Lexa gave a last look at the ocean-blue eyes that had been her sanity over the past weeks before turning around; those eyes that once overflew compassion and sweetness were full of pain, disappointment, anger. Lexa wondered how did they get to that point, how did she let all of this happen, when did she let the sky girl in, when did she fall in love so miserably. She knew her decision had cost her soul and heart, or whatever was left of them; but Lexa also knew that the commander couldn’t afford neither. She did what she had to do, she saved her people, at whatever cost. So the commander walked away, away from the warmth Clarke had filled her life with, away from the small ray of happiness the blonde had lighted up inside of her; she walked away, her steps solid, her heart broken. Lexa expected Clarke to shout, she expected her to cry; but instead the grounder could only hear the cracking of the dry leaves breaking under her boots.
Eventually, the trees took over her view and Clarke had long disappeared on her back, Lexa felt the foreign feeling of a tear falling from her eyes leaving a black trade from her make-up. She remembered the last time she had cried; two weeks after Costia’s death as she stood in their favorite spot, a high hill from where they would watch the sun setting over the capitol, she let sadness take over her one last time promising herself she would never be weak again. But the pain was growing in her as fast as she had burnt it off that last day. She stopped in her tracks, because the pain was too much to bear, because it was too hard to hide from it.
“Heda.” Indra called when she noticed her commander had stopped.
“Get back to TonDC.” Lexa answered. Her exterior still stoic, never letting the pain and the desperation show. She wondered again, she wondered when she turned into stone. Indra didn’t question Lexa’s motivation, her faith was blindly put in her commander; she nodded and left with the remaining grounders.
The brunette waited until all her people were out of sight and she was alone to fall to her knees, tears streaming down her face, the intense silence of the forest was replaced by Lexa’s desperate sob and heartrending screams. She cried, for hours, until her body gave up, until all the energy had left her, and then she laid on the floor in the middle of the woods, almost hoping a Pauna would come and kill her, ending the pain her tears couldn’t wash off. The grounder thought about Clarke, about her eyes, her skin, her lips and the way they fit in hers; she thought about the way the they moved against her own, slowly, sweetly, tenderly. She thought about Clarke’s words, “Not yet” as in “not in this moment, not now, but wait for me, I’ll get there, I’ll get there in the future and maybe you can claim my heart then”; a future they would never have, because Lexa had left Clarke to die.
When the weak morning light started to cover the forest, Lexa forced herself up and started walking until she found a small spring; she used the water to clean off her war paint and the stains of blood that were covering her face. Once she was finished, the Commander was back and she held no signs of weakness.
-
A small fire was the only thing illuminating the inside of Lexa’s tent, which had been located in the surrounding of TonDC, after the commander decided to stay around to coordinate the reconstruction of the village. The brunette paced the tent with a map in her hands that she had absolutely no interest in at the moment. When several generals expressed their concerns about a possible revenge from the Skaikru, Lexa agreed to send Indra to collect information about the Sky People’s movements and she had been waiting three hours for her return. A sense of hope was escalating dangerously quick in the commander’s inside, hope that the Sky People wouldn’t choose vengeance, hope that they were okay, that Clarke was safe, alive, not too damaged, that she still preserved some innocence in her soul, that it wasn’t taint with blood and war; she knew happiness was too much, but she hoped, she hoped with every remain of her heart, that Clarke still remembered what it felt like, to be happy, to be free, to be alive. Lexa hoped for hours.
Lexa pushed herself up reaching for her dagger automatically when the flaps of her tent opened to reveal two figures walking inside; but the brunette relaxed when she recognized them, Indra and Lincoln, the last one on his knees with a long sharp sword over his neck and his hands tight to his back.
“Let him go.” Lexa ordered placing the dagger back in its place in her thigh.
“Heda, he’s a traitor.” Indra argued, her sword pressing harder into the man’s throat cutting slightly the skin under it.
“I said release him, Indra.” The Commander repeated, her voice relaxed but her stare burning into the older woman’s eyes. Indra obeyed and backed off with a grunt.
“Leave us.” Lexa commanded. She turned around and sat on her throne. Indra expressed her disagreement with her face and Lexa answered with a nod, indicating that her mind was set, so the general had no option but to leave the tent.
“Why did you ask for me?” Lincoln asked once Indra was gone. “So you can kill me with a hundred cuts?” The man spitted.
The brunette raised her eyebrow at Lincoln’s impertinence and stood from the throne. She walked passed the grounder on his knees and eventually she situated herself behind him. Lincoln heard how his commander draw her dagger again, but instead of a sharp pain on his neck like he was expecting, he felt his hands being released.
“I do not plan on ending your life today.” Lexa stated. “I just want information.”
The fit man stood up as he rubbed his sore wrists and turn around to face the stoic commander.
