Chapter 3
Lexa had been home for days, but Clarke had hardly seen her. She had been gone for weeks, on a victory tour from finally defeating ALIE. She seemed to be avoiding her-always finding excuses to get out of a conversation or even spending time together. Clarke caught her in multiple lies. She gathered all the courage she needed, and confronted her. She marched straight into Lexa’s room.
“Klark?” Lexa asked in her trigedasleng accent that Clarke loved so much. “Are you alright?”
“No, I am not alright. What’s up with you? Ever since you came home you have been acting strange. What happened out there?” Clarke asked her.
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Lexa responded, standing up straighter, if it was possible.
“So you haven’t been lying to me? Or avoiding me?” Clarke asked, growing more frustrated. She could handle whatever she was going to tell her, no matter how hard, but she could not handle being lied to.
“No, I have not.”
“Oh, so what? I’m making things up? Are you calling me crazy?” Clarke argued. Even with all her anger she realized she was being a little bit crazy.
“No, Clarke, that is not what I was saying.” Lexa responded. Her calm, cool tone, pissed Clarke off even more. “Is there something I could do for you?”
“Yeah, you could tell me what the hell is going on!” Clarke nearly yelled. Lexa looked over at her. Clarke watched her for a while, and remembered the love instead of her anger. She took a deep breath. “Please. I’ve been going over it and over it in my head what could possibly going on with you. Are you removing us from the coalition or going to war with Skaikru? Or are you taking out one of friends- I know in the past you have had trouble trusting Octavia, like after the missile, I really hope you’re not back there. I feel like we are all finally in a good place and I don’t want to risk this peace-even Azgeda is still at peace, with King Roan on the throne. So please if you are planning something with them, and it threatens Skaikru-”
“Klark-” Lexa finally interrupts Clarke's ramblings. “Stop! I do not have anything political planned. You are right, we are at peace and I do not want anything to risk that either.” Lexa walked closer to her. “You are also right, I think I was avoiding you, though not purposely. I have something I need to tell you, but I worried about your reaction. While I was away, I was with someone else. I was dealing with the pressu-”
“Wait,” Clarke interrupted. “With someone, you mean like,”
“In bed, yes.” Lexa confirmed. In her surprise Clarke was speechless. “My peoples ways are different, we are not monogamous,but I know we were trying something different. I am sorry, Clarke.” Somehow, when Lexa said her name, it woke Clarke up. Without another word, she left. She ignored all of Lexa’s attempts to call her name.
“It’s been 91 days. Are you all still okay? If you were ever okay. I’m going with the assumption that you are. It’s what’s keeping me sane. And talking to you everyday. Even though I’m, obviously, not actually talking to you. Anyway everything is still good down here.” Clarke says. “I’m staying busy down here. Berries have just come into season. They’re not very sweet, but they’re beautiful. I think it’s what they make the paints and dyes out of.” Clarke pauses the transmission, and takes a deep breath. She has been thinking of this for weeks, and finally ready to say it. “Lexa? Are you there? If you can hear me, I want to say that I forgive you. And, also, I’m sorry for my own mistakes.” She pauses again. “Not mistake,” she tells her belly. “No, not mistake. Inhibited choice?” No that wasn’t right either. She has months to think of the right words. Years, really, until the baby can fully understand. “Anyway,” she says, restarting the transmission. “Lexa, I love you.”
On the Ark, there are some old wives tales that predict the sex of a fetus. Due to rationing, routine ultrasounds are only available upon necessity, many families need to wait until the baby is born to discover the sex of their baby. Her mom had told her that her mom, Clarke’s grandma, knew that Clarke was going to be a girl just on the way that Abby was carrying. Of course her mom, being a woman of science, was suspicious, but her mom was convinced. Her grandma had, of course, been right. As a child, Clarke would stay with her grandma while her parents needed to work, and she had taught Clarke “the gift,” as some people would call it.
Anyway, Clarke is convinced she is having a little girl. She’s carrying high and has been craving sweet foods. She knows it’s more science and hormones that go into how a woman carries and what food she craves, but she just has a feeling. She knows it’s still early, but she already is trying to find the perfect name.
“Abby?” Clarke asks. She doesn’t know what she expects to happen, maybe the baby starts kicking really hard, or doing flips or something. Either way, the name doesn’t feel right. “Aurora?” She knew that Bellamy and Octavia loved their mom, but with everything that happened she didn’t know how they would feel about it. “Sky?” That one made her literally laugh out loud. No, she was not going to that. Maybe something simple, but elegant. “Jane? Allison?” That made her stop. She was not naming her child after A.L.I.E. Girls' names seem to be a bust.
On to boys’ names. “Bellamy?” Saying his name makes her feel incredibly lonely. She misses her best friend. “Jake.” She puts that on her maybe list.
She was already 16 weeks along. She hasn’t felt the baby kick yet, but, from what she learned from her mom’s clinic, it was coming any day now. Even though she was weeks into her second trimester, she was still getting nauseous everyday, and vomiting almost every morning. Her back pain started a couple of weeks ago, and she knew it was only going to get worse. She already has been collecting newborn and baby things from the nearby homes. A few of the women obviously had babies, their houses were full of things for them. Even though the grounders' ways for raising babies and children were vastly different than the ways she used to on the Ark, she would adapt. After all that's what she does best. Adapt.