DAY 59: LEXA | ALICIA

"I'm going to tell you a story that's so unlikely, you won't believe it. Even though every word is true. And I'm not going to convince you to believe me. I'm not even gonna try. Because I know I won't be able to. So I'm just going to tell you, and then it's up to you."

Strand looks at me without a word. He knows what's coming, he's been waiting for it for days. An explanation from my side. About all those things that are impossible to comprehend. Even for someone who knows me, or believes he does.

He nods as a sign that I have his attention.

"Many years ago there used to be a world other than ours, but very much alike," I start. "A world with people who formed a society. People with ambition, with science and technology. Leading to great inventions and innovations... until eventually they took it one step too far, to that inevitable moment that only knows one outcome: disaster. In the blink of an eye that world was gone. Not like this one, but completely. Hit by a nuclear wave of death, sparing no one, except for a very small group of survivors - the few who were quick and lucky enough to find shelter, either deep in the ground or high in the sky."

Strand's gaze moves up to the heavens above us, like there's proof to find there of people once living in the clouds. I know he won't find any and that this isn't the weirdest part of the story—by far—so I swiftly go on.

"After the catastrophe the earth of that world, or what had remained of it, was uninhabitable. Lethal even. In a big set-your-foot-on-it-and-you-are-gone kind of way. Most of the refugees, including the ones in space, believed that it wouldn't be safe again for at least a hundred years. But one group of people found a way out. They had this brilliant scientist among them and she created a serum that protected them from the radiation, which was indeed still poisoning the air, and would do so for many years. This serum allowed people to leave the bunker they'd been hiding in and to rediscover the little that was left of their world. Only two years had past, but it had been enough to leave everything in ruins... including their civilization. They had to start all over, and they did. Except for whatever reason they changed almost everything they once knew. Even their language. And they fought. Not just with the challenges of their new environment, but most of all with each other. Forming groups, until they became each other's enemies."

"Sounds familiar," Strand remarks dryly.

"I know," I nod, "I guess it's part of human nature, though not our prettiest side."

I shift in my place. Our seat on the corrugated iron roof of this old little shed is anything but comfortable, to say the least. It gives us a bit of a view and some protection though, which means I can finally focus on my friend and our long delayed conversation. I rub my calf to relax the sudden cramps, then turn towards him again to continue.

"So, here we have this world, inhabited by about two thousand people, divided into tribes, yet in spite of all this still under the command of only one leader. The Commander. Or Heda, in Trigedasleng."

His brows knit together. "In what?"

"In their language," I clarify.

"Right," he nods, but I doubt if he's still with me. By now my tale must sound like some fantasy or sci-fi, or whatever comic he might have been reading as a teen.

But there's no way back now.

"Although their new world knew many dangers, both old and new ones, these survivors managed to conquer them and eventually build some kind of life. A second generation was born, and then a third and even a fourth. The arrival of the newborns let to a new discovery: the serum they'd once injected, and that had altered them genetically, didn't get passed on to most of their offspring - even though it did protect all of them from the radiation in the same way as it protected their parents."

"How could they tell if the effect was still the same?"

"It showed," I explain. I look at my hands in my lap, realizing I'm subconsciously tracing the lines of my veins with my thumb. When I hold still, I can feel the soft beating of my pulse underneath my skin. "Their blood, or nightblood as they called it, was black."

He pulls a face, probably trying to picture it, but doesn't ask any further.

I heave a sigh, preparing myself for the next part. The part that I hate the most.

"Now I told you about that one Commander. There was always only one at the time, but over all these years—a century almost—there were many. And succession was not a next-in-line matter. After all, they weren't royals. So this is were those nightblood babies come in. With every new generation, they became more unique and with that more important, since for many complicated reasons law stated that the next Commander had to be one of them. For this reason, the few children who were indeed born with nightblood got separated from their parents at very young age and trained to become this ultimate leader. And since the life of a Commander came with a life full of danger, battle and enemies, that day often came quick. With those children still being children."

"Wait," Strand stops me, "You said there was only one Commander. But there were more children who got trained. What happened to them?"

"They died," I answer, before quickly correcting myself. "No, that doesn't do them justice. They got killed."

"Well shit," he mumbles.