“About what?” He asked. Lexa looked down when suddenly her knife became the most interesting utensil in the world; unsure of how to carry on the conversation. Lexa knew the grounder’s tradition dictated that Lincoln should be dead by now. He had disobeyed her, broken the deal with the mountain, he defied her command and he should, by all means, be tight to a post already. But how could she? How could she murder a man with more honor than her, a man who knew, respected and lived by what was right, even if their traditions said otherwise?; how could she kill a man who loved so much, who loved the way Lexa couldn’t? She finally raised her head and stare into Lincoln’s eyes trying to make him understand. After a minute of silence, she answered, “About her.”
The man examined the commander’s look, searching for an explanation, searching for a sign that indicated what was going on inside the brunette’s mind. He found pain, and desperation, and so much sadness it could tear your soul apart.
“She’s alive.” He finally answered and Lexa felt herself breathing for the first time in weeks. “She killed every mountain men. She has left her camp.” Lincoln finished. For a moment he could have sworn he saw a wave of love and relief taking over the commander’s eyes; but it was gone as fast as it appeared.
Lexa didn’t need an explanation about what had happened that night. She knew Clarke strength. She knew that if the moment came, her heart would show no weakness, she wouldn’t hesitate, she wouldn’t tremble; she knew Clarke would make the hard decisions, just like she had done. She also understood why Clarke left, for the same reason she needed to stay in the woods that night, but Lexa couldn’t just leave, as much as she had wanted in that moment. Her responsibilities were bigger than her own needs.
After letting the words sink in, she walked away from Lincoln and went back to her very uninteresting map.
“You may leave now.” She ordered. Lincoln turned around but before he could reach the end of the tent, the commander spoke again, “Why did you go back to the Mountain?” She asked with her eyes glued to the map.
“Because, I love her.” He answered simply. Lexa raised her head in surprise. She had expected a speech about loyalty or honor, an explanation about why her love for Octavia was more important than his people; but she surely didn’t expect a simple sentence that for Lexa seemed too small for the dimensions of the situation.
“That’s all?” The commander questioned him.
“That’s all?” Lincoln asked back. “Heda, love is all.” He stated. His words were simple, Lexa knew. But she understood what Lincoln meant; she grasped the deeper meaning of a very simple phrase, because she had felt it all. She had felt it all in her mother’s gentle touch, in her father’s loud laugh, in Gustus loyalty, in Anya’s wise words, in Costia’s innocence, in Clarke’s compassion. So she gave him a nod that Lincoln returned before rushing out of her tent.
-
Clarke could feel winter approaching. The nights were getting colder and the rain had become regular in the forest that was now her home. The rain hit the outside of the narrow cave in which she would be staying the night. She had been what seemed like an entire decade trying to light a fire that just wouldn’t had the decency to appear. Her clothes were wet and her bones soak in a freezing cold.
She thought being alone would help her forgive herself, but the silence, only disturbed by the wind moving the leaves hanging from the trees, left way too much space for her tremulous thoughts. Her days were filled with memories, terrible memories, memories of innocent people’s burnt and lifeless bodies, of Jasper holding Maya in his arms, of Raven shouting as a drill crashed her bones, of Dante’s expression when the bullet penetrated his skin and took away his last breath. Memories of her mother and her words that hadn’t left her since, “Maybe there is no good guys”. And maybe there was no good guys, maybe there was no right or wrong anymore, maybe they just did what they had to do to survive, and maybe life would never be about more than just surviving.
Mostly, her days were filled with memories of Lexa. Memories that would light rage in every bone of her exhausted body, memories of how Lexa’s gentle lips had felt on hers, memories of a hope that grew in her after that kiss, hope for love, hope for passion, hope for life. Her days were filled with memories of the Commander standing right in front of her telling her that she cared, that she cared but she had to turn around anyways, begging her with her pleading eyes to understand. But Clarke didn’t, couldn’t, understand, because the sky girl needed the anger desperately, if she didn’t have anger, she had nothing.
After a week she concluded that silence and loneliness wasn’t helping. She threw the stick that had been no help on lighting that stupid fire as she walked off the cave and started her march to what she hoped would be healing.
-
In the middle of the night, when Lexa had already given herself to her nightmares, silence was disturbed by several voices murmuring outside. She stood from her bed, pushing the furs away and walked outside, where grounders had gathered and were whispering while their eyes followed with curiosity, and even admiration, a curvy figure that was approaching her with shy steps. At first she couldn’t recognize it, the light too dim to make out any face out of the mysterious shadow. But eventually, when the light of the torches finally hit the woman’s face, Lexa distinguished the golden, messy, hair covered in mud and dry leaves that took residence there when Clarke made the floor her not so comfortable bed; the sky-blue eyes that now seemed empty and far, the lips she had dreamed of for weeks, so full and sweet, now broken and cracked from the cold. Each step that Clarke took towards her, Lexa felt more and more relieved, relieved that Clarke was save, that Clarke had decided to come to her and that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t want to kill her. Lexa’s eyes scanned the sky girl, she was thinner, dirty and wet, and extremely tired, but she didn’t seem hurt and that alone made the commander take a long deep needed breath that filled her lungs for the first time in very long agonizing time. Lexa left room for Clarke to pass by her and enter the tent, with no words shared between them.
