A/N: gah, so the writing in this chapter is pretty clumsy. Felt like I was writing with worms in my brain. Sorry. The first half of this chapter just would not gel and the lack of sleep I've been having certainly didn't help. Hence why I posted it a little later than usual. Due to that, future updates will probably be around this time of the week as well. I try to give myself at least 6-8 days to fine-tune a chapter before posting.
"Life is about choices.
Some we regret, some we're proud of.
Some will haunt us forever.
The message - we are what we chose to be."
― Graham Brown
"Can I ask something now?"
"Of course."
Raven frowned, running her fingers over the keyboard as she debated whether or not this was a conversation they should really be having right now. The last thing she wanted was to start a fight - though she doubted starting a fight with Luna would be easy. "Why didn't you take the Flame? Back when we came to you on the oil rig. Why didn't you take it?"
She could understand why Luna might be repulsed by the A.I., given what she'd once been forced to do in order to receive it, but she couldn't see how that repulsion would be any match for the obvious care she had for all life. The care that kept her here now.
Not to mention, she'd told Raven that she agreed with what they did about A.L.I.E.; her dismay - and disgust - over what the A.I. was capable of doing had been on full display. She'd wanted to stop A.L.I.E. just as much as the rest of them. She certainly had as many reasons - if not more - to hate the A.I. and want her destroyed. So why didn't she take the Flame?
No-one was asking her to compete in a Conclave this time. No-one was asking her to kill.
Just to save. That was all.
So why didn't she take it?
"I mean, you could have saved everyone."
If Luna was surprised by the question, it didn't show. In fact, nothing showed. It was like looking into a deep lake, the bottom so far down the sun couldn't touch it - all Raven could see was the surface.
She shifted uneasily.
"Not everyone," Luna said after a long time. "That Flame was in my life for little more than a day and it destroyed all the peace that I'd spent years building. People died, by my hand. People I loved. Taking the Flame would only have led to more killing. It always has."
Raven opened her mouth to protest-
"Did you truly kill no-one in your quest to defeat A.L.I.E.? Were there no casualties?" Her expression was still carefully detached but the objection was firm, even as the weight of her tone remained so light it could be mistaken for a caress.
Raven closed her mouth again, hesitated. "There might have been less if we'd been able to use the Flame sooner."
They'd wasted a lot of valuable time trying to get the upper hand on A.L.I.E. without use of the second A.I. - and it had cost them dearly.
(but not nearly as dearly as what it had cost Luna to be presented with the Flame in the first place)
She didn't waver. "But still some?"
"Probably." The answer was grudging but Raven couldn't hide from it.
Luna grew silent, considering her response. Not for the first time, Raven wished she was easier to read. "It's self-serving, but I can't put myself in a place to make those decisions. Not again. I can't have any more blood on my hands." She sighed, leaning back as she uncrossed her legs, her posture becoming more fluid, though weighed down by a certain exhaustion that Raven hadn't noticed till now. As though the conversation had worn away at what little reserves she still possessed. "And once you start making those choices, it's difficult to stop. That kind of power can be. . . addictive. I didn't like who I was back when I made them. And I have no desire to become that person again."
Raven frowned. She couldn't help but think that Luna wasn't giving herself enough credit. She made it sound like if she got one taste of that apple, she'd be a goner. But Raven had seen the level of control she had over herself, the strength of conviction in everything she did. Raven doubted she could be so easily swayed - knew she couldn't, if experience was anything to go by - and especially not by a little old thing like power.
Power may be addictive but she'd seen nothing to suggest it was Luna's drug of choice.
But she could understand the concept of a sliding scale when it came to hard choices. Once you made one, it was so much easier to make the next. The longer that went on, the more people you sacrificed, the more lines you crossed, the less resistant you became to making the choices you never thought you'd even consider.
She'd seen it in almost everyone around her.
Seen it in herself.
The one person she hadn't seen it in was Luna.
The line seemed very clear to her - and near impossible to stumble over, even just for a brief gander on the other side.
It had taken threatening the life of a little girl to drag the nightblood across it and, even so, she'd lingered for barely a second. Long enough to do irreversible damage, but not so long that she could be tempted to stay.
