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This is the second part of my Clarke/? oneshots and this time it's Echo. I hope you guys enjoy it!
Her lungs were burning and tingling and screaming from exertion and probably also from all the ambient radiation in the air. Clarke had thrown off her helmet a while ago. The visor had been cracked and a cracked helmet was pretty much the same as not having one in these conditions.
She was probably already dead, anyway.
Praimfaya was hot on her heels and Clarke did her best to make it to the bunker. She was still far away and deep down she just knew she wouldn't make it back on time. Not if her friends wanted to miss their window for escaping.
So, when a loud burst cut through the deafening tumult of Praimfaya, Clarke wasn't all too surprised. She took one quick look as Becca's rocket soared into the sky. She only looked long enough to ensure the flight was stable before continuing to outrun a horrific death.
They had to leave her if they wanted to leave. It was no different than anything she'd done for her people. That being said Clarke couldn't appreciate the irony of being on the other end of it nor could she stamp down on the needle of hurt in her heart.
Clarke crested the hill leading to Becca's bunker and the door still open. She ran through the door and all was well until her ankle twitched before it snapped.
Clarke still had momentum carrying her and she raised her hands to save herself as she fell to the floor. Even in these circumstances, Clarke realised almost immediately that her arms would probably break from trying to break her fall.
Clarke closed her eyes and braced for the pain and it was a shock when it never came. Clarke opened her eyes and she saw her arms were still outstretched in front of her inches away from touching the floor. Clarke blinked and it was then that she felt the pressure around her waist.
An arm wrapped in some sort of gear was around her stomach and Clarke wanted to turn around and see who had saved her from what would've been a painful landing.
Unfortunately, her body had other ideas.
A spray of vomit launched itself from Clarke's mouth and onto the floor. Her saviour mumbled something that Clarke recognised but didn't understand as her world turned in on itself.
Clarke was dragged around by her surprisingly strong saviour as they managed to slam the door. Could it be Bellamy or Murphy? They were probably the only ones strong enough to carry her like this. Although both Octavia and Harper were both pretty strong— definitely a lot stronger than Clarke was herself.
Clarke turned to her saviour, still in their arms, and frowned when she couldn't see the person's face clearly. As a matter of fact, she couldn't really see anything clearly. The pain in her ankle fought with the fog in her brain and the malaise of her body to make one awful cocktail.
Clarke was only somewhat aware of being dragged around left and right and upstairs and through doorways before being placed onto something soft. Clarke sagged into the soft whatever-it-was and felt just a bit better.
She still tasted blood on her tongue and her throat burnt and so did her skin and, well, everything hurt. Therefore, it was a relief when something cold settled on her forehead. A similar feeling came settled around her ankle and it was a godsend.
It was this soothing relief that seemed to bring Clarke to the point where her pain wasn't acute enough to keep her awake. She hadn't been particularly tired or anything, but she was probably feeling some effects of the radiation.
Maybe this was how she went? Quietly and slowly as a person in a spacesuit loomed over her. It was a lot nicer than how she had seen others die on Earth–the majority by her hand at that...
Still, though, she was ready to rest. She had run her race and now she could finally just rest. Was her face wet? Huh, those were probably tears. She wasn't even sure she could do that anymore.
Did tears always feel so hot? And come out of her nose and mouth and eyes at the same time? It kinda felt like that wasn't the case. Oh, well. She'd ask her dad when she woke up. Or maybe Wells would know. He'd know something like that.
Clarke blindly groped around until she reached the thigh of her saviour. The heat from her saviour radiated into Clarke pushing her closer to sleep. She could feel them trembling, or maybe that was her? They were looking down at her and even with her vision as blurry as it was Clarke could still see the panic overtaking them as they fretted over Clarke.
She blocked the words out.
"Sorry," Clarke managed to breathe out with what she hoped was an apologetic smile, "I t-think I'm done. Thank you for—"
Clarke's words trailed off not of her own accord. The world melted to black and she could hear Bellamy's (or was it Murphy? Monty?) voice say something to her.
"No..."
Had Murphy's voice always sounded like that?
"Ste kom me, Klark."
Clarke's eyes closed and her very last thought was her wondering when Raven had taken the time to learn Trigedasleng. It was just another question added to the pile she'd never be able to ask her friends now that they'd left her.
