I know this is a long one guys. I hope you like it even if it isn't necessarily what you wanted to happen. Please let me know your thoughts!

Raven's POV

As if everything hadn't been fucked and terrifying enough in that moment, she just had to go and kiss him. At no point did Raven stop and think it through. Wick didn't put his hands on her shoulders and ask, "Are you sure?" the one and only time where she really wasn't.

Escaping had seemed like the only obvious answer once his words weren't filling her up and his lips weren't over ruling her every sense. Afterwards she could see the regret and hear the silent wondering and taste him on her lips and smell his scent on her skin and feel the tension that filled the air between them. Everything stopped being his lips and his kiss and his touch and just became his entire existence instead.

So she ran for the door. The night had been too heavy and real and she was wrung dry from all of the emotions she'd already run through. She couldn't handle this on top of it.

Raven is more than surprised when the door doesn't immediately open and she figures he must still be in shock. She does her best to make her way down the stairs quickly but her steps falter as soon as she hits the foyer. The glass door lets her see the cold world outside and she remembers why all the running had started tonight in the first place.

The snow swirls in light snowflakes and she tries not to be put off, grateful that her jacket was still on. She slips outside the door before she can give it any more thought and go running back to him. He wanted her to trust him and dammit she wanted to. But she knew where that had landed her in the past. She couldn't accept that as her future.

The cold embraces her like an old friend. She accepts the blowing wind and sets out for the main road.

Part of her isn't even surprised when the car stops next to her tonight only a few minutes later. There's no fear left to come rolling through her, no relief to come pouring down when she realises who it is.

"Raven?" Abby asks through the passenger window. "Is that you?"

"Yes," is all she says in response because there isn't really any other answer. The roads are abandoned for the most part tonight. The snow fall wasn't heavy but it had been going on for a few hours now. It was enough to scare people off.

"What are you doing? You'll freeze to death." She leans over and opens the door to her car. Raven takes care to attempt to shake some of the snow off of her shoes before getting in. It's actually harder lowering herself to get in the car than it was jumping up into Wick's truck. She wasn't sure if that was due to practise or basic physics.

As soon as she's sitting hands are on her, feeling her forehead and patting down on the arm closest to the driver's side. "I'm fine," she insists, pulling away. This woman was always touching her. She still felt too raw for that right now. His hands had been the last thing on her and she wasn't ready for someone else to take that away just yet.

"Do you need a ride home?" Abby asks, her voice tentative. Raven shakes her head no. "Okay then, where do you need to go?" She's soft and maternal and Raven is reminded of the woman who told her that she would never walk the same again and the one who held her hand the time her mom didn't seem like she was going to wake up. It's the sort of softness that brings her walls down in ways that force could never manage.

The offer makes her tear up, though she keeps it together. She accepts that she has nowhere left to go. For a brief moment she considers just asking for her to take her back to Wick's. He wouldn't care. He was probably going out of his mind with worry and that makes a twinge of guilt flash through her. After everything he'd done and what he'd said tonight…damn she was a shitty friend. "I'm heading to work but Clarke's home. Would you like me to take you to my house?"

The offer is simple. The implications are heavy. Abby Griffin was a giving person. Raven Reyes just wasn't very good at the taking. "Yes," she answers quietly. She was out of ideas. She had to take whatever was offered to her.

With extreme caution, Abby works to turn her car around right there in the middle of the street. It's small enough that she doesn't have too much trouble, though a few times Raven worries about the traction of the tires in the light coating of snow that was beginning to collect on the blacktop.

Once in they're in a steady motion toward the Griffin household Abby starts talking. "Physical therapy must be going well if you're managing to ambulate out in this mess," she says. It's a comment that is disguised as positive though the doctor was so clearly condemning Raven for her late night winter stroll.

"It's going great," she lies. She'd been given a referral and an application for state insurance that Abby had sworn she would have no trouble getting. 'You're a minor; no chance the state will decline you.' Perhaps she had been right, Raven had never risked sending it in. Her mother was in enough trouble with the government without her sending in applications with her name on it to remind them. "Thanks again."

"Raven," she sighs, braking more on her turns and gripping the steering wheel a little more tightly than Raven was used to seeing Wick do. She got the feeling driving in the snow wasn't Abby's favourite past time. "Surely by now you can stop thanking me. It's been over a year."

Her only answer is a shrug. She didn't know if she would ever be able to not feel somewhat indebted to her, both as her doctor and as a friend. "How's Clarke?" Raven asks, because that's what she always asks and that's what Abby always answers and it should be enough to fill the rest of the miles toward their destination.

