Nothing is as it has been,

And I miss your face like hell,

And I guess it's just as well,

But I miss your face like hell.

- The Head and the Heart

143 days after, Eden

Clarke was certain Praimfaya had destroyed everything on Earth except the valley. At this point, she was pretty sure Luck was her guardian angel.

She'd found food in the form of that stupid crow that led her the wrong direction and found a trickling creek not far from the edge of the valley to wash up. She stayed there for three whole days before picking up and moving further into the dense forest. She walked aimlessly, not really caring where she ended up or when she'd stop.

It was odd, not operating on a time crunch. Clarke's heart hadn't quite caught up with her head yet and the residual stress of the past two years lived on. Since landing on Earth, there had been danger - getting food and water after landing on the wrong damn mountain, saving her friends from Mount Weather, defeating ALIE, Praimfaya… It'd take years to work that survival mentality out of her system.

"Who we are and who we need to be to survive are two very different things."

But she didn't know who she was when she wasn't surviving. She wasn't that same girl who played chess with Wells or earned top marks in all her classes. She was Wanheda, commander of death. But what does the commander of death do when everyone else is dead?

"Jeez, Clarke, lighten up."

She spun around, gun already out of its holster, and pointed at the last person she ever expected to see again.

"Wells?"

"Present," he grinned, pocketing his hands. He looked... alive. He wore the same outfit he'd come down in - blue jacket, tan shirt, and black pants - except they weren't covered in dirt and grime. In fact, every part of him looked clean.

"I'm hallucinating," realized Clarke. With one more glance at her old friend, she turned around and began walking again.

"So, it's been awhile," said Wells, trailing her.

"You're dead, Wells." Her voice was stern, emotionless. She focused on her hike, careful not to look back.

"True, but I'm still here, aren't I?"

"You're just some trip. I- I must've eaten a Jobi nut or something-"

"Why does that equate to this not being real?" Clarke stopped and glared at him. It was so hard to look at him. Her earliest friend - he didn't deserve what the ground did to him.

"Because it can't be real! This isn't right. I already have to spend the next five years alone - I don't want to be seeing dead people or, or talking to pine cones when-" she stopped.

"When he comes back, you mean?" She swallowed. "How'd that happen by the way? Bellamy was a total dick last time I checked." They started hiking again. Might as well go crazy, there's nothing better to do.

"We grew up."

"And fell in love?"

"Not really," scoffed Clarke, shaking her head ruefully. "Friends. Who hooked up once."

"Right. Okay."

"What?"

"Nothing. Just wondering why you won't tell me - the person who risked his life to get on the dropship for you, your oldest friend - the truth. But whatever." He looked up at the canopy and sky. "This is nice, don't you think? This place?"

"Wells. I'm not in love with him." He started whistling, ignoring her. She rolled her eyes and pushed aside a branch in her path. "You're infuriating."

"You love me anyway," Wells said happily. Clarke softened.

"Yes. I do." She could practically hear him smile beside her before sobering.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Didn't you just try to get me to talk about it?"

"No, not that- well, kind of that but not really. You're pregnant."

"Thanks, Wells, I had no idea."

"To be fair, you didn't know for almost three months, so…" She reached out to shove him and instead ended up tilting into the trunk of a tree, Wells laughing behind her.

"Go float yourself."

"Seriously, Clarke. What're you gon-" Clarke gasped and stopped at the edge of the treeline. Before her lay a meadow, and in the meadow-

"Houses," she breathed. A smattering of wooden houses decorated the clearing. From her vantage point, she could make out dyed fabrics floating in the warm breeze. It took her a second to realize that there was no sound beside the rustling of the leaves and occasional chirp of a bird. After a second of listening, she figured it was safe to continue on.

Wells was gone. She'd known he wasn't real, but couldn't help but feel an uncomfortable twinge in her chest at the renewed loneliness.

The houses were more beautiful up close - the colored fabrics had begun to fade from sun exposure and decorated everything from half-filled, abandoned clothes lines to roofs to the tables scattered on the varying paths. Stained glass hangings spun lazily and threw balls of multi-colored afternoon light everywhere they touched. This was not a place of survival - people had lived here.

