2. Mamy Blue

"Our mothers always remain the strangest, craziest people we've ever met."

Marguerite Duras

Clarke is waiting by the entrance of camp for her mother's arrival, trying to avoid all the fuss everyone is making about her birthday. They would make it every year but, for some reason, it wouldn't bother her as much as it was doing right now. It was probably the fact that it was her tenth anniversary on Earth; it was just a number but it seemed to affect her deeply, unlatching every kind of thoughts she has successfully locked away for years.

She isn't particularly thrilled to see her mother; even though they don't hold grudges against each other anymore, things had never gotten back to how they were on the Ark, some kind of tension eternally lingering between the two women. When she had discovered her mother's responsibility in her father's floating, Clarke had thought she would never forgive her. Oh, she thinks now, what a decade can do to you. Now Clarke snorts at the girl she was, she could see now what Bellamy had certainly seen back then: a petulant, arrogant and uptight child. That Clarke, that long buried Clarke, had been so sure of her values and what she would or would not accept, an idealist. That Clarke hadn't known the first thing about living. That Clarke had never disappointed her mother, she had been the disappointed one until Ton DC had come. Clarke would never forget the look of sheer horror in her mother's eyes, the realization that her offspring was not who she thought she was but a woman with enough cold blood in her to let a bomb drop on a village with people she cared about inside.

After that, things had changed. After that, she knew. She could understand what had driven her mother to end his father's life, even if she was hypocrite enough to not forgive it. A new relationship had installed itself between mother and daughter, a relationship without false expectations or idealizations of who the other was. It was crude but truthful. Clarke still remembered the night everything had changed. She had been back for two months and was standing by the fire, alone. Back in those days, she had cultivated her loneliness and nobody, but Bellamy, had protested against it that much. Her mother had approached her, determination etched in her features.

-Clarke, how are you tonight?

She had snorted at the question, not remembering the last time her mother had actually asked her that.

-I'm doing all right, thanks.

Abby had sighed before looking deeply into the fire, calculating her every word.

-I am sorry. I had to say so.

-Sorry about what?

-So many things, Clarke. I'm sorry about the way we handled the Ark, about the class system you grew up in, about your father's death.

Clarke' s eyes had jumped to her mother's face, a deep frown on her visage. Abby Griffin wasn't the kind of person to be sorry about things, much less to regret them.

-What are you talking about?

-You grew up in a world where some lives were worth more than others, a world where people were dispensable and I helped rule that world.

-Mom...

-I was wrong. We were wrong. Look at Octavia; she's strong, courageous, and capable but we would not have given her the chance to be born. Look at Bellamy, forced to be a janitor for caring about his family when he could be so much more. It wasn't fair.

-It was survival.

Abby, in a very uncharacteristic gesture, had taken Clarke by the shoulders and bored her dark eyes into her blue orbs.

-Survival doesn't justify everything, Clarke. I thought it did, I taught you it did but it doesn't. We choose what we do to survive, what we're ready to give up to survive, and then we live with it. We carry that weight with us, forever.

Clarke had swallowed the tears she thought she didn't have anymore, trying to return to the state of ataraxia she had achieved in the last months.

-Why are you telling me this now?

-Because I was wrong to judge you. You killed people in Ton DC, but so did I on the Ark. It may have not been by letting a bomb drop on them but, in a hundred tiny ways, so did I. I'm no one to judge you, Clarke. You carry your weight and I carry mine.

Then Abby had hugged her tightly. After a few seconds of hesitation, Clarke had hugged her back, secretly grateful for the shared loneliness of their respective weights.

-Son!

Clarke's is brought back to the present by Miller's father voice, cheerfully calling for his son. He spares her a smile before running through the gate of the camp and Clarke watches as he reaches his grandson, now a few months old, tucked into Miller's arms with her wife, a grounder from the neighboring tribe, standing by his side. The image is a postcard of happiness and for a moment Clarke almost thinks that it is possible to forgive, almost.

-Honey.

Her eyes dart back to the front and her mother is standing there, smiling, while other members of camp Jaha congratulate her before going to whomever they have really come for. Abby walks towards her and engulfs her in a hug, whispering into her ear.

-Happy birthday, Clarke.

