7

Stubborn Women

CLARKE

Clarke opened her heavy eyes to spot Octavia sitting across from her, flipping through the pages of a worn journal. Surprised, Clarke closed her eyes again, shaking her foggy head, thinking she must be imagining things. But when she opened them again, Octavia was still there, now staring at her. Clarke was utterly confused. She was sprawled on a cold metal floor she had no memory of ever lying down on. Where was she? And why was Octavia suddenly with her?

"Octavia?" She asked, groggily. "What are you doing here?"

"Funny..." Octavia answered. "I was about to ask you the same question."

She set her journal aside and Clarke caught a glimpse of a beautiful drawing of Octavia. It was Lincoln's work, the work of an artist in love. And it was of the old Octavia, smiling, looking so young and innocent, so different from the Octavia sitting before her now with black paint on her face and braids in her hair and pain in her eyes.

Lincoln's drawing made Clarke think of her own drawing of Lexa propped safely on her bedside table right above the drawer where she kept all her valuables: her father's old dead watch, the queen chess piece Wells had given to her when they were only children, the double-headed deer Finn had given her months ago, lifetimes ago. These were her most treasured possessions. Except for the flame, which she carried with her everywhere she went because she could not bring herself to tuck it away into the safety of her room.

Clarke rubbed at her eyes. She was not in the safety of her room right now. She wasn't even in Arkadia. She pushed herself into a seated position as her senses cleared and the memories started coming back to her. They were in a large shipping crate, bright sunshine pouring in through holes cut in the steel above them. There was a scratching on the roof of the crate and she heard the strange sharp cries of a seagull drift down from above. She spotted Raven and Abby laying beside her, still knocked out.

Clarke turned to Octavia. "Have you spoken with Luna yet?" She asked.

"Yes." Octavia answered simply.

Clarke patiently waited for her to elaborate, but Octavia just snagged Lincoln's journal and tucked it safely into the folds of her pack.

"So..." Clarke continued tentatively. "How did it go?"

Octavia just frowned. A deep soulful voice answered for her. "Not well."

Clarke turned to see the silhouette of Indra standing in the bright opening of the crate. She stepped inside and propped herself against the wall beside Octavia.

Octavia shrugged defensively. "The woman is more stubborn than Indra."

"That's rich!" Indra replied. "Coming from the most stubborn girl I've ever had the hassle of training."

Clarke just smiled at the pair of bickering women, laughing to herself. Her mother was right... Stubborn women made the world a better place.

"So..." Octavia spoke. "Have you come here to try and convince her too? Because, if so... Good luck."

"No." Clarke answered. "I could care less about whether Luna becomes the new Commander or not. I don't give a damn about Polis or the coalition right now. I'm just here for her blood."

Indra and Octavia stared blankly at her, confused. Then all three of them jumped as a man's voice broke the silence. Clarke recognized it as the same hostile voice of the man from the beach. "Sister Luna will see you now, Sky Girl." He spat and disappeared into the sunshine.

...

"You're lucky Sister Luna is more patient than I am, Sky Girl." The man told her as he pushed open a heavy metal door. Clarke followed him inside. Luna was sitting at a table, bouncing a little girl on her knee.

"The Sky-Rat is here to see you, Sister Luna." The man announced in Trigedasleng.

"Thank you, Ander." She replied. "You may go. Take this little munchkin with you." Luna added, lifting the girl out before her, burying her face in the girl's tummy, and blowing raspberries until the girl's shrieks and giggles filled the room. Then she set the girl on her feet and gave her a gentle nudge towards Ander. "Be good for Brother Ander, Alexia."

Clarke felt a jolt in her stomach at the name. The girl, all smiles and giggles and crazy black curls, smiled up at Clarke as she brushed past her and took Ander's extended hand.

"Come on, Little Monster." Ander smiled as his fingers softly engulfed the girl's hand. "Your mother has a vermin problem to take care of."

"I apologize for Ander's lack of hospitality skills." Luna let out a small laugh as the man and girl disappeared through the doorway. "I don't think he is aware you speak Trigedasleng."

Clarke was surprised that Luna knew she had understood. She must have read it on Clarke's face. Luna was clearly observant and clearly sharp.

"You named your daughter, Alexia?" Clarke asked, unable to stop herself. The sight of the giggling girl, the sound of her name, had left a strange mixture of joy and sadness inside of her. A bitterness and a sweetness.

Luna let out a small, sad sigh. "Lexa was like a sister to me." She said. "We were both taken from our families before we were old enough to even form memories of them. We grew up side by side. We did everything side by side... Sleeping, studying, training, fighting, eating..." She paused to nod her head at the seat across from her at the table. Clarke eyed the empty place setting warily. She hesitated.

"Join me." Luna insisted.

