind how Lexa had taken over Athena's body. She didn't think she would ever understand the science and technology behind it.

There were things she knew she didn't know too. Far too many uncertainties existed in her life, far too many responsibilities she didn't know the answer to. That was why she had fled, had made a home for herself deep in the forests with River her only companion. But the one thing she hadn't known? The one thing she could never have known for the last decade? Lexa had, according to Lexa been alive all this time. And that was what she didn't understand.

How could she?

"Clarke," she looked up at her name being called to find Axios stepping away from the still unconscious Athena.

"How is she?" Clarke asked, and she didn't really know how much Axios knew. She didn't know how much he understood of the flame, of the technology behind it.

"Heda's heartbeat has steadied," he said with what could only be described as quiet satisfaction.

"Good," and Clarke didn't really know what else to say. She hadn't had any experience with dealing with those taken over by another intelligence for a decade.

Axios moved away from Athena and he sat in a lone chair, his broad shoulders and his great sandy blonde beard making him seem far too large a man for the home Clarke had made for herself.

"How's your arm?" she asked, and she lifted her chin in gesture at the way he kept it a little closer to his side than normal.

Axios shrugged the shoulder of his injured arm, perhaps subconsciously, perhaps to show it didn't bother him as much as it would others.

"Healing," Axios said with a gentle sigh.

"I'm glad you made it back," and Clarke smiled, the expression more honest than she would have let herself express once upon a time.

Axios smiled slightly at that and Clarke couldn't help but to find his disposition so very to the way Gustus had been. Perhaps it was because Axios guarded Athena in times of peace, perhaps because he was simply a calmer man. Or perhaps he hid it well, perhaps it was a ploy of his to fool others into thinking him incapable of attacking and defending should he need to.

"Heda would have banished me from the clans if I had not returned," Axios said lightly, and Clarke didn't fight the smile that once again found its way upon her lips.

She nodded to herself before leaning back in the chair she sat in. Some emotion existed within her that she couldn't really describe. She understood what Lexa had said. At least in the literal sense. But abstractly? She couldn't grasp it. Not when she had seen Lexa die in front of her. Not when she had tried to stop the bleeding caused by the bullet meant for her. Perhaps there was hope, something she hadn't dared feel in years, perhaps there was anger, resentment, hurt at Athena having kept whatever truth existed from her. And yet she couldn't blame Athena, not when something so belief altering could disrupt a culture built upon one spirit guiding the next. Hadn't Lexa said just that? Hadn't she said that the secret was kept from everyone? Perhaps Axios truly didn't know.

And so Clarke settled for staying quiet, for not saying word until Athena could answer and speak for herself. It was the least she could d—

Movement caught her attention and Clarke's gaze snapped to the couch where Athena lay. Athena sat up in the couch, her hair a little dishevelled, her nose reddened from Axios trying to stem and bleeding and her skin just slightly clammy.

"Heda," Axios began as he stood from the chair and began moving towards h—

"Leave us, Axios," Athena said, her voice just barely breaking at the edges.

Axios paused and Clarke could see the war within him for half a second before he bowed his head and turned for the door, his eyes just once glancing in her direction before he slipped out from her home.

Athena's dismissal of Axios was answer enough to half of her questions and so Clarke waited until she was sure Axios had put enough distance between them that they would not be heard.

"What happened, Athena?" Clarke said, whatever emotions she should be feeling forced deep down into her core for the moment.

Athena blinked once, twice, she looked away, her hands clenched and grasped at the soft quilt she sat upon and Clarke saw her jaw clench tightly as something close to frustration and anger began to seep into the Commander's eyes.

And yet Clarke saw that emotion fade, lessen, soften and slowly turn to something close to hurt, to loss, to a broken acceptance that made her want to look away, if only because it felt so raw, so open and real.

"Athena," Clarke whispered quietly.

"Lexa spoke to you," Athena said, gaze cast down onto the ground.

"She did," Clarke said after she swallowed the lump in her throat had taken residence.

Clarke watched as Athena refused to meet her gaze for a long moment, and through the silence she found herself trying to recall everything that had happened in her life in the hopes that something would help her make sense of what had happened.

"Did Axios see anything?" Athena asked eventually.

"No," Clarke said. "He only came in when you collapsed."

Athena took in a shuddering breath and then she looked at her, and this time Clarke could see a determination in her eyes as if something had been decided without conscious effort.

