4

Fresh Air

CLARKE

Clarke woke with a throbbing headache. It felt like someone had opened her skull during the night and shoved her entire brain against her forehead. Reluctantly she cracked an eye open and immediately slammed it shut again, throwing a hand over her face. It was too bright. Way too bright. And what the hell was that pounding? She wondered. Was someone trying to hammer their way through her wall? Her head was already pounding enough on its own. It was too loud. Way too loud.

Clarke rolled over with a groan, feeling like she might vomit. Judging by the horrible acidic taste in her mouth it seemed at some point she already had. She forced herself into a seated position and cradled her throbbing head in her hands. What the hell had she done to herself? It had been such a long time since she had had a proper hangover, she had forgotten about the many joyous repercussions of drinking. Now they hit her with full force. Maybe she should reconsider her plans to sit around and drink for the next six months, she thought to herself. At least the whole drinking part. There were less painful things she could do while sitting around. Maybe she should take up knitting?

Clarke slowly pushed herself off her cot, rinsed the nastiness from her mouth, and headed down the hall. She paused to glare at the two workers repairing a damaged section of the wall, hammering and drilling and banging and pounding and pounding and pounding. Honestly... Morning people, she thought to herself with a shake of the head. Couldn't the wall wait until the afternoon?

She headed down the hall towards Mess, thinking she should at least try to get a little breakfast into her roiling stomach. She spotted her mother and Kane sitting at a table in the corner and moved to join them. But the smell that greeted her as she moved towards them pushed any thoughts of eating from her mind. Garlic and onions and garlic and peppers and more garlic. She held her breath as she sidled up to their table, again fighting the urge to wretch.

"Are you guys eating spaghetti? For breakfast?" She asked by way of greeting, her face scrunched, her lip curled.

"Breakfast?" Abby replied. "Honey... It's two thirty in the afternoon. This is lunch."

"Two thirty?" Clarke repeated. "In the afternoon? Are you sure?"

"Yes, the afternoon. We're sure." Kane answered with a laugh. "We weren't sure you were going to get up at all today."

"Are you feeling alright?" Abby asked, effortlessly switching from mother to doctor mode. "Are you sick?" She wiped marinara from her hand onto her pants before reaching out for Clarke's forehead.

Clarke pulled away from her, expertly dodging her hand after years of practice. "Yeah... I'm fine, Mom." She answered. "Just needed some sleep, I guess."

"Well, maybe you ought to lay off Jasper's moonshine today." Abby suggested with a cocked brow. Just like that... From mother to doctor to mother in ten seconds flat.

"That obvious, huh?" Clarke asked, plopping down in a chair beside them.

"Afraid so." Kane answered, taking a slurp of saucy noodles. Another wave of garlic and onions and garlic assaulted Clarke's nostrils. Nope, she thought. Sitting was not good. Sitting was not good at all. She pushed herself back onto her feet, feeling woozy.

"Well that was a quick visit." Abby commented.

"I think I need some fresh air." Clarke replied.

"Alright, Hun." Abby mumbled through a mouthful of noodles. "See you later."

Clarke headed down the hallway towards the outside but paused at the sound of a familiar voice.

"Try F11-control-alt-9." Monty's voice drifted from a doorway.

"I already tried F11." Raven's sassy, annoyed voice answered. "Let me try F7..."

"Wait!" Monty cut her off. "Wait... Wait... Go back! I saw something."

Clarke wandered into the room and felt her jaw drop slightly. Monty and Raven were hunched at a table bickering. Behind them was an entire panel comprised of a ginormous computer screen surrounded by smaller ones.

"Wow, that's a big-ass computer!" Clarke exclaimed. "No wonder ALIE couldn't compete with you guys."

"Hey, Clarke." Raven looked up to greet her. Taking advantage of Raven's momentary distraction, Monty seized the opportunity to sidle his way onto the keyboard she had been monopolizing.

"Nice of you to join the living." Raven said. "It's about time... Hey, hey, hey!" She interrupted herself, noticing Monty typing stealthily behind her. "No, Monty!" She scolded, swatting angrily at his hands.

Monty let out a frustrated sigh as she pushed his arms away and started fiddling with the keys herself. "I'm telling you..." He argued. "Go back... I saw something."

"What are you guys doing?" Clarke asked, curiously eyeing the massive screen as line after line of random letters and numbers flashed across it. She didn't understand a single bit of any of it.