Ah, so tears were warm, after all.
Clarke woke up with a start to a dark room. She looked up at the blank ceiling as she tried to figure out where she was. She was underneath a thick blanket and was about to move it when pain bloomed from her ankle.
Clarke let out a loud curse into the empty room at the unexpected sensation. It was this flash of pain that made Clarke remember everything—the Final Conclave and stealing the bunker all the way to aligning the dish and being saved by...someone...in a spacesuit.
That was probably who had put her to bed in Becca's bunker which Raven had said was strong enough to endure whatever Praimfaya had to throw at it. The only problem was that it could probably only sustain about three people for a few months at best.
Not ideal considering radiation levels would probably only drop after food in the bunker ran out and speaking of food, Clarke was beginning to feel rather hungry. She'd go and find some if her ankle wasn't hurting her even when she tried to keep it still.
Still, though, a busted ankle(her preliminary diagnosis) was better than being dead.
Clarke was surprised she was still alive from the radiation. On reflex, she felt her skin and sure enough, she didn't feel a single bump or scar or scratch. It was odd. Clarke had definitely had some radiation burns on her and yet they were all gone after what felt like a few hours?
The only explanation had to be nightblood. If her mother hadn't destroyed Becca's radiation pod who knows how many people they could have saved? Clarke sighed and put that depressing thought out of mind.
There was no use crying over it. The dead were gone and...Clarke was really hungry. Clarke snorted at the twist she'd put on Lexa's saying. Like a lot of what Lexa had said, it stayed near and dear to Clarke and they all hurt to think about usually.
Not this time, though.
Maybe she was so hungry she couldn't even feel the usual soul-crushing guilt she always had or maybe it was just a funny joke. Would Lexa have liked it? She liked to think so. It was sobering to realise that she'd never truly know the answer.
Okay, there was the soul-crushing guilt.
Clarke shook her head pushing guilt aside as she instead sought clarity, "Hello? Is anyone there? Bellamy? Monty?"
Her voice echoed throughout the bunker and on some level that spooked Clarke. She expected to hear an answer come back to her or the rush of footsteps, instead nothing answered her. Clarke was about to call out again when she heard it.
A tap. Water flowed for just a few seconds before petering out. It was so quick Clarke thought she had imagined it right up until she heard the clink of glass and what sounded like heavy boots approaching her room.
An inexplicable bout of panic washed over Clarke scanned the room for any sort of weapon. Clarke looked everywhere in the dark room, but she couldn't see anything useful within reach. Finally, the footfalls stopped just outside her door and Clarke held her breath until there was a knock on the door.
Feeling a bit foolish, Clarke let her guard drop. Obviously, whoever was on the other side of the door was one of her friends so she had no reason to worry. This wasn't a Mount Weather situation or anything, after all.
"Come in," Clarke said and the slightly ajar door was pushed open. The room was still very dark so Clarke couldn't identify who it was right away. Based on the silhouette, they were too tall to be either Harper or Monty. Their hair was too long to be Murphy and they also didn't have a limp like Raven did. They were also not broad enough to be Bellamy.
Upon closer inspection, the silhouette was too slim to be anything but a woman which made no sense. She'd gone over all her friends so who could she have left out. The bunker was too far away for anyone to come over so—
"Are you awake?"
Clarke's thoughts ground to a halt. She knew the voice and the silhouette matched up, but the logic did not. The lights flickered on and sure enough despite Clarke's incredulity and the illogical nature of it all...
Echo was standing in the doorway holding water and some food.
"Echo?"
Echo was used to being looked at with malice or hatred or disgust. She was—had been— an assassin for Azgeda which was easily the most hated clan. Echo had bloodied her hands over and over again. No one had been safe from her actions especially not Skaikru.
So, it didn't hurt her when Clarke looked at her with more than just a little wariness. Oddly, Echo was sure Clarke could have made an effective leader of one of the twelve clans. She had done a lot for Skaikru, but she was certainly different from the rest of her people.
Clarke was not a trained warrior or assassin and yet she had killed hundreds of people. She had burnt a group of Reapers and Trikru to ash. She ended the reign of the Mountain Men and stopped the rise of the City of Light.
