AN: After the S3 trailer and that awesome kiss, I was prompted to write something about its context. I tried.

"Why should I go to Polis?" she argued once again as her daughter crammed her bag with whatever Kane was handing her.

"Mom, if we want to avoid a war, this is our only chance."

Marcus kept his mouth shut and his eyes on the task at hand, which only further proved her that something was off with the whole plan.

"I'm not the best diplomat we have," she countered, eyeing him suspiciously to get a glimpse of a reaction that didn't come.

"The grounders will only speak with you," clarified Clarke.

"Oh really, since when?" Abby sniggered.

Clarke took her hands in hers to distract her from the man who was actively avoiding her gaze: "You're still the Chancellor. If we're going to advocate for peace they'll need to see you do it, in Polis, in front of everyone, on behalf of all of us."

Abby stared at her daughter's eyes for a few moments. The light in the meeting room was poor and Clarke was not her baby girl anymore, the honest, pure hearted, dreamer Clarke she raised and knew every secret of just by looking at her eyes. And she knew when she was being played.

They were lying. They were both guarded and something was definitely off.

"I'm not so sure I can speak on behalf of even half of us, Clarke."

Pike was getting more consensus every day, Marcus still had control of his guards but scared civilians could be more dangerous than a trained army. The last incident almost erupted in civil unrest.

Bellamy entered without knocking and laid another bag full of rations on the table. "The horses are ready just outside the gate, Raven is ready when you're ready," he announced.

Clarke shouldered the bag and thanked him curtly, confabulating by the door, leaving Abby to connect the dots.

"You're gonna do something stupid, aren't you?" she said to Marcus, more a statement than a question.

He didn't turn around to face her nor stopped packing what looked like maps she shouldn't have needed for a short diplomatic trip to Polis.

"We really ought to go now," pressed Clarke.

"I don't want to go," she replied, too soft, to his back. His shoulders sagged and he finally turned to face her with shielded eyes. He looked a hundred years older, his jaw set in stone. He was going to do something stupid and dangerous and he didn't want her there. He arranged for her to flee in the night, like a thief out of prison if they needed Raven to shut the electrified fence, with her daughter to protect her, and because he knew she'd never leave without Clarke, but she had never been more certain of anything in her life. "I don't want to go."

She took one step closer and he took two, his hand came up in her hair and his lips found hers, demanding and possessive, his fingers on her hip pulling her closer. She let him, willingly melting in his arms as his beard gently scraped her cheeks, and she responded diving her own fingers in the long locks at his nape, gripping his shoulder when she felt dizzy, welcoming the familiar warm prickling sensation. She let a sweet, soft hum escape, forgetful of their audience.

Clarke stared. Bellamy, more discreetly, contemplated the tip of his boots, at least till they had to break for air and they rested, breathless, forehead to forehead.

For Abby's ears only, Marcus whispered: "Please."

Clarke turned to Bellamy with a silent question on her face, one he didn't really know how to answer: yes he knew, no he didn't know how long.

Abby, eyes still closed, felt her way to Marcus' lips again and he kissed the tip of her fingers, then her nose, then the corner of her mouth again, before stepping back to let her go. He took her bag from the table and dropped it gently on her shoulder.

She knew he wouldn't see her out the gate, that this was goodbye, she just couldn't feel the words coming out. May we meet again.

Neither did he. Clarke tugged at her hand and she just had to swallow treacherous tears for the rest of the journey.