Chapter 19: Broken Part 2 *TRIGGER WARNING*

Just as we pulled up to the hospital, she flatlined.

"No, no, no!"

The paramedic held me back as they raced her lifeless body inside. I followed, screaming at the man to release me. "Lexa!"

Someone ran in with a crash cart. "Clear!" I closed my eyes as I heard the thump of the electric paddles trying to restart her heart. Again. Again. Again…

….

I was staring numbly at the wall, the florescent lights hurting my eyes. Tears, dry and fresh, stained my cheeks. I cried for hours, uncontrollably, until I had no tears left. My father held me, comforting me by his touch, knowing there were no words to possibly say that could make me feel any better.

Lexa was in surgery, repairing her arm. She had cut way to deep, tearing apart the inside of her right arm. She had died and it took nearly ten minutes to get her back. They said that because of the amount of time she was…dead, that there could be substantial damage to her brain. I prayed there wasn't.

I prayed this was a nightmare, that I would wake up and have her in my arms, sound asleep and safe.

I blame myself, over and over. I should've seen through her stoic mask, I should've seen the pain she was in.

She tried to kill herself.

This is Heda Lexa kom Trikru. She laughs at danger. The day I met her she was twirling a knife, she didn't waver when we were attacked by the pauna, she stood at the tree lines as a missile hit TonDC, she kissed me even when she afraid because love is weakness, she grabbed the blade of a sword with her bare hand, she fought in a battle to the death and won, she changed the ways of the people, her words after a bullet tore through her abdomen were "don't be afraid" directed to me, all she cared about as she drew her final breaths was that I would be safe. Even in this world, she survived all the odds. She was a survivor.

Then why was she lying in a bed, barely alive?

…..

"Clarke."

I looked up as my mother strode over to us. My father stood up. "Abby."

"She made it through surgery. She's still unconscious, it is unclear when she's wake up, but you are welcome to go see her."

I nodded, ushering my mother to lead us to her room. The sound of beeping greeted us, and I was happy because it meant she had a heartbeat. And there she was, on the bed in a hospital gown, pale but looking much better. Her arm was heavily wrapped in gauze and dressing and it brought tears to my eyes.

She tried to kill herself.

I reached a tentative hand out and stroked her hair gently. "Come back," I whispered quietly. "I love you. I need you."

…

The days went by, two, three, four, five. Five days until Christmas. Five days since Lexa tried to take her own life.

….

On the fifth day, with my head resting on the bed beside her, restless but unable to sleep—I told myself I'll sleep when Lexa wakes up—she began stirring. Her fingers began twitching a little, and with her hand inches from my face, I saw it. I shot up in bed, reaching out and cupping her cheek.

"Lexa?"

Her eyelids fluttered just a little.

She's waking up.

"Lexa, honey?"

And finally, those beautiful eyes opened and blue met green.

"Lexa."

I couldn't help the tears of joy and I kissed her forehead with all the love I had. "Lexa."

"Clarke…" her voice was raspy, dry.

I reached for the paper cup on the bedside stand and I gently helped her sit up and held the cup to her dry lips so she could drink. "Easy," I murmured as she choked, drinking too much too fast. And the cup ran dry and she didn't even try to mask her disappointment.

"I'll get you more."

She barely nodded and I left the room to get her some more when I saw my father, and I heading towards him, breaking into a sprint. "Dad! Dad!"

"Clarke!" worry creased his forehead. "What's wrong?"

Of course, he was fearing the worse. My mother hasn't been very optimistic.

"Nothing's wrong. She's awake."

He headed to the room and I ran to get more water, my mother standing dumbfounded in the middle of the hall.

…

Lexa

I was still alive. I felt relieved—I hadn't tried to kill myself, not really. I just wanted the pain to end. Any way it could. So I took the razor, the one hidden under sink. The one Clarke thought she threw away after I began cutting with it after the accident. The one that almost took my life before, the one that almost succeeded again. My hand was shaking, and I cut too deep. Deep enough to see my bone. I wanted to scream to Jake for help, but I was too numb. I didn't feel the pain in my arm until it was too late, until I was too weak, until I lost too much blood. I head Clarke scream my name. "I'm okay," I wanted to tell her, but I couldn't even open my eyes. "Don't be afraid, Clarke." But the words didn't come out. Sirens blared in my ears, and that's the last thing I remember.

Until I heard her voice, crying, telling me she loved me. That she needed me. That's when I started fighting. I starting fighting to live. I couldn't hurt her. If I died…she wouldn't recover. And I couldn't do that to her.

And so I fought, I fought to live. Not just for Clarke, but for me, too. I needed her as much as she needed me.

And I did. I tried to reconnect to the world of the living, trying to grasp at something. "Lexa?" That was all the motivation I needed. I slowly opened my eyes, the light blinding me, and a few seconds later, my eyes found Clarke's

Tears of joy rolled down her pale cheeks and she leaned over me, kissing my forehead. I closed my eyes at the contact. "Clarke…" my throat, my mouth, my lips, they were all dry. She realized, grabbing water. It was a strain but I sat up with her help and she put the water to my lips. God was I thirsty! I gulped the water, choking a little. "Easy." Easy…okay. Much to my dismay, the cup ran dry.

Clarke laid me back against the pillows. "I'll get you more."

I nodded, closing my eyes as she left.

"Lexa?"

I opened my eyes to Jake's voice.

He sat on the edge of my bed, concern evident on his face. He looked so tired, like Clarke did. My fault, I realized.

