i'm back, kinda. i'm better, but you know, not the best. you're gonna like this, i think.

now, read, ponder, and enjoy!

Clarke had never figured herself to be an easily scared person. Really, she was posted in a military hospital and saw almost the horrifying things a person could ever handle. And before that, she'd even had a brief stint with an infantry out on the edges of Syria, so she'd also seen how the soldiers nearly lost their lives on an almost daily basis in the name of the country.

Quite frankly, not a lot of things scared her anymore. Or so she thought. Because one time, the heir apparent and the prince of the country just showed up at her hospital and told her that her girlfriend had gone missing in a warzone. And then they showed up again to tell her that she was needed to operate said girlfriend due a cardiac arrest. And then…she broke up with said girlfriend.

When she broke up with Lexa, she thought that was it. It was a strategy to get out of a situation where she would be constantly stressing out about Lexa's health and safety. It was a strategy to make sure she herself was protected from the impending heartbreak that was certain to come multiple times had she stayed in a relationship with Lexa. It was a selfish strategy…that monumentally failed.

She'd never had such an experience of knowing just how wrong she could be as when she saw the horrifying text from Wells after having come out fresh from a surgery on a Tuesday morning. Her heart nearly pounded out of her chest and she'd simply halted in her washing up procedure, just staring at her phone, frozen in place, her heart the only thing that alerted her to her state of liveliness.

Wells (6:09a.m.): Something happened. I'm about to head into the OR with her.

That was two hours ago. Two hours ago, when she had been three hours into an emergency surgery of a vision-impaired old man who got impaled by a telephone pole. Two hours ago, when she had been so certain that she'd be able to save the poor man and sneak in a catnap after.

In the background, Clarke could hear her colleague – doctors and nurses – asking after her. She jerked when someone touched her, but she couldn't really see them. She couldn't really see anything except the text glaring at her in a scolding manner.

Scrubs bloodied and hair in a messy bun after being cooped up in a surgical cap for too long, she just muttered something unintelligible and bolted out of the locker room. She had no definite direction to reach a definite destination, but she ran, shouldering past nurses and techs and doctors and patients. And then she ran into Octavia, who just looked at her grimly.

"OR 4," Octavia informed her.

Right. Right. Okay. Clarke shouldered past her best friend as well and ran in the direction of the gallery of OR 4, only marginally stopping herself from barging into the OR itself. She ran past security detail posted stoically at all entry points, the royal family biting their nails on the benches, Gustus, and she sprinted towards the gallery. Almost all heads of departments had gathered there to watch.

Jackson, Head of Trauma and her superior, was down there with Wells. Ignoring the stares of her colleagues, she hesitantly inched towards the window, pams reaching out to rest against the glass when she finally saw what was going on down there, because she wasn't sure she'd be able to hold herself up if she didn't. It felt like everything was wringing within the inside, and she couldn't even cry as she watched.

The speaker was turned on so they could hear everything, because doctors were all naturally curious people who was always on the lookout for medical discoveries and share their expertise. But all Clarke wanted to do was turn everything off and wished this was all a dream, because she was so scared.

"It's very rare for someone her age to suffer from cardiomyopathy. We were lucky that you discovered her when you did," Wells told them.

Them, as in the royal family, Gustus, the interim chief of surgery, the hospital director, and Clarke. The hospital staff didn't know what Clarke was doing here, either inside or outside this room, but the royal family had let her stay, and she wasn't gonna get out. They should consider themselves lucky that she hadn't just bypassed all of them and held on to Lexa for dear life.

She was leaning against the wall just by the door and behind the family. Much as she hated it, she could only be considered a friend at best and any intimate relationship with Lexa had been terminated by herself. Her eyes darted between Wells and the patient, uncertain of where she should pay more attention to.

"I suspect the cardiac arrest from before didn't help, alongside other…factors," Wells hesitated, making a point to not look at Clarke, but that didn't stop Anya from throwing her dirty look. "We did a corrective heart surgery – Dr. Jackson and I. We did a deep dive and we found the error. I wouldn't be so optimistic as to say everything's fixed, because a heart problem's proven to be a lifelong thing, but I'd say that she's in the clear. For now."

