The first time it happened, Lexa had already bore the chip for over two years. She had handled the transition well, compartmentalizing the hushed whispers of commanders and the occasional bouts of mood swings with ease. Titus might actually have been right, Lexa thought. Maybe she was different from the previous wielders of the chip. According to her mentor, her past five predecessors succumb to the dangers of the chip, their minds unraveled as reality became harder to distinguish. They exhibited symptoms immediately and died within three years of their implantation.
Lexa was sweating and breathing heavily, taking a few seconds between sparring blows with Ontari. While they remained curmudgeonly respectful of each other, they were naturally pitted against each other by fate. Both girls possessed a rare form of hemochromatosis that turned their blood black. Back a hundred years ago, this trait was divine, a spiritual calling to a higher cause. These days it was nothing but a curse, a filthy mutation that caused both of them to be cast out of respectable society to fend for themselves.
But somehow, their blood was the perfect solvent for the chip. Titus had given Lexa the honor of bearing the chip first, as she was older and stronger than Ontari. But he had kept Ontari around, insisting that she continue training and conditioning herself. He claimed it was because she had nowhere else to go, but Lexa and Ontari both knew the truth. If Lexa ever showed weakness, Ontari would take her place.
Lexa swung her wooden staff at Ontari's head, barely missing her as the other girl slowly tired. Ontari was good, very good in fact - just not as good as Lexa. It wasn't just the fact that Lexa had trained longer than her. The chip sharpened her senses and perfected her movements. She swirled through her stances in their dangerous dance, coiling each move before striking out towards Ontari. Every move Lexa made was as elegant and lethal as a viper. With a snarl, Ontari lunged herself back at Lexa, her anger and frustration making her sloppy as her strikes became more telegraphed. She managed to sneak in one swipe at Lexa, driving her staff into Lexa's nose with a thwack. Blinding pain erupted across Lexa's face, black blood immediately bursting down her mouth. Lexa yelped as she bent forward, catching the small stream of black blood in the palm of her hand.
Just as she was about to straighten and shake off the pain, her world suddenly shifted. She wasn't in a dingy underground base, but a brilliant and vibrant forest. There was so much green. There was so much red. Red. Red. Red. Blood was all around her. Bodies of warriors clad in scuffed leather and rusted metal lay all around her. The ground was soaked in blood. She took a shaky step forward and felt her foot sink into the sodden ground with a sickening squish. The scene shifted to another mass field of bodies, burned and blistered as if poisoned by the air. She nearly gagged as the stench of burnt flesh invaded her nose. Her world turned again, and she was now engulfed in fire. Lexa screamed as she felt her own skin start to crack and blister in the heat. Anger. There was so much anger coursing through her body. Fury like nothing she had known before burned in her veins and expelled in her frantic breaths like fire from a dragon. Her world shifted once more. Now, she stood alone, a mass of rabid bodies hurtling towards her – enemies, Reapers. 'Dead men', Lexa added.
"Jus drein jus daun…"
The whispers started softly, almost like a silent prayer. Then, like a chorus rising from the hell pits beneath the ground, the chant grew to a cacophonous symphony of blood and fire.
"Jus drein jus daun! Jus drein jus daun! JUS DREIN JUS DAUN!"
Lexa clenched the blade in her hand and rushed towards the angry mob, slashing and hacking bodies with the fury of ten thousand warriors. Blood splattered into her eyes and mouth and filled clouded her vision with rusty red. She let out a furious cry with every vengeful thrust, each life she took fueling her forward. She couldn't stop. She wouldn't stop. Not until every man who ever raised a sword to her people fell to her feet.
SLASH.
STAB.
YELL.
"Lexa…"
SLAM.
PLUNGE.
HACK.
"Lexa!"
DIE. DIE. DIE!