Monty turned towards her and opened his mouth to speak. Clarke just stared at him. His lips were moving. His hands were gesturing enthusiastically. But he was speaking some foreign language Clarke could make no sense of. She swore only half of the words were English, and even the phrases she understood made no sense.

She gave Raven a perplexed look. "Translate for me?"

"We're trying to break into the Ark's mainframe." Raven explained.

"Why?" Clarke asked.

"ALIE linked to it before you could flip the switch." Raven answered. "We're hoping some of her data was preserved on it."

"Why?" Clarke asked again. "I thought we destroyed ALIE for good. You're hoping part of her was saved?"

"No." Raven answered. "We did destroy ALIE for good. We're just looking for..." She paused to swat Monty's hand away again. Monty let out a small "ouch." and shook his hand out with a pout on his face. "I said, 'no,' Monty! Don't touch." She scolded him as if talking to a naughty two year old. "Don't make me tell you again." She warned before turning her gaze back to Clarke. "We're hoping to find all the information she had on the failing power plants. Primarily their locations. But also the rates at which they are deteriorating, data on current radiation levels and the projected rate of increase..."

"OK... Stop." Clarke cut her off, massaging the bridge of her nose. "My head was already throbbing before I came in here. If you keep spitting all that science talk at me it might just explode. By the way..." She nodded her head towards the space behind Raven. "Monty's messing with the keys again."

Raven spun in her seat. "Monty! What did I tell you?"

"Bad dog, Monty!" Clarke added with a laugh.

"I know.. I know... Just wait..." Monty grunted, struggling to type as Raven tugged at his bicep. "There!" He called out triumphantly. "See? There... There it is!"

Raven stopped pulling at his arm and stared up at the massive screen. She let out a stubborn huff of indignation. But it fooled no one, because her eyes had gone wide with excitement.

"That's it!" Monty exclaimed. "Isn't it?" He asked, questioning himself. "I found it! Right?"His voice was a mixture of excited arrogance and complete insecurity.

"It might be!" Raven answered, finally fully abandoning her act of feigned impatience.

Monty and Raven both stared up at the computer screen with so much hunger and excitement in their eyes you would think there was a picture of a topless girl plastered across it. Or at least a slice of chocolate cake. But all Clarke saw was more incomprehensible lines of random letters and numbers.

"Right..." Clarke mumbled as Raven started typing furiously on the keyboard, Monty draped over her shoulder, grinning triumphantly. "You guys have fun. Let me know when you figure out how to save the world, alright?" They both ignored her as she slipped from the room.

...

The afternoon sun was still high in the sky and Clarke blinked against its brilliance as she stepped from the shadows of the Ark into the light. Though the sun shone valiantly above her, the air was still crisp against Clarke's cheeks. Clarke couldn't remember the last time she had seen the sky this clear, this blue, as blue as the tired eyes that stared into her whenever she caught her reflection in the mirror. She closed those eyes, tilted her face towards the sun, and gulped the chilly air greedily. It smelled of the forest... Of pine and bark and rotting leaves and damp earth and the promise of Spring. It was a smell she loved because it made her think of Lexa. It was a smell she hated because it made her think of Lexa.

Still, she breathed the fresh air in like medicine. Already her foggy head was starting to clear. Her roiling stomach was starting to settle. She headed towards the gates and paused, hesitating a long moment before snagging a gun from the guardpost and slinging it over her shoulder. Then she stepped into the outside world.

Clarke hated the weight of the rifle pulling at her shoulder, the feel of its cold steel flopping against her back. These things used to bring her comfort, make her feel safe. But now, if she had her way, Clarke would never touch another gun. All guns ever brought was death. And she was tired of death.

The rest of Sky Crew still believed in guns. They practically worshiped them. Perhaps it was all the time she had spent immersed in the Grounder culture, but Clarke was starting to think that guns were the weapon of choice for two kinds of people: those driven by fear, and those driven by hate. And when the fearful and the hateful had a gun in their hands, good people died. The villagers of Ton DC, the three hundred warriors of Trikru, Anya, Lincoln, Lexa. Lexa... Who was good and fearless and compassionate and who had never once picked up a gun.

