AN: So sorry about the hiatus guys. Mental health issues reared their ugly heads but I made a promise to myself that I wouldn't let anything get in the way of finishing this story. So here it is, the next chapter. Thanks again for all the follows, favourites and reviews. I appreciate every one of them.

Clarke watched as the last of the embers faded away, leaving a thick, heavy layer of ash before her. She'd gathered what supplies she could from the bodies before placing them on the wooden structure, which hadn't been much, and had come back to watch the last of the fire disappear. Clarke felt a little guilty, taking belongings that once belonged to the dead, but had sternly reminded herself that they were gone and she needed to survive.

Clarke's stomach began to rumble and she knew she needed to keep her strength up. She'd have to hunt for food as all the rations she'd brought with her were gone. Grabbing a spear she'd taken from a fallen Grounder, she left the city's walls and headed for the closest stream where she knew she could find food.

Hours later Clarke returned with a string of fish hanging around her neck and sat them down on the ground. She began the process of cleaning and gutting them and then, 20 minutes later relaxed against a large boulder with a full stomach. She didn't know what to do next. Should she attempt to make a communications device to try and contact her friends in space? Or failing that, the people inside the bunker? She didn't want to leave her people behind and despite telling herself to stay strong these past few days just as the loneliness crept towards her, she felt more alone than ever when she was away from her people.

With these thoughts in mind, Clarke began the lengthy process of creating a make-shift communications device to try and contact her people. And this task, despite telling herself to stay strong, took the edge off the darkness that threatened to take over. It took many tries and many misses, to finally finish a working, functional walkie talkie. And, with a small hopeful smile, she moved as close to the bunker as possible and began her attempt at contacting her people.

"Hello? This is Clarke Griffin, the sole survivor of Praimfaya. I'm on the other side of the bunker door. Can anyone hear me?" She waited for a response, her finger poised above the talk button as static filled the air. One stand-alone worst case scenario began to fill her mind. What if after all these years, the bunker was rendered useless and they were all dead due to radiation? Her mother, Kane and everyone else she knew dead? Before she could let that thought fully take hold, she mentally shook it from her mind. If she was going to survive for the next five years, she couldn't let thoughts like that enter her head.

When there was no reply, Clarke repeated herself twice, then a third time but still with no response. She let out a shaky sigh, not realising how much hope she'd put into this homemade device. Clarke slumped against the side of the building, feeling considerably lonely and helpless once again. And, with the realisation slowly creeping up on her, she realised there was nothing more she could do here.

…

Clarke slowly made her way through the ruined city, taking the same path she'd come in on. She stopped once more at the tower, where she'd once called home for a brief time. The structure had once seemed so sturdy, having once survived the original nuclear explosion. But now the cracks were showing, small bits of rubble falling to the ground before her eyes. Before she could think about it Clarke made her way inside the tower, remembering what her friends had once said about the long hard climb up the ladder to reach the top floor. She couldn't remember the number of floors, but having taken the elevator herself, she knew there was a lot. And, as if she needed reminding, reaching the halfway point she was reminded of this fact.

Clarke counted the floors as she climbed until finally reaching the one that was once the Commander's primary floor and swung herself into the open hallway where the elevator once swung its doors open. She made her way through the halls, her mind travelling back to the days before the chip, before Allie. When they were on the verge of war. She never thought it would happen, but she actually longed for those days. And she knew why. Because Lexa was alive. She'd often thought long and hard about what she could have done differently to ensure the woman whom she'd loved would still be here. Perhaps if she'd agreed to leave with her mother as originally planned? Or maybe confronted Titus in the first place to make sure he never tried to kill her? But of course, Titus had only done what he believed to be right. And although she had come to terms in his role of the Commander's death, she would never forget.

Clarke reached the doorway that had once been Lexa's, her hand hesitating on the handle. She remembered the last time she'd been inside. That horrible memory in which she couldn't stop from surfacing. Lexa, lying on the bed, slowly bleeding out from the bullet that was meant for her. The goodbye, which at the time she thought was her last. And Lexa, taking her last breath before her eyes closed for the last time.

The room wasn't how she remembered it. Of course it wasn't, how could it be? Ontari had occupied it. And, as only a guess, later on Roan. As to be expected, the interior was dark, heavy. The complete opposite of how it once was. Candles had been replaced by weapons. Swords, daggers and machetes. Where there was once light cloth draped over the bare frames that were once windows, were now black, thick, heavy furs hanging in their place. But it wasn't just the décor that had changed. The entire world had. Yet again Earth's population had been all but obliterated but somehow Clarke felt like she was the only one living in it. And maybe she was. She was the one walking free. Not trapped inside a bunker or up in space like the rest of them. And perhaps she should be thankful. After all she hadn't expected to survive at all. Once the decision had been made to stay behind, she had resigned to the fact that she would die. But fate had had other plans for her. She'd been given a second chance and she was going to live it. For her friends, for her mother. And for Lexa, who couldn't be here to enjoy it with her.

…

Clarke took what she could carry of the ex-Commander's chambers, sliding Lexa's favourite knife into the side of her boot, the one she'd been wielding the day they had met. She left the room, silently saying one last goodbye as she closed the door behind her for the last time. Clarke walked back down the hallway, staring straight ahead and never looked back.