"LEXA!" A furious roar tore Lexa away from her alternate reality. She was back at her bunker, Titus gripping her bicep and yanking her back. His eyes were alight with ferocity and horror. Lexa had never seen Titus look at her like that. She suddenly registered the ache and tenderness in her hands and glanced down. They were mottled and covered in black blood. Lexa stared at her shaking hands in horror when her eyes were drawn to a still figure on the floor. Ontari was sprawled on the ground. She was still, far too still. The girl's face was ruined; lacerations from a ring on Lexa's hand littered her face that would surely leave a scar. She was scarcely breathing. A small gurgling noise in the back of her throat was the only indication that she was even alive. Lexa staggered back, aghast at what she had done. She had mauled Ontari. She had pummeled the girl beyond reason, and she had no recollection of it.
"I-I don't know…what…" Lexa's mouth felt numb, her words tumbling with effort. "I was somewhere else. There was so much b-blood. I had t-to protect my people…"
Titus grasped Lexa's face between his two hands, forcing her to look him in the eyes. He searched her face and saw the bewilderment and confusion that raked through her mind. And for the first time, Lexa saw disappointment in his eyes. Her heart dropped at the sight.
"Kwelnes," he sighed, his face falling.
Releasing Lexa's face, he turned his attention towards the unconscious girl on the floor, abandoning Lexa with her racing thoughts. She clenched her jaws as she worked to control the fear that dropped in her stomach. She placed a stained hand over the back of her neck, feeling the puckered scar where the corrupted chip lay right beneath. It was happening again. The malfunctioning chip was breaking her mind and strewing reality, just like it did to her predecessors. It will rob Lexa of all control over her body and, eventually, it will be the death of her.
'No,' Lexa declared, addressing her thoughts directly to the faulty chip. 'I refuse to be weak. You will never hold power over me. I have trained nearly all my life to keep you under control, to use to for the purpose you were created for. I will never stop fighting. Even death will not stop me.'
"I am Heda. I commanded armies of gona for generations, and I will command you."
Lexa startled as she woke from her dream. They came more often now, probably a product of being cooped up in a cell for the past few months. She cocooned herself further into the warmth of the blanket, lightly groaning as the memory of bloody hands and hakeldema continued to disturb her conscience. She grasped the blanket firmer in her hands and drew the rough material up her body till she could sink her face into navy blue. It was by no means a comfortable blanket. It was made from cheap wooly material that scratched her skin and itched her face, but to Lexa, it might as well have been made of clouds. She inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of smoke of hearty fires, mint from herbal poultices, and the slightest hint of mechanical oil. It was a strange mixture, yes, but Lexa found it intoxicating. She inhaled again, relishing in the odd sense of comfort she gained from engulfing herself in the blanket. It had been a few blissful days since the blonde had wrapped the blanket around her, and Lexa easily fell into another slumber thinking of nothing else.
She awoke a few hours later, groggily opening her eyes and squinting at the bright light. The first thing she noticed was that she wasn't alone. The pretty girl was back. She sat in the wooden chair and was hunched over like before, her forearms propped on her thighs as she leaned forward. She was unaware of Lexa's wakefulness, apparently too preoccupied with conflicting thoughts that were telegraphed on her face. Her brows were furrowed again, and Lexa amusedly wondered if that was a permanent fixture in her expression. Her eyes were downcast in a way that did not reveal her starting blue eyes. She wore and expression of dread, her hands nervously clutching each other. Lexa shifted in her cot causing azure eyes to shoot up. The blonde's lip twitched when she noticed Lexa, now twisting herself onto her side to face the blonde.
"Hi," Lexa breathed, offering the smallest of smiles.
"Hi," she husked back, voice soft. The sound sent Lexa's heart racing.
The blonde's expression fell again, her whole body a nervous ball of energy. Lexa suddenly grew uneasy. There was something wrong about this conversation, like the blonde wanted to be anywhere but here in this cell with her. Lexa was thoroughly confused, her smile now replaced with pursed lips. The girl stood up from her chair and began to approach Lexa, dragging her feet and wearing the expression of a man approaching a noose. She stopped just a foot away from Lexa and sighed deeply.