The words have almost a hypnotic effect on Clarke, taking her back in time.

She's ten years old, drawing with the brand new colors crayons Wells has given her a few hours ago, clad in the blue princess gown her parents have offered her. Her dad is smiling at her while her mother is cleaning the house, which is a mess after the party. At the time, she doesn't know about injustice; she has no idea Octavia is hiding somewhere under a floor, or that the kids' parents in other stations cannot afford gifts for their birthdays. She a lovely father and a loving mother, a best friend, crayons, a nice dress and she's delightfully happy. Her mother comes to sit next to her father and ruffles her hair, her hair lingering there a bit longer as she whispers "Happy birthday, Clarke."

Oh, all the things she's lost.

-Are you all right?

-Yeah, yeah, great actually. Follow me, I'll tell you where you can leave all of that.

Her mother and some of the others are carrying bags full of provisions, technology, and furs... A lot of things they will leave at Utopia Camp in exchange of other goods they'll bring back to Sky Camp.

-This place looks actually great, Clarke.

Lieutenant Miller says to her, a look of admiration etched on his face.

-Yeah, we've been growing non stop.

The camp is truly doing well. The medbay, well equipped, is situated around the end of the camp, to the right of the agora where the assembly reunites and orientative votes are taken. Clarke is no longer the only medic; she has fully trained other persons and given basic notions to every single person in the camp. A few meters away the school stands proud; they had finished building it three years ago. At first it hadn't seemed a priority but, as the years passed and the lasting peace increased the number of newborns significantly, it had become a necessity. They all helped; Monty teaches science, Raven and Wick do the same with Mathematics while Bellamy teaches history and a bit of philosophy. Murphy ends up surprising them all with his love for Shakespeare and is given English to teach while Lincoln does the same with Grounder language. Octavia becomes the one in charge of their physical education; they do not have a warrior culture like the grounders but they are not delusional either, the peace seems always frail and they need to be prepared for further outcomes. The tents they initially lived in have been long replaced by strong wood cabins: one per family or per group of four people, with the exception of Clarke and Bellamy whose only privilege in camp, the only one they ´ve accepted, is a single cabin for each. Bellamy likes to justify himself talking of the lack of space on his Ark's station and how luxurious it actually is to have space, which is true, but Clarke knows better. She knows the nightmares that still wake him at night; they're not as constant as they were but they're still there, so are hers. They've also built a canteen, some recreational buildings and an engineering space for Raven, Wick and their pupils. They also work on an enormous garden where they grow medicinal plants, fruits and vegetables. They've also made a wall were pictures drawn mostly by the kids hand proudly, making the place alive with happiness and youth. Looking around, Clarke can't help the feeling of pride swelling up in her heart.

-You're an awesome leader Clarke. This is amazing.

-Yeah, well, I'm only half of it. Bellamy has been working his ass off for years, everyday, and everyone gives its best.

Lieutenant Miller nods at her, smiling, as her mother drops the last bag she was carrying.

-Let's go take a walk, shall we?

-Yea, sure.

Both Griffins stroll out of camp, near each other but without touching, into the green nature. It's spring and everything is blossoming around; the Earth seems almost as welcoming as it had in Clarke's dreams before she actually met her.

-How are you? For real, I mean.

Clarke smiles at her mother's implications and shakes her head.

-I am fine mom, really am. What about you?

Clarke knows that, since Kane's death two years ago, her mother has been pretty lonely. When she had first learned about Kane and Abby's relationship, she had been irrationally mad at her mother; she had felt their love as the ultimate betrayal to her father, the one she didn't want to understand. Bellamy had been the one to soothe her, even though their relationship had been full of tension at the time.

She had been mad, furious even. She had been sitting outside of camp for an hour, watching the watch she loved as much as loathed; it reminded her of her dad and his wonderful love, but also of the first time Finn lost it, leading to the third tragedy of her life. How could she? Loving the man who had floated his father had to be a crime. Bellamy had approached her, a stern look on his face, the same look he gave Octavia when he thought she was behaving like a stupid teenager.

-What do you want?

He had spoken only a few words to her after the war and, even if certainly he had his reasons, it hurt her deeply. She felt she had lost him, the only person she could never bear to loose.

