She had rushed to the commanders room as soon as she had finalized plans with Octavia. The blockade was quickly approaching and Clarke knew what that meant, in that she didn't know what it could possibly mean at all for the future ahead. If there's anything she learned while being on the ground it was that certainty was just a word. One who's definition had been long forgotten and who's relevance she had been aching for. To revel in certainty, any kind of it, was all Clarke wanted. But for now she had to say her goodbyes. Or rather, one goodbye.
She walked into the commanders room like she had countless times before. When she couldn't immediately spot her, worry began to set in though she couldn't quite figure out why. Before she could get lost in her thoughts, the girl in her mind stood before her.
Her hair was down, lightly placed over one shoulder. No heavy armor, no warpaint. Clarke could count the number of times she had seen Lexa so seemingly weightless on one hand, but she had never seen her like this. Never so simply, so softly.
"When do you leave?" Lexa asked in a quiet voice as Clarke stepped closer.
"Now," Clarke answered almost helplessly. She knew Lexa would understand but she couldn't help herself in adding, "I'm sorry."
Then, without missing a beat, "Don't be. You have to go back, they're your people."
She understood. She always had, even when Clarke had not. At mount weather, when the light at the end of the tunnel had faded out faster than she could follow; facing her again, months after a betrayal that shook Clarke down to her bones; while she spit in her face and held a knife to her throat; the commander of the 12 clans had always understood. The fog of war burns but it does not burn forever.
"That's why I-" a brief moment of hesitation, a fixed glance shared between the two, "That's why you're you."
The fire that had once burned out after mount weather was reigniting. This time on the heels of a revolution with perhaps a grander fury than ever before, so it was safe to say Lexa understood. She knew Clarke was to set off for the blockade the second she saw her standing there.
When Clarke had first entered Lexa's room, she hadn't thought about what she wanted to say. But now with so many emotions coursing through her, all she could say was the one thing she so desperately wanted to be true, "Maybe someday you and I will owe nothing more to our people."
And then, a response that hit Clarke harder than she could have ever expected, "I hope so."
I hope so.
Before now, in every moment spent together with eyes and ears surrounding them, she was heda. The commander of the 12 clans who's back Clarke imagined was clean because her hands were dirtied with the blood of enemies and fellow grounders alike. The commander who believed in reincarnation and following rule and order, never straying from what she was taught to be true. The commander who once believed in black and white, victory standing on the back of sacrifice including her own. But here stood someone else. Here stood Lexa.
Lexa who wanted to start something grander than herself and those who ruled before her. Lexa who began to divulge in all the greys the world had to offer. Lexa who was allowing herself the simple pleasure of hoping for change in a world that had always been so cruel to her. In a world where hope was never in her vocabulary, Lexa wanted exactly what Clarke wanted:
Hope for the future. Hope for each other. Hope for herself and all the selfishness that such a want brought with it.
She stood before Clarke, a reserved expression on her face that was reflected in her body. Extending an arm out, Clarke met her the last half of the way and there they stood, arms locked as tight as their gazes.
"May we meet again," Lexa spoke with a reassurance in her voice like Clarke had never heard. A voice of comfort, a voice in which she could find solace.
(An unspoken promise she could find hope in.)
She knew what she had to say. She knew what Lexa was expecting to hear. Instead, Clarke said everything by saying nothing.
Instead, she kissed her.
She leaned in, a hand placed gently and firmly around the back of her neck to pull her in, until their lips collided. Though a brief collision, Clarke didn't mind because of the sight she saw upon opening her eyes. Holding Lexa to her, weighing her down in this moment, she watched a tear roll down the face of the girl she was in love with. The girl who remained soft in a world that should have made her hard but couldn't. In this moment, she was Lexa. All Lexa.
Lexa responded in a beautiful wave of fear and relief and tenderness, kissing Clarke back as though her life depended on it. Between ragged breaths and quivering lips stained with tears, the two girls held onto each other with such a reverie that it was palpable in the air around them. What had been between them all this time, all that had been resisted for far too long, was finally disappearing until all that stood were Clarke and Lexa, who found themselves in finding each other.
This was a small moment of peace wedged between the hardships of war they had come to expect, and they were going to revel in it as long as they could.
Clarke had wanted so much more, not just for herself but for the girl before her. A girl who had gotten so little and given so much. A girl so bright all the stars in the sky were dim by comparison.
Clarke was certain that Lexa was everything good compressed into her own little universe, and she couldn't be more grateful for the fact that after all they had been through, Clarke was able to see this universe of a person with her own eyes; a girl from the sky and a girl from the ground who were never supposed to meet, let alone love and be loved in return.
Yet here they were, together. Both so full of love and something else.
(Something that looked a lot like hope.)