"I need the blanket back." Her voice was low and hushed, as if she hoped Lexa hadn't heard her.
Lexa went rigid, her mind suddenly awake.
"What?"
"Please hand me the blanket." Blue eyes avoided Lexa, voice shaking as the girl extended a pale hand towards Lexa.
"Why?" Lexa croaked, feeling the cold clammy sensation of betrayal wash over her.
"You could use it to you hang yourself."
Lexa wanted to cry. "No," she pleaded, a sob nearly escaping her. "I'll freeze to death."
"No, miss, you won't. No one does." The blonde clenched her hands, forcing herself to continue. "Please hand me the blanket."
"Why?"
"In case you ha-"
"No, why did you give it to me?"
The girl closed her eyes and took in a deep breath to steel herself. She hated this. She hated herself for doing this. "You needed it the most." She didn't mention that she had taken it off of her own bed and now shared one blanket with Raven because of it.
Lexa finally let out a sob she was trying so hard to hold back. There was so little fight left in her. They had taken everything from her – her family, her mentor, her purpose. The doctor wouldn't even let her keep a goddamn itchy piece of cloth. The young orderly in front of her, as harsh and cruel as she was just now, was just another pawn in the game. What use was it to fight a pawn when she had not a chance of getting near the queen? Months of fighting hadn't even managed to get her a glimpse of natural sunlight or misty moon glow. She gave into her fatalism, the despair and futility crushing her spirit.
Lexa slowly unclenched hands that were desperately clutching the blanket. She felt the warmth slip from her body as the blanket slid off and into the waiting hands of the blonde. Lexa continued the shake with silent cries.
"I am so sorry," the girl whispered. Lexa heard her swallow back the emotions threatened to overwhelm her voice.
Lexa felt the chip twitch and trigger in her neck. Her reality began to dissolve around. Flashes of a grand bed and candelabras full of dripping candles streamed by. There was face stained with dry blood, beautiful dark curls streaming unruly around a still face. No, not a face – a head. A whole head, and nothing else. There was so much anguish, so much pain. Lexa felt her body clench in response to the onslaught of grief. Lexa could fight the chip, fight the episodes like she had many times since the first. She could shut down her emotion and let her body become void of thought. But she was tired. So, so tired.
And so she let go and embraced the darkness.
Clarke could barely keep herself together. Her eyes were stinging with unshed tears as she shakily breathed in and out to compose herself. She stared at the hand that had clutched the blanket, glaring at it as if the limb offended her. She could still hear Lexa silently shaking in the cot with silent sobs, and her heart clenched painfully in her chest at the sound. She had to do it, Clarke reasoned. If she didn't, another would have taken her place, and he or she would have been far less gentle. She hated that she had finally shown Lexa the sympathy she'd yearned to show from the beginning only to so swiftly take it away. Clarke berated herself for being so stupid. She knew in the back of her head when she gave it to Lexa that she would be forced to take back the blanket, but it made her sick to see Lexa in her vulnerable state. Everything about this felt cruel, and her belief in the therapeutic aspect of this place faltered.
In a daze, Clarke stared towards the door of the cell, walking slowly, deliberately, unwilling to leave the grieving girl despite having been the cause of her distress. Just as she reached the door, she noticed that the girl had stopped crying. It was far too quiet, and Clarke turned around just in time to see the girl heading straight towards her, her motions full of purpose. Clarke only had moments to register how blank and unfocused Lexa's eyes were before she felt rough hands grasp at shoulders, wrenching her to the floor with a snarl.
Clarke yelped in surprise as she slammed onto the metal ground, head smacking the ground and pain bursting behind her eyes. Terror filled Clarke as she frantically grabbed at Lexa, who now was straddling her between powerful thighs, trying to push her off. Lexa was so strong, much stronger than she looked. Her lips pulled back snarl revealing teeth set in a clenched jaw. Clarke was overwhelmed as she tried to hold back the feral girl. Nails scratched across her cheek, and Clarke could feel the sting and the welling of blood on her face. As Clark desperately fended off jabs one after the other, she finally looked at Lexa's face.
