I've decided to continue going with this story based on the reviews and comments. Thank you very much for your support, it means a lot to me and is incredibly encouraging to continue writing this story! I love reading the reviews, they brighten my day immensely. This is a short chapter, but it's mostly to show the continued strain between Lexa and Clarke and just how damaged Clarke is (mentally and physically).

Originally this story was going to be solely in Clarke's perspective, but I may shift between the two a little bit because it will make for an overall easier read. As always, please enjoy and don't hesitate to leave me feedback, it means the world to me :)

-KellyDeaux

Lexa returned to the chair on the other side of the tent, silently guarding over the mentally and physically injured blonde. After the enlightening and incredibly intense conversation the two had, Clarke basically passed out. Crying took up what little energy she had left.

The blonde awoke with nightmares about what happened at Mount Weather several times throughout the night. Every single time the brunette would bolt to the bed of furs and attempt to quell the stress that practically bubbled out of Clarke.

After the third time the injured blonde stirred from a nightmare, Lexa hastily moved the chair so it was beside Clarke's bed. Eventually she found that humming lullabies helped Clarke stave off the demons. Perhaps it was just enough of a connection to reality to keep them at bay.

The next morning, Clarke's eyes fluttered open and she let out a pained, groggy groan as she lifted her hands to her aching head. It was the first time since the fall of Mount Weather that she was able to rouse naturally from sleep unaided by nightmares. She remained on her back for several moments while her eyes adjusted to her surroundings. Naturally the first thing she spotted was the yellow-orange fabric of the tent she was in.

Slowly she swiveled her head left to right, surveying the room she was in. The tent wasn't fancy, in fact it was pretty sparse. Diagonally to the left was a small wooden desk with papers littering it haphazardly. A bit more to the right, basically straight ahead of where she lay, was the tent flap, but it was zipped all the way up for privacy. To her right was Lexa sitting in a crudely built chair right beside her. The brunette was sprawled clumsily on the chair, so much so that she could only imagine the kind of kinks she'd have in her neck and back when she awoke. Behind where Lexa sat was another small wooden table, but this one had two cups and a pitcher next to it.

Then bits and pieces of the previous night flooded back to her. She was unfortunately reminded of the agonizing, but informative, conversation she had with the older brunette. Additionally she remembered waking up several times throughout the night from nightmares and how each and every time Lexa seemed to miraculously materialize to comfort her until she dozed back off.

A whirl of emotions hit her as she acknowledged the memories and bile bubbled up her throat. She carefully sat upright, feeling dizzy and off kilter, and leaned her body over to the left on the off chance that her body wished to remind her yet again that she had not eaten.

Her movement apparently didn't go unnoticed by the brunette in the chair beside her because soon enough Clarke felt a pair of strong, calming hands on her shoulders. Lexa's hands. Clarke wanted to look in her peripheral vision, see if she could get a glimpse of the brunette's face beside her, but she felt so awful that she didn't want to tempt it. Instead, she gave a small nod to verify that she knew Lexa was there.

They remained quiet for several minutes while Clarke fought to calm herself. Her nerves were shot from everything that happened and she hadn't slept nearly enough to make up for the days of sleeplessness. She had a raging headache and was so dizzy that she figured if it got any worse the room would just stand still again. Worse of all was the unyielding, sharp pain in her injured ankle and general achy feeling that radiated throughout her body.

"Would you like to eat?" Lexa asked after several moments of silence. Clarke had lost weight in the five days since the fall of Mount Weather, as her clothes were baggier on her and her face looked gaunter.

Not trusting herself to speak, the blonde simply nodded. The brunette dashed quickly off, promising to return in a moment.

True to her word, Lexa returned a moment later with two steaming hot bowls filled with some kind of soup. Wordlessly, the brunette handed Clarke one of the bowls before sitting back in the chair she awoke in with her own.

Skeptical, Clarke felt the need to ask, "What is it?"

Lexa already had a spoonful of it in front of her mouth, blowing on it to cool it down. "Rabbit soup," she replied between blows.

The aroma of the soup was heavenly and it took all her willpower not to just forgo apprehension, open her mouth, and pour the contents straight down despite the hotness. She remained steadfast in ensuring she wasn't being tricked and that the food was safe for her to eat.

Putting together why the blonde hadn't attempted to eat any of her soup yet, Lexa sighed in defeat. Her heart clenched at the distrust Clarke felt towards her. "It's not poisoned, Clarke," she stated calmly.