If Echo had blood on her hands then Clarke was drowning in a sea of it.
And yet, this was maybe the most normal Echo had ever seen Clarke. She looked haggard and tired. Her lips were dry and her eyes were bloodshot. Despite the confusion and wariness, she felt at Echo's presence she also kept glancing towards the water and food Echo had prepared for her.
It was the first time Echo was seeing the fearsome Wanheda as the girl she actually was.
"I can tell by your face that I am not who you were expecting," Echo said as she placed the water and food down, "But this is our reality now. I hope you can make peace with that."
"I—" Clarke paused many thoughts rising to the forefront, "I don't know if I can. You did save me and thank you for that, but—"
"You don't trust me?"
"No."
Clarke's answer was immediate. In truth, Echo expected this response. They had been enemies right up until yesterday after all. It was not as if that could just be put aside. Yet despite knowing that, a part of Echo buried and locked deep within her was hurt by Clarke's response.
"I don't blame you," Echo said ignoring the ache in her legs, "The things I've done—not just to you... I do not think I would trust myself either."
"I wouldn't trust me either."
Echo's next words died on her lips. She watched as Clarke drank deeply from the water. Once she was done, Clarke apologised and then continued.
"I've done awful things too," Clarke said with a smile that oozed regret and sadness, "If you think you're the only one that hates themselves then you're wrong."
Echo met Clarke's gaze and again words escaped her.
"The thing is I want to move past those times and I think you want to be better," Clarke continued holding Echo's gaze, "So, while I wouldn't trust Wanheda or Eko kom Azgeda. I can trust you..."
"Echo," she said softly, "Just Echo. I am an exile."
Clarke never really picked up on the lie.
"Okay, Just Echo. My friends call me Clarke so you should too."
A strange feeling pulled at Echo as Clarke gave a smile filled with exhaustion and sadness and an undeniable openness. It felt as though a smile like that from Clarke was meant for someone else. Someone other than the person she had been forced to become.
"Could you get me some bandages or old clothes?" Clarke asked Echo and this— obeying requests— was a lot easier to her.
Echo didn't trust herself to speak so she just gave a small nod. Once she was gone, she heard Clarke begin to eat and that was a good thing. Clarke needed to recover her strength. Not even nightblood was enough to fully heal her—even if it was why Echo wasn't alone in this bunker.
She only hoped future conversations with Clarke would be easier. In a way, Clarke reminded her of Bellamy. They both had seen the darkness that their world had to offer and yet they still did their best to force their way back into the light.
It was something Echo never thought she'd be capable of and yet she was willing to try.
And all it took was for the world to end a second time over.
It was a few days after Praimfaya and things were...odd was what Clarke could settle on.
She was still unable to put weight on her foot and so Clarke was bedridden until she could walk again. This meant that Echo was essentially at Clarke's beck and call. She didn't like it. Clarke had never been one to enjoy laying around and being pampered. She was a bit of a busy body and she always had been. Normally, she was the one helping people out.
It was odd to be on the other end of things.
Clarke was obviously grateful for all of what Echo was doing, but she couldn't help the annoyance at her helplessness or the guilt from making Echo do so much for her. It wasn't just that, though. Clarke could see something was bothering Echo.
It was maybe a bit presumptuous, but Clarke could see that there was a gaping hole within Echo. As if a large part of her identity had been ripped put and thrown away never to be recovered. It made sense too since just days ago, Echo had been exiled from her people for doing what Clarke had attempted to do by stealing the bunker
Perhaps that was why Clarke was so willing to try again with Echo. Clarke would be lying if she said she was fully comfortable with Echo, but maybe eventually she would be. The truth was, though, they had both done terrible things all for a piece of a world that had been eradicated by a nuclear storm.
What other choice did they have, but to start over?
Clarke had been trying to socialise with Echo, but that was hard to do when she couldn't move out of her bed. Echo never really stayed around Clarke. She gave Clarke food and water at the right times and she helped changed the bandages on her foot and all of that, but she never stayed with Clarke.
Clarke didn't really want to push the issue since it was still early days, but it felt wrong. Isolation wasn't doing Clarke any good and she was sure the same went for Echo. It would be uncomfortable initially, but surely they had to get to know each other? They were in this together after all.
