DAY 53: CLARKE

"Alicia?"

When Lexa stays quiet, Strand squats down a little to meet her eye level. "You hear me, girl? I said th—"

"I heard you," she mumbles. Her lips move, but that's really all it. She doesn't even blink. It's like she's frozen in time and space. "I just..." She swallows, takes a deep breath, then continues, "I can't believe it."

"I know," he sighs, "it feels like—"

"I can't believe you're saying this," she goes on, brusquely cutting him off before he can finish. She takes a step backwards without breaking their eye contact. "That you're doing this to me. While you know..."

Her voice trails off, making Strand open his mouth to reply. He looks like he's got this full explanation ready for her, waiting on his lips and eager to roll off. But no words come out. Instead another sigh escapes him and all he does is shake his head.

"Alicia," he just says again.

"Why, Strand? Why would you say anything like this? Why would you even think anything like this?" she shoots at him.

He wets his lips, about to give it another try, yet she already moves away from him, making her way around the couch to drop herself down on it, her back now towards all three of us. But she's not done.

"You were there. You know what happened. You know she got trapped. Surrounded by fire and death. Swallowed up by flames and walkers. So, so many walkers." She spins in her seat, her blazing eyes on her friend. "How dare you come in here and cast doubt on any of that? When you were there, watching the stadium go down with us? Grieving with us, when there was nothing left for us to do?"

As she keeps scolding at him, she follows him with her eyes. Watches him get to her. He sits himself down on the coffee table so they're eye to eye again.

"It's because I was there that I know not to take any of this lightly," he tells her in a rather calm voice. "That it rips open old wounds, letting all this pain pour out. That it might be all for nothing, since nothing is for sure. But Alicia, this very well could be for sure. And I for one can't let this tiny chance go by, and not at least share it with you. So please, just hear me out?"

She grumbles. "How do I know this isn't part of some bigger plan? That there isn't something you're after, something to gain for you here that's not in the best interest of others... including me?"

"Come on, that doesn't sound fair," I come to his aid, while joining them at the sitting area. For whatever reason Jesus stays put on the threshold.

"No, it is," Strand corrects me, "It's fair. It wouldn't be a first. But I'm telling you, this time it's really nothing like that. I swear. May lightning strikes me if I'm lying!"

I don't know him very well, or actually not at all, but he sounds sincere to me. Lexa seems convinced as well, at least enough to listen. Or maybe she's just tired of fighting him? She gives him a slight nod, which he takes as a go-ahead.

"There's this man at Hilltop, Luke. An easy fellow," he starts before Lexa can stop him again. "A few nights ago he overheard me and Luciana talk about our last night in Round Rock, and the fire at the diamond. At a certain moment we dropped Madison's name, which apparently drew his full attention as he interrupted us and started to ask questions about her. Quite frankly I just figured he confused her with someone he knew from before the outbreak. Or maybe he remembered her for real, maybe their paths had crossed. It's a small world and all. Anyhow, turned out I was wrong. Based on our description, Luke told us he was almost sure he met her after the fire."

"See, that's not possible," Lexa sighs.

"That's what I said."

"Then why are you here telling me all this? If you don't even believe it yourself?"

Strand shrugs his shoulders. "Because Luke didn't give up. He didn't ask us to believe him, but he needed us to at least hear him. So we did, we listened."

When Lexa keeps quiet again, I turn towards him. "What did he tell you?"

Strand gets up, stretches his long body, then sits down again in one of the more comfortable chairs. And starts to talk.

"Luke has been traveling around with the same group of people for a long time. Years, he told me. They've been on the road a lot, but a few times they settled down in communities, though based on his story they hardly deserve that name. One of those shitholes, as he called it, was named Coalport. It was build in Ohio, not too far from Cleveland, by a bunch of Pennsylvanians. It was right there where he met this woman. Her name was Madison. He's absolutely sure about that, because coincidence would have it that Coalport happened to be build on the ruins of a small town once called Madison. The original sign was still there."

"There are tons of Madison's out there," Lexa mumbles, unimpressed by his words.