"For now?" the queen voiced, hand to her mouth like she was chewing the skin off her fingers.

Jackson took over and said, "As doctors, we can only do the best we can with what we can see. What happens after…depends on checkup once Her Highness wakes up and herself entirely."

Eventually, Wells and Jackson shuffled out of the room, with the former patting Clarke's shoulder and the latter glancing at her weirdly. She only nodded curtly and stayed where she was, left alone in a room with the family of the love of her life.

It wasn't a situation she expected to be in, not by a long shot, especially after breaking up with Lexa. But here she was – here they were. Lexa would probably find something about this; Lexa always tended to make a joke about something or other even when she wasn't really in the mood for jokes herself, because that's who Lexa was.

In her eyeline that was focused entirely on the patient, she caught the royal couple turning around in the corner of her eye, like they were planning on the talking to her. She pushed away from the wall, unable to deal with the sorrowful look in their gazes, and bolted out of the room.

"Wells!"

The man in question stopped in his tracks and swiveled around to face her, waving away Jackson. His face told her that he knew exactly why she was here. She stared at him, long and hard, while he remained steadfast, as if he didn't have a job to do and do this all day long.

"Was it me?" she asked. "Did I have anything to do with it?"

"No."

Miraculously, the weight on her shoulders subsided, but only a little bit – it was still significant; she suspected it would be significant so long as Lexa remained in her coma. Clarke had forgotten to read Lexa's chart in her hurry to make sure that she wasn't responsible for this, but she had seen her fair share of patients with cardiac arrests who was later attacked by cardiomyopathy, though those were mostly in the older range.

Wells was right. To be as young as Lexa and contract a heart illness was rare, but she'd learned to accept that she could study as much as she could and there would always be something new, something rare, and in other circumstances, something exciting. She'd also learned that to be as young as Lexa meant a good chance of recovery, if not full recovery; that was her opinion as a doctor, but she couldn't find it in herself to be a doctor right now. There was not enough rationality in her head to even brave that journey.

"I saw her with signs of improvement during the last few weeks, which was actually quite surprising. Patients don't usually improve that efficiently. She was healthy. She exercised moderately. She was stubborn, but I suppose I should have expected that from a princess." Clarke wanted to retort, but there was no denying it anyway. "Sometimes, thing just happen, take a turn for the worse. It's neither of your fault." He shrugged and patted her on her shoulder. "We don't make promises; you know that as a doctor yourself. But I strongly believe that she has the will to go on. A strong will."

She nodded, half understanding what he was trying to tell her and half relieved. She ran her fingers through her messy hair and finally noticed that she was still in her bloody scrubs. No wonder the people passing by had been throwing her weird looks while she was too concentrated on Wells' words to think about anything.

"Thanks, Wells."

"Just doing my job, Clarke." He inclined his head behind Clarke. "Get a shower. Get changed. Go back to her. I'm sure you'll have a lot to talk about."

"Right."

Throwing him a grateful smile, she jogged back in the direction she came from, making sure to peek in the window to Lexa's room to make sure she was still sleeping, and heeded Wells' advice. He was right. They had a lot to talk about.

There was something about a hospital. The hums, the beeps, the jargon, the people – they all built up to something much bigger, something much nobler, something much more than any of the living thing within its confines. It was duty to save lives. It was responsibility to be the best they could. The thrumming of a hospital's energy couldn't be understood by anyone other than Clarke.

And Clarke definitely wasn't a stranger to hospitals. She'd spent much of her childhood wandering the hallways and corridors of the hospital her mother used to work at in Arkadia. And then she grew up training to be in a hospital. Her whole life – not one bit of them had not involved a hospital or another.

But as she sat on a spare bench in Lexa's room, deliberately not acknowledging the royal family save for a curt nod and a respectful address, she had an odd feeling, like she'd been spending too much of her time in a hospital. This hospital, specifically. Either it was because she was seeking comfort in the busyness of it all, or Lexa had ended up here.

