Chapter Text
Her people were stumbling through the forest towards the Ark, but all Clarke could think was of the bodies that littered the ground of Mount Weather. Children.
She and Bellamy, almost in an unconscious motion, took up the rear of the guard, to make sure no one lagged behind.
"Send a group out in the morning," she'd told her mother earlier. "Bury them." Let them taste the ground in their death, she thought grimly.
It had taken an hour to get Jasper to leave Maya's body, and only when Monty and Bellamy physically dragged him.
He'd glared at Clarke, vowing to never forgive her.
"I did it, too," Bellamy had pointed out sharply.
But it didn't matter. Bellamy might have taken the burden of pulling the switch, but Clarke was the one who made the choice.
Finally, Camp Jaha came into sight and the gates opened, letting in the injured train.
Her parting with Bellamy was tense, emotional. He looked almost ready to follow her, but he knew better.
"Take care of them," she whispered. Her mind flew to her mother. The other Hundred. The remaining Arkers.
I bear it so they don't have to, Dante had said.
And she would bear it. The weight of the genocide at Mount Weather. The weight of shooting an unarmed man. The weight of killing a man to create a treaty.
She would bear it. But she couldn't live every day looking at them. Everyone has a limit, and there was only so much weight she could hold before she crumpled under it.
Camp Jaha disappeared quickly as she strode through the forest.
She thought it was aimless, but her feet brought her where she needed.
The Dropship was covered in a green film, the vines of the forest around it reclaiming the metal structure, covering over the ashen bones of the Grounders and the blood of the Hundred, tearing down the walls they'd erected to protect them.
She stumbled forward, striding into the ship.
Brown stains, blood, littered the ground. From various injuries and wounds taken at varying times.
They'd murdered and died and killed and survived.
She thought of the Mountain Men, doing just the same.
No, her thoughts rebelled immediately. Their motives went beyond surviving.
Collapsing into her old hammock, she closed her eyes.
And, for the first time in as long as she remembered, she slept without dreams.
---
"Lincoln went missing last night," were the first words out of her mouth when the general strode in. They were calm, detached. But with an undertone of accusation.
Indra nodded. "I heard."
"The guard says you relieved him," Lexa said gently.
"I'm afraid he must be mistaken, Commander," the dark woman said stubbornly.
"Do you have any idea how he managed to free himself? Without a weapon?"
"A traitor will do anything to escape duty," was the immediate response.
There was a pause, but finally the Commander nodded. "The scouts surrounding the border of Mount Weather saw the Sky People leaving the compound. They did not give exact numbers, but it seems most survived."
"And Clarke?" Indra asked quietly.
"Alive," Lexa said.
"Will you go to the Skaikru camp?" Indra inquired. "She is your Unioned. You must not be apart."
Lexa glanced away, trying to compose her features and steady her voice before she answered. "I will not force Clarke to do anything."
"The party leaves toward Polis in the morning, Commander. Will you leave without her?"
Lexa's jaw clenched as she considered it. Clarke needed time, that much was obvious. But she couldn't sacrifice any more time away from her people to give it to her. Not after all she'd done, already."
"Commander," her guard said, peering inside the tent. "A Skaikru party has come. They have asked for an audience."
"Let them in," she confirmed, selfishly hoping her wife would be among them.
Indra immediately strode beside her, standing tall as the small band strode in.
Bellamy, Kane, and another whose name she didn't know. Clarke was not among them.
They were injured, battered, and weary. They must have spent only moments at their camp before they'd left towards her own.
"Commander," Kane said, striding forward. Limping. "I trust you've discovered the Mountain has fallen by now."
"My scouts saw your party in the forest," she said stiffly. "I assumed you had defeated the Mountain Men. I offer my congratulations." Not my apologies. The note was unspoken, but heard all the same.
Kane shifted, glancing nervously at the two behind them. Finally, Bellamy strode forward.
"You betrayed us," he said flatly. Lexa straightened in her throne, not denying it. "We want to make sure that doesn't happen again. To be blunt, we can't handle a war right now."
"I have no intention of attacking your people," Lexa said quietly. "Have no worries."
There were a few muttered formalities. Confirmations. A minor discussion of the land and borders.
"Indra," Lexa said. "Take Kane and show him the maps I have drawn up. Those are the borders we will respect."
The three Sky People nodded, moving to follow the warrior as she strode out of the tent.
"Bellamy," Lexa called before he could exit. "Can I speak with you?"
He turned, looking wary. "You want to know about Clarke."
She nodded slowly.
Bellamy shifted, letting out a gust of air through his nose, thinking over his words.
"Do you know how we took the Mountain?" he asked quietly. She shook her head. "We killed everyone, Lexa."
The Commander nearly recoiled, her mind drawn back to Clarke's speeches, her adamant defense of the general Mountain population. Of those who helped the Sky People, and those who refused the treatments, and the innocents within.
"Where is she?" Lexa asked, her entire body stiff.
"I don't know," he said, shaking his head. "She left. She couldn't be around them anymore. Around any of us. She didn't say where she was going."
Lexa stared over to her chest, where her armor rested, put away once her army had retreated. "You may leave," she told the Sky boy. "And extend an invitation to your people. They are welcome in Polis if they so choose. I assume many will feel similarly to Clarke."