Clarke winced as Lexa said her name. In the past, she used to revel in the way the brunette seemed to accent the k sound, but it didn't sound that way anymore. It was another reminder of Lexa's betrayal. She didn't dare say a word, neither confirming or denying that Lexa had correctly drawn the conclusion as to why she hadn't attempted to eat.

Frustrated, Lexa leaned over and took a spoonful of Clarke's soup, blew on it a few times, and then swallowed it. "See? Not poisoned," she explained as peacefully as possible, "now please eat." Her last words were more pleading than a commanding statement.

The blonde stared wordlessly at Lexa for several moments, almost as if she was certain that the woman beside her would suddenly croke at any time. As minutes passed and the brunette hadn't showed any signs of having ingested poison, Clarke sighed and looked away. She immediately felt bad for assuming the worst in Lexa's intentions, but after everything that happened, she was apprehensive to take a leap of faith with the woman.

Tension grew in the room with Clarke staring idly off to the left. She still hadn't made an attempt to eat. Lexa fought to keep her composure because of how pigheaded and stubborn the blonde was being. She leaned over towards the injured woman once more, which made Clarke's eyes snap back to Lexa's, and took another spoonful of the blonde's soup. Blowing on it to cool it, she cautiously moved it towards the blonde. "Please, Clarke," she muttered pleadingly.

Clarke could see the sincerity in the brunette's eyes and hear the plea in her voice. Without even realizing it until she felt the hot contents on her tongue, she had opened her mouth and accepted the spoonful of soup from Lexa. She spotted the brunette's tense shoulders relax slightly, seemingly thankful that she gingerly accepted to eat.

Thereafter the blonde ate her soup, if no other reason than to avoid embarrassingly being fed it. Neither of them spoke as they chowed down their food, but somehow it was a comforting silence. Even after everything that happened, they were naturally content in one another's company.

Clarke wanted so badly to hate Lexa and distance herself from the woman who caused her immense amounts of pain. She had successfully distanced herself from everyone after Mount Weather, but somehow she managed to be pulled––forced was probably the better phrasing––back to Lexa. It scared her how easily she submitted to it in spite of everything that happened.

After she finished eating her entire bowl of soup, Lexa took her bowl and put it on the nearby table. The blonde could sense that there was so much the older woman wanted to say, but remained quiet as if she knew they were still walking on eggshells around one another. There was much she wanted to say, as well, but she had no idea how to put voice to the words and form a sentence that would seem anything other than lackluster.

"You should rest," the brunette stated several minutes later.

"I'm fine," Clarke stubbornly replied, even though her body was wailing in agreement to Lexa's suggestion.

"Clarke… Your body needs rest," Lexa tentatively tried again. She knew commanding Clarke wouldn't work, the woman was too headstrong to ever listen and would likely just spitefully remind her that the sky people do not bow to her or lace it back to the events at Mount Weather.

The blonde clenched her jaw and turned to look Lexa straight in the eyes. Defiantly she spat back angrily, "As I said, I'm fine."

Lexa let out a resigned sigh, slumping her shoulders. She fought to keep her emotions in check as she impartially replied, "It appears my presence is not helping, so I will return to check on you later. I hope you reconsider and rest. You really do need it."

She stood from her seated place and avoided looking at Clarke because she knew one look at the blonde would be her undoing. As it was, she was barely holding herself together.

"NO!" Clarke suddenly yelled, her voice frantic. "Don't–don't leave me again," she whimpered, her eyes wide with panic and shimmering with unshed tears. She, too, was fighting an internal battle with her emotions. The very last thing she wanted was for Lexa to leave her. Again.

Lexa, who had her back to Clarke and thereby couldn't see the blonde's near broken down state, grimaced upon hearing the blonde say 'again'. She didn't move a single muscle after the blonde said her piece, struggling to control the tears that threatened to fall down her cheeks.

Nodding in reply, the brunette drew in a shaky breath, turned on her heel and made her way back to the chair she was previously sitting on. She knew that Clarke would see her nearly teared state and that made her anxious. She was Heda, commander of the twelve clans, but for some reason being in so emotionally vulnerable around Clarke made her feel like her entire world was going to crumble and fall. Undoubtedly she would feel massively uncomfortable being in a weakened state around anyone, but it being Clarke specifically amplified her discomfort because she knew such exposure was because she loved Clarke and hated what she did to her.

"I will stay," Lexa promised, though her words had more meaning than just remaining with the blonde in the tent. It was a solemn vow to protect and cherish her.

"Thank you," the blonde mewled as tears streamed down her cheeks. As the brunette had walked back into the tent, Clarke had laid her head back and turned on her side so she'd face where Lexa sat.

They stared silently at one another until Clarke's eyes eventually shut.