Clarke realized she needed to get out.

But as long as Lexa was here, she would be here.

"Can we talk?"

She shifted her gaze from Lexa's sleeping form to Lexa's sister standing in front, obviously trying her very best to retain her fumes. Over Anya's right shoulder, her parents were staring at them warily, though Clarke wasn't sure if they were wary of their eldest daughter's temper or herself, specifically. Over Anya's left shoulder, Lincoln was attempting a comforting smile which came out more like a constipated grimace, while Gustus was standing stoic and guarded by the door, but Clarke could only presume that the man's opinion of her didn't improve much after everything.

She would very much like to deny the heir apparent's request to talk, but the look in Anya's eyes was telling enough. It wasn't much of a request as it was a demand. Perhaps that was something that came with being the first in line to the throne, a certain assertiveness and command that she rarely saw in her ex-girlfriend. But from what Lexa had told her about Princess Anya of Polis, she wouldn't be surprised to find that Anya would always be like this, regardless of her status and title.

Pulling herself back from heaving a tiresome sigh, she nodded and stood up, gesturing lamely for the princess to follow her. They exited the room, staying out of Gustus' way as much as possible, and entered a pantry that was positioned just opposite Lexa's room.

"Your Highness, I don't think –"

"No, I'm doing the talking. You just listen," Anya cut in without allowing much space for breach, her steely gaze fixed firmly on Clarke, who only tightened on her ceramic coffee cup. "I won't pretend that I know anything substantial about you other than the fact that you're a doctor and you saved my sister's life twice – and I'll always be thankful to you for that."

Clarke tilted her head, squinting. This…wasn't going the way that she had expected it to.

"What I do know is that you came into my sister's life and pretty much turned her life upside down." Clarke opened her mouth but closed it again when Anya narrowed her eyes just a fraction. "For years, the one thing I wanted the most wasn't to get married or even become the queen. What I wanted the most was for my sister, Lexa, to come home safe and sound. And she did." Anya swallowed. "She did come home, but she also didn't." She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. "She only came home when she started talking to you, and for the life of me, I don't understand why. What is it about you that's got her so…?" In the end, Anya didn't even finish her sentence, letting it hang in the air.

Clarke leaned back against the island, looking down at the coffee that had cooled since she'd gotten it. She might have interacted with Anya before – hell, she even still had Anya's number saved – but she still wasn't quite sure what the procedure was. The extent of her relationship with Lexa hadn't quite reached meeting the family yet, let alone talking with the family.

"Look, I won't pretend to think that you're not entitled to…something after everything that's happened; you're very important to Lexa, after all. Hell, even I am angry at my parents. But you're not gonna get an apology from us, especially not my parents, do you understand?"

Anya wasn't yelling. She wasn't raising her voice at all. But her tone came out curt and biting, heavy with betrayal. Clarke felt like she had to take a step back, except she had nowhere to go.

"I didn't ask to talk to you to yell at you or secretly kill you – I'm better than that," the princess said. "I just want you to understand one thing very clearly. Regardless of how close you are with Lexa, there are still things about our family that you don't understand. What you do understand is just the tip of the iceberg; they're things that we allow you and the rest of the world to know – and I'm sure that whatever Lexa's told you barely scrapes the bottom of the barrel. You'll never be able to understand the full scale of things until you're a part of us, but then you threw that out the window, didn't you?" Anya scoffed, rolling her eyes impertinently.

If only the princess could see the realization that had dawned upon Clarke earlier when she saw that message from Wells, maybe she'd be a little more sympathetic. Then again, she wouldn't put it past Anya to throw it back in her face.

Anya stood up straight and adjusted her jacket. "So don't pretend like you have any right to think that we're the worst of the worst. More often than not, we do the things we do out of necessity." She made for the door, but turned back to Clarke again before turning the doorknob. "I know you've been talking to each other again, and I don't know what your game is here."