-You can't do this, Clarke.

-Do what?

-Lead people, be adored by grounder tribes like a goddess, win wars then being mad at your mother because she has fallen in love again.

-Shut up, Bellamy. This has nothing to do with you.

-Neither with you.

-Excuse me?

He had shrugged at her, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

-You're an adult and it's not you love life, it's hers.

Clarke had groaned before tightly clutching the watch between her hands.

-I don't even know if it really began now. They've been working for years together; they surely had some kind of attraction going on. Maybe they acted upon it up there. Maybe that's why it was so easy to float my father for both of them.

He had looked at her with pity in his eyes and she hadn't been ready for that. Those days Bellamy Blake looked at her with anger, maybe sadness, but never pity.

-Don't, Clarke. Don't do that to her, don't do it to you. You both deserve better.

-You don't understand.

-Oh, believe me, I do. I perfectly get the feeling of betrayal. I know the anger, the resentment, the frustration and that little nagging voice in your head saying, "She doesn't really care about you, it's as simple as that." I know.

-How would you? Your mother didn't conceive Octavia with a man who killed your father, did she?

Bellamy had snorted and bitten his lip, looking at the floor for a moment before glaring at her.

-Nope, but one of the persons I trusted the most fell in love with the woman who left me in a mountain to die.

Clarke had felt the blood draining from her cheeks, leaving her paler than a ghost.

-You know. You've known all along.

-Do you think I wouldn't notice? Do you really think I would be so distant with you just because you left? I knew it the moment I saw you two together at Polis. It was obvious as daylight.

-Bellamy...

She had tried to reach his shoulder with her hand but he had shaken her off, as he had usually done since they had found their way back to each other. Now she knew why; it hadn't only been the fact that she had left him alone with all their shit, both their shit, to deal with in the hardest of moments, but it had been also the betrayal, the betrayal above all.

-You knew what she did to us. You knew what she did to me.

Clarke had dared to look into Bellamy's deep brown eyes, the ones that always got her questioning why anybody on Earth would think dark eyes weren't the most exquisite things to exist, and felt ashamed to the core of her soul. There was pain written all over his face and the words he had uttered a few minutes ago came back to nag her... "She doesn't really care about you, it's as simple as that", he had said. That what was he had thought for all those months, what he still thought.

-And you still loved her; you still had something with her. Does that mean you don't care about us?

He had not dared to say "he" and Clarke's heart had broken a little more, teaching her that broken things could always broke themselves further.

-Of course not.

-Then don't judge your mother for loving Kane.

He had not waited for an answer from her and had almost been into camp again when Clarke's voice had stopped him.

-Why haven't you said anything to the others? About Lexa and I, I mean.

Bellamy had sighed and Clarke had realized that, as much as she liked to deny it, he carried as much weight as her on his shoulders. Without looking at her, his voice had been a shivering whisper into the cold of a December night.

-Because I'm not sure they would forgive you.

From that day on, Clarke had never dared to judge her mother's and Kane's relationship. In fact, she had learned to be happy about it; Abby had been extremely sad since Clarke's departure from camp and she deserved as much happiness as she could get, as anybody on Earth. During the war, Clarke, Bellamy and many of their friends had distinguished themselves and once the peace treaties had been signed and things had calmed down she, as Wanheda, had been offered a land for her and her people. It had only taken her a few minutes to go looking for Bellamy and discuss the offer with him.

The Hundred had been living at Camp Jaha peacefully for a few months; Abby and Kane –by then Chancellor and Vice Chancellor- had made an effort to create a new society, different from the one on the Ark, and recognize the value of those kids they had sent down to die, those kids whose lives –for most of them anyway- they had unfairly fucked up already up in space. Clarke had been offered a place at the council while Bellamy had been made a guard in charge of the trainees. They could not really complain; things had been fine and yet something had felt wrong. They could not erase the first few weeks on Earth, by their own, or how the arkers had ignored them as you do with petty children when they came down. They couldn't go back to live under an exterior authority, not after having had to make so many hurtful decisions themselves.

