DAY 2: LEXA | ALICIA

"You think we'll make it?"

I turn around and look at Al, who hands me another piece of canvas to load into the truck. "Hope so," she shrugs. "According to Morgan, it shouldn't be that far anymore. We only have a few drops left though."

I shove the canvas under one of the benches, then rest my hand against the cool metal of the vehicle. "Are you ready to say goodbye to her yet?"

This time she doesn't answer me. Instead, she slowly shakes her head and takes a seat on one of the steps. I join her.

"Shouldn't we be used to it by now?" Al muses after a minute of comfortable silence. Her eyes are on our friends who are breaking down the camp. "Wouldn't it be easier if we became immune for goodbyes? For loss?"

"Easier? Yes," I nod, following her gaze, "But also inhuman. Feelings, even the shitty ones, are the one thing that separates us from all the bad out there. They keep us going. And they do make us who we are."

She turns her head, facing me. "Someone who wants to cry over the loss of an old truck?"

Shrugging my shoulders I give her a half grin. "Apparently," I giggle, before playfully bumping her shoulder with mine. "But hey, don't be so hard on yourself. You two have been inseparable for years. You can shed a tear over that."

For a moment we just keep sitting there, nostalgically smiling over something that's soon to become a memory.

"How about you?" Al breaks our silence. "Any tears at your goodbye this morning?"

My smile fades away and I avert my eyes. "I can't talk about that," I sigh, my voice suddenly unstable.

"You can't or you don't want to?"

"I..." I think back of this morning, of Clarke running away from me, and feel a sharp pain hitting my chest. "I can't," I mumble.

Al turns further towards me, careful not to fall of the small rung. "I'm sorry," she sighs.

I look up at her. "What? No, don't be. You didn't know—"

"I mean about whatever you're going through," she interrupts me. "I have no clue what's going on, but I can tell it's hurting you. And I hate to see that. You're my friend, and no one should make you feel like that."

I slowly exhale before showing her a weak smile. "No one does," I breathe, hardly audible, "No one but me."

She rests her hand on my knee and gently squeezes it. "Well, I am still sorry," she says. "For you, but also a little bit for me."

I frown at her, my eyes questioning, while a twinkle appears in hers. "You could at least have given me an hour alone with her."

Caught off guard by her directness, my jaw drops. Yet before I can reprimand her, I'm the one who gets shoulder-bumped. "I'm talking about an interview!" Al laughs, and despite everything I simply can't help but laugh along with her.

Tapping my knee, she stands up. "Come on, let's help the others. It's time to leave this place."

I jump to the ground, but don't follow her just yet. Instead I watch her join the group. Watch how they collect the rest of our stuff - efficiently and organized, but also at ease, clearly well attuned to each other after all this time. I watch a group that turned into a well-oiled machine. A family even.

I made the right choice by staying. I know I did.

So why does it hurt so freaking much?

Trying to pull myself together, I heave a sigh and turn around. With my eyes on the ground I walk to the cabin of the truck. My mind is elsewhere. It shouldn't be. In a world this dangerous, it should never be. This time is no exception.

The rough push against my shoulder comes out of nowhere. I stumble backwards, even more when a second push follows.

"You left me!"

Struggling to stay on my feet, I manage to look up.

It's Clarke. And she looks furious.

"You left me!" she calls again as she gives me a final shove. My back hits the truck while she takes another step forward, closing me in. She isn't done. "You said you'd stay with me," she cries out as she starts hitting me, vigorously and with eyes spitting fire. "But you left. You left me again."

For a second I feel I should let her, like she should hit me, cause yes, she's right - I left her. She's allowed to be angry, and if she feels better by hurting me... But then I see it. Her pain, hidden behind her anger. She doesn't want to do this. She just lost control.

She needs my help.

I lift my arms, protecting my face from her persistent blows, before I'm finally able to grab her wrists. Still enraged she keeps fighting me, keeps trying to pull herself loose. I notice how much stronger she's become, but I refuse to let go.

"Lexa!" she shouts as we wrestle for dominance. "Let me go! Let me—" She continues to writhe, forcing me to tighten my grip. "Let me go!"

"Clarke!" I hiss, "Clarke, stop it! You're hurting yourself!"

As she keeps struggling, I can tell she hardly sees me. She does seem to hear me though. It's the slight hesitation of her body in reaction to my voice that gives her away, and that keeps me going. Keeps me talking to her.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Clarke. I didn't mean to... didn't want to... I-I didn't think you'd come back. Please, you got to believe me! You got to—"

And then she finally gives up.

She lets go, completely out of breath, slumping her shoulders with the deepest sigh. At last her eyes find mine. They're telling me this isn't a trick. Whether she believes me or not, she's done.

I exhale and slowly lower our arms.

"I'm sorry," I quietly tell her again. I loosen my grip on her wrists and gently rub my thumbs over the harmed skin. "I'm sorry for hurting you."

We both know I'm not talking about these bruises.

"You left me," she gasps once more, her lip quivering and her chest still rising and falling with rapid breaths.

I open my mouth to speak up, to apologize, to explain... but I don't get the chance.

Before I can say a word, she brusquely leans in and connects our lips - almost in that same fierce way as in which she just attacked me, not to mention taking me by complete surprise. I don't need much time to adapt though. Kissing her has always been like breathing, it's the most natural thing I know of. So without giving it a second thought, I part my lips and welcome her in.

The kiss is hungry, filled with urge and desperation. It's not sweet, it's claiming. It's a question—a supplication even—as well as an answer.

And it's the both of us.

It's the both of us clinging to each other for dear life.

