DAY 98: MADISON

"Let's see if I get this right. You're not just saying you believe in reincarnation now, but you also think you remember exactly who you used to be?"

I managed to make her sit down at the table with me, as long as she could keep an eye on Clarke and Madi, and to keep myself from interrupting her when she finally started to tell. Which wasn't easy, and doesn't mean I don't have loads of thoughts and questions.

"No," Alicia shakes her head, "I don't remember my old life, I'm still living it. As well as I'm living this new life."

Not able to help myself, I sigh. "Honey, I can tell you're very serious about this, but... you sound like someone with—"

"—multiple personality disorder," she shrugs, a nervous laugh escaping her. "I know. I swear though, it's nothing like that."

"Okaaay..." I slowly nod, dragging the word out to give myself a few more seconds to think, "What's it like then?"

Falling back in her chair, Alicia rubs her face, then takes a deep breath.

"It's like I just told you. I'm not just Alicia, I'm also Lexa. A former—"

"—army commander that tragically died at young age," I finish her sentence with another sigh, "Yes, you said that, but Alicia... come on!"

Beyond my control, I throw my arms in the air, yet catching myself on it, I immediately look away to calm myself, not wanting her to close up again. Whichever idea she's got into her head, at least she's telling me about it. When I turn back to her, she's watching me, motionless, with her arms crossed in front of her chest.

"I told you you wouldn't believe me," she lightly shrugs again, "Which is fine, I get it, but this is the story—the truth!—you asked for. Whether you take it or not."

I narrow my eyes. "What makes you so sure? How do you..."

"What?"

"How do you know it's not all in your head?" I ask her, tilting my head in wonder, "What makes this whole saga so real to you?"

"Them!" Alicia exclaims, jumping up from her chair, and surprising me with her action as well as her certainty. "It's not just me remembering—recalling every single detail—as if it was yesterday. I also have them to confirm it all. They remember me, and everything that happened. The people who were there with me. Clarke, Bellamy, Echo, Octavia, Niylah... and so, so many others!"

I watch her for a moment, watch the despair on her face; the desperation of a daughter who needs her mother to believe her. To trust her.

But how could I, when none of this makes any sense?!

Breaking our eye-contact, I move my gaze to the girl sitting behind her, against the wall. The girl who's silently watching me in return.

"How about that?" I say somewhat mockingly, "She didn't mention you."

Madi stares back at me, continuously, but doesn't answer. Not until Alicia tells her it's okay.

"I was too young," she quietly speaks up, "I never met her. But I know it's all true. Lexa was a legend, not a myth. She still is."

With my brain in overdrive, I can no longer just sit here. "How did she do it?" I torment my thoughts as I start pacing around, "How did she convince this kid? Make her and apparently many others believe she's this... what... messiah?! What's her aim? How can it protect her—or us—in this fucked up world?"

Suddenly I stand still, my eyes searching for Alicia's again.

"What did you mean when you said your truth would change me? Or us?"

Dropping her shoulders, Alicia averts her eyes from me. "I-I don't know how..." She fleetingly peeks at me again, before letting her eyes drift around the dim room until they ultimately land back on Madi - unconscious, as it seems.

"It's alright," the kid tells her in a warm, understanding voice, "You don't have to."

Without moving, Alicia keeps looking at her, leaving me clueless once again what this is all about. But then she squares her back - resolutely. Shaking her head, she clears her throat. "No, I do. No more lies. And definitely not about you."

"Oh my God, she's your child, isn't she?!" I blurt out before I can stop myself.

"No, she's not," Alicia answers, turning back to me, "She's my sister."

I stare at her for a second, speechless, then suddenly snort. "Sure, why not!?"

"I'm not joking."

"Oh, I know you're not," I laugh scornfully, "I just don't remember giving birth to a third baby," and then, shrugging in a playful apologetic way, "Sorry Madi."