"Clarke is just fine. How are you?"

Dammit. "Just fine." Her tone is dry.

There are a few heavy seconds before Abby says, "I know things are hard between you and Clarke, and I'm sure you don't want to talk to me of all people about it, but I hope you know Clarke stills feels terrible about what happened with Finn. I don't think she'll ever stop regretting missing how that light turned red."

The words perk Raven's interest in a way she hadn't expected. She'd been prepared to write off Abby's plea of being her daughter's BFF as she did any other time. This was the first she was hearing of Clarke being the one to have run that damn red light. From day one everyone had told her it'd been the other driver. She doesn't even know how she feels about this information, the new truth still too numbing for her to grasp onto. "I know," is all she says in a whisper because she can't process and because she hardly wanted to sit here and hash this out with Abby Griffin.

"Well how about your mother?" she goes on to ask, changing the topic that it was clear Raven had no desire to discuss. "Is she doing alright?" She doesn't take her eyes off the road to fix Raven with a stare, but she had spent enough time with the woman to know the exact look she would be receiving if it was possible. 'Tell the truth,' it would say.

"The same." It's the best truth she had. The thought jumps to her mind that she might be dead with a gunshot wound to the chest. Maybe Abby would see her roll in through the ED tonight, already dead but someone still attempting to revive her. Maybe it was a lie but maybe being dead and being alive were actually the same thing for her mother.

"And you said you were able to get the food stamps, right?" So much this woman had tried to do for her. She knew the beginnings of the life Raven had been living. She had tried to help with the information she had. Raven didn't have the heart to tell her that things were worse than she could imagine.

Maybe if she fessed up things would be easier. She didn't doubt for a second that Abby would send her home with non-perishable items and Clarke's old clothes and maybe even a handful of cash. It was who she was, some charity saint woman who flew off to Ecuador and Guatemala and Ethiopia. She was a doctor and a mother for a very obvious reason. She wanted someone to take care of. Raven spares a thought as to why there aren't more Griffin children. "Yeah, more than enough."

"Good," she says, turning the car into the driveway which was already a couple inches deep in snow. The tires spin a bit as she attempts to pull up the slight incline. "I'll walk you in."

The house is lowly lit and warm. Raven shrugs out of her coat as soon as she walks in, draping it over her arm. "Clarke! Jake! We have a visitor!" Abby shouts it through the house as if it were something exciting instead of a nuisance on a Saturday night. It's late; Raven's surprised they aren't asleep already.

The man Raven had met back in December comes out from the kitchen, apron on and spoon in hand. "Hello," he greets, an easy smile that grows a little bit wider when he looks at his wife. Raven hates them for their easy happiness and obvious love. "You're Clarke's friend. Raven, right?" With the way these two women acted like they talked about her she wouldn't be surprised if he starts pulling out random facts about her. "I thought you were going to work?" he asks his wife before she answers.

"Circumstances lead me to Raven first. Figured Clarke would like an excuse not to study tonight," she rolls her eyes as if to say that Clarke had plenty of excuses not to study.

"I don't want to interrupt anyth-"

"Raven?" Clarke asks halfway down the stairs. "Is everything okay?" She looks to her mom for an answer instead of Raven herself. She felt a tingle of irritation at this. Though there was the whole doctor/patient confidentiality business Raven wouldn't be surprised if Clarke knew a little more about her life than her other friends.

She crosses her arms over her chest, ready to defend her well-being yet again when Abby jumps in to answer. "Totally fine but Raven and I got to talking on my way to work. I figured you would be more than happy with some company tonight and Raven said she was willing to put up with you for a few hours."

Clarke rolls her eyes, aware that her mom was teasing. Raven felt a little awkward over the comment, mainly because it was a little bit true.

"Alright, I really have to get to work. They're short because of the weather." Jake comes over and kisses her quickly on the lips and Abby reaches over, kissing the top of Clarke's head. She offers Raven a kind smile as she heads for the door. "Try not to torture our guest, you two!" she calls over her shoulder, not bothering to wait for any affirmation as the door swings shut behind her.

"I'm making cookies if you girls want anything to eat," Clarke's dad offers as a farewell as he goes back into the kitchen, a beeping sounding from there.

"You sure do hate to use the phone, don't you?" Clarke says and Raven knows it's a total joke but she feels the sting of the comment regardless. Something in her expression must tip Clarke off to how she feels though because she quickly adds, "Not that I mind in the slightest. I've only been back in school for a couple of weeks but I'm dying already."