"Sure," Strand nods, "but this Madison had survived some major fire. Not that she told them about it, but the scars were there to tell her story. She was covered with them - her hands, her arms, one side of her neck... even a part of her face." He falls quiet. The image of a battered Madison—once his close friend, as I am told—must hurt him deeply. He swallows visibly, then forces himself to go on.

"As said, she didn't talk about it. According to Luke, she hardly talked about anything, really. She was just there, with them, mainly living in silence, and maybe—hopefully—even in some kind of peace. Almost like she had no history at all. But then there was this one night, when she was on watch with Luke. It was a quiet night, close to boring, which made Luke a bit chatty, even though he suspected Madison not to care. Maybe not even to listen. But it didn't stop him. He told her about his journey, and the rundown places they'd found along their way. Places people had tried to build into a home, which never worked out, despite their good intentions. At this point he started to make all this comparisons with Animal Farm and whatsoever - I won't bother you with it, as I wished he hadn't bothered me with it."

He shows her a small, crooked smile, which she doesn't respond to.

"Right. Anyhow, at one point in his monologue he said something in the line of it clearly not being possible anymore to create some kind of safe place, let alone a home. And that's when Madison surprised him by speaking up. She told him, and he swore he remembered it word for word, that 'At the diamond, she really thought she could'. He asked her to tell him more about it, but she waved him off like she'd already said too much. Nevertheless, her remark stuck by him, like it could matter one day - his words, not mine. So when he heard us talking, he put one and one together and reasoned that this had to be that one day."

He spreads his hands in front of him, as if the conclusion, together with the truth, is right there. Ready to roll out on the table between us.

"He sounds like quite the character," I speak up when no one else does.

"He's a real good guy, actually," Jesus says from behind us, startling me a little. I'd forgotten he was there.

Strand smiles at me, not showing any offense. "He is. But we all know this isn't about him."

"Yeah, I get that," I nod, though not feeling able to return his smile. "What I don't get though, is why you came here to share all this, knowing what you're stirring up, while you could have checked out his story first. I've seen a map. Cleveland is not the end of the world."

"It's not, and I would have, if..." He doesn't finish. Instead he lets himself fall backwards into the pillows of the chair and rubs his eyes, as if tiredness suddenly hits him.

"If...?!"

He inhales deeply, then slowly blows out his cheeks, before looking at me again. "If she would still be there."

His words make me shoot up in my seat. "She's gone?" I exclaim, a tad agitated. "Then what's the point of all this?"

"She left, yes," Strand answers, ignoring my temper, "but that doesn't mean she's gone. We got a clue. A direction. When Coalport got into trouble, with a bunch of herds approaching from everywhere, everyone except Luke's little group got on their boats to cross Lake Erie."

"Which brought them where?" I ask.

He averts his eyes, just for a second, then looks at me again. Yet it's Lexa who answers me first.

"Canada," she states, like that's a real answer. Like that map didn't show me how absolutely huge Canada is.

Strand just nods in agreement, but I'm not sure Lexa even catches it. She's already up, pacing the room in her well-known manner. I know this means her brain is in overdrive. Not giving any inconvenient emotions a chance to take over, she has pushed them as far away as possible in the blink of a second; almost beyond her control, and in the best case to deal with them later. On her own or, if we ever get there again, with me. She chooses head over heart. So she's analyzing. Weighing. Planning.

She's doing what she hates, yet what she's raised to do.

Or at least she's trying to.

I get up and hop towards her, until I'm standing right in front of her, blocking her way.

"Talk to me," I tell her.

I don't call her baby, or sweety, or anything else of any meaning. I can't. Just thinking about her like that hurts me in a way I can't compare to anything I ever endured. My broken leg. The death wave radiation on my skin. The loneliness I once had to defeat. All that felt like nothing compared to this. And I know I can't allow that much pain, not right now, but I can't step away from her either. I don't want her to go through all this alone.

We are still us, and I need to protect us.

Her eyes meet mine, and as they do I think I catch a hint of relief in them. As if the proof that I'm actually still here embraces her. Brings her home. And makes her able to breathe again.

"It could be her."

Her voice is low, like her words are just for me to hear. But it's not just that. She sounds... fragile. Scared even. Then I remember our talk a while back, when she told me about hope, and how it's her one true enemy. I catch myself getting a lump in my throat. I just nod at her.