For the first time, Clarke broke her silence and opened her mouth, her glare firm enough that Anya let her interrupt. "It's not a game. I don't have a game," she insisted.

They engaged each other in a long stare down before Anya said, "Then make up your mind, Dr. Griffin. As you can see, my sister already has a weak heart. I won't forgive you if you break it again."

And out of everything that Anya had thrown on her since they entered the pantry, that was the one thing that got to Clarke the most. She supposed she hadn't truly comprehended exactly what she'd done to Lexa – and herself – when she'd broken up with her. And now she did.

Lexa's parents never really did make any attempt to talk to her, and the truth was Clarke didn't too. It wasn't that she didn't understand everything that Anya had relayed to her earlier; she was right, because Clarke barely understood how the royal family operated, so on that note, she certainly had no right to be pissed at something that she knew nothing about.

But that wasn't what she was angry about. Yes, while she had broken up with Lexa because she wanted to save the both of them from deeper concerns and fears someday in the future, but her anger was something else. Her anger wasn't even for herself; it was for Lexa, at her parents for seemingly failing to understand the strides their daughter had taken to recover and putting her role as a princess above her role as their daughter.

It had been days, weeks, since everything had gone downhill. Her anger had reasonably subsided after nights of sleeping on it and missing Lexa deeply, but it was still there. Perhaps it would soon fade. Perhaps it would always be there. Perhaps she was just feeling unfair for Lexa, a feeling that she just knew her ex-girlfriend was prone to push aside.

Though even if there was no anger, Clarke and the royal couple probably still wouldn't talk to each other. It was weird to meet Lexa's parents without a proper introduction. She wouldn't imagine to know what the king and queen felt, but she felt that it would be weird, somehow, to carry out a conversation. Clarke had not met a lot of parents in her lifetime, admittedly, but she would bet a lot of money that nothing could beat this.

"I know you haven't eaten," Raven said, shoving a takeaway bag at her. "You better finish that. I literally walked two blocks to get your favorite burger." It came across grumpy and unhappy, but Raven would be stupid to think that Clarke wouldn't hear the care in her voice.

Clarke threw a wayward glance through the window to reassure herself that Lexa hadn't woken up yet. And then she smiled at Raven and leaned forward to wrap her up in her hug. "Thanks, Raven. Love you," she said.

"Come on. Let's sit down." When the blonde hesitated, throwing another glance through the window, Raven rolled her eyes and pulled her arm to sit her down on a bench just opposite the room. "There, you can keep your eyes on her while you eat your food. You don't want her to wake up and find out that you've starved to your death."

"That's a little dramatic."

She reached in the bag to grab the greasy burger wrapped up in greasy wrapper. Normally, she'd be drooling at the smell alone, but right now, her nostrils were constantly attacked by chemicals and her mind was too far away from the empty state of her stomach to really appreciate the burger, despite Raven's efforts to get it.

"How is she?" Raven asked.

"I'm sure you've heard it from Wells."

Raven didn't deny it. She hummed for a bit before asking, "How are you?"

Chewing around the mouthful of burger in her mouth, Clarke recalled the state of her mind when she saw Wells' text. And the emotions welled up again, but she didn't bawl or burst out into ugly tears. Her eyes went watery and she sniffled a bit as she turned to her best friend.

On Raven's face was an expression of sympathy and anticipation. It seemed like she had known long before Clarke did – well, she had always been the smartest of them all.

"I made a terrible mistake, didn't I?"

The engineer smiled slightly and encircled an arm around Clarke's shoulder. "About time you realized that."

"I'm gonna fix it," Clarke said assertively with her head on Raven's shoulder.

"I'm sure it'll be easy, considering how smitten she is with you."

God, Clarke hoped so.

Lexa woke with a jolt. Literally. She jolted and was only kept down by the wires still monitoring her vitals, her voice calling out for Clarke.

And Clarke was the first person she saw as she woke.