Raven nods, eyes fixed on Clarke in a way that wasn't normal. She couldn't get Abby's words from earlier out of her head. She wasn't sure how she felt about her friends hiding the truth from her. She didn't really know if it'd been for her sake or Clarke's. She didn't know if she cared. "I bet," she says.

"Come on," Clarke says, starting for the stairs again. "We can hang out in my room."

Raven shoves down her pride as she slowly makes her way up the stairs. She kept waiting for the day when it didn't bother her every time someone saw her slow, childlike method but it had yet to come. Clarke is patient and slows her pace when she realises Raven isn't as fast. She doesn't wait for her to catch up but she moves less like herself and more like an old person. She was probably used to dealing with people who had issues. With a doctor for a mother Clarke had probably been volunteering at clinics since she could talk, playing with mentally disabled children and stitching up wounded soldiers. Okay, not really, but this family was weird.

Clarke's room is a weird combination of kid, teenager, and adult. One wall is pink, though most of it is covered with a variety of posters, there's a desk with a pile of books on it and closet over flowing with clothes, dirty laundry in a pile in the corner. On the back of her door hangs scarves and hats and necklaces and there's a few stuffed animals sitting on top of her teal bedspread. The floor is covered with art supplies. There are paints and canvases and charcoal along with pencils and paper and half-finished sketches. It's clear that Raven interrupted an intense crafting session. The best part is the pile of text books all stacked on top of each other in the corner of Clarke's room. It was clear studying had been the last thing on her mind.

Immediately she starts gathering up her supplies, moving everything to her desk or another corner. "You don't have to stop on my account," Raven shrugs. She sits on the edge of Clarke's bed, partially because she didn't know what to do with herself and partially because her right leg was starting to do that spasming thing again.

Clarke looks up from where she was crouched on the floor, trying to shove a rainbow of paint tubes into a case. "Watching me draw would hardly be fun for you," Clarke answers and Raven can feel just how much she wants to keep at what she'd been doing. It was due to a lack of effort to convince Raven otherwise, but her desire outweighed her acting abilities. "I could draw you, if you want I mean."

She offers the idea before Raven can just reassure her to carry on as she was. "I don't…" she starts because she didn't like the idea of someone's eyes fixed on her like that or the outcome she might have to look at in the end. She knew how she looked. Sunken in eyes, a crease in her brow, hair pulled back into a ponytail, and a stance that was never quite natural. She didn't really need it copied onto paper.

"Please? I actually really wanted to work on living stills."

Raven hates her. She hates that she has blue eyes that are so descriptive and easily readable. She hates her for having wants like working on living stills. She hates her because she should and yet she doesn't. "I guess." At least she wouldn't be ruining her night as she'd first worried.

There's not even a full second before Clarke's face brightens. "Do you want pyjamas to change into first? The first thing I do after I get home is take off my clothes," she explains, already walking to her drawers.

No way in hell was she going through the effort, and potential embarrassment that went with changing her clothes. "I'm good," she says before Clarke can hunt any further. "These are my comfy jeans."

Unlike Wick, Clarke doesn't ask if she's sure. She just sits back down on the floor, crossing her legs beneath her. "Can you sit over there?" she asks, pointing directly across from her. "You can use my desk to lean against.

Suddenly aware of her awkward strides, Raven takes two steps over to the desk and considers how she's going to make this as easy as possible. She wasn't used to needing to sit on the floor unless she was working on her rocket or maybe once or twice with Wick, she didn't realise until now that she didn't worry about how she moved around him anymore. She bends her right leg, using it to lower herself to the ground and her hands meeting the floor to help. Her left leg is awkward and straight but it's over in a few seconds. She sits with her back against the desk, left leg straight out in front of her and her right curled, foot resting against her other knee. "This okay?" she asks but Clarke's already got her nose in an art set, comparing the sizes between two different pieces of charcoal.

"Here," Clarke picks up her phone and doesn't warn Raven before tossing it in her direction. "Pick out something to listen to. The 8tracks app is pretty good."

Thankfully she catches the device even though it'd been heading for the desk instead of Raven. It was a bit obvious why Clarke had stayed away from sports in high school. She slides it open, grateful that it was an iPhone like Octavia had. She was familiar with how to work it. The apps are all tucked away into boxes, organised in ways that Octavia had never managed. She finds the one labelled music and opens it, finding the app Clarke had mentioned.

"Just pick a tag or two and click on anything that looks decent," she instructs, fingers starting to move across the page.