Bellamy didn't speak, simply nodded. He turned to leave, but stopped as he raised the fur. Twisting his head to address her, he whispered, "Keep her safe."
Lexa swallowed, then nodded. Once he was gone, she stood and strode over to her chest, drawing out her sword and hunting knife. Her fingers grazed the painting of Anya Clarke had given her. She'd intended to hand it in her quarters at Polis. Drawing out the portrait, she let her gaze follow the brushstrokes, each done delicately in order to express the strength Anya had held.
Placing the drawing aside gently, she stood, striding out of her tent and towards the stables.
Saddling her horse, she set out towards the only place Clarke would go.
The beginning.
---
There was a skeleton garbed in moss. That was the first thing Lexa saw.
She knew her people's ashes littered the small valley where the original Sky camp resided. But in their place, a garden of color had sprung up.
It seemed almost fitting. Nature erased their sins, and they continued to commit them.
Dismounting, she left her horse to graze, trusting it to be there when she returned.
The "ship's" gate was open, and she strode in cautiously.
It was dark, hidden from the sun outside from the lack of widows or gaps in its armor.
She could see where the Sky children slept, lines of cloth suspended from poles, somehow capable of holding a grown person.
When she saw the flash of gold, she knew she'd been correct.
Clarke was curled into the smallest shape possible, precariously balanced on the cloth bed. She was still dressed as Lexa had left her. Her sword, the gift from their Union, still strapped to her back.
Her face was gentle, relaxed, more so than Lexa had ever seen it.
Before she could stop herself, she raised a hand and ran her fingers through the blonde tresses. In her sleep, the girl nuzzled into the contact, drawing out a smile from the Commander.
She allowed herself the weakness of continuing the motion.
---
Clarke smiled, the hand in her hair having a hypnotizing effect. Her first thought was that it was her mother. Then her father.
But neither of those could be correct, so she filed through the remaining individuals who could be comfortable. None of them were alive, or willing at the moment.
Her smile fell into a frown, and the hand left her.
Forcing her eyes open, she finally saw the girl in front of her, kneeling before the hammock and staring at her with a concerned gaze.
"Lexa."
The Commander swallowed, looking down. "Bellamy said you had left your camp," she said quietly. "I thought you might come here."
Clarke shimmied up the hammock in order to lean against the frame behind her. "Why did you come?"
Lexa didn't respond, her gaze glued to the ground.
"You left me," the blonde pressed. "You left all of us." It wasn't stated sharply. It wasn't an accusation. It was a bland statement.
"As the Commander, I had to make a choice that protected my people."
"I thought I was the Commander, too, Lexa?" Clarke asked quietly. "I thought that was what it meant to be your Unioned? Didn't I get a say?"
"As the Commander, I had to do what was best for my people. I knew you would only see the lives lost instead of those saved."
"You keep saying that, Lexa," Clarke said, her voice finally raising. " 'As the Commander'."
Finally, Lexa's eyes rose to meet her's. "Because those are actions I had to make to protect my people. I didn't make them because I wanted to." Clarke didn't speak, just looked away. The brunette raised her hand, gently drawing her gaze back. "I didn't come here as the Commander," she said quietly.
Clarke felt a shiver snake down her spine. "Don't lie," she whispered shakily.
Lexa rose from her kneeling position, her gentle fingers forcing Clarke's head to follow her. "It burned my heart to leave you, Clarke. To abandon you. To leave you--our people in that mountain. But they offered by a choice. They would murder my people in those walls, or they would release them. I could save hundreds or I could save fifty."
"Stop explaining it," Clarke snapped, jerking her head out of the gentle cradle. "I know why you did it... I don't hate you for what you did. I hate that I expected anything different."
The Commander swallowed, nodding. "I will always protect my people," she whispered. "You cannot ask me to change that."
There was a long moment of silence where Clarke didn't know what to say. She just sat there, looking blankly at the Grounder as she tried to collect her thoughts.
"I killed them all," she whispered. "The Mountain Men. I did what Quint said and I... I killed them all."
"I know," Lexa said gently.
Clarke didn't question how she knew. Honestly, she didn't care.
"How can you separate it so easily?" the blonde rasped, tears clouding her vision as she pressed her head into Lexa's stomach, trying to drown out the world around her. "The Commander and Lexa?"
There was a gentle hand that ran through her hair, and Clarke felt her tears fall more easily at the motion.
"Because what we do to survive does not define who we are," she said quietly.
"Do you really believe that?"
Lexa didn't respond, and Clarke didn't know which answer would be more painful. She didn't press for one.
"We leave for Polis in the morning," Lexa said quietly, but confidently. Clarke nodded, her face still hidden by the brunette's stomach. "You will love the city."
"I'll love anywhere that isn't here," the blonde said honestly.
"Come," Lexa said, forcing her legs to swing around the side of the hammock and making her stand. "You must be hungry."
Clarke didn't say anything, simply followed the girl out of the dropship, lifted herself onto the horse behind her, and refused to look back.
She tightened her grip around Lexa's stomach and whispered, "Thank you for coming."
Lexa glanced back, a small smile on her face, but clouded by the sadness in her eyes. "I think I will always come for you."