Biting my lip, I slowly nod. "Yes," I just say. I couldn't agree more.

My gaze drifts off until Strand's voice pulls me back. "I think I'm following," he says, "but what does all this have to do with you?"

Understanding his impatience my lips curl into a soft smile.

"I'm getting there," I nod again, yet a little more firm this time. "Like I said, almost a hundred years went by since the nuclear apocalypse. Since one society ended, and a new one began, slowly evolving in something you and I wouldn't recognize, unless maybe from history class. To paint you a picture, I guess it comes closest to medieval times."

For a second his eyes flick to the sword on my back. It's the only segment of Lexa I took with me, as I gave the other one to Madi, after already switching back to modern clothes weeks ago, when we arrived in Alexandria. The ancient look of the weapon must have puzzled him from the start, but even now he doesn't ask.

"Their ways were different, but they worked for them. This was their normal, especially after so many years," I continue. "And with it, Commanders came and went. Some were good, some were bad - tyrannic even. But one way or another they were all in charge, all fighting for what they believed in. They were all nothing else, nothing more than this people's Heda. And they were all way too young. There were many, but I'm telling you this story because of only one. One girl who had to live as their Commander, and then in good tradition, had to die as one."

Forcing myself to finish, I take the deepest breath possible.

"Her name was Lexa," I finally conclude as my eyes find his again, "and I am her."

Strand stares at me without moving. He stays quiet, way longer than usual. As I hold my breath, I nervously fidget with my fingers.

"Say something. Or at least... blink."

He clears his throat. "You said she died. So how could she be you?"

"I don't know. I have no explanation. Not even any proof. I just know that she is. She is me. I am her."

"And you're not talking about starting over with a new identity. You actually mean... coming back from the death?"

"Yes. Well, n-no," I stammer, "Not exactly. It's more like... some kind of reincarnation. I guess. I really don't know."

Strand breaks our eye contact and looks away, his eyes now on the road that Clarke and Madi took earlier and have yet to return from.

"So those people you were talking about before, those people Clarke is meeting right now—"

"—are my people," I nod. "My subjects, so to speak."

Another silence falls upon us. I don't know what to do with that. I'd expected him to call me crazy, or laugh in my face, or maybe both. But not to be without any words. He never is.

I sigh. "I told you you wouldn't believe this."

"Well, you were right about that," he says, scratching the back of his neck before looking at me again. "I can't believe this. But I can believe you." Careful not to fall off our little hide-out, he moves his body towards me and takes my hand with the both of his. "I choose to believe you, Alicia."

"You do?" I frown. I mean, I'd be over the moon if he really would, but seriously, I wouldn't even believe me.

"I do. Despite this whole story, which is like... beyond incredible, I believe—no, I know—that I know you. For real. Would you be anyone else, then yes, I would say you were cuckoo. Worse off than those hungry fools out there. But it is you. And I can't think of a single reason why you would make any of this up."

I exhale, then thank him with a small, grateful smile.

"Besides," he goes on, "we live in a world where dead people wake up, only to eat the living. Talk about unbelievable!" He squints his eyes at me. "Wait, you're not going to eat me, are you?"

A snort escapes me, and though I do welcome the light moment that comes with the joke, I punch him on the arm. "Do I look brain-dead to you!?"

Strand shakes his head and joins my laughter. "Everything but," he chuckles. "To be honest, for the last couple of months you look more alive to me than ever."

"Well, thank you," I grin. Feeling a lot more relaxed now that the truth is out, I shift again, stretching my legs before dangling them down. I glance sideways at him. "I mean it though. Thank you. For not calling the nuthouse on me. And you know... for being you."

He bumps my shoulder with his. "You're not saying this Lexa girl inside you is making you sentimental, are you?"

"Oh, shut up!"

The bump I give him in return almost knocks him off the roof. It's moments like these that I understand why he and Mom connected so well. I seriously wouldn't be surprised if they'd shared friendship bracelets saying 'cut the crap'.

"Do you have any more questions?" I ask him. The road in front of us still looks quiet and empty, with no single sign of Clarke and Madi returning to us.

"Only a million!" he exclaims, drawing another laugh from me.