Something was wrong. Lexa's face loomed only inches from Clarke's. Her eyes were completely empty, the green color dull and void of emotion. A small trickle of black fluid escaped Lexa's nose, serving only to baffle Clarke.
Clarke was losing. She felt two hands enwrap themselves around her neck and begin to squeeze. Her eyes bulged out in panic.
"Please!" She gasped, hands clawing at Lexa's sides in a futile attempt.
"Stop, you…you don't want to do this!"
Her focus began to blur as the edges of her vision darkened. Her hands were growing limp. Her lungs were burning for air. Desperately, with the little energy she had left, Clarke called out to the girl that was slowing killing her.
"Lexa, please!"
Green eyes suddenly dilated. They shifted around, taking in the situation before growing wide in horror. Hands suddenly released their pressure and Clarke took in a desperate breath, coughing spastically as her airway slowly opened back up. Lexa's face was still hovering over Clarke's, and Clarke could see every spectrum of emotion shadow across it. Confusion. Realization. Horror. Pain. Guilt. Green eyes landed on the bleeding scratches across Clarke's cheek and the girl took a sharp inhale. A trembling hand reached out towards Clarke's cheek, tentatively brushing the wound.
Clarke was burning. Her breath came in hard and fast as she realized that Lexa, the real Lexa that was present and aware, was touching her for the first time. Her hand had caressed across her wound like a prayer, or a whisper. The touch was so light and delicate that it was hard to believe that this same hand had just been wrapped around her neck seconds before. Lexa's other hand was still on her neck, but it had softened and traveled to cup the bottom of Clarke's jaw, cradling her face as if it was the most precious thing in the world. Clarke's skin burned beneath Lexa's touch, her body thrumming underneath the girl's weight. Clarke's mind was utterly flustered and confused. One moment, she is in sheer terror of the girl above her. The next, she can't seem to think about anything other than pulling herself closer to the girl and relishing in her touch.
Then suddenly, the fire is gone. Lexa scrambled back and away from Clarke as if she too had been burned. Her eyes filled with tears as she stared at Clarke, her face full of shame and guilt. I did this, Clarke thought. I broke her. Her own face began to crumble at the thought, and she began to crawl towards the shivering girl.
"It's okay. I'm okay," Clarke reassured, pressing forward.
"Get out," Lexa whimpered.
Clarke froze, her heart sinking. She hesitated before trying to reach out to Lexa again.
"I said get out!" Lexa bellowed, her eyes hurting and pleading.
Clarke, unable to bear being the cause of her pain, complied and slowly exited the room, leaving the girl alone to cry out her anguish alone.
The door latch thumped as Clarke opened the door to cell 307, carrying a bowl of soup in one hand. It had been several days since the incidence with Lexa, and it haunted Clarke day and night. Clarke had every reason to be scared of Lexa, and yet she was more concerned about how she could make right with her. After all, hadn't Clarke instigated this whole mess? She was determined to continue seeing Lexa and repair the damage she had inflicted on the strange and unexplainable connection between the two of them.
She entered the cell and saw Lexa sitting on her bed. She was strapped into a straightjacket, a clear consequence of attacking the working staff. Clarke did notice, however, that her mood seemed lighter than she anticipated, and she took this as a good harbinger of their future. Clarke grabbed the chair beside her and set it by the cot next to Lexa. She sat down, careful not to spill the soup, then pulled out a wooden spoon from her pocket. She dipped it into the soup, carefully drawing in the broth before dabbing the excess using the side of the bowl. Clarke brought the spoon slowly to Lexa's mouth as she watched the girl, noticing the apprehension set deep into her face. Lexa's eyes flitted from the spoon to Clarke and then back to the spoon before she tentatively opened her mouth and accepted the spoon. Gently tipping the handle, Clarke let her take her time swallowing before returning the spoon back to the bowl to refill it.
