Clarke Griffin and her team are sitting around a table, in one of the smaller classrooms designed for seminars. This is the first time they've really regrouped since the failed hit mission, but the determination is still there. Fake assignments sit in front of them, for the sake of a cover; the room has been scanned for bugs and mics, but they can't guarantee a lost freshman, or a wandering TA stumbling upon their meeting.

"What have we got, so far?"

Bellamy speaks from the seat adjacent to her. "Jaha's still alive, but in critical condition, according to the news I've seen. One of their goons saw me at the event he was speaking at. They've suspected that I've been a part of this team for a while, now - I'm sure they've upped the ante on us, at this point. We have to watch our backs. Lay low for a while."

"As far as I know, they've profiled all of us," Raven says. "They've got files on us. That's all I managed to see when I hacked into their system for a few minutes. No definite proof that we're involved."

Clarke nods, takes a deep breath. "Okay. Bellamy is right - they'll be watching us closely. I don't know how, but they'll be watching us. Be wary of your surroundings - put those bug detectors to use, be observant of the people around you. Right now, the only people we can trust are each other."

"So, what?" Octavia says, "We sit around and do nothing?"

"We sit around, and go to class, and do our homework," Bellamy says sharply.

Octavia crosses her arms, huffing as she sinks back into her seat. "I thought college was supposed to be fun."

"Go to a party like every other normal freshman," Raven says, smirking. "That'll throw them off. Anti-agency organization members don't party, do they?"

Clarke can't spare the time to be amused with anything, right now. "Listen, you guys. We're going to have to act like every other college student at this school. At least for this semester. This is likely our last team meeting for the next little while."

She's grateful that the semester's just begun; it's a fresh start, a way to get everyone back on track. More importantly, it's a way for whoever is after to see that they are nothing but average college students. Clarke considers joining an orientation team. Anti-agency organization members don't join orientation teams.

"Alright, well," Bellamy says, standing and gathering his papers. "You all know where to find me. Best of luck to you all. I'm sure I'll see you around."

Without a word, Octavia follows behind her brother, leaving Clarke and Raven alone in the room.

"You're worried," Raven says, watching Clarke start to organize her own papers. "Why are you worried?"

Clarke sighs. "The smallest slip. The smallest slip from any of us, and they've got us. They're just waiting for us to reveal the fact that we're doing this."

"What, and you don't trust us to keep quiet?"

"It's not that." Clarke looks at Raven. "It's what happens if they get us."

"Are you talking about your dad, right now?" Raven doesn't break her gaze on Clarke. "Or Finn?"

Even his name still draws a lump in Clarke's throat.

"I'm talking about both of them," she says, quickly getting the rest of her things together and standing. "We can't risk it. There are only four of us left. Against all of them."

"Clarke." Raven reaches out, wraps a hand around Clarke's wrist. "We'll get them back. For Finn, and your dad, and for everyone else they've fucked over for their project. All of them."

Clarke gives Raven a small, sad smile. "I hope we will."

One Week Later

It's the day before classes start, and Clarke already has a slew of assignments due - she thanks the sadist professors of the biochemistry program for that one.

She's ready to head upstairs, prep all of the required material for her courses, and possibly head to the school gym after, but then she sees a brunette woman standing there, furrowing a brow at the keycard scanner. She's got two luggage bags at her side. Must be a new move-in.

"Lost your keycard?" Clarke says, slightly amused. The brunette turns to face Clarke, startled green eyes meeting Clarke's own. Clarke walks closer to her, her eyes now on the keycard scanner. The brunette keeps watching her.

"Yes," she says, following Clarke's gaze on the keycard scanner. "Well, technically, no. I was just bringing my luggage up, and came downstairs to get this last load here. Then I realized I'd left my keycard in my room during the second trip."

Clarke pulls out her own card and waves it in front of the scanner, a tiny green light flashing above it as a confirmation. There's the distinct noise of the door unlocking, and Clarke puts the card back into her pocket. "Don't worry about it. Happens to the best of us." She goes to prop open the door for the other woman. "So, you're just moving in? What floor are you on?"

"The fifth. And thanks," the brunette says quietly, smiling her gratitude at Clarke.

"No worries. I'm on the fifth floor, too, funnily enough." Clarke shoves the door-stop in place and moves to take the brunette's second bag. "Let me take this one for you."

"That's really not necessary -"

"This bag is half your size," Clarke says, grunting as she picks it up. "Let me help."

The brunette merely nods another thank you, and waits for Clarke to remove the doorstop and lead the way to the elevator.

"My name is Clarke, by the way. Nice to meet you. I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot of each other, this semester."

"Lexa." The elevator dings and the two girls make their way inside. "I just transferred here from Boise."

"Yeah?" Clarke presses the key for the fifth floor. "What for?"

"Biochemistry. They've got a better program here."

"I'm a biochem major, too," Clarke remarks, a little excited at the prospect of a new friend in her program. Berkeley's got a biochemistry program that's known nation-wide, so it doesn't surprise her that Lexa has made the transfer. "Just starting my fourth year, but I'm going to be here for a while - med school right after this."

"Me, as well," Lexa says. "Except for the med school bit."

Clarke chuckles. "Why not?"

Lexa pauses for a moment, looking like she's choosing her next few words carefully. Clarke quirks an eyebrow. There's something about Lexa that already has Clarke very, very curious. Maybe she's just being high-strung and over-observant as a result of the past few events. Maybe it's in the way Lexa holds herself, how still she is, the way that those green eyes hardly wander. They stare straight ahead, determined, but mostly emotionless. There's something all-too familiar about Lexa.