There's a bunch of options that pop up, indie and alternative and sad, along with a few different artists like Mumford and Sons or Marina and the Diamonds. She clicks on throwbacks, figuring she'll know more from there than anywhere else. The first one that pops up is a picture of a sun with additional tags like happy and fun. She clicks on it and "Walking on Sunshine" comes pouring out of the speaker across the room.

It wasn't too loud so Clarke still only spoke at normal volume as she said, "Nice choice. Can you look up and to the left for a second?"

Raven does, feeling even more on display than she'd thought she would. She holds her position regardless and tries to think of something other than how terrible this experience was. Of course her mind falls to Wick and another sting of guilt rolls through her. "Would it be alright if I used your phone?" she asks, feeling more than a little awkward at the request but it wasn't like there were a ton of other options exactly. "Just to send a text."

"Go for it," Clarke answers, her hands impressively steady as she drew a series of small lines.

It takes Raven a minute to find the right number; it was saved as 'Raven's friend' for crying out loud, but she clicks on it and then chooses to write a new text message. She clicks on the bar and watches the solid line blink tauntingly in front of her. She didn't exactly know what to say. She must remain like that for a while because Clarke interrupts her thoughts to say, "Hey just stare at me for like a second…okay great, thanks."

Eventually she writes the few words in a rush, her thumbs sloppy and unfamiliar with the touch screen so she keeps going back to correct misspelled words.

Clarke: It's Raven. I'm fine. Don't worry.

The phone interrupts the song to start singing out Clarke's ring tone. She looks up and assesses that it's not for her before going back to her work. "You can answer, if you want," she offers.

"I'm good," Raven replies, waiting for the ringing to stop and the music to resume. Another minute later and another text comes through.

Raven's friend: Would've been nice to know before I went out driving in the damn snow

She flinches, his irritation obvious even through written words. He had every right to be pissed but it wasn't like she'd asked him to go looking for her. (She knows that's not fair but she doesn't really care).

Raven's friend: I'm glad you're okay though. Call me if you need me to come pick you up. Do you want me to go check on your mom?

Her heart stutters in a way that isn't entirely familiar and she feels everything, inside and out, crumble for a brief second. Sure it was nice that he didn't seem mad at her and as well that he was willing to pick her up. What truly wore her down was his knowledge of what was sitting heavily on her mind right now. As well as his willingness to potentially put himself in danger just to ease her anxieties.

When she had kissed him tonight it had been because she was so overwhelmed with everything, every emotion from fear to sadness to joy. It had all built up inside of her and she couldn't think or breathe or reason, all she could do was act. And the only action she wanted had been instinctual and stupid and desperate. Despite how much she regretted it now, hiding away in Clarke Griffins' room while her damn face was being sketched out, she would probably do it all over again if he was in front of her. (She hates what he does to her but she also really kind of likes it.)

Clarke: No. Too dangerous.

Raven's friend: Can I call you?

Clarke: No

She doesn't bother to add the 'too dangerous.' That part was only a danger to her.

It takes her a minute but she figures out how to delete the messages and does, setting Clarke's phone down next to her and looking up, trying to be a good model for half a second.

The door comes swinging open, Clarke's dad carrying a basket full of laundry and singing wholeheartedly along to 'My Girl' as it played through the speaker. Raven jumps, startled and a little bit frightened if she was being honest. "Your mom's gonna make you start using the laundromat if you keep leaving your shit in the dryer," he announces, dumping the basket upside down onto her bed, a rainbow of shirts, socks, and underwear come tumbling out of it. "Sorry if I scared you, kiddo," he says in her direction.

Raven couldn't ever remember a time that someone called her 'kiddo.'

"I can use all of the quarters you have to put in the swear jar to pay for the machines," she says with a shrug.

He raises an eyebrow an points a finger in her direction. "Two can play the tattle tailing game if you want to start that," he warns. He looks from Clarke to Raven and throws his hands in the air, very dramatic. "Don't tell me you're making your poor friend sit here while you draw some more. Come downstairs with me and bake, Raven. I swear you'll have a better time."

There's nothing suggestive or inappropriate when it comes to his tone or his posture but Raven flinches at the words regardless. They were a little too familiar.

"Please, Dad," Clarke says, properly looking up from her work for the first time. "No one wants to hang out with your Gordon Ramsay self in the kitchen."

"I take offense to that," he says, heart to his chest and Clarke starts to crack a smile. Raven feels like this banter between them must be normal. "I'm much more of a Barefoot Contessa than a Gordon Ramsay. What do you say? I'll braid your hair to make this whole sleepover thing worth your while."

