Octavia

She wasn't exactly happy to be going back to Mount Weather, but she knew it was just something that had to be done, and she didn't have the same reservations as Clarke and Bellamy. Her time inside the functioning mountain had been brief and victorious, and her time afterward, when it was nothing but Abby's personal supply depot, was even briefer. She'd had no reason to set foot there, and had watched the way the mountain haunted her brother's dreams, asleep and awake. She'd never had a chance to see the way it had haunted Clarke, but her absence had been proof enough.

When they were less than an hour the mountain, Octavia could see the dread growing heavy on Clarke's shoulders. "Hey," she said gently, walking up close to Clarke and falling into step beside her. She repeated something Indra had taught her, "Fear harms only the fearful."

Clarke glanced sideways at her and gave her a tight smile, shaking her head. "If only it was easy to turn off."

Octavia understood that; she knew from her own moments of doubt and terror, her claustrophobia, that once those emotions had their claws in you, it was hard to shake them off. Slowing Clarke down with a gentle hand on her arm, together they waited for the others to go ahead.

"My mother used to tell me that fear was a demon," Octavia said softly, once they were alone. "She said that if I repeated the words 'I'm not afraid,' out loud and in my mind, then I would slay the demon. It was like my own personal mantra."

Clarke smiled a little. "That's what Bellamy told Charlotte." A frown rose up to her lips and she let out a long breath, shaking her head. "I think she took it a little more seriously than a mantra though."

"That's the thing," Octavia said gently. "The words don't mean anything. It's what you do with them that matters- the power you give them."

Brow furrowed, Clarke met Octavia's eyes and she shook her head. "What are you trying to say?"

Octavia kept her eyes steady as she looked at Clarke. "I'm trying to tell you that you've got to change your mantra, Clarke. I've been watching you, training you, and I see what you're thinking. But you're wrong. You're not weak. You're not bad. You're not guilty of half the crimes you think you are."

Clarke's eyes had filled with tears and now she blinked them away, shaking her head. "The things I've done-"

"You did to survive," Octavia interrupted.

"I used to think that," Clarke said softly. "I used to think that was enough, that if it was war… if I was fighting for my life… then that made things okay. But what if that's wrong? Does war mean we don't have to act like human beings? Does it mean that the bad things we do should just be forgiven?"

"It's not about that, Clarke," Octavia said gently. "It's not about innocent or guilty, good or bad, peace or war, forgiveness or responsibility. It's about living with the things you've done, day in and day out, and grieving for the people you've killed."

A few tears rolled down Clarke's cheeks as she shook her head. "That's so sad."

Octavia nodded. "It's really sad," she agreed, feeling a bit emotional herself. Again she drew her words from a Grounder lesson, this one from Lincoln, "But that's what the living owe to the dead." She glanced at Clarke and said, "It's why they mark their bodies. Every scar is a of reminder each life that was taken." She reached out and put her hand on Clarke's forearm, wanting her to really hear her. "But not because the act of killing was wrong. And not because you shouldn't have done it. But because you honour those people who gave their lives so you could go on."

"But it shouldn't have to come to that," Clarke whispered, and her eyes flickered in the direction of Mount Weather.

Octavia squeezed her arm. "You and Bellamy did that to save us."

"Forty-seven people," Clarke whispered, shaking her head. "We killed three hundred to save forty-seven people."

"Three hundred people who wanted to drill us for bone marrow."

"No," Clarke said firmly, shaking her head, squeezing her eyes shut, and Octavia watched the tears trickle down her cheeks. "A few dozen who wanted that. Hundreds who didn't. And children… people who were helping us."

Octavia shook her head. She and Bellamy had gone over this a hundred times. Now she told Clarke what she had always told him, "They were all going to benefit from it. They all needed us to survive. They would have kept trying to kill us, over and over, until they took everything."

Clarke shook her head. "But it didn't have to be that way," she said urgently, as if now, even after all this time, she could fix it. "We could have donated bone marrow. All of us could have survived."

"But that wasn't our choice," Octavia said gently. "It was theirs."

"No, it was ours," Clarke said, shaking her head again, vehement. "Mine and Bellamy's."