Clarke on a whim sniffed at herself and bit back a grimace.
"Okay, I need to shower."
She knew there were working showers here since Echo smelt fresh all the time even if she still wore most of her Azgeda clothing. Perhaps she was unwilling to use some of Becca's clothes beyond the necessities? Clarke definitely had no qualms and she probably needed to get rid of these clothes permanently anyways.
Dried blood and sweat did not make for desirable clothing.
"Echo? Can you hear me?"
Clarke felt a bit silly beckoning Echo as if she were a servant of some sort. She was sure Echo wouldn't be helping her unless she wanted to, but a part of Clarke's mind kept whispering and murmuring at her that Echo hated all of this.
She did her best not to listen to it.
"You called?" Echo said as she stood in the doorway, "Do you need help with anything?"
Echo was wearing trousers and a vest. This had the effect of showing her strong arms and the intricate tattoos that must have taken many hours to complete. It gave Echo an almost wild look that was tempered and enhanced by her cool demeanour.
"Uh, yeah I do," Clarke said finally and she took a deep breath, "I need to clean myself."
Echo blinked, apparently caught off guard.
"...I see. Do you want me to carry you?"
"Yes, but only if you aren't busy," Clarke said and Echo shook her head in the negative.
"Okay, but I'll also need you to unwrap my ankle if that's fine with you."
"Of course it is," Echo said and she paused before she sat down on the bed, "Is it feeling better?"
"It is," Clarke confirmed as she let her feet rest in Echo's lap, "I should be walking and running in a few weeks."
"How are you so sure? Is it because you were a healer?" Echo asked as her strong and deft hands began to painstakingly remove Clarke's bandages.
"Yes. I learnt a lot about the body and how to treat it," Clarke confirmed not letting the pain she was feeling bleed into her voice, "My mother was the best healer we had and I wanted to be like her."
Mentioning her mother twisted a knife in her soul. Clarke knew she was down in the bunker with Octavia and the rest of the 1200. Even so, Clarke missed her still and wanted to check to make sure they were fine.
"I wanted to be a healer as a child," Echo said as she unwrapped bandages, "I thought what they did was amazing."
It was the first piece of herself that Echo had given up voluntarily. Clarke stayed silent as Echo continued to speak whilst also unwinding her bandages with a slick finesse.
"Azgeda never had enough healers and I thought that at least if I were one, I would have been able to help out the people in my village, but—"
The rest of Echo's words were lost, but it was easy to infer what happened from there.
"Never mind," Echo said finally as she finished unwinding the bandages, "That's done. Are you ready to go?"
"Uhm, yeah," Clarke said as she sat up and prepared for what was always a mortifying experience.
Echo rose from the bed and with seemingly no effort—she picked Clarke up, bridal style at that. Clarke tried her best not to show she was embarrassed by this as opposed to Echo who seemed nonplussed by it all.
If only Clarke were so lucky.
The bathroom was not that far away from Clarke's bedroom so Clarke didn't have to endure this embarrassment for long. It wasn't that Echo did anything to make Clarke uncomfortable nor did she think Echo thought less of her for their current situation.
It was just wholly uncomfortable to be so unequivocally dependent on someone.
They reached the bathroom and it was there that Clarke realised another problem. Echo seemed to clock it at the same time after she made Clarke sit down on the edge of the bathtub.
"Are you able to take off your clothes?"
"Probably everything except for my pants," Clarke said avoiding Echo's piercing gaze, "They're too tight for that."
"I'll help you with that," Echo said and she looked around before finding a towel, "Here, use this to...cover yourself. This will probably hurt you."
Clarke took the towel gratefully as she prepared for a truly mortifying experience. In the end, Echo was right. There was a lot of shuffling and moving and pain as they negotiated Clarke's pants off of her. On one hand, Clarke's ankle still really hurt, but on the other, the pain was strong enough to make her forget about any embarrassment she'd had.
A shower was off the table with her ankle so once Echo left Clarke began to draw herself a bath. The water was hot enough and there was a surprising amount of soaps and fragrances. Clarke felt spoilt for choice and eventually settled on a flowery scent that reminded her of a field she'd found a long time ago.
