The house was dark and smelled like mold, urine and sickness.

"What is this place?" Clarke whispered. Saying she was confused was an understatement.

They went down the hall, passing two closed doors, and then upstairs where Lexa, still holding her hand, led Clarke into a room on the left, where a man was sitting on a mattress on the floor, leaning against the bald wall. He slightly opened his eyes when he heard the two women approach and Clarke could see a hint of a smile on his face. He was unhealthily skinny and seemed to be a few years older but Clarke couldn't really tell. She noticed the needles next to him though and felt sorry for him, but was still confused what Lexa was doing here.

"Clarke, this is Matt." The brunette said calmly. Clarke's eyes widened but she didn't say anything. "He's a friend. I kind of grew up with him." she continued and then it hit Clarke. She was standing in the house that Lexa had moved into when she escaped the foster system and Matt was one of the Lost Boys as Lexa had referred to them on the phone. She had assumed that it was a band that Lexa was managing but now it all made sense. But in Clarke's imagination, the house had been... happier.

"There are three of us left who still live here, the rest disappeared, I assume most of them died sooner or later. There are others now who come and go though, I don't know all of their names."

Matt had been listening to Lexa until he was strong enough to speak. "Alex always brings us food and clean water," he said but paused, well aware of Clarke's confused look, while the blonde let go of Lexa's hand when he used the unusual nickname because she realized how much she still did not know about the brunette.

He tucked his lips into a small smile before he continued. "She's like our mother which is ironic because we're all orphans" he laughed, "I don't know what we'd do without her. Probably we'd all be six feet under by now..." he paused again and coughed when he lit his cigarette, "I don't know how she did it but somehow she made her way out of this shithole. We're all proud of her, I mean look at her, she's a fighter. Always been, always will be." He looked at Lexa and gave her an exhausted smile. "I'm sorry about your lip, munchkin."

She shook her head, "It's fine, don't worry about it. Water's in the kitchen and I made some sandwiches, in case you're hungry and– nope, no puppy eyes, Matt. Get them yourself! I'll be back on Tuesday, okay?" She leaned down and kissed his forehead, took Clarke's hand again and then they left.

Clarke (12:29am): Hey Rae! Don't worry, I'm at Lexa's and I think I'll stay here for the night. Love ya! Xx

Raven (12:30am): okay but I wanna hear everything tomorrow! she okay?

Clarke (12:32am): Yeah, all good. x

They were sitting on the fire escape stairs outside of Lexa's loft, enjoying wine and cigarettes and Clarke was absolutely stunned by the view over the Central Park and Manhattan. Lexa didn't seem to care though; her sad green eyes were fixed on the blonde in front of her.

"I'm sorry you had to see this, Clarke." Lexa said quietly.

"I'm sorry you had to show me. Don't worry though, okay? I mean it was... I don't even know what it was. I didn't realize this is what your past looks like. I can't imagine you in this, and I actually don't want to. But I'm glad that you showed me anyway." She sighed and took another drag from her cigarette. "Lexa, this... God, I'm so sorry."

The brunette gently cupped Clarke's face, pulled it closer and left a light kiss on her cheek. "Don't be."

"By the way, where's Aden?"

"He's at his grandparents'. He doesn't actually live with me."

"Right..."

"I pick him up from school whenever I can and sometimes he stays over night but that doesn't happen too often." Clarke noticed the sad touch Lexa's voice was getting.

"Does his dad stay there too, or at least nearby?"

"No."

"Well, where is he? Doesn't he want to see his son?" Clarke suddenly remembered the conversation she'd had with Lexa about Aden's father the other day. She had seemed hurt and obviously tried to avoid talking about him. Then, the image of Lexa's back popped up in her mind again and Clarke's stomach instantly felt even sicker. She felt bad but when she looked back at Lexa, she saw that her face had softened.

"I'm sure he would love to see him. He passed away shortly after Aden was born."

"I'm sorry..." Clarke said but didn't know how sorry she really was about the death of someone who was responsible for... Lexa's body. She couldn't honestly feel sorry for someone who had done whatever it was that he did to that beautiful person in front of her.

"How..."

"It was his birthday. I didn't feel like celebrating so I didn't go." Lighting her cigarette, she continued, "He was extremely drunk and around midnight I got a call from him, he was saying how much he missed me and that he loved me and that I should come over and at least have one beer with him. I knew he'd keep bothering me if I said No, so I agreed. When I arrived, he..." she held her breath for a moment and Clarke could see that she was desperately trying to fight the tears, so she gently took the brunette's hand.

"I'm here, Lexa. It's okay. What happened then?"

"Everything happened so fast... When I arrived, the house was already in flames. I think I panicked when I ran inside to get him out. When I found him, he was already unconscious. I don't know what happened then. The next thing I remember is me trying to revive him somewhere outside but he was already gone and the doctors later told me that he died while he was still in the house and that I shouldn't have tried to rescue him. Well but I did and the scars you saw remind me of this night everyday."

Clarke lowered her head. She was ashamed of herself. She had assumed that Aden's father had abused Lexa and had hated him before she knew anything about him or their story. Now she knew that he had actually loved her and was sure that Lexa, in some way, had loved him, too. Probably still did. She'd only seen a small part of the brunette's back though, but she figured that if she had seen more, she would have been able to tell the source of the scars.

"Would you– I mean... no, forget it." Clarke stopped but Lexa understood what she wanted to ask. She pulled up her jeans so that Clarke could see the scars on her ankle, then turned around and Clarke pulled down her jacket at the back of her neck, just enough to realize that her whole back was covered in scars, too. Clarke leaned forward and gently kissed the exposed skin, feeling Lexa stiffen under her touch.

"Clarke, don't..."

But Clarke reached for the zipper, slowly pulled it down and removed the jacket, still kissing the brunette's back. She carefully kissed every spot that she could reach, moving over her shoulder blades and down her spine, undressing Lexa piece by piece. When the brunette was left in only her underwear, she reached behind, softly grabbed Clarke's hair and turned her head to kiss the blonde, ever so gently, only to pull away a moment later and turn around to face the blonde.

"You don't have to..." but Clarke silenced her with a soft kiss, their foreheads touching, their eyes still closed.

"I love you, Lexa."