"And if you'd chosen differently, then all of us would have died," Octavia told her frankly. "Clarke," she added gently. "Forgive yourself."

Clarke looked at her, her blue eyes shining with tears. "Is it that easy for you? Really?"

"Yeah," Octavia answered, nodding her head. "It is."

Her smile was brief, but genuine. "I wish I could do that."

"No you don't," Octavia said, shaking her head. "I could never do the things that you do."

Again Clarke smiled, a little bigger this time. "I could never do the things that you do."

"Yes you can," Octavia said with a wry smile. "I'm teaching you, remember?" This elicited a laugh, and Octavia realised that was the reaction she'd been looking for. She had wanted to make Clarke smile, laugh- to make her happy. She felt softer towards Clarke now as if, without her even realising, the section of her heart that held her forgiveness had grown larger than the section that held her anger.

She had always assumed that the latter would have to die before the former could take root, and she could never quite picture that happening. But now she could see that they could, indeed, coexist. That she could be angry for the things Clarke had done that had hurt, while also loving her for the things she'd done that had helped, that had healed.

For Bellamy's sake, too, she had softened towards Clarke- she could see how much even something as simple as her presence truly meant to him. The fact that her brother was falling in love with Clarke made her jealous, yes, because she knew what love did to change a person's focus, and she was scared to lose him.

But the romance blossoming between the two also made her feel tender towards Clarke, fond even, grateful that Clarke was giving her brother something he needed in all this darkness- something to hold onto. A future. A life outside the little bubble that had consumed him since the day she was born. That thought hurt, like poking at a sensitive bruise, but she adored her brother enough to stand aside and let him love Clarke, if that's what would make him happy- and happy was all she'd ever wanted him to be.

"You can do this, Clarke," she said gently. "You and Bellamy are battling the same demons. If you fight them together, you'll get through it together."

Clarke nodded her head, and then pulled in a deep breath, turning her eyes toward the mountain. Octavia watched her lift her chin, watched her straighten her spine, and she felt a swell of admiration. She was proud of her.

"Okay," Clarke said softly, nodding again. "Let's go."

They continued through the forest, down the same trails they'd used when they'd been an army, marching against the mountain- when everything had still seemed so hopeful. She could feel the memory of Indra beside her, the ghost of their battle cry echoing through the trees. Octavia stole a glance at Clarke, wondering if she felt the same, knowing she had many more ghosts to meet here before this would be done.

Breaking through the trees, they saw the huge steel door looming ahead, with the thick archway with 'Mount Weather Complex' etched into it. The door itself was ajar, always, since it was too difficult to open. There were further doors inside that would deter intruders, but no one had ever tried- the mountain may have fallen, but it was still avoided by all who lived in these woods.

It looked like everyone had already gone inside- everyone except Bellamy, who was leaning against a tree a good distance from the doorway, waiting.

Octavia saw the dread spreading over Clarke's face, down her neck, and into her back and shoulders as they approached- but then, just as quickly, it started to fade away as she saw Bellamy sitting there. He stood up, just gazing at her.

Bellamy's eyes flickered to Octavia and he said, "They're all inside."

She nodded. "I'll go join them. You two come in when you're ready."

Clarke was still looking at Bellamy, but she tore her eyes away from his face to give her a grateful smile. "We'll be there soon."

Octavia reached out and squeezed Clarke's forearm. Gently she said, "Take your time. It's not going anywhere."

She left Clarke's side and headed for the door, intentionally colliding her shoulder against Bellamy's as she passed him, bringing a smile to his lips. She stepped through the blast door and then turned her head, looking back towards the two of them. She felt a pang as the knowledge hit her that it would be like this, from now on. She would be looking on them- on Bellamy- from a distance, and his focus would move further away from her. She knew that was part of growing up. It filled her with a strange emotion, a mixture of fear and hope, love and dismay. But she knew she could not control it, that she shouldn't. It might have been sad, but it was still good.

She watched as Clarke and Bellamy just gazed at each other and then, as if they shared some kind of psychic communication, they walked in unison across the clearing and wrapped their arms around one another.

With a small smile on her face, she left them alone.