Assembling Your Philosophies (From Pieces of Broken Memories)
"We shouldn't be stopping." Clarke sighs as her mother brings her horse to a stop.
"You should drink." Abby replies, unbothered, as she crouches down to fill her canteen with water from a nearby puddle.
"I'm fine, mom." Clarke says without getting off of her animal. "We need to get home."
"We'll leave after you drink." Abby insists, holding the water out to her.
Clarke sighs again, hopping down. She takes a small swig before handing it back, a little too forcefully. Her mother was only trying to help, she knew that, but her overbearing tendencies grated against Clarke; especially now that she had to pretend to be under Lexa's thumb. "There. Now let's go, I need to see if--" The rest of her sentence gets cut off by the sound of a gunshot. The two women turn their heads in time to see the bullet hit one of the seconds, Anaba, in the chest.
They hit the floor quickly, the bottom of Clarke's jaw smacking into a rock. Still, she keeps low until it becomes apparent that no more bullets are coming. She looks up to the ridge above them, finding Octavia leaning down. "All clear!" The younger Blake yells towards them, waving them up, before disappearing from view.
"Go help her." Clarke tells her mother, nodding towards the injured girl before she gets up and runs up to the other half of their group.
She finds Octavia with her sword against a mountain man's throat. He's wailing, frantically trying to cover a hole in his protective suit.
Indra gives her a command in trigedasleng and then Octavia pulls the man's head further back, her knife slicing the tender skin.
"Octavia, no!" Clarke screams, running towards them. The girl pulls her weapon back reluctantly, throwing him to the ground in disgust. "Check his bag, he should have a patch for his suit." She tells the other girl, stepping over his lifeless partner.
The brunette empties the bag onto the ground. She finds the patch and grabs it quickly, turning to go until she sees a peculiar shade of yellow: the exact shade of Clarke's hair. She moves everything out of the way and finds a photo of Clarke and Lexa with their faces circled. "Clarke, you need to see this." She says, bringing the items to Clarke. "This wasn't random; they were looking for you."
The blonde's eyebrows come together as she stares at the picture. It's hard to tear her eyes away from it, amazed by how much she's changed in so little time, even as Indra starts to speak.
"We have to go inform the commander," The older woman says, "The seconds will escort you back, it is not far." Clarke nods, tucking the photo inside her jacket pocket.
"You can't take off his suit," Clarke all but yells at Jackson, the man quickly dropping his hold on the clothing. She took a deep breath. They'd only just gotten back to Arkadia, and she'd already had to stop five different people from trying to remove the damn thing.
"How are we supposed to treat him then?" Abby asks, still focused on digging the bullet from Anaba's chest.
To be honest...Clarke hadn't really thought that far ahead. "Um..." Her voice trails off, mind wandering between all the corridors in the Ark, searching for a place to hold him. He couldn't stay in here, obviously. The regular holding cells wouldn't be any good either. Then there's the airlock, which....might actually work. "The airlock, if we reversed the scrubbers--"
"That would work," Abby speaks quickly, flicking blood off her hands. "Go get Raven. Now."
"Raven," Clarke exclaims as she leans on the doorway, chest heaving. The room is small, filled to the brim with tools and people.
The mechanic is sitting, body hunched over a stack of papers. Anya's sitting cross legged on the table, absentmindedly braiding the end of Raven's ponytail. She's rolling her eyes at whatever Wick's just said, the man spewing out the names of every acid Clarke's ever heard of and quite a few that she hasn't.
They all turn their heads at the intrusion, completely synchronized. "Clarke?" Raven asks, confused but thankfully not angry.
"We were attacked," She explains, Anya instantly on her feet with her hand gripping a knife that she hadn't noticed before. "On our way back. We have Emerson hostage but he's-- I need you to rig the airlock scrubbers so we can treat him. Please."
Raven stares at her for a second, not entirely unkind, before agreeing. She pulls a piece of paper out of one of the stacks, hurriedly scribbling something down. She thrusts it out to Wick, "Grab this and meet me there."
He takes it from her without speaking, jogging out of the room. Raven's rushing about, shoving random items into a bag that her mate holds open for her.
"Is there anything you want me to do?" Clarke asks, not missing the way the girl winces as she moves.
"We're still mapping the mountain. And the radio needs to be manned." She tells her, crossing the room to the door. She looks to the corner and Clarke follows her gaze to find Murphy tucked away. His head's on a tiny desk near the radio, cushioned by Raven's jacket. "He's supposed to be doing it but honestly I don't think he's gonna hear it." She smiles at him slightly, and then she's gone.
The blonde redirects her attention to the sleeping boy, who whimpers quietly in his sleep. She attempts to ignore him, reading one of Raven's lists. Eventually, though, he gets louder and she takes pity on him. "Hey, wake up." She mumbles, shaking him gently.
He doesn't wake easy, eyes flying open with a strangled sound. He flinches away from her outstretched hand and she quickly pulls it back, holding both up in a nonthreatening gesture. "It's just me."
He squints at her, mind still hazy. "Fuck." He exhales, running a hand through his greasy hair. "How long was I out?"
"I'm not sure; I just got here." He looks around sleepily, as if he just noticing the trio's absence.
"Where'd they go?"
She recounts the events of the last few hours to him, pausing every now and then to answer a question. "How's it been here?"
"Not nearly as interesting as your day" He smirks ruefully, "Just a bunch of radio silence."
They hear a knock, firm but not too loud, and crane their necks towards the sound.