"It doesn't matter what we or they do, we'll always be the delinquents here. We can be more than that, but we'll never stop being that." The words Bellamy had told her once kept running through their head as they discussed their future. He had agreed with her fast enough; they needed to take the chance the grounders were offering, there would always be time for regrets later. They had put it to a vote, the majority of The Hundred's survivors agreeing to leave. Only Jasper had remained behind, unable to look at her, nor at Bellamy, in the eyes. The news had not been easy for Abby and other family members of The Hundred but they had never had a say in the matter to begin with. The decision had been made.

They had departed a week later, unshed tears in Clarke's eyes as she had waved at her crying mother goodbye, and had not looked back. Some parents and lovers of the survivors had come, so had many grounders in search of a new model of society –different from the one they didn't believe in anymore- or moved by some kind of love for a sky person. They had walked for a week before arriving to their promised land, near the ocean, to settle next to a grounder tribe with whom they instantly established a friendly relationship. It had been agreed that Clarke, because of her status among the grounder tribes, had to be in the lead but so had Bellamy since he was the natural leader of The Hundred, the one they truly trusted. The blonde had proposed a co-leadership, similar to the one they had shared in the early days, and Bellamy had accepted. There was to be an assembly to whom they would expose the camp's problems and their decisions, even though their word would always be the last. It was to be a temporary situation, until their society could stand on their own feet, then they would transition to one of those democracies they had read about in History books. Monty had proposed "Utopia" as the camp's name and, even though Clarke and Bellamy had not been thrilled, they had put it to a vote. Hope must have a better life expectancy than anything else because, despite their grumbling, Clarke and Bellamy had found themselves carving "Utopia Camp" on a massive wood panel. And just like that, their lives as Utopian people had begun. Clarke had always found their name cruelly ironic; them, who had given up so many of their ideals to survive, bore the name of idealists.

-I am good Clarke, as good as I can be. You're getting old, I'm proud of you.

Clarke snorts at her mother's words before remembering that, yes, getting old on Earth is a success.

-Yeah, twenty-eight is not so bad for a girl who should have been floated the day she turned eighteen, is it?

Abby rolls her eyes but she's smiling, her smile reaching her eyes for the first time, and Clarke feels pretty proud of herself.

-So, when do you plan on starting a family?

-Mom!

Abby throws her hands in the air, as a sign of peace.

-Hey, I'm not pressuring you but we don't know the life expectancy on Earth, and you're not getting any younger.

-This conversation is getting weirder by the minute.

Abby stops and looks at her daughter, tenderness in her eyes.

-Don't have babies if you don't want to but you certainly can't want to be alone forever. There must be someone.

There isn't, thinks Clarke. As far as her mother knows, the only love interest Clarke's has had is Finn and she discovered it the day she kissed him before twisting a knife in his guts. Clarke really hopes her mother doesn't know a thing about the Lexa's disaster; it would be a shame to have to explain, on her birthday, how on Earth she ended up having to kill the two persons she's ever been in love with.

-There's not, really, there's not.

Abby sits down and signals for Clarke to sit beside her. The sun is shining brightly in the sky and Clarke has to squint her eyes at the light.

-Then there should be. Clarke, when your father died... I thought I didn't deserve to be loved or to love.

-Mom, it's not...

-I know Clarke, I do. You've hurt so much that you've chosen to close up. It's understandable, a survival mechanism.

-You did deserve to love and be loved again.

-So do you. Nobody will ever erase the suffering you've gone through, or the one you've caused, but we're at peace now. You can't refuse living your life because you stoles others.

-I feel numb. It's not even that I don't want to feel anything, I just feel unable to do so.

Abby puts a hand on her daughter's shoulder and squeezes.

-That's because you're not letting yourself feel. A life without love, Clarke, isn't a live worth living. It's always better to love and to lose than to not love at all. Take if from someone who's lost two times.

They stay there a few more minutes, not talking, just touching each other, comforted by the other's presence before heading back to camp. Clarke offers her mother and the rest of Sky camp's people shelter for a few days –it takes seven days to get there after all- and invite them to attend the celebrations of they day. They gladly accept and, soon enough, Lincoln's voice is in her ear.

-Grounders are coming.

"My mother... she is beautiful, softened at the edges and tempered with a spine of steel. I want to grow old and be like her."

Jodi Picoult