Raven didn't think there was anything that could make Luna stay. She was too firmly fastened to the life and beliefs she'd crafted for herself on the side of peace.
Raven was brought out of her thoughts by a shift in movement. Luna reached for the pile of string beside her, which had been growing steadily smaller over the past couple of days. Raven took it as a sign that meditation was over with for the time being, which meant she was unlikely to be ignored again anytime soon.
Not that she cared about that.
Not that she needed Luna's attention.
It had just, you know, been unnerving when she hadn't received any, if only because most of the time she felt almost smothered by it.
She wasn't used to someone being so focused on her.
But if today was anything to by, she now seemed to be getting a little too used to it.
Frowning, Raven turned her attention back to the string steadily winding its way through Luna's hands.
The Grounder was making a fishing net - or nets - apparently.
Raven was sure Becca must have some kind of rope lying around here, or at least something similar - actually, she thought she'd seen some actual bona fide nets down on Level 2 - but Luna had insisted on making her own. Raven suspected that she needed the distraction.
(which might be why her fingers were wrapping around the creation now, cycling through the pile at a somewhat intimidating pace)
"If you're wondering whether I regret my decision not to take the Flame, I don't. I made Floukru to be a safe haven. The world outside of it was full of killing and fighting, that didn't change with A.L.I.E.'s arrival." Luna's gaze connected with hers again, piercing. "I turned my back on that world, Raven. And so did everyone who came to be a part of Floukru. The only reason that violence found its way into my clan was because we invited Skaikru into it. I invited them. That was how A.L.I.E found us. And she was only interested in us because of the possibility that I might take the Flame." She shrugged. "Once I refused, once Skaikru left, she never came back. She didn't find us again. I don't think she even tried. So, no, I don't regret my decision to not take the Flame."
And Raven could tell from the steel in her gaze that she meant it. As impassive as her expression remained, it was also unfaltering. On this, she wouldn't be swayed.
And. . . after hearing all that, Raven was no longer sure that she wanted her to be.
She could understand Luna's side of it. Even if she couldn't find it within herself to agree.
Raven still thought it was worth the price. Putting an end to A.L.I.E. was worth everything they'd done in the process.
That was what she believed.
And this was what Luna believed.
She wouldn't take that from her.
Force her to think and feel as anyone other than herself.
( 'I can make the same decision you did, Raven. Easily. Too easily. It's what I was born for. But every time I've made it in the past, I've lost a part of myself. And I've worked so hard to get those parts back. But some will be lost forever. . . Not making those choices is how I hold onto what parts I have left.')
She wouldn't condemn Luna for choosing to hold onto what little remained of herself.
For choosing life over death.
Raven wasn't the Flame Keepers. She'd never condemn someone for valuing the lives of others a little too much. For not being able to kill. To sacrifice.
(and in the end, maybe Luna was right to think the way she did. To be so clear-cut with her lines.
maybe they were the ones who deserved to be condemned)
Luna had spent her entire childhood being trained for the day she would lead her people, or die. Even after she'd fled that expectation, the role of leadership had still found her - only it hadn't asked her to sacrifice her heart in the bargain.
But she wasn't a leader anymore.
Not now that there was no-one left to lead.
Well, not exactly no-one.
Raven could imagine Luna as the Commander, almost too clearly. She suspected she would do a much better job of it than Roan who, despite his best efforts, was clearly floundering. Though, one could hardly hold that against him when he'd fallen into the position when the world was, quite literally, coming to an end. It wasn't something he'd been trained for. Leading Azgeda one day, maybe, but rival clans? Clans that had spent most of their existence at war with one another and had only known peace for a short time under a single Commander? Not to mention, he lacked the rather significant requirements for the job: nightblood and The Flame. Without either, without both - his people's loyalty was hard won.
But Luna had the training. She had the blood. And if she hadn't rejected the Flame, she'd have had that too. Could still have it, maybe. If she wanted.
And she. . . she had this way about her. This tranquility, blended with authority that somehow didn't make the rebel inside Raven want to rise up and kick her in the teeth. She felt safe with Luna, and she hadn't felt safe with anyone for a long time.
It was a quality that would set her apart as a leader, Raven was sure of it.
