Earlier
Alexandria woke with a start. It took her a moment to remember that she was in a spare room within Agamemnon's quarters inside the Mountain. She had tried to rest in her own quarters but even just a single day alone had made her feel unsettled. It didn't even surprise her that Eamon had done just as she had, she had come to know both men just as well as she had come to know herself. Not that she thought she knew herself much anymore, anyway.
But Alexandria wouldn't dwell on those thoughts. She had made the decision to enter the Mountain beside Clarke in the hopes it would give her further clarity to a past that had long since eluded her.
And so she sat from the small bed, the fur pooled around her waist as a hand rubbed the sleep from her eyes. It took her a moment to register that she could hear quiet voices outside her closed door. She considered staying put, finding something to do in the quarters until whoever was guest had left but she recognised Abby's voice, she recognised Athena's.
Curiosity piqued, Alexandria made herself as presentable as she thought necessary, hair quickly pulled into a messy braid and heavier shawl draped over her looser summer clothes, the chill of the Mountain and the cooling season a ever unwelcome.
She stepped out into the main quarters to find Athena, Eamon and Abby seated around a table in hushed conversation. Athena tilted her head in greeting before she gestured to an empty chair, frown on her face as she turned back to Abby.
"We did not mean to wake you," Eamon said quietly.
"It is ok," Alexandria answered as she settled herself and tried to figure out what the conversation had been about.
"We are discussing Agamemnon," Athena said quietly.
"Ah," it was a simple enough statement that Alexandria didn't think she needed to say much more.
Abby cleared her throat before she took in a breath, the action perhaps calming, perhaps a guiding habit she had taken up after years of stressors.
"Agamemnon is going to need monthly treatment," she let her words settle into the space around them.
Alexandria knew Agamemnon was ill, more ill than he would like any of them to know. She knew he was hiding his discomfort from her, from Eamon, from Athena. And though it wasn't surprising, she thought Abby's words somehow a finality that was unavoidable.
"He will not like that," Eamon's voice was even, far calmer than Alexandria knew hers would be in that moment as emotions started to take hold.
She looked from Eamon, to Athena, to Abby and she tried to see if any of them felt the way she felt, the angers and frustrations at feeling helpless and unable to do anything.
"I will arrange for him to stay at the Mountain for the foreseeable future," Athena's voice was calm, gentle, firm and that too surprised Alexandria. Not what Athena had said. No. That made sense, it was the only thing she knew Athena would do. But still, she had said it was as much calm, as much steadiness as Eamon and it frustrated her.
"I won't— can't give any guarantees the treatment will even work," Abby continued slowly. "I won't even know how well the treatments are going until we begin," she looked away for a moment and Alexandria could see her trying to form the words she would need to say.
The silence settled around them once more, and Alexandria could tell Abby was giving them the time to digest the things she had said. She didn't even know how to really respond to much of the information. Athena seemed confident and sure in her decision to let Agamemnon live in the Mountain during his treatment. She didn't know what Eamon wished to do and she didn't even know what she wished to do in that moment. Her home, their home felt so far away in that moment.
And yet she didn't think she could be away from Agamemnon as far as the homestead.
"What about the homestead?" Eamon seemed to have read her thoughts. Or he had had his own thoughts. Perhaps it was the latter. "I will not leave Agamemnon alone," he said it simply, but Alexandria could see the barest hints or preparations for pushback should Athena disagree.
But Athena looked away rather than meet Eamon's gaze. Perhaps to show she wasn't going to fight him, perhaps to let herself seem more open, more honest, just as unsure as all of them in that very moment.
"Abby," Athena looked back at the healer. "Thank you for the information, may you leave?"
"Yes," Abby said with a small smile, Athena's command taken in stride as she stood and bowed her head before she left.
And so Alexandria found them all alone in the small quarters, perhaps the subtle sound of Agamemnon's ragged breathing heard in the next room over should one of them listen hard enough.
"I will not tell you that you can not stay with Agamemnon," Athena said eventually. "I would not do that to you, to him," she said.
"Yet?" Eamon's eyebrow quirked up ever so slightly.
"There are safety precautions I will insist you obey," Athena's words were just as even as Eamon's but Alexandria knew there would be no discussion on that matter. She didn't even really blame Athena.
Eamon seemed to feel the same for he simply bowed his head in understanding.
But he seemed to think, to consider something else as it was his turn to look away in thought.
"What if Agamemnon does not go through with the treatments?" he asked. "What if he refuses and returns to the homestead?" Eamon paused, perhaps to give everyone a chance to consider his words, perhaps to give himself a moment to collect his thoughts. "Is this why you have done the things you have?" it was a more pointed question than Alexandria was used to hearing from Eamon but she didn't think she blamed him for wanting to know given everything that had been happening.
