A/N: Wow, I actually did it. I wrote a chapter in four days. I'm a legend. (Not really, plenty of people write this much in one day, and this chapter is pretty short, but I'M PROUD OKAY?)

This chapter deals a lot with where the bombs came from and Clarke's life right before they were launched. I tried to make it as close to the canon storyline as possible but it wasn't very easy. I hope it makes sense but if not, I guess there's always time to go back and change it. Let me know whatcha think!

If Clarke would have guessed where she would be at the age of nineteen, it would not have included working at a fast food joint. Yet here she was, strapping a faux bowtie around her neck and pulling a 'Flippin' Good Burgers' hat onto her head as she stared in the mirror at what she had become.

Just a few more weeks.

She'd been repeating the mantra for days, knowing that in two weeks and four days, she would be submitting her first set of artwork to a local gallery. The submissions would be seen by other, well-known gallery owners, meaning that her paintings could, quite possibly, earn her a job or internship at one of those galleries.

If your art is good enough.

Clarke wanted to roll her eyes at her negative thoughts, but brushed them off, instead, reminding herself of all the great things that could happen. She fixed the hair under the black visor and sighed, clicking off the bathroom light and returning to her apartment's living room. The television was already switched on, from when she had first gotten out of bed, and set to the morning news. The stories that were being read by the reporters were always depressing, but it was the only thing on at seven in the morning and Clarke was desperate for some background noise while she made breakfast.

Her breakfast of choice that morning consisted of two pieces of toast (no butter, she'd run out and didn't get her paycheck for a few more days) and some orange juice, which she took to the couch to watch the boring stories on the news.

However, one story happened to catch her eye. It was about some scandal on the recent space base.

Clarke remembered when the space base had first launched. It was the national space station's idea, employed as a way to protect the United States from terrorist attacks and upcoming wars. The base was a good sized ship, containing various weapons and missiles that a small handful of people had access to. Along with the ammunition, there had been rumors of experiments being done on the ship, but none of the suspicions were ever confirmed.

But, the newscast Clarke was watching spoke about the rumors as if they were true, drawing her attention to the screen.

"Technological engineer and astrophysicist, Becca Pramheda, has announced her newest creation of an artificial intelligence unit, or AI, that will mimic human actions and interactions. Pramheda claims that the AI is 'just the beginning of the major plans she has for the future.'" The reporter quoted. Clarke squinted her eyes in thought as she tried to process the excessive amount of big words that were just thrown at her.

Before she could fully comprehend the report, the television flashed to a black-haired woman, sitting complacently in a chair, and sporting a fancy badge on her pantsuit. Clarke assumed the lady to be Becca.

"What are your plans for this AI, or as you like to call it, ALIE 2?" A voice from off-screen asked. Clarke subconsciously nibbled on her toast, suddenly enthralled by the possibilities of what the woman might respond with.

"I think that AI's open up so many opportunities for the future. The options are endless." The response was vague and Clarke assumed that the woman had meant to keep its meaning unclear.

There was a pause in the conversation before the off-screen voice sounded with another question.

"You call this unit ALIE 2. What happened to ALIE 1?"

Becca shifted in her seat at the words, obviously uncomfortable. "I think every good device has an initial prototype. ALIE 1 had a few minor bugs in her system, so I was forced to recreate her." Again, Clarke couldn't help but notice how indirect the statement was.

"Where is ALIE 1, now? Was her code terminated?"

Clarke's mind was drowning in the endless amount of scholarly words. A college degree would probably be useful, right about now.

"Unfortunately, I created ALIE to be durable. I coded her to survive for a long period of time. So, she does still exist, but her coding is being contained." Becca explained, unable to look directly into the camera. Clarke narrowed her eyes at the claim; it sounded too good to be true. Still, she brushed it off and finished her last piece of toast just as the screen changed to a set of reporters, again.

From there, they briefly concluded the segment before continuing onto another uninteresting story that lost Clarke's attention.

The story seemed to fill every conversation in her town, coming up multiple times while she was at work. Everyone seemed to have their own theories about the odd news segment. Some said that Becca had implanted the AI inside herself, transforming her brain to that of a mechanical robot. Others assumed that ALIE 2 was going to be used to work in government, potentially becoming the next president. Clarke had no input on the discussion, mostly because she didn't understand much of the technology and strange terms being used.

Despite that, she shared the belief, along with the rest of America, that something was fishy.

Becca's name remained the talk of the nation for days on end. However, no new stories surfaces about the AI or Becca until a full week later.

But, this news broadcast did not share the same curious tone that the previous ones had. Instead, the anchors warned America of a potential threat coming from ship, orbiting some 300,000 feet in the air.

Apparently, ALIE 1's code had somehow escaped (Clarke still did not fully understand the terminology being used), taking control of the space base's mainframe. Becca Pramheda had released a statement, claiming that ALIE was 'unstable' and had 'unfortunately gained access to the nuclear weapons aboard the base.'

Unsurprisingly, the nation took to panic, wondering how they would save the world from an AI that could, at any moment, destroy everything.

A day later, when Becca broadcasted another statement saying that ALIE 1 had plans to save the world by 'lowering Earth's population,' everyone went into survival mode, fleeing to army bases and bomb shelters to escape the chaos that would come.

Clarke's first instinct was doubt. She refused to believe that the world she knew was ending.

Therefore, she stupidly carried on about her life as if all was normal, even though she knew that all around, her opportunities to save herself were diminishing.

Clarke allowed the memory to swim through her thoughts for a few minutes, deciding she had nothing better to do. She'd been sealed inside the underground room for almost two weeks and the boredom was starting to take a toll on her.

"Can't we just go outside for a minute?" Clarke had asked a few days before, not exactly directing it towards Lexa, but rather just speaking her mind. The brunette shook her head and sighed at the question, obviously not amused by Clarke's complaining.