Jacob Griffin had always taught Clarke to be observant, to read people the minute she meets them, but all she can read of Lexa is that she's a well-disciplined biochemistry student, striving for a higher education. That's it. But there has to be more.

"I don't work well under pressure," Lexa says, finally.

"Got it. Which apartment are you in?" Clarke follows Lexa out of the elevator, hauling the incredibly heavy bag behind her. What's in this thing?

"501."

"That's right next to mine."

"That's funny." Lexa keeps walking ahead.

"Yeah..." Clarke trails off. Less than a week ago, her and her team had gone over the repercussions of their hit mission. And now, this stoic, poised woman has appeared at Clarke's doorstep, just happening to live in the same apartment Clarke lives in, in the suite beside Clarke's, with the same major as Clarke?

She watches Lexa's back intently. It's too easy. They wouldn't do something this incredibly stupid, and obvious. Besides, Lexa looks far too young to be one of their agents.

Only one way to find out.

They get to room 501, and Lexa turns to Clarke, a smile on her face. "Thanks for all your help. I'm sure I'll see you around."

"Yeah, of course," Clarke says, giving Lexa a tight-lipped smile back. "Need help getting things inside? Setting anything up?"

Lexa glances at Clarke for a moment, a contemplative look appearing on her face for a few seconds, then she nods. "Actually, yes. I've just got a few photos to put up, and shelves to put together, if you wouldn't mind. And," she adds, opening the door to her apartment, "It wouldn't hurt to make a new friend. I'd like to get to know you better, Clarke."

Clarke gives Lexa another short smile in response, and heads into the vacant apartment, setting the bag down next to two other bags placed in the middle of the living room.

"Okay, I'm just going to quickly use the bathroom," Lexa says. "I got stuck out there right as I needed to use the facilities."

"Alright," Clarke says, chuckling. "I'll just be out here."

Lexa heads around the corner to her bathroom, and Clarke takes this opportunity to crouch down next to the bag she's just set down.

Zipping it open is all it takes for Clarke to see a bulletproof vest, two pistols, silencers, a few sheathed knives, and a dozen loaded magazines in the duffel bag.

Of fucking course. Clarke whips out her phone, zipping the bag shut, and sends a text to Bellamy.

We were right. They're after us. Sent in an agent posing as a college student. She's my new neighbor & in the bathroom right now. Doesn't know that I know.

Bellamy texts back instantly. O and I are on our way. I'll tell Raven. Armed?

To the teeth.

And you're in her apartment?

501.

Play it cool until we get there.

Clarke places her phone back in her pocket and moves to sit on the couch as she hears the toilet flush, sink running as Lexa washes her hands. Her heart is pounding - she has no idea what kind of weapons are on the other woman right now, how well-trained she is, but she can't leave.

All she can do is wait.


Four Months Before

Clarke's ears ring, even in the gunshots that had sounded all around her will have her hearing impacted for days.

"Clarke, we need to run." Bellamy's voice sounds from beside her. "We have to go."

"Finn -"

"He's a dead man, Clarke. You heard those agents. They called backup before we managed to get all of them, and there's no way of knowing how many more are coming. We have to go. Now!"

Clarke cradles Finn's head in her lap, brushing his hair out of his bloodied face. Both of his lungs have been punctured by bullets. He will die a slow death.

"If we leave him here, they'll torture him before they kill him. That's what they did to my dad," Clarke says quietly. She does not allow herself to cry. "He's too weak to withstand it." She looks up at Bellamy, and Bellamy understands what she is saying.

"Clarke, Bellamy!" Octavia yells from behind. "They can't be more than half a mile away. We have to go! Raven's waiting for us back at the base! There's a Phi Delta Theta party happening tonight - we can go there for an alibi."

"Hold up, Octavia. I can do it, if you need me to, Clarke," Bellamy says, crouching beside Clarke. Clarke shakes her head.

Clarke looks back down at Finn, still breathing, still fighting. If she doesn't end his life now, he'll either die a painful death alone, or he'll die at the hands of the agents that will do his best to keep him alive, just long enough to torture information out of him.

Either way, Finn Collins is a dead man. And Clarke knows this.

She brushes the hair falling into his eyes and leans in to speak to him. "You're okay," she says, her voice calm, steady. Everything her father taught her to be. "You're okay, you're okay."

"You've gotta do it, Clarke," Bellamy says. "We don't have time."

"I know," Clarke whispers.

Clarke leans down further to kiss Finn's forehead and then takes her hand off of the bullet wounds, reaching into her ankle holster for her knife. She opens it, and pauses, unable to move any further. She can't do this.

But suddenly, with a bloody hand, Finn reaches over and guides Clarke's hand, hovering the knife over his heart. "Right here, alright?" he gasps, blood bubbling out of his mouth.

"I've got you," Clarke says, "You're okay."

And with that, she plunges the knife deep into his heart, and Finn groans in pain for for a few seconds - Then he's gone.

But Clarke doesn't have time to grieve - she takes the knife out of his chest and flips it back into its holster, putting it in her own pocket. Gently, she lifts Finn's head and places it back on the ground. Bellamy bows his head for a moment, then stands, reaching a hand out for Clarke to take in support.

"Let's go."