"You wonder if my desire to help Agamemnon is the driving force behind us all leaving the homestead?" Athena's voice was quiet as she asked her question and Alexandria knew she said it only to clarify that she understood Eamon completely, that she would be able to answer it was openly as could be expected of the Commander.
"Yes," Eamon said. "There have been other times throughout the years where tech, Skaikru tech would have helped us, would have made life easier and yet you choose now," he shrugged his broad shoulders as if to show that the answer to his questions eluded him.
Athena seemed to take his words with far more seriousness than even Eamon had given them for she frowned, looked down at the table as if she were trying to force her explanations into the space before them. Alexandria had her own suspicions, her own thoughts as to why Athena had done what she had done.
But she had never felt quite so bold as to ask her as openly as Eamon had just done.
"I wish for a better world for our people," Athena said as she looked up at Eamon. "You fought for that just as much as Agamemnon did, just as much as you did, Alexandria," she looked at her. "Despite tradition, despite duty, what is considered right," she paused briefly. "I do not think life is fair for many of us," Athena said and Alexandria didn't know why she thought Athena spoke of something more in that moment. "But I am in a position to give back to those who have suffered, who have lived a life that was less fair to them than I think they deserved," she frowned a little more forcefully as if she was trying to hold back an emotion, a thought, an ache deep within her mind that Alexandria could almost see.
Perhaps she intended to go on, perhaps she had lost track of her thoughts. Whatever the reason, Athena seemed to fall quiet, the things she had said happy to sit in the air for all three of them to consider.
Coughing coming from Agamemnon's quarters broke the silence. Alexandria waited only a moment before deciding she would check on him, in part to give herself something to do while she let her thoughts settle, in part to give Eamon and Athena whatever time they wanted to discuss or to argue about whatever things they wished.
And so Alexandria excused herself before she slipped into Agamemnon's room with a quiet and cautious knock.
She found him half propped up on large pillows, a small light on a bedside table illuminated the space in a rich orange glow and she found herself thankful that he looked comfortable, rested.
"Are you ok?" she asked as she came to sit in the chair next to him, her gaze taking in his face, his expression, whether he was in any pain or not.
"Yes," he said, his voice ever slightly hoarse.
"We did not wake you?" she worried her lip as she reached for a glass of water set aside.
"No," he shook his head with a smile as he accepted the glass with less argument than she would have normally expected.
Agamemnon took a moment to drink, to collect his strength and Alexandria stayed close by, perhaps a little too overbearing for his comfort but she wouldn't take no for an answer for the moment.
"Abby," she said eventually for she knew he would be more than willing to ignore the obvious.
He sighed before settling back into the pillows.
"So she has explained things?" he asked.
"As has Athena," Alexandria said, and she almost chided him for his tone alone. "Will you take the treatment?"
Agamemnon seemed to mull over her question for a minute or two before he sighed and looked at her fully.
"Would it make you worry less if I simply said yes?" there was a slight humour in his tone, but she could tell he was being serious, too.
And yet Alexandria couldn't help but feel a twitching at the corners of her mouth. But still, she wouldn't let him try to avoid answering the question.
"I wish for you to be well, to heal, to live for many more years," she said it quietly lest she scare him away. "Abby can help, Skaikru can help."
Agamemnon was quiet as he seemed to think about what to say, or perhaps simply just to think. He hummed a quiet response before he shook his head and smiled, a hand reaching out as he held hers and squeezed it softly.
"Abby and Athena have already explained much," he said eventually. "Though I know if I put my foot down Athena would not force me, I know she wishes very deeply only to help, only for me to help myself," he looked away as if he was remembering an older memory, perhaps something from many years ago. "I am tired," he said with a heavy sigh. "I am old," he looked back at her. "Sometimes I think it would be nice to rest, to embrace my fate as many others have done before me."
Alexandria narrowed her eyes, perhaps because what he said annoyed her, perhaps because she didn't appreciate the fact it sounded like Agamemnon had given up, had taken away her own wants and wills and hopes. And though it wasn't her decision to make, though it wasn't her illness to carry, she didn't think it fair. That same indignation, that same annoyance at feeling helpless began to fill her and she wanted to snap at Agamemnon, wanted to scream her angers out at the world.
And maybe it was because she had discovered so many new things in the last few days, maybe it was because she had learnt things about her past that she wouldn't have ever expected to learn. Maybe it was a number of different things she would never be able to place for years to come. But whatever it was made her feel so lost, so helpless, so angry and frustrated and—
"Alexandria."