Lexa stands at the entrance, two guards standing stiff behind her. "Clarke, Murphy." She tilts her head, greeting them. Her voice is calm and measured as always, but her eyes are wide, scanning Clarke's body desperately. Even then, the change is barely noticeable.
The sight of her twists Clarke's gut in a way she doesn't recognize.
"Well, that's my cue." Murphy laughs, patting the blonde's shoulder as he passes her.
The commander's eyes never leave Clarke as he exits. "This is Uzac, one of my best warriors. He shall accompany you on your travels from now on, whenever I cannot." Once she's done speaking she lifts her hand dismissively and both grounders nod in respect before leaving themselves.
Clarke waits a few seconds to make sure they're out of earshot before speaking. "I don't need a guard."
Lexa's lips twitch ever so slightly. "Yes, you do. The mountain men will strike again."
"I survived this time; I can do it again." She insists, making her way to the stool near the radio.
"Luck," The commander explains, "and the help of my people."
Clarke groans but doesn't push it anymore. Lexa was right, after all. She knew she had no survival skills to speak of, and the only way she could make sure her people got out safe was if she was alive.
Lexa walks closer, coming to stand near her mate. She leans against the table, staring at the contraption. "Any word from Bellamy?"
The blonde shakes her head, resting her temples on her arms.
"I'm certain he's alright, Clarke." Lexa tells her honestly, voice unwavering.
"I'm not." She says quietly, letting her eyes slip closed. Her lack of sleep, mixed with the events of today, made it difficult to keep them open.
"Bellamy's a warrior." Her voice is soft and unfocused. It gets quiet after that, both of them waiting.
But Clarke's never been good at waiting and soon enough she's up again, eyes still drooping, looking through Raven's notes. "What does this even mean?" She mumbles to herself, hardly understanding any of the complicated terms.
"You should get some rest." Lexa speaks, now sitting on the stoll herself. Her back is so stiff Clarke has to wonder how she manages it.
"I'm not really tired," She lies, picking up one of the neon markers near the board. "Besides, Raven could use the help."
"Is there anything you need help with?"
Clarke looks up from the map, locking eyes with the brunette. The question feels too loaded to answer so she ignores it, asking one of her own instead. "Can I ask you something?"
Her soulmate doesn't answer, but she quirks her eyebrow in a "go on" manner.
"I...when you came in, you looked...upset--why?"
She watches as Lexa's throat bobs, notices how she doesn't look her in the eye anymore. Instead she walks over to one of the many books, flipping the papers nervously. "I was upset." The commander admits, "I should have known you would need a guard-- it was foolish of me not to assign you one in the first place."
"This isn't your fault, Lexa."
"My people may not be as kind as you are."
"They'd blame you for the mountain men's actions?"
"They'd blame me for not protecting you--and them-- from those actions, yes "
She's stunned into silence for a second. "But--"
"No, Clarke. It was my duty and I failed. I deserve any dissent that should come of this."
"I guess I just don't understand. One mistake would turn them against you?"
Lexa is quiet for so long that Clarke figures she isn't going to answer. She stares at her until she sees the slight shaking of her fingers against the paper and then she quickly tears her eyes away-- despite how intriguing it was to see the woman with actual emotion. It was easy to forget that Lexa was capable of that sort of of thing-- that she was just a girl, barely older than Clarke.
But Lexa's emotion wasn't something that Clarke was entitled to, so she forces her eyes to stay forward, taking in Wick's drawing and adding in things she'd noticed from her time there.
"It wouldn't be my first failure." The brunette whispers, and Clarke still doesn't look at her. She's afraid of what she'll find. Even when she hears her the girls footsteps headed towards the door her eyes stay glued in front of her. "I've made this mistake before."
Clarke thinks back to Costia, of the stories she's heard about her. She was a healer. She was tortured. She was dead. Her capture must have been due to a lack of guard. Which was technically Lexa's fault, but it wasn't really. She gets it though, understands how it's hard to forgive yourself.
Lexa's thinking of Costia too-- of everything she ever knew about her. Her hands were always gentle. Her hair was long, but always braided.
She liked to take long, unsupervised walks through the village and sometimes beyond.
"You don't have to go, you know." Clarke mumbles, cheeks burning. The words didn't feel wrong necessarily, just far too big for her mouth.
Lexa had always tried to help her, though, so she owed it to her to return the sentiment.
The commander remembers a time when Costia said that to her. It's almost funny, how different they are. Costia would've said it kinder, meant it more.
She would've wanted Lexa to stay, to let Clarke comfort her until the weight constantly residing on her shoulders lifted, even if only a little bit.
But she's dead now.
When her head was delivered to Lexa, she had trails of makeup and tears dripped down her face. Titus tried to tell her that it was fake, that the Ice Queen must have painted it on to get to her.
Even then, she knew he was right. Even now, it still doesn't matter.
She tries to shake the memories out of her head. It was one thing to comfort Clarke, as a mate should. It was quite another to be weak in front of her. She had a war to wage, and she wouldn't let emotions get in the way of that.
She gets a quick image of Clarke, broken and bloody, in a box.
Not again. Never again.
She enters the hallway, finding Uzac waiting. She gestures vaguely in the direction of her mate. She'd like to tell him where to find her, in case Clarke needed her, but she doesn't trust her voice. She's sure it'll be fine though, Clarke is determined enough to be able to track her down if she pleases. Her eyes follow him into the room, making sure the girl's protected.
Once he's ducked inside, her hands bunch up her shirt, eyes going to the ceiling as she fights the urge to go back. Clarke was already breaking under the weight of her own problems. Lexa would be doing her no favors by adding to the pile.