But where did they go? Clarke wondered. Then, she saw him.

A small boy sat on the porch of one of the larger buildings, chin tucked into his chest. Clarke knew before she reached him that he was gone. She slowed and stepped onto the porch, the wood creaking as it took on her weight. He must've been five or six years old when the death wave hit. Clarke put a hand to her stomach absentmindedly.

The door to the building was locked. A second and a kick later, it wasn't. She smelled them before she saw them.

The room was filled with what she could only assume were the citizens of the village. Men, women, and children lay across every surface. Praimfaya may have skipped over the valley, but the radiation didn't. Clarke held back a sob.

That night, she burned each body she could find.

"Yu gonplei ste odon." She watched as the smoke reached for the sky, disappearing into the stars above.

50 days after, The Ring

He cradled her head, rubbing his thumb along her jawline, and lowered her slowly to the bed.

"So beautiful…" he murmured in her ear and trailed kisses down her neck. She whimpered.

"Bellamy-"

"Wanted this for so," kiss, "long." She moaned as he brushed a hand over her breasts, followed by his mouth. "I love you," kiss, "Clarke," he sighed her name and moved up to press his lips to hers. Before he could, his eyes fluttered open and he stopped abruptly in horror.

Her once clean, smooth skin was covered in orange burns that worsened each second he looked at her. She started coughing and ebony blood splattered on the ivory sheets of the bed.

"Bellamy-" she choked, blue eyes wide with fear. "I don't want to die-"

"Fuck- I don't know what's happening- No, please-"

"Why are you leaving?" her voice became panicked as Bellamy felt himself get up from the bed. "Please don't leave me-"

"I can't stop. Clarke, I swear- I can't stop!" he yelled desperately, but his feet had a mind of their own, walking further and further from her cries of "Don't leave me!" A roar of wind and heat filled his senses, blocking out all other thoughts.

...

"Clarke!" he gasped and sat up straight, his gray shirt soaked with sweat. He looked wildly around the room for her before registering where he was. Metal walls surrounded him, filled only with the droning of the Ark.

Space. End of the world. Right.

No Clarke.

Every time he forgot, remembering gutted him with more fervor. He leaned over the side of his bed to face the bin he'd put there the night before and threw up yesterday's algae and water. When he finished, he wiped his mouth and laid his head back on the bed.

Fifty days had passed since he left her. Each one was harder than the last.

200 days after, Eden

Clarke met Madi roughly two months after finding the village.

She'd been washing up in a lake near where she was sleeping, her stomach now showing clear evidence of the life forming inside. She didn't bother wearing clothes - why would she? - and relished the cool water on her tanned skin. Usually, she would stay until her fingers showed signs of pruning.

The person sitting on a rock ten meters away, staring at her, warranted an earlier departure.

"Hello," said Clarke, eyes wide. The person - a child - started at her voice, but didn't move. Clarke couldn't make out what the child actually looked like: mud, twigs, and scrapes covered them, as well as a worn dress. Slowly, they pointed one grubby finger at their stomach and then at Clarke.

"Nomon?" Trig, they knew trig. They wanted to know if Clarke was a mother. She nodded.

"Yu laik natblida?" This seemed to be the wrong question to ask. The child's eyes went wide with fear and they backed up the boulder in panic.

Clarke held up her hands, "Ai laik natblida!" she reached for a sharp rock. "Ai op." She slit the palm of her right hand and squeezed. Black blood trickled down her arm and dripped into the lake. The child stopped retreating and watched. "Ai laik Klark."

"Ai laik Madi." She gave Clarke a timid smile. Clarke returned it.

Two kids. Why not.

290 days after, Eden

"Shit, shit, shit," Clarke groaned, lowering herself to the floor. Madi was still gone on her daily rendezvous and wouldn't be back for hours. She'd have to do this alone.

She made a mental list of everything she'd learned about delivery from her brief time working the clinic on the Ark. Time the contractions, sit up or stand up and let gravity do the work, don't pass out. Water could be used to deliver alone. Water - she needed to get to water. She pushed herself to her feet.