"And she could be in Canada."

I nod again, expecting her to go on from here. To tell me what this all means to her, what she wants. But she doesn't. She tries to, but she seems unable to find the words. It's like I can actually see them get stuck.

Her eyes pierce into mine, real deep. "Help me get there," they seem to scream.

I clear my throat. "Can you live with that?" I ask her at last. "Can you live here, the way we planned, knowing she might be living there?"

"I don't know," she whispers, her voice so small now I can barely hear her.

I feel my heart break all over again, and not in any way it did earlier today. I feel for her - so bad. For the eternal conflicts that seem to haunt her, always and everywhere. For her loyalty that's once again put to the test. And for the fact that she can't even allow herself to feel slightly happy about this news. Since she would be feeding that enemy with it, that beast that nestled inside her long ago and that she's carrying with her ever since. I feel for her and I want to pull her in.

I really want to.

But I don't.

I can't.

And she knows. She can see it in my eyes. And it frightens her even more. There are some emotions even she can't push back. Or hide.

It makes her avoid my gaze, hanging her head a little in defeat.

"No," she breaks our heavy silence, and then again, a little louder, "No, I can't."

In the corner of my eye I see how Strand gets up, like these few words were the cue he was waiting for. I gesture at him to sit down again. To leave us a little longer. Despite everything, this is still just us.

He takes the hint.

Now that she's found her voice again, Lexa goes on as if Strand's not even in the room. "If I'd go look for her, leaving them, leaving your— our people behind... would you leave me?"

Not realizing I was holding my breath until now, I exhale and shake my head. "I could never," I answer without hesitation. "Don't you know that by now?"

With her eyes still on the floor, she starts murmuring, "I know I gave you reason enough to—"

"Hey!" I make her shut up, "We're not talking about that now. You hear me?"

That's when she looks up, slightly, just through her eye lashes. This girl, who's not afraid of anything, or anyone. But is scared to death of losing me.

And I'm scared to death of losing her. That much I know.

"I'm not saying we're not gonna talk," I tell her, just as much as myself. "I really think we need to figure some stuff out - together. But it can wait. I'm not going anywhere... unless it's somewhere you are going." I reach out and gently take her hand.

Finally.

The moment we touch, I can feel how a sensation of reassurance—mine as well as hers—flows through my body. Our fingers entwine and we both tighten our grip. With our eyes we exchange the softest smile, the kind that is only for us to see. Our lips will follow. I have no doubt about that.

"Even Canada?" she whispers.

I nod. "Even Canada."

We stare at each other a few seconds longer, until she breaks our gaze with a blink and a shake of her head, almost as if to wake herself. There's no time for dreaming. Reality awaits.

"We can't just leave though," she sighs, and I know all too well what she's talking about.

"We can't make them wait any longer," I agree, referring to our people in the woods. "We'll have to finish what we started."

Lexa lets go of my hand, though with clear reluctance, and starts to pace back and forth again. "It wil take forever. And even then I don't think they'll ever let me out of sight again. The Grounders, I mean. Their need for a Commander has never left them. Sooner or later their urge of keeping one will result in their urge to cage one. And a golden cage is still a cage."

"Yet you knew that, didn't you? The moment you took over from Madi, you knew they would never let go of you again," I carefully note.

"I could accept it. Knowing it would save Madi, and that I would have you with me. I knew it was enough. But Clarke, with the idea of my mom being alive, with an actual trail to follow - even though it's just some tiny crumbs..."

She stands still, right between me and Strand. I look around her, see how confusion has clouded his face, but also how he patiently waits, despite not getting any of this. When I focus on her again, I lift my shoulders in some hopeless gesture.

"I get it," I sigh. "I get that you want this, and why you want this, but I think you're right about people not wanting to let go of you. I think if we just go and leave, they will follow. They will find you, and they'll get you back."

"You're both right."

Jesus' voice makes me jump - again! We both turn towards him, right when he takes a step closer, and then another one - cornering us a little.

"There's only one way to no longer be a part of them - of us," he corrects himself, before continuing, "You're gonna have to die."

... ...