Still, Clarke knew only a fool would leave the gates without a weapon. The others still carried guns because of the Grounders. Because they feared them. Because they hated them. Clarke didn't carry hers for the Grounders. She had enough Grounder blood on her hands to last a lifetime. But there were other threats in these woods. You never knew when you might stumble across something bigger than you, something meaner than you... Cougars, bears, even the occasional goddamned giant gorilla.

Clarke tried to push the thoughts of the gorilla incident from her mind. Not because the memories were horrible. They were anything but horrible. But Clarke didn't want to think of Lexa. She didn't want to remember how Lexa's knife had come soaring through the air out of nowhere to save her life. She didn't want to hear the echo of Lexa's voice ringing through the air.

"Jomp em up en yu jomp ai up." Clarke hadn't understood Lexa's words at the time, but she had made a point of memorizing them anyway so that she could ask Lincoln later. She had told herself that her strange attraction was for the curious, unfamiliar words... not for the powerful, commanding voice that spoke them. "Attack her and you attack me." Lexa had said. They had barely known each other at the time, and already Lexa was protecting her. Already Lexa was treating Clarke's needs as her own.

Clarke shook her head, trying to clear it of the past. She didn't want to remember being trapped with Lexa in the gorilla's cage, thinking it might become their tomb. She didn't want to recall how quietly Lexa had thanked her for saving her life. Or the softness in her eyes as she watched Clarke bandage her wounded arm. She didn't want to remember how Lexa had smiled at her when Clarke called her 'smart.' And how she had seen in that tiny, hint of a smile, a glimpse... A flash really... Of the real Lexa. Not the fierce Commander of the twelve clans. Not the Heda with her mask of black and her sash of red and her sword of steel. She had glimpsed Lexa... The girl beneath the warpaint and the armor and the responsibilities and burdens of her people. Lexa... The girl who was just a girl like Clarke, a teenager forced into leading, forced into carrying more weight on her shoulders than most adults ever would. Lexa... The girl who was just a girl.

Clarke didn't want to remember how she had been pulled from her nightmare by the sound of the gorilla's roar and how quickly Lexa had tried to comfort her. "It's OK... You're safe." And how, for the first time in a long time, it had felt like those words might actually be true. Because, with Lexa beside her, Clarke had felt safe enough to close her eyes and drift into sleep. And though she hadn't known it until she had awoken, Lexa had been watching over her every second as she slept.

Clarke didn't want to remember how Lexa had looked into her eyes and swallowed nervously as she had told Clarke that her heart showed no signs of weakness. And how Clarke had seen the vulnerability in those intense green eyes, shining the color of soft new pine needles in Spring. And how Clarke had started to realize that Lexa spoke more with those haunting eyes than she did with her own lips.

No, Clarke didn't want to remember. She had left Polis behind for that very reason. But it seemed she could run from Polis, but she could not run from the memories. They always followed after her. Because she carried them with her. And it didn't matter if she was standing in the middle of Lexa's chambers or the middle of the forest. The memories would still find her. And she hated them because they made her ache deep inside. And she hated them because they made her feel. And she loved them because they made her ache deep inside. And she loved them because they made her feel. And feeling something... Even the ache, the terrible longing that started in the pit of her stomach and spread like fire into her lungs and made it hard to breathe... Even the ache was better than the emptiness.

Clarke pulled her gaze from the haze of the past and was mildly surprised to find herself looking out at the sparkling waters of the river. She stepped up to the water's edge, balancing on the slick stones, allowing the waters to lap gently at the tips of her boots. She had not consciously planned on coming to the river, but now that she was here she found herself smiling. Because she suddenly had the overwhelming desire for a swim.

It was a crazy idea. Yes, the sun was shining brightly, peeking stubbornly through the tops of the thick fir trees above her. But the air was chilly enough that her breath rose in small white puffs before her. And she knew without testing it that the water was cold as ice. It was a crazy idea. And Clarke was grinning, her heart racing as she stripped off her clothes and tossed them aside.

The chilly air nipped at her bare skin, making the hairs on her arms stand as Clarke stepped to the edge of a long, flat boulder protruding into the river. She took a deep breath. This was a crazy idea, she thought one last time as her feet left the stone and plunged through cold air into colder water.

The cold hit Clarke's body like a hundred sharp needles stabbing into her all at once, ripping the air from her lungs. She kicked her feet out, pushing off the slippery stones of the river's underbelly until her head broke free of the water. She sucked in a tight breath, her entire body already breaking into shivers. The cold was so fierce it was painful. And Clarke relished it. Because the pain on the outside was so much easier to bear than the pain on the inside.

