DAY 53: LEXA | ALICIA

The moment Jesus takes a step closer, I instinctively take one backward, creating more space between us. I thought we were doing slightly better, or at least hoped so, but right now I'm not that sure anymore. He looks really serious and his words aren't exactly reassuring either.

"I'm gonna what?" I exclaim, my eyes wide.

"You're gonna have to die," he repeats himself. His voice is calm. My heart rate is not.

Right then Strand steps between the two of us. "Whoa," he utters, "What's going on here? Are you threatening her?!"

The two men stare each other straight in the eyes. Nobody moves. Not until Jesus blinks and shakes his head.

"No. No, I don't mean..." His gaze move back to me. "I mean they're gonna have to think that you died. To them, you have to be dead."

Strand turns towards me before I can react to Jesus' words.

"Alicia, I have no clue what this is all about. Who you are to this people you are speaking of, or honestly, even who you are to me right now. But this... this is ridiculous!"

I nod, slowly. "Yes," I agree, "From where you're standing, with what you know, it is."

"So what don't I know?" he asks, looking quite bewildered by now - which I can totally understand. A sigh escapes me before I can hold it in. I've been dreading this moment for so long.

"I'm afraid we're gonna need at least a full bottle of Scotch to cover all that."

"Bring it," he shoots.

I know my friend. Now that he's aware that there's a story, a truth he doesn't yet know about, he's not willing to let go. He's just like Al in that regard. To my surprise it's Jesus who comes to my rescue.

"How 'bout giving her a minute, while you and I go look for a bottle like that?" he suggests. "I know the people around here, so that might give us an actual chance of finding some decent spirit."

Instead of answering him, Strand keeps his eyes on me, sizing me up in an almost examining way. It hits me how in the blink of an eye I must feel like a total stranger to him. Forcing a little and hopefully reassuring smile I nod again, as if to tell him that taking a minute is all I will do, and that there will be answers when he comes back. Whatever those answers might be.

"Fine," he grumbles.

And then they're gone again.

I keep my gaze on the door they just disappeared through, hardly aware that I'm staring at it, until I feel the soft pressure of a hand on my shoulder.

Clarke.

"Hey," she just says.

I turn towards her. When our eyes link, I let out the longest breath... and start to laugh. I laugh in a beyond-my-control kind of way, despite feeling exhausted to the bone all of a sudden.

"I'm sorry," I snicker, highly aware of my inappropriate reaction, "But is today even real?"

Whether she shares the sentiment of the insanity or my laughter is just contagious, she chuckles along and that fact alone makes me melt and gives me strength at the same time. After all that happened today she's still here, and she's still with me. At least I want to believe she is.

"Just today?" she laughs. "How about all of it?"

She's got a point.

"You know, by now I wouldn't be surprised if it wasn't. If this was all just a superlong dream in your superlong sleep. A dream I'm only guest starring in."

"Like you could ever be just a guest star." The corner of her mouth curls up a little, turning her lips into the smallest smile, and I note a twinkle in her eyes. "The villain maybe, but never a guest star."

Before I know it, I slap her on the arm. Though it's just a simple, playful act, I startle myself by doing so. Are we really already making jokes about my idiocy from before? Am I even allowed to? I don't get the chance to check with her, which is probably for the best since it might look like I want to brush things off the table that I know damn well are not for me to brush off.

"What do you think about Jesus'... solution?" Clarke changes the subject while hopping back and taking a seat on the sofa again. I join her, no longer laughing.

"Truthfully, I think he might be right," I answer. "I can't just disappear. If I want to set them free, Lexa has to stop existing to them."

"You think they would buy it?"

"I guess that depends on our story."

Biting her bottom lip, Clarke slowly nods. She's got this pensive look on her face, one that tells me she's not all happy with where this is going.

"What is it?" I quietly ask her.

She takes in a sharp breath. "It's just... it's gonna hurt them. Some of them, at least."