“You’re alive.” Lexa stated in a sigh. Clarke stood in the middle of the tent, her back to the commander, taking the simplicity and warmth of her surroundings, a big wooden table was placed in front of her where a small knife rested mindlessly and Clarke couldn’t help move her hand closer to it.
“Not thanks to you.” Clarke responded bitterly. Lexa would be lying if she said she wasn’t expecting Clarke to be resentful, she would even be worried; but it hurt anyways.
“I did what I had to do, Clarke.” The commander answered, her tone was calmed, almost tired; but those words sparked something in the blonde, something dark, something that she couldn’t cage anymore. Her hand reached for the knife and in a swift movement Lexa had been pushed again the table and the cold blade was threatening her neck. Clarke had imagine that moment many times during her stay in the woods, she had imagine how the fury and pain would rip every piece of her broken soul, how her brain would scream for her to kill her, to put that knife over the commander’s neck and cut it open, letting the blood wash Clarke's frustration and suffering, and oh God, how much she wanted to do it in that moment, how much she wanted to punch over and over again the grounder's body, how much she wanted to make sure Lexa suffer the consequences of her decision. But Clarke's eyes touched the brunette's for the first time, the forest, the dangerous and refreshing forest that filled Lexa's eyes, a forest that was being burnt bit by bit, a forest that was losing its life, that would soon be reduced to nothing but the memory of the wilderness that once was. The blonde hadn’t considered that maybe Lexa was already suffering the weight of every single one of her choices, that maybe Lexa was as haunted as she was, that maybe she was shattered, completely and utterly destroyed. Clarke could see it in the commander's eyes, the brunette was tired, so tired of fighting, of carrying the world over her sore shoulder. And the sky girl felt a sudden need to hug her, to embrace the brunette, let her rest, let her breathe for a small, significant, moment.
“Do it.” Lexa pleaded interrupting Clarke’s train of thoughts. “Do it, Clarke, kill me if that’s what it takes for you to free yourself, just do it.” the brunette finished pressing her neck against the sharp blade, but the blonde dropped it, she let it slip from her hand and with it her rage. The blue-eyed girl turned around, her shaking hands covering her face and her breathing erratic. Free herself, how was she supposed to do such a thing, how did she even deserve anything remotely closed to freedom after the blood she had spilled, the blood she had been willing to spill two seconds ago.
“Clarke…” The green-eyed girl spoke again, but before she could continue Clarke fist collided with the side of her face crashing her lower lip against her teeth and breaking the skin open; the next thrusts hit her ribs over and over again.
Lexa held the sky girl’s wrists preventing Clarke from attacking again. “Clarke, stop.” The commander ordered as she embraced the blue-eyed girl with her robust arms, pulling her closer to her body, trying to stop the sky girl from her clumsy and desperate assault. She wanted the pain gone, the nightmares to end at night, the guilt to disappear from her soul, she wanted to stop resenting her people for having to kill for them, she wanted her mind to rest, to have peace so desperately, so miserably; and with every punch she felt the anger taking over her body and tears invading her eyes blurring her sight; Lexa’s arms were around her and she craved to keep punching, fighting, maybe is she thrust again the pain would go away. But she couldn’t find it in her, because the brunette's embrace was so warm and she suddenly felt comforted and safe and alive. Clarke didn’t understand anything anymore, her head was pounding against her skull and her muscles ached with every action she made, so she let go. Her knees gave up, her body collapsed against Lexa’s, she gripped the back of the commander’s shirt with despair, hid her face on her neck and cried. She cried as she hid from the cruel, unforgiving world against the warmth of the brunette’s neck, in between arms that didn’t lessen the embrace for one second; she cried and when she couldn’t cry anymore, she cried again. She sobbed as the velvet voice of the commander filled her ears and brought a sense of home to her crazed heart when she repeated again and again: “I know, I know, I know…” and Clarke wasn’t sure what Lexa knew, maybe she just knew, every dysfunctional thought that crossed the blonde’s mind, every boundless feeling; Lexa knew, she had always known. She knew when she was called to lead her people, she knew when she made her very first decision during war that led ninety five of her people to their graves and she’s known every single day since then. And Clarke had never found two words more comforting than the ones the brunette kept repeating to her, close to her ear as she rocked her gently in her arms.
Lexa didn’t know how long they stayed in that position but eventually the brunette felt Clarke’s hands releasing her shirt and her breathing settling down. When she was sure that the blonde had indeed passed out from exhaustion, Lexa picked her up from the floor, laid her down on her bed and covered Clarke’s body with a fur; she moved one of the golden locks again from the sky girl’s face and rubbed her thumb against her dirty forehead like she could wash away every tainted bit of Clarke’s mind, like she could keep her nightmares away, like she could, for this one time, save her.