"How long do I have to wear this?" Lexa asked softly, glancing down at the jacket.
Clarke glanced up, hand stilling mid-scoop. "Until Dr. Mendax decides."
"Decides what?"
"Decides that you're not dangerous."
"I am." Lexa replied casually. Clarke can hear the hint of smugness in her tone. Clarke scoffs, amused with the girl's cockiness.
"What? Don't you think I'm dangerous?" Lexa asked, who seemed both fascinated and confused at Clarke's seemingly nonchalant reaction towards her considering the events that transpired.
Clarke was silent for a minute, remembering hands on her neck and dull green eyes. "I think you're ill."
"I'm not ill," Lexa snapped. She took in sharp breath before glancing at Clarke and noticing the still healing wounds on her cheek. Clarke saw a flash of pain and regret in her green eyes.
"I'm sorry about your face," Lexa whispered, voice quiet with remorse as her eyes glanced up at Clarke's before falling to her lap.
Clarke chuckled, tilting her head towards the jacket. "Well, we'll have no more of that."
Lexa smirked and let out a little grunt, quick to catch Clarke's playful tone. "No, no more of that," she confirmed. "I've no fight left in me." Clarke hummed in response, her expression unreadable. She brought another spoonful of soup to Lexa.
"They tell me this isn't torture, its science," Clarke hesitated before continuing. "It's meant to make you better."
"It's meant to make me normal," Lexa retorted. "They want compliance, obedience, a cog in an intricate machine, no more."
"Not all the people I know are cogs," Clarke countered, thinking of Raven and her mother. "Far from it."
"Then they are freaks."
"I am not a freak and I am not a cog," Clarke glared, sparks lighting up her eyes. "I have grown up with the world against me. I manipulated, deceived, and fought my way to where I am." She remembered the blanket and all that unfolded. "I too have acted against the will of others and suffered the consequences. Tell me, do you think I am just a cog?"
Lexa took in the quiet fury blazing in sapphire eyes, her face softened as she registered the Clarke's words. Lexa sighed and resigned herself to letting the argument die down, accepting that she had perhaps misjudged her. A small swell of pride welled in Clarke as she realized she had shaken Lexa's pessimistic outlook. She raised the spoon to Lexa again, but Lexa refused, her face starting to crumble.
"I have failed," Lexa whimpered, her voice full of defeat. Clarke looks at her and shakes her head. "No you haven't," she reassured.
"Yes I have, the reincarnation stops with me. I am not Heda Lexa here. I cannot serve my people and bring peace from a padded cell. I am no one. I have no name. I have lost my purpose."
"Do you want a purpose?"
"Don't you?"
"I'm doing it," Clarke replied, bringing another spoon to Lexa and offers a small smile. Lexa blinked rapidly, looking at her with wonder. She wordlessly takes the spoonful of broth before her eyes glanced to the side, her body fidgeting. Softly, almost so softly that Clarke doesn't hear, Lexa spoke.
"Is it day or night?"
Clarke looked at her, eyes kind and understanding. "Which do you prefer now?"
"…day."
"Then it's day."
Lexa returned her glance as she peers into soft blue eyes. Her face grew soft, making her look so young and beautiful that Clarke's chest ached. Lexa's eyes burn with yearning when she next speaks.
"What's your name?"
Clarke bit her tongue, stopping herself from giving into her overwhelming desire to answer and instead provided a stilted response. "It's against regulations to reveal names." Clarke had already broken the girl once by breaking the rules, she wasn't going to let it happen again.
"You already know my name."
"I thought you said you had no name."
"I was being…dramatic," Lexa replied, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Poetic."
Clarke stared at the flustered girl, and she managed to squeak out a sound of affirmation.
"I only had a few books around me when I was growing up, and they were all either poetry or history," Lexa reminisced. "Do you like poetry?"
"Huh, no."
"What do you like, then?"
Clarke swirled the spoon in the soup, making abstract line in the liquid that disappeared seconds after. "I draw," she whispered.
