Alexandria sat quietly as she waited for the woman in front of her to find the words that would answer her question. She saw thought in her eyes, she saw a pause as the woman clearly considered how to turn thought into word.

And then she spoke.

"I was going to say that I am you," her voice was quiet but Alexandria heard it as clearly as she could see her sitting in front of her. "But that is not quite the case anymore."

Alexandria swallowed as she gazed into eyes that seemed so familiar, so distant, perhaps a memory that had once been forgotten.

"You are Heda Lexa," she said.

"I am," there was no attempt to explain away anything in that moment.

Alexandria didn't say anything for a long while as she let the truth of the situation take hold. She had dreamed for long long of being able to get answers to her questions, things she didn't understand, couldn't grasp as surely as she wished. She had always felt guilty, always felt a barely there desire to know more. but she had accepted her situation just as Eamon had. Just as Agamemnon had.

But in this moment she felt all those desires she had pushed back come roaring to the forefront of her mind.

"Why?" Alexandria asked. She didn't think she needed to elaborate. And from the way Lexa looked at her she knew she was understood.

Lexa remained quiet herself, her eyes shifting away in thought. Alexandria continued to study her face, the way she moved, the way her gaze danced in the light. She tried to find something in her movements, in how she held herself, anything that could give her a glimpse of the person who had once been.

"Athena has dreams for a future," Lexa said eventually, her words cutting into Alexandria's thoughts. "Ones that will shape a future better for our people. But it will take time, decades, most certainly."

Alexandria didn't say anything. She didn't think she needed to in that moment.

"Perhaps she will not be the Commander who sees her plans come to fruition," Lexa continued. "But that is something not uncommon to us," her gaze moved back to meet hers and it drilled into her and told Alexandria that Lexa spoke of the things they had both accomplished, despite the fact she didn't remember. "When we took the flame we dreamed of a future free of the Mountain, where our people could roam the forests without worry of reaper of acid fog."

Alexandria nodded her head. She remembered being a youth, being a nightblood training under Anya. She remembered fighting reapers at times, and she remembered running from acid fog, from Mountain Men. She remembered so many things yet she felt those memories disconnected from herself, from her soul. Maybe because there was a ravine of time lost to her between the then and the now.

"It took sacrifice," Lexa said quietly. "We lost those close to us," she shrugged and a sad smile graced her lips, something Alexandria thought mirrored upon her own face. She need not ask who Lexa spoke of to know she remembered Costia, remembered Anya, Gustus, others she knew she had forgotten long ago. And for a selfish moment she thought it so unfair.

"Why are you telling me these things?" Alexandria asked, in part because she didn't know why Lexa told her things of her past. In part because she couldn't help but to feel like the woman was somehow rubbing it in her face, trying to make her feel remorse and longing for things that were so far out of her grasp that she had no hope of ever coming to terms with the way things were.

"Because I know you have answers," Lexa said quietly.

Yet again Alexandria remained quiet. But this time it was because she felt uneasy. Uncertain of the direction the conversation was going. She thought it would be so pathetic to vent, to lay out her anxieties and her desire to know things. It would seem to selfish, so self centred, so unbecoming to ask for answers to things no other former Commander had been allowed to ask.

And yet she sat in front of her. She offered to give her answers to things she wanted answered. Maybe it was because the situation was so strange, to be faced with her own spirit. To be faced with someone who was her. But a better version of herself, someone with more confidence, someone with her certainties, someone who had done something with their life.

Alexandria felt her jaw clench as angers and frustrations slowly began to take hold. She felt her teeth slowly grind together and she felt her brows furrow as she began to glare at a single mote of dust that danced in the sunlight.

She didn't realise her hands had clenched into fists until she felt a cramp, something that wriggled itself into the fibres of her muscle and bone. And yet, despite all those things, all those emotions and frustrations, she somehow felt herself relaxing, easing away from the heat and settling into something more calm, more gentle.

"I thought I had accepted my place in the world," Alexandria said eventually. "Or I thought I had accepted that I would never be given answers to the questions I had," she shrugged a lonely shoulder. "I was content with that, just as Eamon and Agamemnon were content with not knowing," she said. "It was easy. Simple. Until Clarke."

Lexa's head tilted ever so slightly to the side as she seemed to ponder her next words.

"I have only myself to blame for my uncertainties," Alexandria continued, and she spoke, maybe because she didn't want Lexa to cut off her thoughts, maybe because it felt cathartic to say what she wanted to say without worrying if she was understood. "I asked Clarke for time, for space, to give me time to understand my life," and she shook her head. "Clarke feels for someone who I do not think I will ever be again," and she looked straight into Lexa's eyes as if to challenge her to say she was wrong, to challenge her to deny the fact that they had grown apart in the years since she had all but died. "How can I be the woman she fell in love with?" she didn't need to explain that she thought the woman Clarke fell in love with sat in front of her. That much was obvious. And it was so confusing, so full of uncertainties that she didn't know what she didn't know.

"I think you are still the same person, Alexandria," Lexa said, her voice gentle and quiet.

"How can I be?" it was a denial Alexandria didn't think hard to make. "I live in your shadow— no," she looked away for only a moment to think. "I am your shadow," she again looked Lexa in the eyes and didn't shy away from whatever emotion she saw. She may never get another chance to confront her past as she did in that moment.

"I do not believe that," Lexa's voice turned a little more firm.

"Why?"