"He's actually an impressive braider," Clarke says with a pointed look. "Now go away so we can talk about boys and nail polish." He rolls his eyes and looks mildly rejected as he does turn and walk from the room. "Sorry, he's a bit of a nut case."

"I heard that!"

Raven smiles despite herself. The sadness of what she didn't have was competing with the humour and happiness of seeing what Clarke did. "It's alright, he seems…" Safe, she thinks. "Fun."

Clarke snorts. "Fun is definitely the right word. Hm, can you look to the right?"

She does as instructed, casting a glance at Clarke's cell phone as she does. It wasn't like there was much Wick would have to say back to her but she wanted to talk to him anyway. Maybe it was her guilt and maybe it was just because she'd gotten used to having him there. Either way, she wasn't about to text him again. "So what does your dad do?" Raven asks, expecting some quirky, crazy career. He was probably like, a volcanologist or a horse exerciser.

"Engineer," Clarke says, looking away long enough to roll her eyes. "No one knows how two left-brained people ended up with such a right-brained child."

Not exactly where Raven's mind had gone but she goes with it, storing away the engineer information for later. He might be willing to help Wick get a better job somewhere down the road. "Well you're pre-med. That's pretty left-brained."

She sighs, bites her lip and keeps sketching. "I'm not exactly voluntarily pre-med," she says, willing to offer the information but clearly unsure if she should or not. "There was a fair amount of pressure contributed. Also financial threats."

"Oh," Raven answers. Abby and Jake certainly seemed like the 'follow your dreams' and 'reach for the stars' sort of people. Then again, maybe their idea of the stars were different from Clarke's. "So you don't want to be a doctor?"

It wasn't the sort of problem Raven could necessarily relate to, but she understood that just because people's problems were lesser than hers didn't mean they didn't matter. "Hell no." She looks up and Raven thinks she's studying her to gauge a reaction or read what she was thinking. After a minute when she goes back to the paper she realises it was just her figuring out where to go with her drawing. "I wanted to be an art major, work on my own stuff and maybe get a degree in restoration or something." Her casual shrug suggests she hadn't given it much thought. Her specific words alluded otherwise.

"Your mom said no?" The conversation didn't fit in with the model of the Griffin family Raven had created. They didn't seem like the family to fight or argue or even where parents ruled the roost. She had imagined some diplomatic shit where everyone holds the talking stick and explains their point.

"Along with a few other colourful words," Clarke says, her eyebrows raising and a humourless laugh falling past her lips for half a second. "They were both livid that I'd even applied to Fine Arts directed colleges."

It was a personal question but Raven plunged forward anyway. "Did you get in?"

This time when she looks up she's meeting her eyes and she smiles even though the rest of her face is sad. "Yeah, I did."

Raven realises on the carpet of Clarke Griffin's bedroom that even when you had everything you still didn't always get what you want.

"I'm sorry."

It's quite some time before Clarke finishes. Their conversation officially ended after discussing Clarke's ruined college plans. "Done," she finally announces, looking up at Raven with a barely there smile and holding out the thick paper.

Raven leans forward and takes it, feeling the stretch deep in her leg. The paper is rough and textured between her fingertips and she rubs it between them to appreciate the feeling. With a bit of trepidation she flips the picture over, more than a little surprised with the image she finds.

For years Raven had always thought colour was one of the most important elements of art. Tonight she discovers how entirely wrong she'd been. It's a full body sketch and Raven's eyes are first drawn to the brace on her leg, it was slimmer here than she ever thought it looked in real life. The folds of her clothes enhanced how skinny she looked as she pans up, seeing the lack of curve there was to her stomach or breasts. Her arms were mildly toned and it makes her look over at them now, the short sleeved shirt revealing the outline of a bicep she hadn't known was there. What surprises her most is definitely her face, though.

Loose strands from her ponytail frame it. The angle it's drawn at only reveals one ear the left side of her face in slight shadow. She doesn't look as frail as she feels nor does she appear as malnourished as she knows she is. Instead she takes one look in the eyes of the girl on the page and sees nothing but steely determination, a slight bit of anger, and a fraction of worry, expressed in the nearly imperceptible lines by her eyebrows. Her lips are full but fixed. Not in a frown or a smile, just straight and as prepared for battle as she constantly felt.