The royal family had all left – Anya to the cafeteria, Lincoln off to find Octavia, and the king and queen off to do their errands; Clarke couldn't really blame them. Lexa had been asleep for almost the whole day. The blonde herself was supposed to have gotten off her shift hours ago, but she'd stubbornly stayed here, thankful to Raven and Octavia for helping her take the day off.

"Hey, hey," Clarke whispered, barely keeping herself from leaping forward, settling her hands over Lexa's and gently stroking her knuckles. "You're okay. You're okay, Lexa. You're okay."

There were a few moments where the frantic lingered on Lexa, her eyes fluttering about and her mouth open slightly, but Clarke continued stroking her knuckles and humming under her breath, only loud enough for Lexa to hear. Soon enough, the patient calmed down and relaxed back into her stiff pillows and stiff mattress – this was still a hospital, after all, despite the executive suite.

Lexa closed her eyes for a moment before opening and fixing them on Clarke. A long time ago, Clarke would have frozen on the spot for catching the eye of a woman she'd been unknowingly crushing on since that time she saw a spread of Lexa in her military uniform. But now, Clarke only smiled, warmed by the greens in Lexa's eyes.

"I'm gonna call for Wells, okay? I should probably also let your family know that you're awake. They've been worried sick." She started to rise to reach the button above the bedframe. "Wells is better at explaining –" She stopped short when Lexa squeezed her fingers, not too much, but enough for Clarke to feel it. "What is it?"

Lexa had on her a conflicted expression, a combination of confusion and happiness. "I thought –" She paused when she heard her own voice, hoarse and strained. She cleared her throat a few times after drinking the water Clarke gave her. "I thought I told you that I don't want you coming back in. Ever."

It should come out biting and bitter, intended with the malice that a jilted girlfriend ought to have. Except it came out gentle, questioning, unsure what to do. But it cut at Clarke's heart nonetheless, because she was the one who made Lexa say those things in the first place – she could still distinctively hear their conversation in the CT scan room; it had been haunting her dreams since then, to be honest.

Before, when Lexa had been sleeping, it was just that – a woman who had fought a war with her own body and was resting from said war. Clarke hadn't fully grasped that it had been almost a month since she saw the princess. And now, looking at her, Clarke was floored, because it was all so refreshing.

Sure, Lexa appeared pale and sallow. But she was still full in a way that was so enamoring. She never failed to take Clarke aback with the entirety of her – utterly and astoundingly breathtaking.

"You scared the hell out of me. I swear I could have shit bricks."

Lexa chuckled softly, clearly aware of what laughing too hard would do to her. "I bet you'd still look cute," she remarked. She closed her eyes and sighed deeply, sounding exhausted. "I missed you," she whispered in a thready manner.

Clarke gulped down the ball of tears threatening to well up. She lifted Lexa's hand to her cheek and barely kept herself from moaning at the touch. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm so sorry, Lexa."

"For what?"

"For being so stupid. For leaving you. For giving up on the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Silence stretched out for so many long seconds that she thought Lexa had fallen back asleep, which she wouldn't blame the woman for, really. But then the brunette's eyelids fluttered and she felt the hand against her cheek fan its fingers out.

"It's okay. I understand why you did it."

God, Clarke really had been so stupid.

"I still – I still don't understand."

Clarke extended one hand to brush Lexa's forehead and stroke her hair. "Go to sleep, Lexa. Just know that I'm never leaving you again."

As if Clarke's words were the permission she needed, the patient promptly fell back to sleep, but not without tightening her fingers around Clarke's. The blonde just watched, completely forgetting about calling for Wells or even the woman's family, too absorbed in looking at the woman who had always been to easy to forgive the people she loved.

There was still a lot to talk about. Clarke wouldn't blind herself with the illusion that everything would be swept under the rug just because of this one moment with Lexa. Mistakes to correct and hearts to mend, it wasn't going to be easy, but Clarke was sure of one thing: she would never leave Lexa again.

i think there'll be a couple more chapters left and then i'm gonna wrap it up. i wanna wrap it up so bad.