He leans forward, elbows on his knees, and cocks his head, making sure he can look into my eyes. His are filled with curiosity, even more than before.

"Who's Clarke?" he asks. He might want to sound serious, like a detective or investigator maybe, but all he reminds me of right now is one of those nosy red carpet reporters. I chuckle and shake my head in disbelief, but skip the jokes when I answer him.

"She's a descendant of what we called the Sky people. She grew up in space. Clarke was actually among the first that came back to our earth to explore its safety. She landed straight into my territory."

He snorts. "Oh, is that how we call it?!"

Yep, gossip queen it is.

I shoot him a do-you-wanna-hear-this-or-not look and he quickly bites his lips, though not before giving me one last, teasing wink. Trying not to laugh, I roll my eyes.

"Let's just say she and her people made quite the entrance," I go on. "There were casualties. Many. First on my side, then on hers. Like I said, things were different, and our justice system was very simple. An eye for an eye. So our people fought. And Clarke and I fought. She even put a knife to my throat once. We had reason enough to hate each other, and we really tried to. But we failed immensely."

"You two fell in love?" It's hardly a question.

"Very, very hard," I nod.

"So she died too, then? Since she's here as well?"

"No, she uhm..." I suck my lips between my teeth, thinking how to explain this next inexplicable part. "She took a different route. It's uhm... complex."

To my relief he seems to accept my non-answer. Instead he smiles, as if nostalgia suddenly overtakes him. "You're lucky, finding each other again. In spite of every imaginable thing. I'm telling you, I would give anything to have a second chance with Thomas like that."

I smile at him in return, not fighting any of his words, before looking down the road again - searching for that first glimpse of Clarke's return. He's right, I am lucky. Things have been hard and God knows I'm still struggling with half of it, but there's no doubt that when it comes to this, Clarke and I must be the luckiest people in the world.

And there really is nothing bigger than this.

While my thoughts drift off to the past a bit more, Strand already makes his way back to the present.

"How about Madi?" he jumps to his next question. "She's Clarke's daughter, right?"

I tilt my head. "Adopted daughter, yes. Madi is born on the ground. She's actually my—"

"Crap!"

Strand's sudden scream makes me follow his gaze. A group of at least sixty walkers is making its way towards us - showing up out of nowhere, but most importantly: from the dropship's direction, taking over the only road that matters to me. I draw my sword and stand up, trying to get a better look.

"There are even more behind them," I tell Strand, who already jumped to the ground. "Stay up here!"

"Are you kidding me? This shack won't hold for five seconds!"

Caught in conflict, I don't move. I know he's right, there's no protection up here against so many. But there's no alternative in sight and there's definitely no way that I'm leaving this place before Clarke and Madi return.

"Alicia, come on!" Strand now impatiently screams, forcing himself to wait for me, while every part of his restless body shows me he wants to run.

I give in and quickly make my way to the ground, but instead of making a break for it, I grab Strand by his sleeve, preventing him from taking off.

"We fight them!"

He pulls away from my grip.

"No way! We don't stand a chance. There are too many. Even with your sword. And your..." He hesitates, turning his head to the side for a second to look me over. "... your battle history."

"I don't care, I'm not going anywhere," I grumble as I get in position to cut off some heads. "I can't. I... I promised."

Strand makes some deep sound that's between a groan and a whine, and when he calls for me again his voice is colored in frustration. And I get it. The herd is coming closer and closer towards us and seems to grow with every dragging step they take. It won't take long before this junction will be flooded with walkers. But I feel glued to the ground. Simply unable to move.

It's not all up to me though. Right before the dead get too close to escape from any longer, Strand harshly takes me by my arm and drags me with him - with success, since he's the stronger one of us. And though I give him my everything, he doesn't let go of me.

He pulls me with him and all I can do is run along. And, for like two seconds, look back over my shoulder.

The shed is gone. The intersection completely overrun.

We keep running for what feels like a mile, passing even more walkers that are now also showing up from behind the trees aside us, until we finally reach some sort of hamlet with a couple of abandoned houses. At least, that's what we're praying for when we blindly run into one, heavily panting as we close the door behind us and look around for any possible danger inside. There doesn't seem to be any.

We're safe.

But we're anywhere near where we need to be.

... ...