Lexa hummed with approval, her eyes smiling. She accepted a few more spoonfuls.
"You must get better, Lexa," Clarke urged, her hands stilling. "The treatments, they…they don't get easier."
"What do you mean?"
Clarke looked at Lexa with growing dread. "They get worse."
"How?" Lexa demanded, her voice low and husked.
Clarke stared at Lexa, her mouth hanging open as she struggles to respond. A few seconds pass before she finds her voice again. "Just get better, eh?" She closed her lips tightly and offered a weak smile.
"If I'm not truly ill, how can I get better?" Lexa asked, voice bitter.
"If you're not ill, then what are you?" Clarke's brows scrunch in confusion.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Dr. Mendax doesn't, and why should she?"
Lexa took in a shuddering breath. "I have been chosen, cursed, if you will, the bear the spirit of the commander. My purpose, like the ones who came before me, is to unite the people and rid the world of its greatest evil." She gently touches the back of her neck along the scar. "I am Heda Lexa, I hold the legacy of Becca Primheda, and it shall continue even after my death. But I failed. My weakness allowed it. I didn't fight it strong enough and I allowed myself to succumb to the corruptions of the flame. I don't know if I fight it at all anymore."
Clarke remained silent, unsure how to respond. It all sounded rightfully insane – spirits, reincarnation, an unknown language. And yet she could not doubt Lexa's sanity like she could with others. Clarke had witnessed lunacy of that kind before, and their stories never stay consistent. Lexa was too strong, too present to be under the influence of hallucinations. Lexa's story was…unusual, that was sure, but there was a tone of sincerity and convicting in her tale that made Clarke question her rationality.
Clarke diverted her attention away from legacies and piercing green eyes, returning back to her task at hand with the soup. She brought the spoon back up to Lexa, trying to change the subject.
"I do this for my best friend when she's sick," Clarke said as she gestures with her spoon, letting a small chuckle slip from her. "She says she hates being coddled, but secretly I think she loves it." Lexa glanced at her with wide eyes, still surprised that Clarke hasn't run away after her confession.
"She's brilliant, my friend," Clarke continued, her face stuck between fondness and sadness. "She's not well. She has Guillain-Barre Syndrome. She has bouts of severe pain and weakness in her legs that leave her stuck in bed all day. They think it was triggered after a bad infection." Lexa doesn't stop looking at her, curiosity lingering on her face.
Clarke looked down at the spoon in her hand. "I used a metal spoon at first, but it hurt her mouth so we switched to a wooden one."
"I'm surprised they have wooden spoons here," Lexa remarked.
"Oh, I brought this one from home," Clarke replied absentmindedly. It was only after she raised the spoon again did she notice Lexa staring at her, eyes wide with awe.
"What's your friends name?"
Clarke hesitated again, knowing full well she should not cross this boundary. But then she connected with iridescent green eyes that looked at her with such wonder that it nearly took her breath away. "Raven," she whispered.
Lexa's eyes shimmered with emotion as her face filled with gratitude. What Clarke wouldn't do to see that face permanently. Then she remembers the treatments, and her chest clenched with worry.
"You must get better," Clarke urged again, eyes pleading. "Please?"
Lexa's face in unreadable. Clarke left the chair and approached the door, feeling eyes following her the entire time. Her hand was on the door when she stops, exhaling loudly.
"Clarke," she breathed, turning her head over her shoulders.
"What?"
"My name. It's Clarke."
She glanced over her shoulders and saw Lexa's body tense before relaxing, her face again full of wonder. "Clarke," Lexa parroted. Clarke shivered with the way her name rolls so beautifully, so naturally, off her tongue. Her blue eyes softened as she took in the growing smile stretched across full lips.
"Goodnight, Lexa."
Clarke made her exit, shutting the door gentle behind her. But not before getting one last glance at the girl on the cot.
Alone in the cell, Lexa shivers as she whispered -
"Reshop, Clarke."