"Lexa is alive," Athena said eventually and Clarke winced as Athena looked her directly in the eyes.

"I—" Clarke paused quietly. "How?" Of course Lexa had explained some of it. But it had been frantic. It had been unfocused, desperate even. "Lexa," and Clarke felt old pains she thought long since healed beginning to seep. "She's in there, with you?" and she didn't know if she made sense.

"Yes," and Athena nodded, her voice now a little more tight than it had been moments ago. "But she did not die when Titus shot her."

Clarke looked away then, perhaps because she didn't want Athena to see the pain in her eyes, perhaps because she didn't want to see the pain in Athena's.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Clarke already knew the answer. If only because she understood so very terribly what Lexa had meant whens he said the clan's would revolt if they found out Commanders were allowed to retire. She knew they'd see it as an abdication of a lifelong vow of servitude and duty. She knew if they ever found out that they would kill all past Commanders.

And yet part of Clarke thought she had earned the right to know.

Athena didn't really respond other than to maintain what eye contact they shared. And that was answer enough for Clarke. She knew that Athena knew. She knew that Athena knew she understood everything that could be said and everything that couldn't be said. But it still hurt. Clarke thought it always would.

"Do you know how hard it is, Clarke?" Athena said quietly, and this time there was something different in the way Athena spoke, in the way her words ushered in challenge and regret and remorse and any number of different emotions she couldn't find the time to analyse. "Do you know how difficult it is?" Athena repeated quietly, but as Clarke met her gaze she thought the question rhetorical, if only because she knew exactly what Athena asked.

"I do," and Clarke found her lip trembling.

Perhaps the one certainty in life, the one painful constant, was that emotions were complicated, they were unruly, unkind at times, full of vigour and energy and could tear her apart and build her into something greater at a moment's notice. And she knew Athena felt everything. She knew Athena held lifetimes of memories, emotions, loves and hates within her mind. How could she not? And she knew what Athena asked, if only because she felt it too.

In that moment there weren't a lot of things Clarke was sure of. She wasn't sure if who she had been speaking to was really Lexa or if it was an artificial construct merely based on the memory of someone she had loved. Perhaps it was a ghost? She didn't know if Alexandria - whoever she was, was actually Lexa. She didn't know if it had all been a dream or a nightmare, she didn't know so many things. But perhaps she understood what Athena meant by it being difficult, hard, so very confusing.

So many things Athena did reminded her of Lexa. And yet now she wondered if those things Athena did, those little quirks, the lifting of a chin or the arching of an eyebrow, were simply passed down from one Commander to the next, no more unique than the any other thought or memory or shared knowledge possessed by every single person to take the flame.

Perhaps who Clarke had fallen in love with had never truly been one singular person. Maybe it had been an amalgamation of so many people, who had shared experiences, loves and losses and hates and fears.

But she wouldn't let herself think that. She couldn't. But for why, she did not know.

And so Clarke took in a shuddering breath as she tried so very deeply to control her emotions, as she tried to ignore what she saw in Athena's eyes. If only because she needed answers, if only because she needed to know the truth. Whatever it may be.

"Athena," Clarke whispered as she looked Athena in the eyes. She knew Athena had already anticipated what her words would be from the sadness, from the hurt, from every single thing that Clarke had come to recognise within her green eyes. "I need to see her, Athena," Clarke saw the tears of pain just barely visible in Athena's gaze.

And it hurt.

Clarke couldn't imagine what Athena must have felt, not really, not truly. She didn't know how she would have react if she had ever been put in her place. But she could understand it somehow.

If only because Athena had professed her feelings for her as if she knew everything would change in the next few painful moments.

Athena nodded just once, the gesture so full of emotion. But there was a bittersweet acceptance behind it, something full of love, something full of devastation and regret and happiness that it made Clarke's heart bleed within her chest.

And so Athena stood, she wiped the back of her hand across her eyes and she looked her in the eyes.

"I will take you to her."


Two Weeks Later


Alexandria stood at the river's edge, her bare feet happy as the water lapped at her toes. The sun beat down upon her shoulders and the lightness of her clothes let the breeze and whatever coolness of the day wend its way across her flesh. The fishing rod held in her hands was barely felt as she slowly danced the line through the flowing of the water. She could see splashes of fish in the depths of the river, she could see the shadows of fish as they darted back and forth and her smile turned to a frown as one fish who had slowly been approaching her bait grew wary and darted away. Brutus huffed an annoyance beside her and she knew he must have sensed or seen their prey flee.