Lexa paused for a moment as she seemed to consider her words once more.

"Before you took the flame you wished to unite all the clans," Lexa said, and her tone made it seem half question, half statement. "Before you took the flame you wished to bring peace to our people," she leant forward, her gaze steady.

Alexandria found herself thinking back years, to times she hadn't thought about too much for it always seemed to bring with it a bitter taste that settled within her mind. She felt her memories of training as a nightblood as unworthy, in some way, in some manner, because she couldn't remember taking the flame, couldn't remember anything.

"That conviction, that desire, that dream and hope for our people gave you the strength to succeed in the conclave, gave you the strength to be the one single nightblood to take the flame," Lexa's voice was strong. "You did that without the flame, without the Commander's spirit to guide you," Alexandria couldn't look away from Lexa even if she tried. "The flame was not the thing that made you want to unite our people, the flame was not the thing that made you dream of a world without the Mountain," Lexa's words made her wish so terribly that she could remember, even for a moment, her past. "Without the flame you are still that same person," Lexa said.

Alexandria let Lexa's words settle within her mind slowly, the mulled over them, considered the things that were said, the things that were conveyed. And yet maybe she needed something more. Something more concrete than the words of someone who she had once been, something more than the words of someone who had every right to claim her accomplishments for her own benefit, her own legacy.

"I am sorry, Alexandria," Lexa added quietly. "But I can not stay much longer," and Lexa smiled something between hope and understanding. "I do not blame you for feeling the way you do. I do not blame you for feeling as though you need more time. I did not even expect to convince of the things I believe in just one short conversation," she reached out and squeezed her hand. "But the things I say, the things I believe, I believe to be the most true of things," and Lexa sat back in her chair, her gaze never wavering from her. "I am so very proud of you, Alexandria."

And with that Lexa's eyes closed.

There was silence, heavy in the air, quiet around her. Alexandria found herself frowning as she looked at Lexa's face slowly relax as if she fell asleep. But still, Lexa's last words echoed in her mind, made her think and consider. And the more she pondered, the more thought Lexa to have been speaking honestly, with such conviction that she didn't think it for her sake, for her comfort, to convince her of something not truly believed.

But then green eyes opened.

"Heda?" Alexandria asked cautiously.

"Yes," Athena said, her voice a little strained, the hints of fatigue gracing her words. "I—" Athena paused and Alexandria could see she was trying to think of how best to say whatever her next words were. "I do not know if hearing it from me will help, Alexandria," Athena said. "But the things that were said, the things that were discussed," she trailed off briefly. "They were in part for your benefit, simply because we thought you deserved to know," again she paused briefly in thought. "And in part because I wish to ask you a question."

Alexandria's eyes narrowed a fraction as she watched Athena get more comfortable in her seat.

"Agamemnon is ill," Athena said, and Alexandria knew it was said simply to add explanation to whatever was to come next. "Abby was asked to come here to see to him, to at least provide any help she could," there was another pause. "But she tells me what he is more ill than she is capable of dealing with here."

Alexandria didn't say anything because she had already come to the conclusion that Agamemnon's health was deteriorating. She had been the one to care for him over the last many months. And yet she couldn't quite see where the conversation was going.

But from the way Athena was looking at her she could tell there was more to come.

"I am taking him to Arkadia," it was said simply, without an attempt to sugarcoat or hide the truth.

And it surprised Alexandria, it surprised her more than she thought it would have. No former Commander had ever left the homestead for any reason. And yet Athena was saying things that seemed to contradict what had always been, what she had thought would always be.

She didn't say anything though. She didn't think it was her place. Even if part of her disagreed, even if part of her had questions, even if part of her wanted to know what the outside world was li—

"You may come, Alexandria."

That surprised her.

"What?" it wasn't a polite response, wasn't quite rude, but it was unbecoming. But she didn't care to admonish herself in that moment.

"And Eamon," Athena said quietly. "I can not— will not take Agamemnon by himself, not without someone he knows," she said. "And I would not take just you or Eamon to leave the other behind," she sighed. "It is not a decision I have taken lightly," she said. "But one I have struggled with for some time now," she looked back at her. "Bringing Clarke here, to the homestead, to you, was perhaps the first step in a long line of steps that must be taken," Athena said. "On a journey that will take many years, one that the next Commander may need to finish," and she smiled quietly. "But that journey was not started by me," and she shook her head as if to laugh at or discard a thought that had entered her mind. "I think you know who started that journey, who set our people on a path that they have not experienced in many, many lifetimes," Athena said, her gaze purposeful.

"I—" Alexandria didn't really know how to respond. Her owns words seemed to die in her mouth just as her mind seemed unable to really piece together what to make of the things Athena said.

"It is not a command for you to join us on this journey," Athena added. "But you may come," she said. "Perhaps it will give you answers to the questions you have, to the mysteries of your past that only seeing will answer," Athena seemed to have decided that her course of action was righteous for Alexandria could hear not wavering in her voice, no doubt, no sense of dread. "I will give you some time to consider the offer Alexandria," Athena's voice was gentle, as if she realised that she had surprised and shocked her.

And with that Athena smiled before she stood and slipped out of the room quietly to leave Alexandria alone, her thoughts tumultuous, her heart beating fast, and every single fibre of her body screaming at her to be brave, to make a decision and to grab at the opportunity to find answers to each and every question she had had over the years.

But most of all?

Alexandria was scared.