She was sitting on the tub's edge all wrapped up in her towel. Clarke put the towel aside before trying to slide into the tub smoothly. Of course, her life could never be easy and Clarke slipped in with just a bit too much force and ended up bumping her ankle.
"Damnit!" Clarke grit out slapping the water in annoyance.
How on earth did Raven handle so much worse than this for so long? If anything, the comparison to Raven made Clarke feel more pathetic. After all, it wasn't as if Clarke had had surgery on her back while fully conscious or anything. No, Clarke had been largely unharmed physically while many of her friends had suffered serious physical injuries—especially Octavia.
Clarke had hit her ankle a lot harder than she'd anticipated so the pain wasn't fading. She had zeroed on it for so long, she didn't even hear Echo's voice until she knocked on the door really hard.
"Clarke? Are you okay?" Echo's voice had just an edge of panic in it, "I'm coming in."
Before Clarke could respond, Echo had barged in and more than anything Clarke saw the worry in her eyes. As if she'd thought Clarke had somehow hurt herself even more. It made Clarke feel...a lot of things, really. All of that concern and worry directed to her.
Of course, she was still naked. Echo's worry morphed into shock and...embarrassment? That was understandable, Clarke decided.
"...I bumped my foot," Clarke said a bit lamely, "It really hurt and I was trying to distract myself from the pain."
"You should occupy your mind to distract yourself from it," Echo said and her eyes flitted up and Clarke's body before turning away sharply, "I could find you a book?"
That wouldn't have been a bad idea, but in all honesty speaking to Echo, awkward as it was, distracted from the pain more than anything had over the past few days. Hoping it wouldn't be too weird, Clarke plunged right in.
"No, you don't have to do that," Clarke said a bit quickly, "Actually, I wanted you to stay and we could just...talk? Just having you here makes the pain easier to deal with."
Her last words were rather loaded.
Echo looked over her shoulder, "Are you sure? You want me here?"
Echo's question had a weight hidden by her nonchalance but exposed by the look in her eyes. Pure and naked disbelief as if she couldn't believe that Clarke could feel that way. As if she couldn't believe anyone could feel that way.
And that thought process felt just a bit too familiar to Clarke.
"Of course," Clarke said immediately, "We haven't spoken as much as I would've liked...We can talk about whatever you want. It's all on the table... I just don't know where you could sit..."
Echo seemed torn between going or staying before finally relaxing. She sat down against the tub's wall facing away from Clarke.
"I'll be fine here," Echo said and there was a beat before she asked, "How was life in space? On the Ark?"
The question caught her off guard.
"It was...normal? I never knew any other way until we were sent down here," Clarke said after a moment's thought, "There was a lot less food and water, though. Also, the machines always made noise but you never really heard them unless you were alone in a quiet room..."
Memories of her cell block flitted through Clarke's mind before she quashed them.
"I never knew what actual quiet was until I got down here," Clarke said remembering her first days on Earth, "Also, gravity was really difficult to get used to."
"Gravity?"
"It's what keeps us on the ground. In space, our ship had something similar but not as strong," Clarke explained a bit clumsily, "There were days when repairs had to be done so we had to strap ourselves to beds and couches so we didn't float around. And outside the ship, you just floated in space with only a rope to hold you."
"I see. So being in space is like being in water?"
"That's probably the closest thing to it," Clarke agreed, "I haven't swum that much, though. Octavia got attacked by a giant snake our first day here. It was really scary."
"I can't imagine you ever being scared," Echo had turned to look at Clarke, "You always seemed fearless."
There was a beat as they looked at each other for far too long before Clarke answered.
"I do get scared. A lot," Clarke said finally breaking the silence, "For my friends and people, almost always and sometimes for me too."
"Only sometimes? Are you not scared of getting hurt or dying?"
"I'm not scared of dying. Not really," Clarke admitted with a sigh, "I think I just care more about helping my friends. What scares me is them being worse off if I don't make it past what's in front of me. There's only been a few times where I've been scared for me and me alone."
"When was one of these times?"
"After the Mountain, I left Arkadia and lived on my own for a while," Clarke said and Echo's surprise was a little amusing to see, "I wanted to trade for food so I decided to hunt a panther."