It may be stupid, but she valued the fact that someone else saw her in the way that she felt. It wasn't that she necessarily wanted the whole world to see how determined she was to keep going or the anger that was always hidden just beneath the surface or the worry that was constantly in the back of her mind. But she was glad that even if all of that came shining through, the one thing she didn't see was a single line was weakness. She looked fierce and that was exactly what Raven Reyes intended to be.

"Do you like it?" Clarke asks and for the first Raven sees a little insecurity, a touch of doubt, even a lack of self-confidence. For the first time she sees the girl she would bet anything Finn fell in love with. He was obsessed with protecting and building and encouraging. Clarke had been his new project when Raven had been too weak to go on.

She looks down at the picture again and wonders for the first time if maybe she'd actually been too strong. "It's perfect."

Clarke smiles and Raven does too. After all, she didn't always have to be fierce.

Clarke had pulled Raven into her queen size bed sometime after two in the morning. ("Don't be stupid. Why would you sleep on the floor? I'm bi, Raven, not a predator." "I'm not worried about that." "Then what is there to worry about?") So she got in but she didn't change her clothes and she didn't take off her brace. They weren't that close.

Overall Clarke seemed pretty good at sticking to her side. Raven lies on her back and stares up at the faint glow of stick on moons and stars that cluttered the ceiling. They were clearly old but Raven found a new sort of pleasure in them.

As soon as the lights went off she swore to herself that there would be no secrets revealed tonight. She zipped her lips after a, "Goodnight, Clarke," and didn't intend to open them until morning.

"Why didn't you tell me you were the one who ran the red light?" she asks after only mere minutes because Abby's words sit so heavy on her mind and she tries with all her might not to blame Clarke, but if she'd just been paying attention he would still be here. He might not be hers, but he would at least be here.

"I did," she whispers back after a moment. She had almost wished Clarke had been asleep and this conversation didn't have to happen. Somewhere along the way Clarke had become some semblance of a friend. She didn't know why and she didn't entirely understand how it had lasted through everything, but a part of Raven still wanted to believe the best of this girl. "I told you that night in the waiting room. I said it was my fault. You…you did too."

"That's not the same," Raven argues, fire mixed in their somewhere with the moisture that clogged her throat and nose and eyes all at once. She tried to never remember that night. She did her best to forget the way Bellamy held her when she fell. She forced the images of Finn's broken body being wheeled to the operating room away. She ignored the voice of the doctor saying they did everything they could but…

Clarke sniffles and Raven resents her for finding pain in the memories that Raven so clearly claimed as her own to suffer through. "Everyone told me it was the other guy who ran the light."

"They were trying to protect me, I guess."

If only there had been someone around to protect Finn. She bite the words back.

"I don't deserve it."

At least it's not her secrets being spilled tonight, Raven figures. "I'm sorry, Raven. I thought you knew." The happy Griffin household feels dark and grim once more. "And I'm sorry, Raven. That I killed him."

It takes a lot out of her to say, "You didn't kill him."

It probably takes an equal amount from Clarke to say, "Lexa says I did."

Raven didn't know a whole lot about Lexa. She knew her and Clarke had been best friends. She knew they dated for a while after Clarke had broken it off with Finn, and she knew that Lexa was a gymnast. "Well then she's a shitty friend," Raven says with a shrug of her shoulder. You don't say that stuff even if it is true. Not to the people who needn't suffer anymore. As much as Raven blamed and hated and resented Clarke Griffin, she saw no need for her to suffer further.

"It's true. At least in part."

There isn't much to say. She can't argue. Not when she believes the same. "Well then," Raven sighs, rolling on her side and finding Clarke in the darkness. This is the most intimate their friendship has ever been and probably as much as it will ever be. "I forgive you."

"Raven…"

"No." It was hard enough to say. She didn't need Clarke convincing her she shouldn't. "You're forgiven. And forgiveness means you're absolved of guilt." That might not mean the truth but it's what she decides. It's what she decides while the stars glow steadily above and the earth spins constantly below. It's what she decides when she considers who her mother might be, or not be at all, come morning time. She decides because she might have a lot of guilt to carry around and she knows that she'll need forgiveness and she knows she won't be able to accept it even when it is offered to her. "So stop crying over Finn Collins and you're mistakes and move the fuck on."

"It's not that easy."

"Yes, it is," Raven says and she rolls over to face the wall, blocking out the stars and Clarke and the sadness. "If I can forgive you then you can sure as hell forgive yourself."

Clarke doesn't argue again.

Raven falls asleep and she doesn't dream about guns or her mom or broken bodies. She does dream and she doesn't really remember what happens in the morning. (She does remember that Wick was there, but that isn't important).