"Yes Brutus," Alexandria said with a quiet sigh. "I know," and she nudged him with her knee just enough that he looked up at her and licked her elbow before turning his attention back to the fish.

Fishing wasn't so much a necessity, in fact it took her far too long to catch her prey this way. But she thought it calming. Or at least it had been calming once upon a time. And yet this time it wasn't. And it wasn't for Athena had sent a messenger not a week ago that had told them she was returning to visit for some unknown reason, and Alexandria knew not why she visited so frequently, she knew not why the Commander had decided to come and go as she pleased.

But it wasn't her place to argue, to question. At least not openly. Even Eamon and Agamemnon had seemed a little puzzled, but they too had kept question carefully locked behind sealed lips. If only because it was respectful not to question.

And so Alexandria had found herself turning to fishing to calm her nerves, in part because she couldn't shake the feeling that Athena's return had something to do with the things she had told her. Maybe she'd be given answers sooner rather than later though, maybe she'd be given a respite from the uncertainties and the unknowns, maybe she'd be gi—

The fishing line jerked, it twitched and Alexandria's eyes snapped to the water to find a fish hooked, its powerful body already trying to flee the hook, the line, whatever was trapping it in place.

Brutus reacted instantly to the victory, he stood at attention, his ears perked and his tail beginning to wag far too heavily for it to be comfortable each time it slapped Alexandria in the thigh. And so Alexandria pushed aside all other thoughts in that moment, she grit her teeth and she felt the blood pumping through her veins as she began what was sure to be a long and powerful battle of life and death between hunter and hunted.


To say Alexandria had to watch Brutus like a hawk lest he steal the fish she had battled with for what felt like eons would be an understatement. She knew him prone to inching closer and closer until all he needed to do was reach out with his snout and snap up the fish. And yet she didn't mind. It kept her senses honed, at least as much as could be expected. She had a basket of ice kept out of the sun and under a large tree, fish scales lay scattered on the pebbles that spread out around her and she found herself getting lost in the movements as she scaled, gutted and cleaned the fish with as much practised ease as she could muster. Every now and then she would give in to the whining of Brutus and pass him a slice of the fish. She'd have to make sure there was enough to feed Eamon and Agamemnon though. If only because she knew Brutus more than capable of begging for more until none was left.

It was funny, too, Alexandria thought. Or perhaps not really funny, but rather odd, unfamiliar, something between discomfort and happy contentedness. But it was times like this, with knife in hand, blood covered and sweat stained, that her body seemed to react to the stimulus. She knew it subconscious, she knew whatever made her body react in the way it did was simply a left over of her time serving her people. But her senses always seemed to hone, always seemed to sharpen. She found herself able to pick up the slightest changes in the wind, in the air, in the sounds that drifted around her. Her eyesight seemed sharper too. If only because she could notice movements she normally wouldn't. And she didn't like it. She didn't like that it reminded her of things she could not remember, she didn't like that it made her body react in ways she could not recall. And perhaps that was why she picked apples. Perhaps that was why she preferred the gentle familiarity of walking through the rows of trees, the grass underfoot and the calm of the scents of fruit that filtered through the air. But, for a moment Alexandria could pre—

She winced, she grimaced and she looked down at her finger to find that she had cut herself. Black blood oozed out of the small cut, it began to drip down her hand and before it could fall onto the fish she fumbled, moved and stuck her hand into the flowing of the river. The water seemed to calm the barely registered sting and she found herself feeling frustrated, feeling annoyed, something close to anger bubbling gently under the surface.

She didn't like looking at her own blood. She didn't think many people would. But there was something in the way it made her heart clench that disquieted her, that made her body recoil, made her subconscious want to flee.

Brutus seemed to react to her discomfort though for she heard him growl, she looked over her shoulder and she found him looking out around them lest something outwards had been the thing to cause her pain.

"It is ok, Brutus," Alexandria said quietly. "I am just a fool," and she smiled as he looked at her, as his head cocked to the side and as she moved closer to her, the fish he had at one stage been more than eager to steal all but forgotten.

Alexandria reached out with her uninjured hand and scratched under his chin as Brutus came to stand next to her, his eyes still carefully looking out around them in case danger should appear.

