A/N: Hey, look at that, it's Monday. And it sure as hell feels like one...

Sorry about this filler chapter, but I did my best to include some humor and clexa cuteness. Enjoy!

Though the plan was to stay one more night, Clarke started packing immediately, which provoked Lexa to leave her bed and help, too.

"I can handle the packing. You should rest." Clarke assured Lexa, when she noticed the brunette leaning against the wall, out of breath.

"No," she refused, pushing off the cement with one hand. "If it was up to you, you'd just pack all the donuts and chips." Lexa muttered, and Clarke couldn't help but smile at the remark.

"We have donuts?" It was meant to lighten the mood, and even though Lexa rolled her eyes, Clarke could tell it had the effect she was hoping for.

Packing was proving to be far more stressful than the actual idea of leaving. With only two, measly backpacks and an even smaller lunch box, they both knew that a majority of the supplies would need to be left behind. The trip was expected to take about a week, so food could be packed sparingly, but still left blankets and other essentials without a place in the bags.

"If we each carry a bag and a blanket, it should hold enough for us to make it to Arkadia." Lexa planned aloud, looking over the materials they had spread across the floor.

Clarke felt the need to object, but held her tongue. Lexa couldn't even walk across the room without losing her breath, let alone, across the state.

Desperate to get the idea of Lexa being unable to make the trip out of her head, Clarke forced a new topic.

"What do you think it'll look like outside?" When the image of endless stretches of ash entered her mind, she wished she had chosen a less depressing question.

Lexa shrugged and shoved a few cans into a bag (Clarke could see the brunette biting at the skin on her lip-something she had been doing nonstop for days- and Clarke had half the mind to stop her, if it didn't look so, damn cute).

"Burnt." She mumbled dryly, but Clarke could swear she heard a hint of gloom in her voice- the same that had coated her words the night before, Clarke noted. She couldn't protest, considering the guess was probably correct. From what the blonde could see from the skylight, it was a wasteland. She hoped the scenery that was visible was the worst of it.

Something told her it wasn't.

The room became silent, as if both girls had fallen into contemplation, and when she looked over to see Lexa gazing into the distance, deep in thought, she tried, again.

"Anyone you're planning on visiting? Once you're better, of course." She asked the question mostly for her own gain, more interested in Lexa's answer than getting the brunette's mind off packing for the trek.

"If I get better." The response felt like a blow to Clarke's chest, because she'd thought of the possibility, but suppressed it as soon as it surfaced, too afraid to ponder on the idea.

Lexa couldn't die.

And she found herself offering the reasoning far too often to be considered healthy. Because Lexa could die, and she needed to realize that.

Lexa could die.

She repeated the phrase to herself multiple times, her face scrunching up tighter with each repetition. Instead of making it feel less confronting, the phrase's sting grew stronger each time, until the words brought an intensely cold feeling to her stomach.

Lexa couldn't die. Because that was easier to believe than the other option. She would let herself live in the fantasy until something told her otherwise.

Lexa must have noticed Clarke's inner debate and decided to continue.

"But no. No one to visit." Her eyes flashed between the phone on the ground and Clarke, reminding the blonde of the device's presence in the room.

She briefly recalled the time when she'd snooped through the girl's private messages, bringing a familiar heat to her face. Previously, Clarke had felt justified in searching through the phone, but now, she only felt guilt.

Despite that, Clarke wondered if the sudden look towards the phone had meant something. She didn't want to look too deeply into Lexa's actions, but glancing at the phone right after Clarke asked about visiting someone on the outside just seemed suspicious.

Again, the picture of Lexa and the stranger girl appeared in her head, along with so many other questions. And, god, did Clarke want to ask some of them.

But asking Lexa who the girl was in a photo she wasn't even supposed to be seeing, probably carried the same, if not worse, consequence as stealing food. If there hadn't been a deadly weapon within ten feet of Lexa's grasp, she would have considered it further.

But if she could convince the brunette to leave the crossbow behind, she'd feel much safer bringing up the invasion of privacy.

"No friends?" The words sounded less teasing in her head than when she spoke them, and she regretted her choice of diction as soon as it left her mouth. That seemed to be a common problem in her recent days. She really needed to learn to hold her tongue more.

Thankfully, Lexa didn't seem offended by the query, answering it with yet another shrug. "None that survived."

The statement caught Clarke off guard (she was starting to think Lexa's odd responses were less surprising, but every once in a while, one would resonate as off-putting to her). She tilted her head at the response, earning a look from Lexa that read 'don't ask.'

It was too late, because if Clarke couldn't ask about the girl in the picture, she was definitely not going to add to the things she didn't understand.

"How do you know?" The blonde turned away and took to going through her own belongings. An exasperated sigh came from Lexa, who was sitting down on her bed, again.

"I hope you're not expecting to bring your drawing book." Lexa commented just as Clarke's fingers brushed the spine of her sketchbook. The evasion of the question only added to Clarke's suspicion. But the answer didn't seem as important after Lexa's most recent statement.