I said the only thing I could.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

"Shh. There's time for that later. Just focus on getting better." he took my hand, the one attached to the injured arm. "How's your arm?"

"Hurts."

"Sounds like déjà vu to me," Clarke responded, walking in with a much bigger cup of water.

My father gave me a confused look.

She looked at me. "Fell like telling this one?" she was trying to get me to talk, to open up even if it was a story about a goddamn pauna.

"The Pauna?" I asked her.

She nodded with a smile.

"What's a Pauna?" Jake asked.

"A fucking gorilla," I growled.

"Lexa's still bitter about that," Clarke laughed at Jake's surprised expression. "It was a fun day."

"How was that fun?" I asked, questioning her sanity and reaching for the water. She handed it to me and I gave her a quiet thank you.

"Tell me, what happened that day?" she asked, a slightly challenging look on her face. And I suddenly understood. Being unconscious for days…she wanted to see if my brain was working right. To see if there wasn't any damage.

"You almost got us eaten by a gorilla."

"Woah," she interrupted. "I almost got us eaten?"

"If you hadn't stormed out of the room, I wouldn't have followed, if I hadn't followed we wouldn't have gotten almost-eaten," I was failing to hide my smile and Clarke to see it, so she laughed shaking her head.

"Just tell him the story."

"Why do I have to tell the story?"

"Because you're the one who started the whole déjà vu thing, miss 'hurts.'"

Jake was fighting a smile, even though he still look concerned and weary.

"It's a boring."

"I want to hear it," Jake finally spoke. His eyes met mine and he was practically begging me to speak, to be okay. I took my uninjured hand in his own and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Please."

"Okay," I whispered. Clarke tucked a loose curl behind my ear, stroking my hair back gently, lovingly.

"So, Clarke decided to storm out of the war meeting, and Quint, being the asshole that he was, followed her. He wanted to kill her."

"And yu saved me."

"I did. Jomp em op en yu jomp ai op."

"What does that mean? You never told me."

"Attack her and you attack me."

"Hmm…so even then."

"Even then," I whispered back.

"Where does the gorilla come in?" Jake interrupted

"Literally out of nowhere," I laughed. "I had a warrior with me…he was just eighteen. We ran, and we ended up in her feeding ground. The warrior, the gorilla killed him. Crushed him."

The memory came back to me. What should be a story about how relieved we were to make it out alive turned into a story where yet another life was ended because of me.

"Lex."

I shook the feeling off. "Clarke jumped off the wall fine. Me? Well it didn't end so great."

Six years ago

The pauna roared, standing on her hind legs. Clarke pulled the foreign weapon and shot once, twice, three times. The pauna fell back and I slumped in relief. And then she jumped back up, only stunned from the blows.

"Go!" I shouted, the two of us racing away from the beast. We reached a wall. Clarke jumped first, landing heavily but alright. I sheathed my sword, jumping, and I landed wrong. I heard the crack of my arm ring through my ears. Clarke back for me, my blonde angel. Crawling through the trap door, however, the pauna grabbed my leg and dragged me back towards her. I grabbed a post, trying to keep myself from the jaws of the beast. But I knew it was inevitable.

The shots rang out.

"Leave me!" I yelled.

"No way!"

Stunned from the pain of the shots, the pauna released me. Clarke dragged me through the door and kicked it shut, leading me a cage. She set me down gently and took my sword, using it to lock the door shut.

"You should've left me behind," I commented as she wrapped my arm in a makeshift sling. "Now two will die here instead of one."

"I'm still new to your culture," she began, walking away from me, "but when someone saves your life, my people say 'thank you.'"

I rolled my eyes. "I'm serious, Clarke. To lead well, you must make hard choices."

"Hard choices?" she turned on me. "You're telling me that?"

"I've seen your strength, it's true. But now you waver. You couldn't leave me to die. That was weakness."

She glared at me, turning away yet again. "I thought love was weakness."

"Mockery is not the product of a strong mind, Clarke."

She turned back to me, blue eyes flashing. "I need you. You may be heartless, Lexa, but at least you're smart."

I couldn't help but smile lightly.

But then the banging began. The pauna found us. We moved to the back wall.

"Don't be afraid, Clarke. Death is not the end."

"We are not dying her," she snapped.

I stepped forward, pulling out a knife. "Then get ready to fight. It's coming in."

She grabbed my arm, pulling me beside the door. "Then we let it in."

She pulled my damaged sword out of place, and the pauna crashed in. she pushed me out the door, closing it and locking the beast inside. "Let's go."

We made it maybe a mile before we were both too tired to move. So Clarke helped me sit and clumsily built a fire for the night.

"Rest, Klark. I'll keep watch."

As I watched the blonde beauty sleep, I realized I liked her. Not just as an ally, but as a person. As a lover, even though there was no way to know whether she returned the feelings. She couldn't—I had ordered the death of the boy she loved just a week ago.

The pauna then roared, loud enough to wake the sleeping blonde.

"It's okay," I said softly to the startled girl. "You're safe."

She turned to me. "How's your arm?"

"Hurts," I said, as if it was obvious.

She stood. "We should go. That cage won't hold forever."

"Wait!" I struggled to stand. "I was wrong about you, Klark. Your heart shows no sign of weakness."

Man, did I like this girl…

"That's the déjà vu moment?" Jake asked.

Clarke nodded.

"Where was the fun part?" I asked tiredly. I could feel my eyelids drooping.

"Later," she said quietly, leaning over to press her lips gently to my forehead. "Rest."

And I did.