"AGH!" she cried as she felt another painful jolt. The time between contractions was growing shorter, she was sure of it. But without someone else there, she couldn't see how far she was. She panted, stepping out of their cabin, and headed for the water basin at the edge of the village. Something bulky sat on the outdoor table. The radio.

"Bellamy, if you can hear me, fuck you," she huffed humorlessly, grimacing and managing to groan out, "I know I said I was proud of you for leaving and I'm - agh - happy you're alive and all that, but - AGH! GOD! - a fucking person is trying to come out of me right now because of you so - ow FUCK! - go fucking float yourself." The pain consumed her and all of her strength shot downward. Sweat beaded into her lashes so she could barely see.

She stumbled to the basin and heaved her body gracelessly into the cool water, panting.

"C'mon Clarke," she heard a familiar, deep voice growl from above. She looked up hazily. He was there, just as Wells had been. He looked exactly as he had on that day - his curls falling in lawless waves, eyes intense. He was handsome and frustrated and looked like he wanted her to- "Push!" he urged, "Push, dammit!"

I am, she tried to say . So tired.

"Fight, Princess. You're gonna just give up? Like hell you are."

"I can't," she grunted.

"You have to, Clarke. Only choice, remember? C'mon…" Clarke held her breath and squeezed her abdominal muscles, screaming. She panted, counting to three, before squeezing again. Push! Push! C'mon Clarke! She screamed again, louder.

The pain was unbearable. It was like nothing she'd ever experienced before. Her vision went momentarily red. All of the sounds - Bellamy's shouting, her own screams - faded briefly to a high pitched ringing. For a few, precious moments, all the pain left her body and she was floating. She was floating among the stars, weightless and free.

The shrill ringing shifted in tone, washing in and out like waves on a shore. In and out, louder and louder, until she crashed back into reality.

Clarke coughed up water and sat up straight. Her eyes adjusted to the sunlight, taking in the silhouettes of the trees above her and then down to the murky water of the tub. The water...was red? A dull ache throbbed from below. The water's r-...did I just have a baby?

...Where the fuck is my baby?

She frantically ran her hands through the water, but there was nothing there but blood and...other unsavory things she did not want to think about right now. Shit, even the umbilical cord was missing. How did I lose my kid within literal seconds after having it?

She stood up and instantly regretted it, breath hissing from the pain between her legs. But the determination of finding her child took precedence. The world caught up to her, other senses returning. The high pitched sound was no longer monotonous - it was a cry. Her heart sped up as she limped around the cabin.

There, at the center table and holding a whimpering newborn, was Madi. Clarke almost cried in relief.

" Klark!" trilled Madi, beaming. "Ai don hon yo op en ai sis em ou!" She must've heard the screams and ran to help. Clarke grinned and hobbled over to the table.

"Thank you, my brave natblida. Yu kep osir klin." You saved us. Madi gently handed Clarke the bundle and the world froze again, this time in bliss, not pain.

The baby, her baby, looked up at her with big brown eyes. Clarke couldn't stop the tears as she laughed thickly. Those were Bellamy's eyes staring back at her. Peace settled over her like gossamer. Every horrible thing she did, he did, had led her here, to their child. She still couldn't say it was worth it, but she could finally let it go.

"You know, you're not the only one trying to forgive yourself. Maybe you'll get that someday." When she'd said those words to Bellamy on Luna's beach, she never thought that she would be the one to get it someday. She always believed she could never deserve it, no matter what she did, no matter who she saved. She would always bear it, bear them.

But as her baby blinked up at her, Clarke's whole world flipped. She didn't have to bear it anymore. Because it wasn't about her anymore. Her story was branching outward and onward. She was no longer Wanheda - how could she be, when she'd just given life? And she was no longer living for herself. She was living for this. Her child.

She could finally forgive herself.

"Hi there, little one," she whispered, smiling.

"Klark , why crying?" Madi's eyebrows were furrowed in concern.

"I'm happy, Madi. I'm crying because I love you and I love…" Clarke peeled back the blanket, noting the clean cut of the umbilical cord, "her. I love her. And I'm so happy."

She reached for Madi's hand and squeezed it, sobbing and smiling at the same time.

"I'm so happy."