"You hunted a panther on your own? Without training?" Echo's mouth was quirked in a smile and her tone filled with disbelief.
"Yeah and I eventually killed it when it dove at me," Clarke said relishing the look on Echo's face, "It was really scary."
Echo still looked somewhere between disbelieving and amazed, "I don't know if I believe you..."
"It happened!" Clarke said with a laugh, "Look, I can prove it!"
Clarke turned away from Echo showing the older woman her back. Clarke knew that were a few grisly scars from where the panther had gotten very close to ripping her to pieces. She looked over her shoulder and Echo was looking at the scars with a sense of wonder.
"How did they heal?"
"A friend of mine took care of it for me," Clarke said and she noticed Echo's hand was frozen in the air, "Do you want to touch them?"
Echo nodded words escaping her temporarily. Clarke pulled her hair to the front which gave Echo an unobstructed view of the scars. Clarke didn't really feel all that bad about them considering that she hadn't died. Niylah had done more than just a serviceable job—they'd never even gotten an infection or anything.
Echo's hands kept moving closer and Clarke tensed up minutely as they inched in. Finally, Echo's cold fingers touched her bang and Clarke shivered a bit at the sensation. Echo's fingers trailed up and down the scars with a caring caution.
The scars didn't hurt, but they were a bit sensitive to the touch proven when Echo's fingers ran over a particularly sensitive part. Clarke took in a sharp gasp and both she and Echo froze as they both realised exactly what they'd been doing.
"I—sorry," Echo pulled her hand back swiftly as she made to stand up, "I should go—"
Clarke turned back to a sitting position and she managed to grab Echo by the wrist. Echo's skin felt cold to the touch and for a few moments Clarke detected some shivering...she wasn't sure who it came from. It could've been either of them or even both.
"It's fine. They're just a little sensitive sometimes," Clarke said hoping her words were being taken to heart, "Don't leave. Please."
Clarke's hold on Echo wasn't a powerful grip. At all. Echo was certainly a lot stronger than Clarke and could probably shake her grip off with ease. And yet, all Echo did was nod and settle back to her previous spot.
Neither of them thought to mention how Echo had brought her arm up to rest on the edge of the tub. Nor did they say anything when Clarke rested her hand on Echo's arm. Instead, Clarke answered all the questions Echo had about her.
Clarke would reciprocate eventually— once Echo gave her the go-ahead. Her curiosity about Echo was eating away at her, but she forced it down. There was no rush. They may have been alone in a long-dead woman's bunker, but for the foreseeable future, they had each other.
That was enough.
A week after Praimfaya, Clarke could hobble around the bunker.
A week after that, Clarke could walk with Echo's assistance and three days after that she could finally walk unaided.
Being able to walk gave her something of a reinvigorated purpose. Clarke and Echo had settled into a rhythm of sorts. Clarke took care of the food whilst Echo was on clean-up. Clarke also used Becca's command centre in her lab to check the radiation levels outside.
They were still survivable-ish for a nightblood, but they were dropping fairly quickly. Soon enough, Clarke wouldn't get any sores or burns if she ever ventured outside. That was still some time away, though.
Clarke and Echo didn't speak too much, still. At least compared to how Clarke was with her more talkative friends. It was different from before, though. What had been an awkward and oppressive quiet was now a soothing silence. The majority of conversations were always initiated by Clarke, but Echo never failed to give Clarke her full, undivided attention.
The days were a touch monotonous, but that was mitigated by the plethora of movies, shows and music stored in the bunker. It wasn't limited to just that, but also sport matches like soccer and hockey and football and so much more.
Apparently, Becca had even accounted for boredom following the apocalypse. Perhaps, she'd had a similar setup on Polaris before it had been shot down...and that was a pretty grim thought so Clarke pushed it out of her mind.
Clarke did not spend all day by the TV, though, despite how nice it sounded—past chastisements from her parents ringing in her ears. Instead, she tried to keep to a variety of activities. Whether it was rehabbing her ankle or reading a book or something she was really enjoying now...drawing.
Clarke's favourite pastime was still enjoyable, but it now came with a caveat. She couldn't really draw anyone from her past because the pain of their separation was a bit too much. So, instead, she focused on things that didn't hurt her to think about. That pretty much meant she could only draw things in her present.