Luna may not want the Flame or the position of Commander, but that didn't make her any less ideal for the role.
Except. . . being that kind of a leader meant making hard choices, the kind of choices Luna had very clearly stated she refused to make. Not again.
And Raven couldn't blame her for that. She didn't want to make those choices either.
Because she knew what it meant to be the one who suffered from them.
And so did Luna.
She cleared her throat, no longer comfortable with this line of interrogation. "Okay, new question. Why the hell do you keep trying to give me your jacket?"
Raven pushed the offending object away from her in emphasis, hoping to break the oppressive weight of the conversation they'd just had.
A part of her regretted initiating it, even if the discussion had illuminated some things and laid to rest more than a few burning questions. She didn't like the way the other woman's fingers had grown tense around the string in her hands, skin leeching of color with the increasing pressure.
But at her question, Luna's eyes creased, the coolness of her expression cracking with warmth. Raven was relieved for the change. "Because it annoys you."
Her jaw dropped. "Seriously?"
No way.
Luna's mouth twitched and Raven hated that she looked so tempting in her amusement. "The first time was genuine. You really did look cold. But after. . ." She shrugged, leaning back. "It distracted you."
"It distracted me?" She fought the urge to gape like a fish. Even so, Raven just knew the expression on her face must be several degrees short of embarrassing and had to give Luna credit for not caving to even a chuckle.
She nodded. "You work too hard and it takes a toll. But pointing that out will just make you more likely to push yourself harder. You hate your limitations." Her mouth pulled down sympathetically. "Understandably. But you do need to take breaks."
Raven stared, struggling to wrap her mind around the level of subterfuge. Mostly because it had worked. Luna would get on her nerves, and she'd storm off. Pace around for a little while - maybe work her frustration out on some snacks - and then return to the lab.
She clearly hadn't been exaggerating when she called Luna diabolical the other day.
And yet. . . Raven couldn't bring herself to be pissed. The other woman had outplayed her, fair and square, and she could admire that even as she bristled faintly with indignation. "We'd be so fucked if you ever decided to use your powers for evil."
That startled a laugh from Luna.
Raven rolled her eyes, willing her heart to slow back down. It had developed this annoying habit of leaping out of control whenever she heard the other woman's laughter or saw her smile - like a little kid on a sugar high, delighting at the most mundane of things.
"You know, telling me kind of spoils your plan. It's not like you can use that trick anymore now that I know."
Luna shrugged. "I'll find another."
Somehow she didn't doubt that. "You could have just lied." Continued with her trick, Raven never being the wiser. It was more than effective, after all.
But Luna shook her head. "No, I couldn't have."
She huffed, resisting the urge to roll her eyes again. "Right, you don't lie."
Luna seemed amused by her derision. "You make it sound like such an extraordinary thing." She lifted her shoulders carelessly. "Lying takes a kind of effort I can't be bothered with. It's easier to work with the truth."
Not in Raven's experience.
The truth was prickly and painful, needling your insides until you were willing to do whatever you could to avoid it.
The truth had never been easy to take.
Or give.
She sighed. "I can't believe you tricked me."
It was actually a rather cunning use of misdirection. She'd pressed on a spot that she knew to be sensitive - Raven's frustration when it came to being fussed over - in order to avoid fussing over what she actually wanted to fuss over.
Diabolical, indeed.
"Don't feel too bad. You're not the first to fall for that move. It was always very effective on Lexa." Luna's gaze was focused once more on the string in her hand and, by Raven's calculations, the net seemed to be growing at a rapid rate.
Whatever it was she was doing, she was damn good at it.
"I'm not Lexa." She couldn't suppress the lick of anger at being compared to that woman.
Luna looked up at her tone, regarding her evenly for a moment. "No. You're not. But you are as stubborn."
She returned her attention to her work and Raven wondered what she'd managed to grasp from that brief perusal of her face.
Hopefully not much.
As stubborn as Lexa.
Great.
She'd always taken a kind of pride - and glee - in her unwavering determination but now she felt slightly queasy.
That woman had left Raven at the mercy of Mount Weather. And that was after she'd engaged in a little friendly side torture, or whatever you wanted to call it (no execution needed to be that painful).
She didn't want to be anything like her.
