I do not own the 100. Unfortunately, someone had the idea first and I am stuck with creating stories in my mind or on my phone with Lexa and Clarke getting the life they deserved.
The familiar creak of Arkadia's gates brought a wave of relief over the weary group. Years had passed since the fall of Mount Weather, transforming the once chaotic camp into a semblance of a functioning society. Yet, the absence of Clarke cast a long shadow, a constant reminder of their loss.
As they entered the bustling heart of Arkadia, the group instinctively dispersed. Jasper, with a forced smile and a heavy heart, headed towards his therapy session, still battling the inner demons that plagued him. Jackson, ever the dedicated healer, made his way to medical, ready to assist Abby in tending to the sick and injured. Lincoln, a picture of fatherly love, detoured towards the daycare to collect his and Octavia's children, their laughter a welcome balm to his weary soul.
Bellamy and Octavia, their faces a mixture of hope and apprehension, headed towards Raven's workshop. They found her hunched over a workbench, her nimble fingers dancing across a complex array of wires and circuits. The most striking change was the absence of the leg brace that had been her constant companion for so long. Now, only a compression wrap adorned her knee, a testament to her resilience and Raven's ingenuity.
A knock on the wall announced their presence. Raven looked up, her eyes questioning. Octavia, unable to contain her excitement, rushed towards her, thrusting the parchment into her hands.
"Look!" she exclaimed, her voice trembling with emotion.
Raven's brow furrowed in curiosity as she unfurled the drawing. A wave of emotions washed over her face – surprise, disbelief, and finally, a radiant joy. She pulled Octavia into a fierce embrace, the unspoken understanding between them transcending words.
"We need to tell Lexa," Raven declared, pulling away.
Bellamy's lips pursed in contemplation. He knew Lexa cared for Clarke, but the depth of her feelings had always been a mystery to him. Clarke's disappearance had shattered Lexa, transforming the once formidable Commander into a recluse, haunted by grief and guilt. It was a testament to the profound connection they shared, a connection that had always seemed to exist on a plane beyond Bellamy's understanding.
He recalled the countless hours Clarke had spent with Lexa, strategizing, negotiating, their conversations often extending beyond the necessities of their alliance. He had sensed a deeper bond between them, something unspoken, something that transcended the political and the pragmatic. Perhaps Clarke had felt it too, something more than a fragile alliance between two leaders.
With a sigh, Bellamy ran a hand through his long curls. "Raven, radio Lexa," he instructed, his voice firm. "Tell her we have news about Clarke."
As Raven relayed the message, Bellamy couldn't help but pray that it would reach Lexa in more ways than one. He hoped it would rekindle the spark in her eyes, the fire in her soul. He hoped it would give her a reason to fight, to live, to believe in the possibility of a reunion. For Lexa's sake, for Clarke's sake, for the sake of their fragile hope, he prayed that this news would be the catalyst that brought them all back together.
The clang of steel echoed through the training grounds as Lexa parried a blow from one of her guards. Sweat beaded on her brow, her muscles burning with exertion, yet her mind remained distant. The familiar sounds and smells of combat, once a source of exhilaration, now felt hollow. Ever since she had left Clarke at the Mountain all those years ago, a part of her had withered. The news of Clarke's disappearance, the agonizing uncertainty of her fate, had broken something deep within her.
Lexa continued to fulfill her duties as Heda, leading her people with unwavering resolve. But beneath the stoic facade, she was a shell of her former self. The vibrant spark in her eyes had dimmed, replaced by a haunting emptiness. Her once frequent smiles had vanished, leaving a mask of impassivity in their wake.
Her noviates, ever perceptive, tried in vain to coax a smile from their beloved Heda. Aden, her oldest noviate, now a skilled warrior and one of her personal guards, often sparred with her, hoping to rekindle the joy she once found in combat.
"Nice one, Heda!" Aden exclaimed, his voice ringing with admiration as he blocked a fierce attack.
Lexa grunted in response, her movements precise but devoid of passion. She disarmed Aden with a swift maneuver, the point of her sword resting lightly against his throat.
"I yield, Heda," Aden conceded with a grin, recognizing the familiar glint in her eyes.
Lexa nodded curtly, returning his sword. She sheathed her own weapon, the familiar click echoing the emptiness in her heart.
"Heda," Indra's voice cut through the silence.
Lexa turned to face her trusted advisor, noting the unusual gravity in her expression. "Speak, Indra," she commanded.
Indra's gaze flickered towards Aden before returning to Lexa. "Skaikru has news, Heda."
Lexa's heart lurched. A torrent of emotions surged through her – hope, fear, a desperate longing she had tried to suppress for years. With a supreme effort, she wrestled her emotions into submission, her face betraying nothing.
"Lead the way," she instructed, her voice steady.
The walk to her chambers was agonizingly slow. Lexa's mind raced, trying to anticipate what news Skaikru could possibly have. Years had passed since the events at Mount Weather. She had made amends with Skaikru, forging a new alliance, accepting them as the thirteenth clan in the coalition. Peace had prevailed, albeit a fragile one.
Indra led her into the chamber, where a radio, a gift from Raven, stood on a small table. Aden and Indra took their places beside her. With trembling hands, Lexa reached for the radio, her heart pounding in her chest.
"This is Heda," she announced, her voice echoing through the speaker.
"Lexa," Raven's voice crackled through the receiver, thick with emotion. "It's about Clarke. She's alive. She left us something... a sign."
The words struck Lexa like a physical blow. The carefully constructed dam within her crumbled, unleashing a tidal wave of emotions. Relief, joy, an overwhelming love she had never allowed herself to fully acknowledge, washed over her. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision. Clarke was alive. After all these years, after all the pain and despair, Clarke was alive.