"I know," I admit. I can hear the regret in my own voice. Yet at the same time I feel like somehow I already made my decision, and this conclusion is not enough to change that.

Clarke narrows her eyes. A thin line appears between her brows. "Doesn't that bother you?"

"Of course it does. You know it does!" I cry out. "But what else can I do? Except for trusting that they will be alright. That they'll move on, even more because of this. Right?"

She stays quiet for a moment, then nods again. "Right," she mouths without sound. She doesn't look or sound very assured, but then she clears her throat and repeats herself out loud, "Yes, right. Of course they will."

"It's not like they haven't dealt with this before," I go on. I honestly don't know who I'm trying to convince here, her or myself.

"Yeah, no, you're right." At this point her nodding is turning almost frantic. "You know, if we bring it well, we could even try to make them believe you were never back at all!"

I tilt my head a little. "That might actually help. To avoid the risk that me dying once again won't impress them. Since death apparently doesn't keep me away."

"Exactly," Clarke nods, pointing a pistol finger at me.

And with that somewhat silly conclusion we fall quiet again. We share another smile, a little giggle even, yet one that comes with a weird discomfort. Like we're a bit ahead of ourselves.

Which we are. I know we are.

And she knows it, too.

We're trying, though.

"I guess we've gotta give it some thought," she sort of shrugs, "To come up with something really good."

There's more strength, more conviction in her voice than before, but in her eyes I still catch a hint of doubt. Something tells me she's still unsure about actually doing this, and not just because of them.

I inhale, bracing myself. "Would it..."

Hesitant for the answer, I don't finish my question. Her eyebrows draw together again.

"Would it hurt you, too?" I ask her after all.

"Hurt me how?"

"If I'd leave it all behind me? If I'd erase the Lexa part of me?"

She cocks her head. "Is that what you would want? To go all the way? Like Magna and Jesus?"

I suck my lips between my teeth, cast a glance out of the window into a starless night and shrug. "Maybe," I mumble underneath my breath.

I expect her to react, in whichever way, but she doesn't. When I face her again, her crystal blue eyes bore into mine, encouraging me to go on. "Yes, I think I might," I confess at last. A heavy exhale escapes me as soon as the words are out.

"I think you do, too," she nods. Her voice is calm, without any reproach. "I think it's what you wanted from the start. From the moment it all came back to you. But for some reason, you don't allow yourself to go there. To make that choice that, in the end, is only yours to make."

I swallow and look away again, not knowing what to say.

"Alicia?"

For a moment I keep staring ahead, lost in thought, but then her voice reaches me, together with the realization that she just used my other name. While no one else is around. While she doesn't have to.

As I turn back to her, she takes my hand. Just like before her touch feels almost electric, as if it's more charged than ever before. Considering I was this close of losing it, maybe it is. She looks at our hands, at our entwining fingers that seem to have a mind of their own, when she speaks up.

"It's me, isn't it? I am that reason?"

I shrug again, clumsily. "You fell in love with Lexa. Not with Alicia. Can you blame me for holding on to that - and thus to her?"

"No," she says, shaking her head. "I can't. I get it. But do you remember how you explained to me how you're not one or the other? Well, you really didn't had to tell me. Ever since we met again, Alicia has always been with you. Even when you became Heda again. When you tried to hide her, to push her back. She's there. All the time. And I'm glad. I got to know her a bit along the way. And you know what? I love her just as much."

I exhale, a shaky breath falling of my lips. She loves me. Present tense.

Still I'm not all reassured things could be this easy.

"You can say that, because that's exactly what it is: the both of us. Alicia and Lexa. But what would be left of us—of you and me, not to mention of Madi and me—if I erase that one part that connects us? We both know that part is not Alicia. That's all Lexa."