And yet. . . Luna always spoke with such fondness whenever she mentioned the Commander, and Raven had a hard time believing that she would hold anyone in high regard who didn't actually deserve it. She liked everyone, sure - or seemed to. Look, she liked Murphy. That might as well count as everyone. But there was a difference between liking someone and holding genuine affection for them.
So maybe. . . maybe there was something in Lexa that was worthy of that feeling.
But Raven wasn't about to waste any time trying to find out what.
She sighed, turning away to face the bane of her existence: the rocket that had been rendered all but useless. "I need to fix this."
Luna looked up again and though Raven could no longer see her face, the softness of the other woman's tone eased some of the stiffness in her spine. "I know. But some things can't be fixed. And I don't want you to kill yourself trying to make the impossible possible."
Raven frowned, wondering if Luna might know a little more than what she'd let on about what was going on with her head. But no. She couldn't see Abby sharing that information with her, there would be no need to. And the doctor might have her flaws - didn't they all? - but Raven was fairly confident that she still understood the meaning of doctor-patient confidentially. "It's only impossible until I make it possible. I figured you of all people would understand that."
She turned her chair back around to face the other woman, unable to keep the confrontation from her tone.
Luna nodded. "I do. But this is a little different than rejecting an entire culture and belief system. Even so, that nearly cost me my life. Many times over."
She narrowed her eyes, ire rising at the thought of Luna ever coming to harm - and for the simple crime of not wanting to kill any more people.
If she could go back in time and blow a bomb up in the faces of everyone who had ever dared to hurt her, she would. At the top of her list would be those bloody Flame Keepers, who had decided to systematize child abuse. They were just begging for a grenade or two.
"I don't want to see this cost you yours." The murmur came quietly but for Raven it felt like a sledgehammer. The genuine care contained in those simple words grated at her heart and, for a moment, she found it hard to breathe. She wished Luna didn't care about her - and yet was equally terrified at the thought that she might stop. That one day she would see what Raven already knew.
That she didn't deserve that care.
Had never deserved it.
(but god did she want it)
Guilt swirled inside her as she realized that this was one thing she could never give Luna. Raven couldn't survive for her. Couldn't promise her that she'd put her own wellbeing before the rest of the world - before the alter she'd placed her own genius on.
And she couldn't talk about this any longer.
Raven sighed, swiveling her chair around a little more so that the other woman was directly facing her. "Okay, question number three."
Luna was fighting a smile now. "This is beginning to feel like an interrogation."
Raven shrugged, sharing in her amusement. "You can opt out at any time."
She tilted her head to the side, considering. "I'd rather do a trade."
"A trade?" She didn't like the evil glint in Luna's eye. It seemed to promise this would not end well for her.
"I've only asked you one question, which seems incredibly unequal." Well, okay, yeah. "In exchange for answering your third, I get to ask two more of you. The timing of which will be at my discretion."
Raven bulked. There were a million things Luna could ask of her and probably only a dozen she wouldn't feel the need to rocket up into space to avoid answering.
But. . . Luna was careful. And empathetic. So far, she hadn't asked more of Raven than she was comfortable giving, and that extended to more than just questions. Her compassion outweighed her curiosity. She didn't think the other woman was likely to demand something of her that would inevitably send her into a tailspin but. . . "And if I don't want to answer?"
"Then you don't answer." She shrugged. "I'll pick something else."
The tension inside Raven eased. "Okay." She could work with that.
Even if this did feel like another of the Grounder's tricks. She was fairly confident Luna didn't give a fuck about things being 'incredibly unequal' and was just using that as a bargaining chip to wheedle her way into Raven's personal life - as if she hadn't already burrowed herself in too deep.
Oddly, Raven discovered that she didn't exactly mind if that was true.
Even more strangely, she found an element of humor in it.
She wondered if Luna had predicted her reacting in such a way. Something told her she would never have suggested this at all if she believed for a second Raven might be made uncomfortable by it.
She didn't know whether to be touched by that or disturbed by her insight.
Luna smiled. "Okay. Then ask away."
A/N: there'll be more discussion of the Flame and Luna's decision not to take it at a later date.
I hope everyone is safe and well, giving you all hugs!