Clarke sat down awkwardly but Luna seemed relaxed and comfortable. She pushed a platter towards Clarke and the scent of fried fish immediately set her mouth to watering. She hadn't realized it until this moment... She was ravenous. Still, she hesitated.

"Go on... Eat." Luna commanded, handing her a basket of some kind of flat bread. Clarke tentatively reached for a piece of the bread and flopped a fish onto her plate. Still intact, it looked up at her with lifeless eyes as if judging her. She took a small bite. It was salty and greasy and absolutely delicious and Clarke struggled to restrain herself from devouring it like a wild animal.

"Yes," Luna continued. "Lexa was like a sister to me. She was a good commander. She was a good person." She paused to swallow hard before fixing her gaze on Clarke. "Did she die well?"

It wasn't the first time Clarke had heard those words and instantly her mind was back in the tent with Lexa on the very first day they had met. Lexa had sat upon her giant throne, surrounded by her heavily armed guards, her eyes painted black, twirling her long knife in her long fingertips. Everything about her appearance had been designed to intimidate Clarke. And Clarke HAD been intimidated, but she had done her best not to show it. But within minutes Lexa had uttered that same exact question and Clarke had seen Lexa's love for her fallen mentor, and already Clarke had caught a glimpse of the fiercely compassionate heart buried within the commander.

Clarke didn't know how to respond to Luna's question. Had Lexa died well? Which time? Clarke thought, bitterly. In the City of Light Lexa had died a warrior, paint and blood on her face, a sword swinging in each hand. But in the real world her death had had no honor, no meaning. It was nothing more than a terrible accident. And Lexa had deserved better. She had died a death unbefitting a warrior.

But she had still died a warrior. Because, even as she had lain there, bleeding out, struggling to breathe, she had not been afraid. She had not pitied herself. She had not pleaded with death. And all of her concern had been for Clarke, not herself. Until the very end she was still trying to protect Clarke. And she had told Clarke not to be afraid. And she had told Clarke that life WAS about more than just surviving. Because Lexa knew that it was easier to die than it was to be left behind. Because Lexa understood.

Clarke put her fork down and pushed her plate away because the hurt and the longing were back in her belly and there was no room left for hunger. Luna was still waiting for an answer Clarke could not give her.

"I didn't come here to talk about Lexa." Clarke said simply.

"I know what you came here to talk about." Luna replied, pushing her own unfinished plate away. It seemed they were done with the polite formalities. "I told you once before. I told your friends a second time. Now I am telling you for the third and final time... I have no interest in becoming Commander. Even if I was the better fighter, I always knew Lexa would be the better commander. I have no desire to lead the Coalition. My place is here, with my people."

"I didn't come here to talk about that either." Clarke replied, ignoring the confused look on Luna's face. "Frankly, I don't give a damn about whether or not you agree to become the next Commander. Polis is a mess. But that's not my problem. If the alliance of the clans falls and war breaks out, it is Grounder blood that will flow. I suppose that is not your problem either. For all I care you can spend the rest of your life floating around out here in the middle of the ocean, your back turned on the rest of the world, pretending it does not exist. I have no right to judge you." She shrugged. "Or to be disappointed in you."

"Although," She paused, eyeing Luna. Luna's eyebrows were furrowed and she was wearing a half-frown as if unsure of whether or not she should be offended.

"I am surprised." Clarke continued. "Because Lexa spent years working towards peace and building beauty and life out of ugliness and war and death. She united the clans and every decision she made was for the good of her people... your people. Because Lexa dreamed of peace for everyone. All of her people. Not just Trikru. Not just Floudonkru. Everyone. And you were born to lead and raised to lead and trained to lead. And you say you want peace. And here is your opportunity to salvage the peace that Lexa worked and lived and died for."

"And I'm just surprised." Clarke repeated. "Because If you loved Lexa like a sister, I'm surprised you are willing to just sit here and let everything good and beautiful she built collapse back into ugliness and chaos. But like I said..." Clarke paused to shrug again. "That's your prerogative. And I'm not here to convince you otherwise."

Luna's half-frown deepened into a proper, full-blown one. "If you are not here to convince me to take the flame, then why are you here, Clarke kom Skaikru? Why are you in need of me?"

"I'm not." Clarke replied, leaning back in her chair casually. "Polis may need you. Your people may need you. But I don't. I don't need you... I only need your blood."

Luna's frown faltered momentarily as surprise and confusion crossed her face.

"My blood?" She asked, leaning forward, her frown suddenly returning in full force. "You want my blood? Are you attempting to threaten me, Clarke kom Skaikru?" She growled dangerously. "Because no one threatens my life on my vessel."