"What? Why not?" Clarke could hear the pitch in her own voice rising, portraying the offense she was feeling. The collection of art was the only thing she had saved from her dingy apartment, and she wasn't about to leave it underground like it was just a few disposable doodles.

"We don't have the room. Unless it's useful, we need to leave it behind." Somehow Lexa's tone had regained a confidence that Clarke hadn't heard since the girl had gotten sick. But even with the boldness, Clarke wasn't about to give up on years worth of sentimental drawings.

"What? No, I'm taking it." The blonde defied, picking up the book and tucking it under her arm.

Lexa sighed again, louder- loud enough to be absolutely positive that Clarke could hear how unhappy she was. It got the point across (and thoroughly annoyed Clarke in the process).

"If I can't take my drawings, you cant take your crossbow." The ultimatum seemed fair. If Clarke couldn't keep her most prized possession, Lexa deserved the same.

"A crossbow is useful." Lexa shot back, and Clarke just knew the face the brunette was sporting, without having to look at her. It almost definitely consisted of narrow eyes and crossed arms, a signature look for the, normally disgruntled, girl.

"How is a crossbow useful?" She wanted to add in something about how crossbows were only useful for robbing innocent blondes in the forest, but it felt like a low blow. And she'd already used the line before.

"Its more useful than art." Clarke couldn't necessarily argue that. But unless the outside was crawling with zombies and other typical apocalyptic creatures, she couldn't find a need for it. "You never draw anymore, anyway." Lexa added, compelling Clarke to spin around to face the brunette. She almost wanted to feel esteemed in the fact that Lexa took notice of her artistic habits, but decided not to take the observation as a compliment.

"Yeah, staring at the same wall for weeks doesn't exactly provide inspiration." And Clarke knew she had slipped up as soon as she said it. Knew as soon as the devilish smile came to Lexa's lips, accentuating her already high cheekbones.

"What, I'm not good enough for you to draw anymore?" Predictable. Predictable enough for Clarke to see it coming, but not enough to stop the incredible shade of red that rose to her face. She was sure that if it had grown any redder, her cheeks would have started to smoke.

So, she did what any sensible person would do.

She completely ignored it. Because what was she supposed to say?

'Thanks for the idea, I'll draw you right now?'

'You're right, I don't like drawing you anymore?'

It was obvious Lexa had put her in a checkmate of sorts, her speechlessness a sign that the brunette's teasing had its desired effect.

And Clarke suddenly liked it a lot better when they weren't speaking.

She could do it. Even if it killed her. She would do it.

Sinclair was expecting her in the mess hall for a meeting at thirteen hundred hours and Raven made sure she was ready an hour early to ensure she would make it on time.

"You don't have to do this." Octavia repeated for the umpteenth time that day. The younger girl had the day off, and planned to spend it outside, but decided to stay in when she heard of Raven's assessment.

"I'll be fine." She bluffed, doing her best to stay perfectly still. If she wanted to make it through Sinclair's evaluation she would need all the energy she could get.

"At least let me walk you?"

"No, Octavia. If he sees that I can't even walk on my own, he'll never clear me." She reiterated, and if her legs worked, she would've bounced them in anticipation.

Another glance down at her watch showed her that the time she needed to leave was quickly approaching. Raven was glad she hadn't eaten lunch, because she assumed the meal would have ended up in a toilet based on how much her stomach was twisting in knots.

"It's not too late to take a pain pill." Octavia's pacing was giving Raven a headache. The older girl let out a loud groan, hoping to get the point across that she was tired of Octavia's suggestions. "Is your brace on tight enough?" She paused her walking and motioned towards Raven's leg, the look of concern on her face only adding to the other girl's annoyance.

"Yes. Don't you have anything better to do than bother me?" She grumbled, earning a look that said 'oh shut up, you know you love me.'

Again, she checked her watch, seeing that not even a minute had passed. The feeling she was experiencing was strange. On one hand, she wished time would slow down, cringing every time she noticed some time had passed, but another part of her couldn't wait until she was able to leave, just wanting to get the whole ordeal over and done with.

Deciding that time was passing too slowly for her liking, Raven reached towards her nightstand, pulling the old CB radio into her lap.

"So," Raven sang into the speaker, stretching the word for a few seconds while she mapped out what she would say next. "Might not be on here as much." She explained, speaking like whoever was listening was a close friend- someone she had to explain herself to. "I mean, maybe after work, but definitely not all day anymore." It felt overzealous, and Raven knew she shouldn't count her chickens before they hatch- but she was Raven Reyes, dammit. She could do anything.

She paused, but continued holding the button down on the microphone. Octavia filled the gap of silence with her own two cents.

"Your head's getting a little big, Rae." She said dryly, using the girl's nickname that never failed to bring a smirk to Raven's face.

"What? You don't think I can do it?" She tested, raising one eyebrow to the shorter girl. Octavia held her hands up in defense, probably not wanting to comment on the topic. Raven only took the gesture as a confirmation in Octavia's skepticism.

"You should get going." She proposed, doing a double-take at the clock on the wall. The proposal only made Raven's stomach lurch more, which she hid effectively with an eye roll.