Agamemnon's voice cut into her rambling mind and she blinked back surprise, emotion and she let herself settle as much as she could as she stared back at her old friend, someone who had been there when she had felt lost, someone who had been there to give her comfort when she had felt small.
"I do not want to lose you," she said quietly.
But Agamemnon simply shook his head, the motion somehow comforting, somehow sad, somehow gentle.
"I will stay as long as I am able, Alexandria," he said quietly.
And it was simple.
Not a promise that he could not keep, not something that would give her false hope. But it helped. And perhaps that was all that mattered in that very moment.
Alexandria blinked back surprise as she felt a tear threaten to fall down her cheek. She didn't try to hide it from Agamemnon as she wiped it away, a sniffle and a choked smile the only thing she could give in answer for a moment as she collected herself.
But eventually she found herself able to smile a little more happily, she found herself able to look at him with more than sadness and she squeezed his hand in thanks and she hoped he understood the things she didn't know how to say.
"How are you?" Agamemnon asked.
And Alexandria found it was her turn to consider whether to pretend like she didn't know what he asked, what he intended. But she didn't think Agamemnon deserved that. No matter how awkward she might or could or should feel.
"I do not know," it was truthful as she thought about Clarke, about Arkadia, Indra, Raven, the Mountain. "I have learnt more about my past in the last few days than I ever would have expected."
"Did it help?" Agamemnon asked, voice soft, hoarse, kind.
Alexandria smiled as she found herself looking at him, as she found herself trying to memorise the vibrancy in his gaze, the kindness in his eyes, the memories they had shared for what seemed like lifetimes.
And she considered his question, what it meant to him, what it meant to her. For so long she had thought herself someone different than the person who had accomplished all the things she had discovered. Who had done the things she had discovered she had done.
And though Clarke had never quite said it openly, she knew Clarke believed her to be the same, in spirit, in soul, in person. Perhaps having Clarke present, someone who believed those things was in some way a steadying presence, a guiding comfort in her confusion. Or perhaps it only made things worse, only made things more complicated when all it did was bring forth pasts she could not recall.
"For so long I have tried to think of myself as someone divorced from Lexa," she said, her eyes never wavering from the understanding she saw within Agamemnon's. "For so long I was ashamed, afraid, unwilling to let myself believe I was anything but a shadow of someone who was supposedly great," she shook her head. "How could I accept that that greatness was my own when I could not remember?"
Agamemnon didn't say anything, and she knew he knew he need not speak. And she was thankful, she cherished him so very much.
"But Clarke came into our world," she said quietly. "At first I was scared, at first I did not wish for her to think of me as Lexa. I felt a ghost to her, to the memories she had of us," she shook her head once more. "And she accepted that, respected my boundaries and wishes and yet I know she still believed it so very much," she began to recall conversations they had shared, moments together walking through the apple trees, fishing, chasing after Brutus, learning who one another were without pressure, without Clarke trying to be anything more than a companion in whatever way it would be accepted.
And she thought she admired Clarke for that.
So very much.
"I spoke with the flame," she continued. "I spoke with her. With Lexa" she bit her lip. "And she told me the same, told me I was still who I had been," she looked away then as if she suddenly felt far more exposed than she had moments ago. "At first I did not want to believe it, at first I was scared," she forced herself to look back at Agamemnon. "I want to be brave," she said. "I want to accept my place in the world, not because I have fallen into a neat little hole that was made for what was left, but because I have forged my own future, one that is not beholden by fears I once had," she hoped she made sense. "I do not know when I realised I wanted this, perhaps it was Athena's decision to bring Clarke to the homestead, perhaps it was Clarke, or perhaps—"
"—Or perhaps it was you," Agamemnon's voice was firm as he stopped her doubts from beginning to drive her thoughts.
She smiled at him and she felt herself steadying, calming, his presence reassuring.
And so she let herself think back over the years, the decade she had spent at the homestead trying to come to terms with her place in the world. She thought back to the memories she had before taking the flame, the happy ones, the sadder ones, the ones she couldn't quite picture so well anymore. And she thought of the missing years, the ones she thought she was slowly coming to accept.
And she thought of her life now, of how it had changed since Clarke had come to the homestead, since she had forced her to face things she had been scared of. And she thought she still had so very far to go, perhaps it would take her years, but she wanted to take that journey, she wanted to grow, to learn who she could be.
She didn't think she could move on, couldn't learn to be who she always had been if she didn't try. If she didn't try to be brave, didn't try to face her past.
And so.
"Agamemnon," she said quietly, her gaze settling back on him as she found her heart beginning to beat more strongly in her chest than it had moments ago. "Can—" she swallowed, an old fear threatening to pull her back from the edge. "Can you call me Lexa?"