Clarke took a few clumsy, awkward strokes, and then let her body lean backwards into the river's gentle current. She let her feet leave the stones beneath her just enough to allow the waters to carry her, while keeping them close enough to the bottom for her to wiggle her toes and find the solid ground beneath her again.

Clarke didn't know how to swim. There were no rivers on the Ark. But she had always loved water. She had always been drawn to the water's edge. And she had always dreamed of learning to swim someday. And she had told Lexa that as they had lain beside each other, buried in the soft furs of Lexa's bed, putting off the responsibilities of the day as they dreamed of a 'someday' they both knew may never come. And Lexa had laughed because Lexa had learned to swim before she could read or count her fingers or tie the laces on her boots. And Lexa had promised to teach Clarke... Someday.

And Clarke let out a sad, frustrated sigh because now she had gone from the middle of Lexa's chambers to the middle of a forest, to the middle of a goddamn icy river and still the memories had found her.

And Clarke wondered how long the memories would follow her. She wanted them to fade because she hated them and she hated the pain they wrought and she wanted the pain to leave. And she never wanted the memories to fade because she knew they were all she had left of Lexa. And if they left her... if the pain left her... Lexa would be gone, truly gone, forever.

"I'll always be with you." Lexa had said. And the words still echoed in Clarke's hollow chest. And the words still felt hollow too. But Clarke was starting to understand that in a way they were true. Because... in Polis, in the middle of the forest, in the middle of a goddamn ice-cold river... Lexa would always be with her. Lexa would always be with her as long as Clarke had the memories.

Yes, the memories were all Clarke had left of Lexa. The memories... and the flame.

The rational part of Clarke told her it was pointless to carry the flame around with her. Now that the City of Light was forever destroyed, the flame was useless. It was just a cheap piece of plastic now.

But the other part of Clarke... the part that was not ruled by rationality or logic, the part of her that was deeper and louder than the rational part of her... THAT part of her refused to let her let go of the flame. Even as she had stood on the edge of the Polis tower, even as she had reared her arm back and swung it through the empty cold air, Clarke had known that she could not let it go. She would never let it go.

And the rational part of Clarke was shaking its ugly head at the rest of her. And the rest of her was blushing under its judgmental glare. But it was still clinging to the flame stubbornly. And the rational part of her always had eloquent words and valid arguments to berate the rest of her with. And the rest of her could never even give a simple reason for its actions, let alone formulate a convincing argument.

No, she could not explain why she still clung to the flame. She could not explain why she still compulsively reached into the depths of her cloak every couple of hours just to reassure herself that it was still there. Or why in the darkness of the night she still slid its case open and pulled it out just so she could hold it in her fingertips, feel its weight in her palm.

The rational part of herself reminded her time and time again that Lexa was gone. The flame's plastic casing no longer held Lexa's sharp mind or her soft heart or her beautiful soul. All of that... Everything that made Lexa, Lexa... All of that was gone. And the plastic casing was empty.

But the rest of her refused to believe it. Clarke let the icy waters numb her arms and her legs and her fingers and her toes. And for a moment, she let it numb the rational part of herself. And she turned the rest of her away from the heat of its judgmental glare. And she silenced its arguments long enough to listen to the rest of her.

Because the rest of her, the deeper, more stubborn part of her, told her that it could not be true. Lexa could not be gone. Even if the City of Light was gone. Even if ALIE and ALIE 2 were both gone. Lexa could not be gone. Because Lexa had told her, "I will always be with you." And maybe her words weren't hollow after all. And maybe she had meant more than her words had let on. And maybe... Just maybe... A part of Lexa was still there in that plastic casing waiting for Clarke to find a way back to her.

OR, Clarke thought to herself as she floated naked in an icy stream watching her breaths hover over the surface of the water like smoke, maybe... Just maybe... She was going crazy. Batshit crazy. Still, if that was the case, hadn't she earned the right to go batshit crazy? And so, for a moment, she let the thoughts, as crazy as they might be, enter her mind.