"Yeah, yeah," Raven waved the words away, setting the radio aside and allowing it to power off. Octavia was at Raven's side before she could stop her, holding a hand out to her with a sad smile on her face.

The older girl rolled her eyes, again, but accepted the help, using her better leg to push off the cot. Octavia purposely offered more help than Raven needed, but she didn't protest. Extra help meant Raven was using less of the little energy she had, which is something she forced herself to be thankful towards Octavia for.

"Last chance." She sang, the meaning of the words going unspoken.

"It's still a no." Raven replied, mimicking the other's tone. When her leg adjusted to her weight, she allowed the other one to touch the floor, holding back a grimace at the feeling of her knee extending. She pulled her tongue between her teeth and bit down, hoping the pain in her mouth would distract from the further pain she was about to feel.

Even with Raven's denial, Octavia refused to leave the girl on her own, staying a respectable distance as they walked- at an incredibly slow pace, but walked, nonetheless- to the room that Raven was expected in.

It took slightly longer than she had anticipated, meaning she was just a few minutes late to the meeting, but not late enough to cause suspicion.

Finally at the door, Octavia sighed and flashed another sympathetic smile to the injured girl.

"Good job, Rae." Octavia beamed, holding the mess hall door open for Raven to step inside. If she hadn't been in so much pain, she would've protested, yelling at Octavia for assuming she was so incapable that she needed doors opened for her, but held her tongue, deciding gratefulness was more appropriate. "And good luck." The butterflies that filled Raven's stomach at the words only made her feel more nervous.

"I don't need luck." It felt like more of a mantra that she was trying to convince herself, rather than Octavia, of, but did it's job of instilling a glimmer of hope inside her chest.

She could do it.

Little words were exchanged between the two after Lexa's embarrassing remark. Clarke thought awkward silences were a thing of the past, happening less and less the longer they were together, but the recent events made Clarke wonder if their relationship had regressed.

They had finished packing early that night, and mutually agreed to use their remaining time to rest before the journey ahead of them.

Despite the agreement, neither of the two managed to fall asleep easily, or for longer than an hour or so at a time. And while Clarke was sure that they were both awake at many of the same times, which would usually prompt her to strike up a conversation, she felt more than okay with allowing the silence to remain after her last attempt.

At the sight of first light, Clarke was sitting up and doing a final sweep of the shelter. The shelter she'd spent the last month living inside. The shelter that saved her life. When she was sure the necessary supplies were all collected, Lexa was just beginning to stir under her mound of blankets, and when the brunette was fully upright, Clarke could feel excitement fluttering through her chest and making her breath catch in her throat.

They were leaving.

Groggily, Lexa tugged a bag over her shoulder and pulled a blanket and her crossbow into her grasp.

(At the sight of Lexa holding her crossbow, Clarke glared and defiantly took her sketchbook into her hands, as well. But not without making it incredibly obvious that she planned to take the notebook with them, which only made Lexa smirk in response.)

They were really leaving. And somehow, the part of Clarke that was terrified of the risk- terrified of the possible death sentence she was bestowing upon herself- dissolved under the mere idea of never having to spend another night on the cold, concrete floors.

Clarke was sure Lexa was moving abnormally slow, just to make the blonde's skin itch with anticipation.

When they were standing underneath the skylight, hearts pounding away, Lexa let out a steadying sigh and dipped into her pocket, pulling out a familiar set of keys. The brunette held them out with raised eyebrows, in a way that said 'would you like to do the honors?'

Clarke was sure Lexa was only offering because of her currently weak state, but she accepted, nonetheless.

When the keys were in her possession, she started climbing the ladder, sending frequent glances back towards Lexa, who simply nodded at each look.

The keys wiggled their way into an old lock- so dusty and untouched, Clarke was unsure if it would even budge- and turned until an audible click was heard, followed by an irrepressible gasp from the blonde.

She turned back and tossed the keys to Lexa, who caught them with ease and took to passing them from hand to hand nervously.

Somehow, Clarke's trembling fingers found the latch securing the door into the concrete.

Her body couldn't move fast enough, and Clarke couldn't help but feel that if she didn't move quickly, the excitement would be ripped beneath her, as if the entire thing was some dream, on the verge of ending. As if moving too slowly would result in her waking up and never being able to see what lie beyond the room.

Two full twists and the door detached from the cement, sending an echo of screeching metal-against-metal through the room. Somehow, the terrible noise was music to Clarke's ears.

A harsh push with one shaky hand (while the other white-knuckle gripped the ladder) and the hatch was open.

And Clarke was outside.

A/N: They did it! They're breaking out! I don't know who's more excited, me or Clarke.. it'll be nice to have new settings to work with. That shelter was getting pretty, damn stale.

As usual, your comments are honestly my biggest inspiration when writing this story. If I'm ever feeling particularly unjazzed about this fic, I read through your guys' amazing feedback and then I want to keep writing. You're all amazing!

I also joined the 'social-media train' and got myself a twitter! It's the same user as here ( callieincali) if you wanna party with me there!

See you next week, lovelies! 3