Lexa always seemed to be busy with the same contraptions and machines, despite the fact that nothing had come from the devices besides a few buzzes of static. Clarke was still not positive on what the machines were used for, but didn't ever push the topic, considering the last few times she'd tried, the other girl simply brushed her off.

Today, though, Clarke was feeling especially stir-crazy and, hoping for a distraction, she decided to strike up a conversation with the asocial brunette.

She stared at Lexa from across the room, who wore a look of intense concentration that consisted of forehead wrinkles and squinted eyes. (Clarke secretly enjoyed stealing glances at the girl, though she'd never admit it to herself.)

"I'm guessing you were a mechanic before all of this." The words were out of Clarke's mouth before she had determined if she wanted to say them. Lexa continued looking down at the radio, but her eyes briefly flicked to Clarke before she returned her gaze to her lap.

"Not even close." Lexa responded, taking Clarke by surprise. The most she expected was a scoff or an eye roll, so three words felt like an over-abundance. She waited a moment to see if Lexa would elaborate and spoke again.

"C'mon, you know about my past. Lemme hear yours." Clarke sat up and leaned against the wall behind her. It felt strange referring to her life a few weeks ago as 'the past,' but she brushed off the cold nostalgia that was filling her body.

Lexa did scoff at this, fully looking up from the machine at her legs and narrowing her eyes in probable contemplation. "I know you're a college dropout that likes art." The words stung slightly in Clarke's ears, but she hid her offense with an eye roll. "I could practically be writing your biography." Lexa continued, the smallest of smirks coming to her lips. An involuntary laugh erupted from Clarke's throat and she realized it was probably the first time she laughed since arriving in the shelter. It was also the first genuinely funny remark that Lexa had made, despite it being sarcastic. Lexa's smirk only grew wider at the laughter.

"Well, are you also a college dropout that likes art?" Clarke aimed to keep the conversation going, much to Lexa's disdain.

"No, definitely not." There was some level of disgust in the retort, as if the mere idea of Clarke's question was nauseating.

"See, I know you better already!"

The brunette shook her head and took to untangling a few wires that were wrapped around her fingers. The silence that followed was surprisingly comfortable, and, honestly, Clarke knew she should have let the exchange end there, but she was greedy (and bored, and feeling a little courageous).

"I also know you enjoy robbing people in the woods." She looked towards the unloaded crossbow against the wall and uttered the words just loud enough for Lexa to pick up. The brunette hesitated; stopped fiddling with wires for a split second as if Clarke had hit a nerve. The blonde couldn't stop the mischievous smile from spreading across her face. After all, Lexa deserved to get her feathers ruffled considering all the times she'd done the same to Clarke.

Lexa recovered quickly, as expected, pretending to be more focused on her project at hand to distract from the obvious shock that had just blanketed her expression. "You were trespassing with a full bag of food. I saw my chance." The rebuttal was nonchalant. Too nonchalant, in Clarke's opinion. Not only that, but the reply seemed to create more questions in Clarke's head.

"Trespassing? How did I trespass in a forest? Do you, like, own all the trees?" She was looking at Lexa again, who was still deeply invested in the equipment that had made little improvement over the last two weeks.

"Mhm, something like that." Lexa mumbled, the previous smirk returning to her face.

"I don't understand." Clarke voiced her thoughts, pulling Lexa's attention back to the blonde across the room from her. She watched Lexa shrug and let her eyes fall closed, noticeably annoyed by Clarke.

"Why do you want to understand?" The girl's eyebrows knitted together as if she was trying to read Clarke, who immediately neutralized her appearance to prevent that from happening.

The query felt like a blow to her chest, causing her heart to beat harder against her ribs, and had her wishing for the lighthearted vibe to return to the room.

Instead, silence engulfed the space between them as Clarke allowed Lexa's words to marinate. If she was being honest with herself, Clarke didn't know why she was so interested in learning about Lexa. Something about her was just so captivating- no, not captivating; Clarke refused to refer to the girl as anything other than mysterious. That's all she was, after all. Just a closed off girl that Clarke happened to be sharing a room with.

Clarke liked to think that she was, mostly, an open book, aside from a few details (generally pertaining to her mother). And she knew from experience, that if Lexa was being unforthcoming, it could only mean that she was hiding something.

Though Clarke wasn't going to force the conversation any longer, she knew that it wouldn't be the last time she'd try to unveil Lexa's secrets.

Until then, she was still consumed by boredom.

"There's nothing to do in here." Clarke grumbled, immediately regretting how immature she sounded. She was fully-aware that she had dodged Lexa's question, but continued to act as if she'd forgotten. Lexa, who was reabsorbed in being a pseudo-mechanic, snorted at Clarke's grievance before pushing her radio aside and standing from her bed. Clarke watched curiously as Lexa reached onto a shelf beside her bed and brushed away a few pieces of paper, revealing a dusty, worn book. She grabbed it by the spine and handed it to Clarke.

To the blonde's disappointment, it was 'The Adventures of Tom Sawyer,' a book that Clarke remembered being assigned to read in high school (she never did read it, deciding she didn't care about failing the assignment).

Despite her dislike of reading in general, Clarke found herself flipping the hard cover open and turning to the first page, without thanking Lexa.

She spent the rest of the day (and night) reading the book. Once finished, she read it again. Four times. In a week. But at least she was less bored.

A/N: Ha, so remember when I said we'd learn more about Lexa? I didn't completely lie... I just couldn't find a good way to incorporate it and every time I tried to, it wasn't coming out right. I need another few days to think of a better idea... sooo we'll try again next week. And I'll try to squeez in another thousand words.

Anyways, leave me your thoughts. I love to read them. See ya' next week!