When we finally do break apart she keeps leaning into me, pinning me against the truck, her forehead lightly touching mine.

"Don't ever leave me again," she pants. Her warm breath hits my lips.

"I-I just thought..." I stammer, "I mean, I don't get it. You can't be here. Madi would never agree. The voices of the Commanders, they are so strong. They would never..." I swallow, pushing away some unwelcome memories. "They keep you trapped, you know. Like a prisoner. As long as she has the Flame—"

"Shhh," Clarke shushes me, "You're right. Madi isn't here."

"But you are. It's just... It's not possible. I know you would never leave her," I state, certain yet confused.

She squints her eyes, gazing at me with her chin tilted up. "You never even waited, did you? You never believed I'd come back to you?"

"I couldn't," I confess, my eyes now on the ground. I shake my head. "I was so sure that the Flame would win. I couldn't allow myself the hope that I was wrong. You see hope, it's the one enemy I can't beat. I learned that the hard way."

"You know what I just learned the hard way? How fucked up these woods are!"

"I didn't know you would cross them - let alone all by yourself!" I exclaim, "You were supposed to choose Madi!"

Clarke takes a small step backwards. "I did," she admits, "She uhm... she banished me. She sent me away."

My head shoots up and I stare at her, bewildered. "She did what?!"

"She told me to be with you," she goes on. "Or...?"

I narrow my eyes. "Or what?"

Mirroring my expression she cocks her head a little. "Or did you? Are you still in her head, somehow?"

"What?! No!" I cry out. "I mean, I can't remember ever being in there, but... no! I would never do anything like that. Force you to be somewhere? No! You wouldn't be you without your loyalty. That's why I—"

We both freeze. Seconds pass by.

Oh, screw it!

"That's why I love you," I finish the sentence I once couldn't.

I can see how my words reach her. How her body slacks and the air escapes her lungs; the air she might have been holding in since forever. How she suddenly looks like something has set her free. But she doesn't say anything in return. What she does do, is pulling me in again and pressing her lips on mine.

Her touch is softer than before, the kiss less urgent, but full of affection instead. It makes me want to drown in her embrace.

But I can't. A loud, unexpected voice startles me.

"Alicia!?"

Pulled out of the moment, I feel a little disorientated for a second. I look around, until my eyes find Strand.

"Can't say you two aren't entertaining, but we really have to go," he remarks from a short distance. "The back is cramped, all seats are taken. If your friend is coming, then you two have to squeeze yourself into the passenger seat."

I nod, then look at Clarke again. "You go sit in the cabin, next to Al. I'll be right there."

I let go of her and walk away, yet I stop when I look over my shoulder and realize she isn't moving.

"Clarke?"

She blinks. "If I come with you... If we leave these woods..."

She falls quiet, but I think I know what worries her. Hurrying myself back to her, I take her hands into my own. "We come back for her. This place we're going, it's not far," I reassure her. "But it's safe. More safe than being out here. When we get there, we make a plan. Clarke?"

She looks up. Our eyes lock.

"We get her back. I promise!"

Letting out a long, deep breath, she slowly nods.

"Okay," I force myself to smile. Truth is I have no clue how to defeat the Flame. I just know we can't stay here. "I just need to get my barrel. I'll be right with you."

She nods again and this time she does actually turn around. I speed to the back of the truck and note that everyone is in there already. Strand, sitting next to the backdoor, is holding my weapon - knowing too well I was coming for it. Yet right when he's about to hand it to me, he pulls back again.

"Now, call me crazy, but did she just call you Lexa?" he questions, a curious look on his face.

My brows snap together. "Seriously? You were eavesdropping?!"

"I prefer calling it coming to the rescue when a friend is getting attacked. You just didn't seem to need the help after all," he winks. "Now what's with the name?"

"Nothing," I sigh, grabbing the barrel from his hands. "You heard wrong."

Turning around, I quickly make my way to the cabin and climb in. Squeezing myself next to Clarke, I close the door and tell Al we are good to go.

"We used to have more space," I tell Clarke as I wrap my arm around her so we're both sitting a bit more comfortable - and also because I really want to. "We were driving two trucks, but we had to ditch one as we couldn't find enough gasoline anymore. Won't take long before we lose this one, too."

She tilts her head. "This plan— place, I mean, hasn't always been like this, has it?"

I shake my head. "No, it hasn't. It used to be alright."

"So when did it change?"

"Frankly, I lost track of time. Seven, eight years ago maybe? Al, what do you think?"

I look next to me, suddenly realizing this conversation must make no sense to my friend.

"Eight sounds about right," she nods, before curiously looking at Clarke. "You're not from around, are you?"

"She's from California," I quickly come in between, "just like me."

"So you guys go far back?"

Clarke looks at me, then back at Al. "Like you wouldn't believe," she grins, before nestling herself a little bit more into my arms.

The rest of the ride we are mostly quiet. Fortunately we are not bothered by blockages or other road problems, and our tank seems to be just full enough for this last ride. Morgan, sitting right behind Al, tells her where to go and ultimately where to stop.

"We're almost there. Let's walk the last part, since our vehicle doesn't look as friendly as we do," he suggests.

The walk is short indeed, it only takes a couple of minutes before we get the first glimpse of the community. Or the walls around it, actually. As we slowly approach, we can see guards on top of them. Getting even closer we can see their faces.

That's the moment Clarke and I abruptly stop walking.

"Is that...?" Clarke cries out, right when I start asking her the same.

We look at each other, almost too flabbergasted to finish our own questions. But we do, together in one breath.

"...Luna?!"

... ...