Alicia groans, seemingly tired by it all, and drops down on her chair again. "I'm not saying she's your child, I'm saying she's my sister. Lexa's sister."

While another sigh escapes me, perhaps the hundredth one today, I also return to my chair. Once seated, I lean forward, resting my hand on top of hers.

"Sweety, she just said she never met you."

"Because I was taken away!" Alicia cries out, pulling her hand away in frustration. "Listen, there's no questioning this, we have proof. We recently found out that..."

I shift in my seat. "That what?"

"That..." She visibly swallows. "That we share the same DNA." Blinking rapidly, I open my mouth without speaking - not remembering how to all of a sudden. Alicia takes it as a cue to go on. "Which means that... that you and I don't. That we are not related."

Her words feel like a punch to my stomach. "You're— You're claiming I'm not your mother? I carried you for nine months. I gave life to you! I raised—"

"Yes, you did all that, and so much more," she cuts me off, knowing too well I could rant on forever about this. "And for that alone you are my mother. But, scientifically... biologically..." She doesn't finish, just shakes her head in defeat. "I don't understand it either."

We stare at each other. Her eyes are filled with sadness. Mine probably still with disbelief. We both ignore the soft, shuffling motion behind me.

"What's going on?" Clarke breaks our silence, sounding groggy and hoarse from sleep. When neither Alicia or I react—our eyes still glued to each other—Madi quietly answers her, "Lexa is telling her everything."

"Ev-Everything?" Clarke stammers.

"Yeah," Madi goes on, "I'm not sure it's going well."

For some reason, those words hit me. Hurt me even.

"N-No. No, we're good," I answer with a quick look over my shoulder, before focusing on my daughter again. "We're good," I tell her too. "That proof, how did you get it?"

As she fidgets with her fingers, drawing my attention to those hands I know so well, those hands I held in mine when I taught her to stand, to walk, to explore the world, she looks up at me from under her beautiful lashes.

"We know some scientists. Mom, I'm not making any of this up, you have to believe me."

"I do," I nod, which is the truth. I do believe that she didn't come up with this. Yet someone did. For whatever reason, someone wants to strengthen this conviction about my child being some fierce leader from another world. With lies. With brainwashing. Someone is behind all this.

Someone is taking all this one step too far.

"I want to meet them," I tell her, "I want them to make me part of the research you were subjected to. I think I deserve at least that."

"I-I don't know," Alicia mumbles. She looks at Clarke, who now joins us at the table. "I'm not sure if we should go back there."

I frown. "Why not?"

"That's between me and Clarke." I can be wrong, but I think I catch a hint of shame in her tone.

"It's fine," Clarke softly smiles at her as she takes her hand into her own. Unlike before, Alicia doesn't pull away. "We can go back to Alexandria, I don't mind."

They share a look, like they've been doing for weeks—one that tells me there's a lot more going on between them than just some cute, blossoming relationship—before facing me again.

"Alright," Alicia slowly nods, "we can go there, join the others. We can ask them to do another test, if that helps you. But Mom... it won't change anything. Those results, they will only confirm what I'm telling you. Are you sure that's what you want?"

"I want to be your mother," I say by way of answer, as I get up and move around the table. Wrapping my arms around her, I hold her to me tightly. "I want you to know that I am, to truly believe that. That I'm your mother, in every aspect. If that means I need to prove them wrong, then so be it."

"How about the rest of it?" she asks me in a thin, fragile voice. She still so desperately needs to believe her.

I sway her in my arms. My child. My baby girl. "I don't care about the rest of it," I whisper.

I can feel how my words relieve her, how my lie makes her body relax - at last. I'm glad. I don't like being dishonest, especially not to my children, but I choose it over seeing her stressed and anxious. If I can help her by living the lie so she doesn't have to, then I don't mind one bit.

It's not my only reason to play along though.

I need to get in. Need to find out who's behind all this. Because I swear to God, whoever is trying to take my daughter away from me, is going to regret it.

... ...