"No." Clarke replied, fighting the urge to laugh. "I don't mean I want your life. I literally mean I want your blood. Just some of your blood." She clarified quickly, as Luna continued to glare. "I need a sample of nightblood, and as far as I know, you're the only one still breathing."

"Why do you need nightblood?" Luna asked, the anger in her voice yielding slightly with her confused curiosity.

Here we go... Clarke thought to herself, wondering where to begin. She did her best to channel Raven as she explained the situation and tried to answer Luna's questions. After ten minutes of struggling, Luna was still wearing that confused frown.

"Look..." Clarke sighed. "My friend is a science buff. She can explain it a lot better than I can. But the bottom line is we just need some of your blood. Then we will be on our merry way and you can go back to pretending we don't exist in peace."

Luna leaned back in her chair, pensively wriggling her jaw for a long moment. Finally she opened her mouth to answer, "No."

"No?" Clarke repeated in surprise. She was sure she had made a rather convincing argument. "No? Why the hell not? It's just some blood. It doesn't cost you anything. And it could end up saving everyone... My people and your people included. Why wouldn't you agree?"

Luna crossed her arms over her chest. "Because... I don't like needles." She finished with a shrug.

...

"I can't believe a woman who fights like a goddamn ninja is afraid of needles." Clarke laughed as Luna flinched at Abby's touch. All Abby was doing was cleaning the crook of Luna's elbow with iodine and already Clarke could see the fear in the woman's eyes. "And you claim you would have beaten Lexa in the conclave..."

"I WOULD have beaten Lexa." Luna snarled back. "I'm afraid of needles, not swords."

Clarke just rolled her eyes. Luna did fight like a goddamn ninja. But Clarke had watched Lexa take down Roan. Clarke had seen her leap into a crowd of adversaries in the City of Light, a blade in each hand, and cut them down like a rabid doberman amongst kittens. Lexa had possessed more than just tenacity and skill with a blade. She had possessed a fearlessness unlike anything Clarke had ever witnessed.

"Alright... It's time." Abby warned, gripping the needle so that its tip hovered centimeters from Luna's skin. "Shall I count to three?"

"Shall I hold your hand?" Clarke asked Luna with a teasing laugh.

Ever since Luna had begrudgingly agreed to give her a pint of her blood, Clarke had felt more than relieved and happy. She felt downright giddy. Stubborn as she was, Clarke decided that Luna wasn't so bad after all. Clarke even felt that, under different circumstances, the two of them could be friends, thick friends. She could imagine Luna and Lexa as children, bickering and fighting over the covers at night, constantly trying to best each other in the training yard, surprise-attacking each other with wooden swords and giggles, sharing whispered secrets and hopes and dreams of a future they knew could only ever come true for one of them, and holding hands in the silence and leaning on each other for strength when the reality of the ever-looming conclave left no room for words. Clarke wished she could have seen Lexa as a child, her warpaint smudged clumsily over rosy cheeks, running through the woods and laughing with a gap-toothed grin.

A quick slap on the back of her hand shook Clarke from her daydreams.

"Just get it over with." Luna commanded, turning her face away and shutting her eyes as Clarke shook the stinging from her hand where Luna had slapped it.

The needle slipped easily, anti-climatically, into Luna's arm. Blood, black as ink, quickly traversed the tube and began to spill steadily over into the blood bag.

"Wow!" Raven whispered, the nerdy scientist in her watching in fascination. "It really is black."

"You can open your eyes now, Luna." Clarke teased.

"Try not to move," Abby instructed. "Just keep pumping your fingers occasionally. You're doing great."

"The things I do for my people." Luna mumbled.

And Clarke thought of the last time she had watched black blood travel through a tube. And Clarke laughed because Luna had no idea what kinds of things Clarke would do for her people. And Clarke grinned stupidly as she watched the blood bag swell, because she was one step closer to Lexa.

...

"Are these really necessary?" Clarke sassed Ander as he handed her the tiny vial. Broody as ever, the man answered her with a glare.

"Sister Luna may view you as a friend," He replied. "But I know from experience that the line between friend and foe is a blurry one. You're just lucky your visit was so short. I did not have enough time to convince Sister Luna to let me throw you into the sea." He said, as all around Clarke, her companions fell one-by-one into unconsciousness. "Be grateful that you are drinking Dreamsea Serum. If you had stayed here any longer you would be drinking saltwater." He paused and switched from English to Trigedasleng with a smirk. "Bottom's up, Sky-Rat."

Clarke downed the bitter serum. "If I had to stay here with you any longer," She replied perfectly in his Grounder tongue, laughing at the surprise on his face. "I'd throw MYSELF overboard, Sea-Monkey."

Ander's face blurred. But Clarke thought she glimpsed the hint of a smile playing on it as the world dissolved around her.

...