And perhaps in that moment Alexandria found herself smiling something between sadness and happiness. And she did for she thought she very much enjoyed the company of the great Brutus, who cared not for her past, who cared not for her failures that had brought her to the place she now lived. And she enjoyed his company because she knew he enjoyed hers.

And it was simple. Straightforward. Easy for her to understand and easy for her to accept. And that was what her life had become now, wasn't it? Easy, straightforward. Simple.


"So, Brutus," Alexandria said with a laugh as she continued the awkward dance of walking, on her back the basket of fish and ice, and between her legs a dog far too big to be playing the games he once did as a puppy. "I think it is only fair that Eamon do the cooking and the cleaning, yes?" She was sure Brutus more than understood for he huffed what could only be described as agreement. "That is what I thought."

Alexandria laughed once more as she hitched the basket a little higher on her shoulders as she turned one last corner in the row that was the apples trees that stretched out around her homestead.

But her eyes widened then narrowed a fraction as she realised she saw more than the usual horses tied outside. It took her barely a second to register that Athena must have been present. She'd recognise her horse anywhere. But what made her eyes narrow in curious suspicion was that there was an unfamiliar horse present, one whose owner wasn't one of the other servants who helped around the homestead, who kept to themselves and did little to interact with them.

"We have company," Alexandria said quietly to Brutus as she continued walking forward, whoever the newcomer was soon to be revealed.

Alexandria found herself eyeing the one new horse a little more closely. She couldn't help but to admire its coat of caramel brown, that seemed to shimmer in the day's sunlight. She even found herself smiling just a bit as the horse nipped at Athena's, who in turn shook its head and seemed more than used to the behaviour.

That intrigued Alexandria though, if only because she wondered just how familiar this newcomer was to Athena given how comfortable their horses were with each other. Perhaps they were a close friend, a nightblood that for some reason had been brought to them?

Alexandria found herself standing at her front door then, her ears listened to the sounds of quiet conversation and she knew something was different. She couldn't quite tell, but she thought she heard Eamon talking, his voice quiet, perhaps a little more respectful than usual. She listened for a moment longer and she knew she heard Athena's voice and this time it seemed tighter, perhaps a little tired, perhaps a little strained. But then a third voice came, and this one must have belonged to the newcomer for Alexandria didn't recognise it at all. She sighed, shook her head and braced herself for whatever the next few moments would bring.

"Behave," Alexandria said with a gentle laugh to Brutus who tried nudging forward. "We have guests, Brutus."

Alexandria pushed open the door and stepped inside, her eyes were quick to adjust to the light and she found Eamon sitting at the table, one hand resting atop its surface, the other nursing a small mug in its grasp. Athena sat opposite him, her posture poised and regal and a woman sat next to her.

Alexandria took the woman's measure in a fraction of a second. She saw the wild braids that stretched throughout her blonde hair. She noticed the pale of her skin, the blue of her eyes and she found herself wondering who exactly it was that had been allowed into their sanctuary.

All eyes snapped to her though and Alexandria felt herself put on the spot, if only because she didn't like the way Athena's gaze seemed for very terribly trying to hold back an emotion. But what really made her skin crawl was the expression of the new woman who stared at her with so much emotion, so much horror, so much fear and want and longing and sadness that she didn't quite know how to react.

"Hello?" Alexandria didn't really know what else to say in way of greeting at the way the woman slowly rose from her chair, vision ever pinned on her.

Brutus shuffled forward, oblivious to whatever was happening around him as he began to sniff at the woman.

"Lexa," the woman said quietly, and the name made Alexandria flinch, if only because she hadn't thought of herself as that woman in years.

"I—" Alexandria paused, she swallowed and she tried to make sense of whatever it was that stood in front of her. So many thoughts and scenarios flashed through her mind. She wasn't dumb, wasn't foolish, from the way the woman looked at her she knew they had once known each other. And yet she couldn't understand how. The woman's accent was odd, barely recognisable really. And yet that name fell from her lips with such familiarity that it seemed neither foreign nor unknown to her. "I go by Alexandria now," she finished, the words lame on her tongue.

The woman blinked, and Alexandria was sure she saw a single tear fall from her eyes.

"Ok," and the woman smiled something so full of emotion that it made her want to recoil.

And so Alexandria asked the only thing she thought she could ask given the circumstance.

"Did I know you?"