What if Lexa was still in the chip? If she was, then Clarke would find a way back to her. She had to. She NEEDED to. But the only way to get back to her would be to put the flame back into her neck. And, unless she wanted her brain liquefied, to do that would require nightblood. And, at least as far as she knew, there was only one Nightblood left on the face of the planet. And, so far, Clarke had been incapable of convincing Luna to do ANYTHING, even the right, rational thing to do. There was no way she would be able to talk Luna into something so absolutely crazy, dangerous, and irrational as transfusing her blood with Clarke's. Especially if she found out what had happened to Clarke's last Nightblood "donor." And even if Clarke somehow got a hold of Luna's blood, her system could only handle it for a few moments before her body would reject it, she would crash, and she would lose Lexa forever all over AGAIN.

No, Clarke concluded. Borrowing nightblood was not a good enough solution. If she was truly going to get back to Lexa, she needed a permanent source of the blood. Or... A crazy, batshit crazy thought... she needed to BECOME a Nightblood.

But that was impossible. Wasn't it? Lexa, Ontari, Luna... They all came into the world with the darkness already running through their veins. You were born a Nightblood. You didn't become one, right?

Clarke's arms and legs and fingers and toes were all trembling with the cold, but the tingle in her limbs was nothing compared to the buzzing in her brain. Her mind was racing, the questions popping into her head one after another, chasing each other around her brain like children on a playground. And she suddenly wondered how she had never thought to ask any of these questions before.

Being a Nightblood was genetic. That much was clear. But had it always been? Who was the first Nightblood? Hadn't it been the first commander, Becca? Had Becca miraculously been born with mutated, black blood? She doubted it. Becca was a scientist. Surely she must have created the blood, designed it in a lab. She must have found a way to force her body to tolerate the altered blood. Or even... Was it possible? Had Becca figured out a way to force her body to start manufacturing the blood on its own? And if Becca had done it, could Clarke?

She would need Raven's help. Clarke was smart, resourceful, intuitive. But she was no chemist. She was no biologist. If she injected herself with a concoction she tried to create on her own, she would most likely poison herself. And after all these months of cheating death, that would be a stupid way to die. She would definitely need Raven.

But Raven was busy trying to save the world again. And Raven would think it was a crazy idea. And Raven would judge her and berate her with valid, well-formulated arguments. Because Raven was like the living, breathing embodiment of the rational part of Clarke's brain. Only, Raven was just as stubborn and loud as the rest of Clarke.

Suddenly there was a splash in the water beside her and Clarke's racing mind was wrenched from its thoughts. Heart beating wildly, Clarke shot to her feet, struggling to force her wobbly, tingling toes to find purchase on the slippery stones beneath her. She had to get to the shore. She had to get to her gun.

Before she could stumble out of the water a head broke free of it. Sopping wet black curls, freckles, a grin. "Shit that's cold!" Bellamy exclaimed and Clarke let out a sigh of relief. But not a second passed before her thumping heart leapt into her throat again and she threw her arms around her bare chest.

"What the fuck, Bellamy?!" She cried, crouching as low in the water as she could manage. "I'm naked!"

"Yeah." Bellamy laughed. "I noticed."

Clarke fixed him with an incredulous glare, struggling to conceal herself in the crystal clear shallows of the river's shore. Why was Bellamy still smirking at her? Was he deaf? Or just stupid?

"I'm NAKED." She repeated more slowly, not even trying to bite back the anger in her voice.

Bellamy just laughed again. "I KNOW." He replied, drawing out his own words as slowly as she had. "Don't worry... So am I."

Clarke didn't know how to respond. She was angry. She was shocked. Most of all, she was absolutely flustered. She needed to climb out of the water and get dressed. But Bellamy was still staring at her wearing nothing but a stupid grin and she didn't dare move.

"Turn around and close your eyes!" She demanded. At last Bellamy's grin faltered. His face fell. Again he looked saddened and confused by Clarke.

"I'm sorry." He said, as if only now realizing that Clarke was not amused by his antics. She was pissed. He turned away from her and she rushed up the bank to retrieve her scattered belongings, not even attempting to dry her goose-bump riddled skin before shoving it into her clothes.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Clarke asked as she finished fastening her belt and pulled on a sock.

"Raven asked me to get you for her." Bell spoke out into the tumbling waters. "She says it's important."

"How did you even find me?" .

"Can I turn back around yet?" Bellamy asked sheepishly.

"Yes." Clarke humphed. "I'm dressed."

Bellamy turned back toward Clarke, looking apologetic. "I tracked you." He said as if the answer were obvious.

"Tracked me?" Clarke replied. "You can track?"

