Chapter 1
The thirst.
That had been the worst.
The unbearable hunger, and the weariness that threatened to overwhelm her were nothing compared to the insatiable thirst. It had gone now, replaced with a tiredness so great that nothing could seem to shift it. Somewhere in the back of her mind alarm bells were ringing; being the daughter of a medic had taught her much about the body, and she knew that feeling no thirst at all was a bad sign, yet she couldn’t bring herself to care; she deserved this.
She deserved to die for what she’d done, and she deserved to suffer beforehand, but she wanted the release of death so badly, she couldn’t live with the pain, it was strong and demanded to be felt. It was like nothing she’d ever experienced before. She thought she could never feel as bad as when her father was floated, but this was a different type of anguish, for mingled in with the hurt was an overwhelming guilt and self loathing. She hated every inch of herself for doing what she did. She killed innocent people; people who had done nothing wrong. They were killed for simply being born to the mountain, and she couldn’t stop thinking about them; about the bodies - She would never unsee the sight that met her eyes when she stepped inside the mountain.
Clarke’s legs stopped moving forwards, and she fell to the ground in a heap; her body too weak to support itself any longer. She curled up, ready for death to claim her when she felt a strange sensation in her fingers. She moved them, and realised she was lying in a puddle. She summoned her last ounces of strength and lifted her head from the cool ground.
Water. She was lying in water.
It was everywhere.
It wasn’t just a puddle, it was a lake. An enormous lake stretching out into the horizon, and instantly Clarke forgot. She forgot about everything that had lead her up to this point; the human instinct for survival kicked in, and she drank. She drank, and she drank and she drank. She drank until she thought she would burst, until her stomach was painfully full, and still she was thirsty. She forced herself to stop, and crawled over to a nearby tree, slumping against the trunk, the exhaustion finally overwhelming her. She closed her eyes, and willed for them never to open again.
She was walked through the metallic corridors in the mountain, stepping over the dead, tears running down her face. She’d done this, she’d killed all those people. They were dead because of her. She could taste the metallic tang of blood on her tongue, and she closed her eyes, unable to look at them anymore.
“mommy?”
Clarke opened her eyes at the sound; it was a child’s voice. She looked in the direction of the noise and gasped in shock, she couldn’t believe her eyes. Over in the corner was a small boy, around 4 or 5, shaking his mother in an attempt to wake her. He had his back to Clarke, but she could sense the fear in his voice. Clarke moved towards him, but stumbled over a body and hit her arm on the wall. She yelped in pain. The boy turned around, and Clarke screamed at what she saw. His face was bloodied and half hanging off, leaving his eye socket exposed. He smiled at her, a gruesome, menacing smile, and waked towards her. Clarke kept screaming, she screwed her eyes tight shut and fought the urge not to be sick.
“Clarke” A voice murmured gently. When there was no response, it tried again, but louder “Clarke, it’s okay, it wasn’t real”
A flicker of recognition sparked in Clarke’s mind. The voice was familiar, comforting.
It spoke again
“Clarke, i’m here. it’s okay, it was just a nightmare”
Then it clicked
“Dad?” Clarke whispered in disbelief. She opened her eyes slowly.
There, stood in the clearing ahead, was her father. His face was exactly how she remembered it, and his watch was strapped firmly to his wrist.
“Clarke” he smiled, his eyes kind “you’ve been so brave”
At those words, the memories of what she’d done came bubbling to the surface. She wasn’t the same person she had been; she was wicked and heartless. She wanted her father’s forgiveness, she wanted him to make things right again, but he couldn’t. Nothing could change what she’d done.
“I’ve killed people” She said, her voice cracking as a sob fought its way out “I didn’t just let them die, I killed them”
Her dad came no closer, but his expression softened
“My sweet sweet Clarke. You have nothing to be ashamed of. You had no choice” He started, his voice even and gentle. “You have been so strong, you have kept your people alive. They look up to you Clarke, they believe in you. They believe in what’s in here” he said, tapping a finger above his heart. “They were lost Clarke, and you guided them when nobody else would. You saved them, gave them hope for a future. You were a child when you were sent down here, but you have grown into a leader.”
He took a step closer to Clarke “You may have scarified a few lives, but you did it to save the many. You protected your people, just as Lexa protected hers.”
At the mention of her name, Clarke’s heart tore into a million pieces all over again. Lexa abandoned her people, and she betrayed Clarke’s trust. Clarke had cared for her, deeply. She still did, and she’d begun to think that Lexa cared about her too. That underneath the cold commander, there was a softer side, a part of her that wasn’t a commander, that was just Lexa. And worst of all, she’d begun to think that maybe they stood a chance, maybe they could be happy together.
Lexa had ruined that, but Clarke couldn’t find it in herself to hate her for it. She was too consumed with the hatred of herself, but she the betrayal had cut deep, and it stung.
“She betrayed us, she left my people to die” Clarke replied, anguish clear in her voice “She betrayed me”
“She did what had to be done to save her people Clarke, you of all people should know how that feels. She had to put them first” Her dad responded calmly, he always was the voice of reason. He had a way of making people see things differently. “It was her duty to them”
Clarke knew he was right, she had always known. But still it hurt, the wound ran deep. Deep into Clarke’s broke, damaged heart. A heart so full of love, and hope, but also of misery and of guilt.
“But what about me? She left me there to die. She left me.” Clarke cried, the hurt clear in her voice. “I needed her and she left me. I thought she cared, i thought we had something. But how could we if she could just leave me there to die? Leave me there to carry the guilt of all those lives lost because of me! If she’d been there maybe it would have been different!” The hurt had turned to anger.
“Clarke, it was not Lexa that made the decision to save her people and leave” Her father said, closing the distance between them and pulling her up into a warm embrace. Clarke pulled back so she could see his face.
“What do you mean?! Of course it wa-” She began, but he cut her off gently
“It was not Lexa who made the decision. It was the Commander. What Lexa wanted was different to what the Commander needed to do for her people” Her father explained, cupping Clarke’s face with his rough palm “My beautiful Clarke, you and Lexa are one and the same - don’t you see that? Lexa left to save her people, and you did what you had to do to save yours. Believe me Clarke, I am sure the decision was not one that weighed Lightly on the commander’s conscience.”
She buried her face in her dad’s chest like she did when she was a child, desperately clinging to him. He couldn’t be real, but he was. She could see him, feel him, smell him. He was solid as a rock, and as real as the trees that surrounded her.
“What do i do?” she whispered, and her voice reflected how broken she felt.
“It is easy Clarke” Her father smiled “Survive”
Then she was falling. It was as if the earth had opened up beneath her an swallowed her whole. Her father was gone and everything was a green blur, she hit her arm against something sharp and intense pain shot up her arm, throbbing wildly. She was rolling now, hitting against objects on her way down; it felt like she would never stop. She must have hit her head on something, then everything went black.