Octavia's tent was tiny. Clarke couldn't help but realise that no matter where she stood or sat, she would be in range of various pointy weapons. But she wasn't cowardly enough to hover near the exit, so she chose to face Octavia head on. She was sitting cross-legged on her sleeping bag, polishing a sword. Clarke sat opposite her and cleared her throat, waiting for a reaction. She wanted to get a read on Octavia's mood before she decided on a conversational approach.
"To what do I owe the pleasure?" There were about ten layers of sarcasm in Octavia's greeting. By the end of the conversation, Clarke hoped to whittle it down to five.
"We have a situation."
Octavia didn't even look up. "Don't we always?"
"Yes, but if we don't tackle them one-by-one, they tend to build up into a mega-crisis."
"So tackle away."
"I want your help."
"Is the world ending?" There was still levity in her voice, but it was a serious question.
"Not this time."
"Then no." Octavia gestured towards the tent flap in dismissal.
Clarke soldiered on. "This is going to take more than one person can give. It needs leaders, plural."
"And you thought of me? I'm both touched and hysterically amused." There wasn't even a hint of a smile on her face.
Clarke leaned back on her hands. "To be honest, this crisis could be delegated to anybody with half a brain."
"Half? I think you're overestimating yourself. Maybe a quarter, if I'm being generous."
"My point is that I'm choosing you for this. You aren't the only option or the last resort. I want to work with you."
"No."
"Octavia-"
Octavia gripped the handle of the sword and tensed her muscles. Clarke hoped the movement was subconscious. "Don't say my name like that. We aren't friends."
"I know."
"We were never friends."
"I know." Clarke took a deep breath. She had promised herself she wouldn't hold back today. If this conversation went sour, she might not get another chance. She had gotten a foot in the door because Octavia had wondered if she was there to announce the next apocalypse. But once she was forewarned of Clarke's sudden sentimental streak, she would avoid her like the plague. "I wanted to be a friend to you, but there was always something else I thought I needed to put first."
Octavia finally lifted her head, and her stare was fierce. "Always."
"You had faith in me, once, but I let you down."
"That was a long time ago. Why bring it up now?"
"Because you know how it feels now. To disappoint someone so much that you don't think you could ever earn their forgiveness."
"You're right. I can't earn it. And neither can you."
Clarke nodded. "I agree. But-"
Octavia interjected. "So, before I was too good and pure for your angsty martyr complex, but now that I've been brought down to your level, you're willing to give me the time of day? Is that it?"
"No. We just have more common ground now. I could say I've had an epiphany, but that isn't exactly right. I didn't wake up with any new knowledge today. Nothing has changed. I just saw this thorny problem and I thought of you. I want to work with you to fix it. Can you just accept that?"
"We've never been a good team before. What makes this time any different?"
"Because I promise to have your back this time. No matter what. I'm not asking for the same in return. It's just something I need to do for myself. I'll take on all the risk and you can have all the glory."
"So you're saying that I get to make all of the grand speeches, and if you start to bore me I can stab you in the back?"
"Exactly. Please Octavia, help me solve this mind-numbingly boring but semi-essential crisis."
Octavia dropped the sword into Clarke's lap. "Take this."
Clarke narrowly avoided slicing her hand open as she caught the sword. "Why?"
"Because if we're going to do this thing, then I call good cop."
"Deal."
"Not because I'm feeling particularly angelic today, but just because I know you hate playing bad cop and I want to watch you squirm."
Clarke smiled. "Understood."
They stood up in unison. It wasn't clear who made the first move, but neither was willing to be left behind. Octavia stalked off towards the doorway.
"Octavia?"
"What now, Clarke?"
"Now that I'm holding the sword, there's one last thing I want to say."
"Shoot." Octavia patted her hip, a clear reminder that just because she had given up one weapon didn't mean she was unarmed.
"We're not be friends, or family, or civil colleagues. But I do love you. Even when I hate you, even when you hate me. I Just thought you might want to know that, so you can factor it into your plan to torture me."
"I'll make a note."