"Yeah, of course, Clarke." Bellamy answered. "We've been on the ground for six months. I may not be a damn genius like Raven, but I've still learned a few things."

"Right..." Clarke mumbled, securing the laces on her boot and rising to her feet. "Well, in that case, I guess you can manage to find your way back on your own then." She turned and started heading up the bank and into the trees.

"Clarke... Wait!" Bellamy called after her. "Please."

Reluctantly, Clarke paused, clenching her jaw as she turned to face him.

"I'm sorry." He repeated. "I just saw you swimming... I mean..." He paused at the look on Clarke's face. "I didn't SEE you swimming. I mean... OK... I saw a little... But I didn't see everything. I..." Bellamy was rambling. Clarke wasn't sure if he was trembling from nerves or from the cold of the icy waters or from the cold of her icy glare. He paused and took a deep breath to steady himself, running a hand through his mop of floppy black curls. "I mean, I saw you swimming and I thought it would be fun to join you. I thought you..." He paused again, clearly flustered. "I don't know... I guess I thought you'd be... I don't know... It's just lately, between us... I thought... There was something... And I don't... I'm sorry." He finished, blushing furiously in the sunlight filtering through the trees.

Clarke stared at Bellamy standing naked and completely vulnerable before her and the words escaped her mouth before she could even consider her tone. "I'm in love with someone else." She said bluntly. "Well... I mean..." She corrected herself. "I loved someone else. I still do." She paused for a deep breath. "I'm not ready to be with anyone."

It wasn't the first time she had spoken those words out loud. The first time she had uttered them was to Lexa. And her voice had been soft and she had had to force her tongue to form the words. And, despite her intentions, a "yet" had slipped out afterwards. Because her lips had still been tingling from Lexa's touch and the rational part of herself had been the one forming the rational part of herself had screamed at her, telling her it was too soon... Too uncertain. But the rest of herself had not wanted to believe the words. Because her heart was still thumping and her fingers were shaking slightly and her lips weren't the only part of her still tingling. And the rest of her had been ready. The rest of her had been more than ready.

And just like Bellamy's, Lexa's face had fallen at Clarke's words. But she had nodded. Because Lexa was gentle and she was patient and she would wait as long as Clarke needed her to.

The words were the same. But this time Clarke did not have to force them out. This time they rushed out of her, spilling from her lips before she could soften her voice. And the "yet" did not follow after. Because this time there was no "yet." Because the rational part of her was not ready. And the rest of her was not ready either. And Clarke doubted if either part ever would be.

Clarke considered the man standing in front of her. He was tall, handsome, strong and muscular. He was hard and solid in all the places Lexa had been soft and smooth. He wore the same look of disappointment Lexa had worn at her words. But where Lexa's light green eyes had held understanding, Bellamy's dark brown ones only held hurt.

Clarke pitied him. She felt like she should probably apologize. But she wasn't quite sure what it was she should be apologizing for. Bellamy was her friend. But she had no interest in becoming anything more than that. She didn't want to be with him. She didn't want him. She wanted Lexa. And even if Lexa was truly gone forever, that would still never change. And how could she apologize for that?

So she just stared at the hurt in his eyes and held her tongue, realizing that Bellamy's pain was just one more problem she could not fix.

"I know." Bellamy said. "I'm sorry. I just thought... With time passing and all..." He paused to shrug nervously. "I guess I'm still an insensitive asshole. I should've known you would need more time. I know you still miss him."

"Him?" Clarke replied, momentarily confused.

Bellamy just frowned at her, looking confused by her confusion. An awkward few seconds passed before it dawned on her.

"I'm not talking about Finn." Clarke blurted out.

Bellamy's eyebrows narrowed even further. He looked so confused that it was almost comical.

"You're in love with someone else?" He looked like he was searching his brain, scrolling through a list of possible rivals, separating them out into two categories: those he could punch in the face and those who might require a weapon of some sort.

"I'm talking about Lexa." Clarke said simply.

Utter surprise replaced the confusion on his face. Raven was right... Bellamy's gay-dar was way off.

"Lexa?" He replied, still stunned. "I thought you were friends... Allies. I mean..." He paused, frowning. "Lexa left us at Mt. Weather. She betrayed you..."

"I loved her." Clarke replied softly. "I still do."

And then she turned her back on Bellamy and walked into the trees, shaking her head sadly because Bellamy would never understand.