"Where will you go?" Clarke asked as Octavia wriggled quickly out of her hug. Clarke would have held her longer. She would have held her until Octavia knew she was not alone. She would have held her until Octavia knew that it was OK to fall and break apart. She would have held her until Octavia found the strength to put the pieces of herself back together. She would have held Octavia as Raven had held her. But it seemed Octavia was not yet ready to be held. And Clarke understood.

"I already told Raven..." Octavia spat. "I'm not going back to Arkadia."

"I wasn't asking you to." Clarke softly replied. "I never expected you to."

Octavia's angry expression softened. For a moment she looked ashamed, even repentant. But she didn't apologize. And Clarke didn't expect her to. And Clarke didn't want her to. Because Octavia was angry. And Octavia was hurting. And Octavia was lost. And Clarke understood.

"I don't know what's next." Octavia admitted in a small voice that sounded strange and all wrong in Clarke's ears. Usually Octavia's voice was tinged with sass and cockiness and defiance and humor. But now all it held was fear and confusion and uncertainty. "I suppose I'll probably follow Indra back to Ton DC, back to Trikru... What's left of it."

Clarke could tell by the nervous swallow that she gave and the far-away look of longing in her hollow hazel eyes that the idea of returning to Ton DC both terrified and excited her. And she knew without asking that Octavia was thinking of Lincoln and all of the memories that village held and the pain those memories would conjure. And Clarke knew that Octavia both loathed the memories and craved them. Because Clarke understood.

"I'm making a trip to Polis as soon as I can." Clarke told her, thinking again of Becca's journal. "Maybe the two of you could join me?"

Octavia shrugged as she retrieved her sword from the pile of their weapons and possessions lying in a heap on the stony shore where Floudonkru had dumped them. She glanced at Indra saying goodbye to Abby on the edge of the trees where the shoreline gave way to forest.

"Maybe." Was all that she said. She turned from Clarke and started towards Indra, but Clarke grabbed her wrist and pulled her back.

"Hey..." Clarke said as Octavia turned to her confused and tried to pull free of her grasp. Clarke's grip slipped from her wrist but she clung fiercely to her hand. "Mebi oso na hit choda op nodotaim."

Octavia didn't reply, but she gave Clarke the weakest, saddest of smiles as Clarke finally let their fingertips drift apart.

Clarke turned her gaze back towards the sea where Raven was perched on a log at the water's edge still watching the mesmerizing push and pull of the waves. "Raven, let's go."

Clarke crouched to retrieve her own belongings from the stones beneath her. But she leapt back to her feet at the sudden sound of a voice directly behind her. A voice that was not Raven's.

"Octavia kom Trikru!" The woman called out and Clarke swiveled around to see Luna standing mere feet from her, flanked by Ander and another five members of her crew.

Where the hell had they come from? Clarke wondered as she struggled to calm her startled heart. Luna and her stealthy goddamn ninja skills.

Octavia paused on the edge of the forest looking just as surprised as Clarke.

"Hod op!" Luna called out in Trigedasleng for Octavia to stop. Luna was acknowledging the Grounder in Octavia, addressing her as Trikru, not Skaikru, and Clarke could not help but feel a small wave of gratitude on her friend's behalf.

"We're coming with you." Luna called to Octavia as she walked right past Clarke with only a quick nod of acknowledgment.

Clarke stared after her in confusion, then stumbled forward from a small, playful shove between her shoulder blades. "I guess you are more persuasive than I am, Sky-Rat." Ander spoke in Trigedasleng, smirking as he moved to join his crew and his leader.

"Where are you going?" Clarke called after him.

He didn't bother to turn around. "Polis." He answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Raven sidled up beside Clarke, watching with her as the Grounders, Trikru and Floudonkru alike, stepped into the trees.

"So, if Luna is going to become the new Commander, after all..." Raven spoke. "Won't she need the flame?"

"I told her it was destroyed along with ALIE and the City of Light." Clarke answered, avoiding Raven's knowing eyes. "I mean... It pretty much was, right? It's just a piece of plastic now, right?" Clarke mumbled. She tried to shrug casually as she finally met Raven's gaze.

"It was never just a piece of plastic." Raven answered, her voice soft and serious, because Raven understood.

"But if anyone asks..." She added with a wry smile. "That's what we'll tell them." And she shot Clarke a wink before hobbling her way up the shore towards Abby.

Clarke slung her pack over her shoulder with one arm as her other hand dug its way through the familiar folds of her cloak. She turned her gaze to the endless blue-gray ocean a final time.

"May we meet again." She whispered into the wind before turning her back on the sea and following Raven and Abby into the shadows of the forest. And it wasn't until she climbed into the backseat of the rover that Clarke noticed the piece of plastic still cradled in her hand.