Clarke sat in front of Athena, she watched as the woman's face tensed for a second before calming, relaxing, easing into something not quite awake. Her breathing picked up a fraction before it too eased into calm.
And then Athena's eyes opened.
Though Clarke looked upon Athena's face, though she looked into her eyes, she could tell there was a difference in the way she seemed to hold herself, in the way she seemed to look at what sat in front of her. And it was familiar. More familiar than Clarke could even really comprehend.
"Lexa," Clarke said, her voice quiet as she began to organise her thoughts and emotions. "I—"
But a hand was lifted and stopped her from speaking.
"It's—" there was a subtle pause before they continued. "It's Clarke."
And it was odd.
Clarke didn't think she had heard correctly. She didn't think she had heard it at all.
"Clarke?" she blinked once, twice, a third time as if to clear her vision, as if to clear her mind in some way. "Clarke?"
Again there was a pause as the woman looked back at her, and there was no judgement, no pity, no humour or jest in the way she looked at her.
"Yeah," came the response and it seemed so odd to hear those words fall from Athena's lips. "It's me."
"I—" Clarke swallowed as her mind began to turn back the years, the memories as she slowly started realising just what that meant. "ALIE," Clarke whispered. "When I went into the city of light."
"Yeah," and Clarke looked at her with hope, as if she wanted her to make the connections without help, without guidance.
"You—" Clarke swallowed hard as the truth of the moment began to sink in. "You've been alive all these years?"
"I have," Clarke said cautiously.
"Why didn't you say something?" Clarke asked. "Anything? I could have helped in some way, somehow."
Clarke smiled sadly as she shook her head and reached out with a hand and squeezed hers.
"There was nothing you could have done to help me," Clarke said. "This is where I call home now."
"I—" Clarke stopped as she began turning over every and all interactions she had had with Athena over the years. And she remembered the things Athena had told her in times of turmoil and uncertainty, she remembered how wise Athena had seemed, how perceptive, how capable she was of always knowing what and how to say things to ease her worry. "You've been there the whole time, haven't you?" Clarke said eventually. "Helping me."
Clarke smiled again, and it was sad, perhaps tinged with regret and worry for whatever reaction she expected to receive.
"I have," Clarke said. "I was given a second chance, but you were still out here, fighting for our people's survival each and every day."
"Lexa's been with you, hasn't she?" Clarke said, and there was the slightest hints of jealousy that flared in her soul.
"She has," Clarke answered, and there was no attempt at sugarcoating and hiding the truth from her.
But as Clarke looked Clarke in the eyes she found that jealously disappearing as quickly as it had formed. And she realised she wasn't angry, wasn't upset, wasn't in any way jealous. And she knew why.
"I'm so happy for you," Clarke's voice broke at the end as she felt her vision beginning to fill with tears. "For both of you," she looked away and sniffled, tried not to let her emotions take hold more completely than they already had.
"Hey," Clarke said, her hand squeezing hers once more as she seemingly tried to pull Clarke out of whatever emotional spiral she was beginning to take. "Clarke, look at me."
She didn't know why she listened, she didn't think she would be blamed for acting a little selfish in that very moment, and yet she couldn't bare to blame Clarke, not when they had shared so many parts of their lives together.
"I'm sorry," Clarke said eventually, her voice sounding just a little bitter as she smiled a rueful smile. "I don't mean to make this all about myself."
"I wouldn't blame you," Clarke said with her own small smile.
"Did Lexa tell you to speak with me instead of her?" Clarke asked eventually.
"No," Clarke answered. "No, I wanted to."
"Why?" it was a simple question, but Clarke knew the answer far more complicated.
"I know what you're thinking," Clarke said. "I know you're thinking that Lexa is being selfless, putting her own wants aside so that you can have a chance at happiness."
Clarke let the silence linger for a moment as she considered what Clarke had said.
"She didn't want me to think she was alone, she didn't want me to think she was sacrificing her own love to give me a chance."
Clarke nodded slowly.
"We didn't know how to tell you I was alive in the flame with her, we didn't know if it could be explained," Clarke said. "But eventually we realised we couldn't keep everything from you, not after everything we've all been through," she paused for a moment and seemed to think over what she wanted to say. "The homestead's existence is secret for good reason," Clarke said.
"Yeah," Clarke found herself smiling something half sad, half understanding for she knew what would happen if the truth ever came to be. And then she slowly began to realise what Clarke meant. "You want the truth out, don't you?"
Clarke paused for a moment again.
"Eventually," Clarke said, and she was thankful there wasn't any attempt to dance around the truth.
Clarke looked away again and thought over everything she knew of the homestead, of her life over the last few months, she thought of Alexandria, she thought of Athena, of Clarke and Lexa.
And then she laughed a little more freely.
"I should have known falling in love with Lexa would come with so many headaches."
"Yeah," Clarke said. "We should have expected it," she remained quiet for a moment longer as she let the words settle around them both.
"I felt guilty," Clarke said. "More guilty than I thought I would when I came here," and she took in a deep breath. "When I spoke with Lexa that first time, when she told me Alexandria was still alive, I thought she was being selfless, guiding me away from her in some honour-bound attempt at being the hero."
"I know," Clarke said.
"But I guess that wasn't the case," Clarke paused as she began to think of the emotions that existed within her mind, her heart and her soul.
And she wondered.
She wondered about Athena, about Athena's say in all this. She thought of Lexa, of what she truly believed, if she was still in some way being selfless. She wondered if Clarke was herself being selfless in some way. If things weren't as simple as they seemed.
But most of all, Clarke found herself thinking of Alexandria and everything that she had come to know about a woman who was both known and unknown to her. Perhaps moving on meant accepting what had happened in the past, embracing it, understanding that things had happened that she will never be able to change, no matter how much she had once wanted them to be different.
"I miss what Lexa and I had together," it surprised Clarke to hear herself saying those words. "When I look at Alexandria I find myself, even now, having to make sure I don't let memories dictate how I act around her," Clarke took in a steadying breath as she found more and more thoughts finding words, finding meaning within the chaos that was her mind. "I miss Lexa so much," she said. "And I know Alexandria isn't her, not completely," she looked away and blinked back tears as she thought of what it must be like in the flame, to share ten years with Lexa without worry of duty, of sacrifice and suffering. "And yet I find myself admiring Alexandria with each passing day," she said as she turned back to look Clarke in the eyes. "How can I not? How can I not admire a woman who, despite how unfair the world has been to her, despite having her memories ripped from her, still continues to live each day with poise and purpose, with strength. I know she has her doubts, I know she has her worries. And yet she doesn't let them dictate her life."
"She is as much Lexa as Lexa is herself," Clarke said quietly. "Just because she doesn't share the same memories doesn't mean she isn't the same person you fell in love with."
There was a purposeful gaze shared between both women and Clarke found herself letting the words settle in her mind, into the very fibres of her body.
"Just like you and me," Clarke said quietly as understanding dawned on her. "We're the same person, despite the years between us."
Clarke smiled with so much relief that it made Clarke's heart ache for something she hadn't felt in years.
And so Clarke let her tears fall freely as she finally understood the path she had been on for so long. And though it had its pains, its heartbreaks and its turmoils, she thought she finally understood what she wanted in this world, in a life she had never chosen for herself.
"Thank you, Clarke," she said as she leant forward and wrapped her arms around her. "For everything," she squeezed so tightly that she thought she'd break them both into pieces
"You're welcome, Clarke," there was the quietest of pauses as the embrace was returned with just as much strength and emotion. "I know you'd do the same for me."
And Clarke knew she would do the same for her.
And how did she know that?
Because they were the same person.
Even after so many years.