"No, it's not. It's neither one or the other. It's you. You! Whatever name you carry, whatever history you cling on to, or live by. Don't you see? It doesn't matter! Those things don't make you you. Your strength does. Your loyalty does. Your righteousness, and your caring." Clarke moves her hand to my chest, spreading her fingers when she lays her hand on me. "Your heart does."

My eyes well up. Seriously, when did I become such a cry baby?

"You're not hurting me by choosing to be who you need to be," she goes on. "But you are hurting yourself by not making that choice." She drops her hand again, only to rest it on my thigh. "You're hurting yourself. And in consequence you're hurting everyone else. Everyone who cares about you."

I lower my gaze as another wave of shame creeps up on me. My body goes rigid with tension and I can feel how my voice tries to leave me all together. I don't let it though.

"Like you," I murmur.

"Yes," she says without the smallest attempt to mitigate anything I did.

I sigh, knowing too well she's so, so very right.

"And Madi..."

"Yes," she says again, "And Madi."

Tears are stinging my eyes. I fight them, as well as the lump in my throat, since it's not my place to cry. Since I am not the victim.

Since I'm the villain here.

Shaking my head I take another deep breath, then groan, burying my face in my hands. "God, I made such a mess."

"You did," she agrees, though with a tenderness in her voice I don't feel I deserve. She gently squeezes my leg. "But I understand. And I also believe it wasn't all you. I cast some blame at myself, too."

Frowning in confusion, I look up at her. I want to tell her wrong, but she stops me before I can.

"Two months ago, when we found each other again, we picked up where we'd left off. Which felt good. Naturally."

I nod in agreement, and Clarke goes on.

"We forgot one thing though. Our last moment together wasn't just the moment we'd lost each other. It was—give or take an hour or two—also the moment where we'd truly found each other. You know, for real. After the war and the mountain and the... the life we'd lived till then. The life that had us on opposite sides."

I raise my brow. "You're saying we didn't know each other?"

"In a way, yes," she nods. Letting go of me, she shifts in her seat, stretching her legs before crossing her good one underneath the other. "We'd hardly been together, hardly knew a thing. And then, when we met again, there was even more that we had yet to learn about each other. And sure we talked a bit, shared some things that happened in between. But we failed to go back—really go back—to where we'd left off. That wasn't just you. We both did that."

"Because it doesn't feel that way. It doesn't feel like I don't know you."

"I know," she smiles, "Guess that's the thing with a bunch of real intense, shared experiences. They can be enough to give you that feeling, that sensation of knowing each other forever. And I'm not saying that our bond isn't real! But those things we've been through, they're not who we are. We want a normal life, without heavy duties and craziness. So badly. But we hardly know ourselves without any of that, let alone each other. We don't know how to be casual. To be no ones, like you called it."

Stretching her hand she rakes her fingers through my hair, before mindlessly playing with the tip of it. "What I'm trying to say is that things aren't always obvious. And we don't have all the answers. But I do get it. How you felt, and how that led to..." She swallows and briefly shakes her head, as if to rid herself of the mental image. Yet she doesn't avoid my eyes. "I hate it, but I get it."

This time I'm the one to take her hand in mine, not longer scared that she might retract. I stroke the back of it with my thumb.

"It should have been you."

She nods, though so subtle that it's easy to miss.

"And you didn't do anything wrong. You didn't!" I emphasize, needing her to really hear me. "I was the one who refused to come back, making you choose me over everyone else - even Madi. It was me who couldn't get us into Hilltop. I've been the one calling almost all the shots ever since. And you stood by my side every step of the way. Even when I didn't let you."

Mirroring her position, I take her other hand as well. "We skipped some steps? Yes, maybe. But if you can forgive me for... for all this... then I'd say it's not too late." I shuffle a little closer towards her until my knee presses against hers. "I know it's not too late."

She narrows her eyes again.

"By kiss and forget?"

"No," I smile - unable to suppress it, despite the nervous little twitch in my stomach. "By going back to where we left off. By taking you on a date."

... ...