She tried to draw self-portraits, but she never liked how they came out. She'd never been the biggest fan of her self-portraits, but even more so now. The bunker didn't have too many interesting features so soon she was all tapped out there.
This left with only one thing or rather one person to draw.
Clarke wasn't sure when the first time had happened. Echo was meditating like she seemed to do every day and after drawing the same potted plant for the seventh time, Clarke began to doodle. Only it was less of a doodle and more of a drawing of Echo.
Echo wore pants and a short-sleeve shirt. It had taken Clarke giving her a push to make her start wearing more of the clothes around the bunker. Of course, Echo was taller and more built than Clarke, so practically all the clothes she wore were quite tight.
There was something about seeing Echo in casual clothes and at peace that made Clarke want to draw her. Echo's intricate tattoos and regal features drew Clarke's interest in and before she knew it, Clarke had drawn Echo in full.
It was mortifying to think back on, but it was also the most she'd enjoyed drawing in ages. Clarke wanted to do it again, but maybe a bit less weirdly? Clarke was a bundle of nerves as she watched Echo and waited for her to finish meditating.
Her pencil tapped against her notepad as she tried to think of what to say. Before she could settle on anything, though, Echo had finished up. Echo seemed a bit surprised to find Clarke watching her and she tilted her head in a silent question.
"Can I draw you?" Clarke blurted out and immediately she felt like an idiot. There were definitely better approaches to it than that. The only thing keeping her relatively calm was that Echo didn't seem too freaked by it—only a little curious if anything.
"You want to draw me? Why?"
Okay, so if Echo wasn't making a big deal of it then Clarke wouldn't. Ugh, this was like being a teenager all over again...well she was still a teenager so maybe that's why she was being a little awkward. Echo was so sure in herself as a person that Clarke couldn't quite see her being this nervous.
"I've tried to draw pretty much everything in this house and it's getting a bit boring," Clarke began before almost involuntarily adding, "And you look so...beautiful that it makes everything else here really boring by comparison."
Echo's eyes had widened at the second part of Clarke's explanation and instead of rushing off or rebuffing Clarke or laughing or anything, Echo just...blinked.
"You think I look like that?" Echo sounded disbelieving as if she thought Clarke was pulling a sort of joke on her, "Pretty?"
"Beautiful?" Clarke corrected and something flicked on Echo's face, "I do."
Echo stared at Clarke as if she were some sort of oddity. It really felt like she was being analysed by some sort of supercomputer or something as Echo just...looked at her.
"I—okay," Echo said finally breaking their gaze and looking down to the floor, "What now?"
...Echo had said yes?
"We can go to the living room," Clarke said her voice a touch higher than usual, "It's easier if you're in one position and I want you to be comfortable. This could take a bit of time."
They'd already eaten for the day so there wasn't really any planned interruptions and sure enough. Clarke was sitting on a chair from the kitchen. Facing her, sitting on the sofa was Echo.
Clarke had her pencil and notepad ready and honestly would've begun right there and then if Echo wasn't in an uncomfortable position.
"Maybe you should lie on your side?" Clarke suggested to Echo, "It would be more comfortable...oh and could you also move your sleeves up? I'd like to draw your tattoos as well."
"Yes, my queen," Echo said with a smile that made something in Clarke flutter, "Anything else?"
Echo had moved into position, but instead of rolling up her sleeves, she had taken off the shirt she was wearing. She only had on a thin vest beneath it and Clarke felt her heart race as she took in more of Echo than she'd seen before. Her arms were sculpted and defined—even when relaxed. Echo's vest was pulled up a bit revealing a bit more of her to Clarke.
"No, this—you're perfect," Clarke said as she began to draw with a careful ferocity, "Don't worry about talking or falling asleep. I don't expect you to be here in complete silence."
Echo raised her brows in understanding but didn't actually say anything. Clarke preferred to do the surroundings first when drawing so she did that. She worked in silence until she'd finished the couch which was when Echo had decided to speak.
"Can I ask you a question?"
Clarke paused her drawing as she met Echo's gaze, "Of course."
"Have you ever had a secret you wanted to tell someone, but never found the right person?"
It was a heavier question than Clarke had been expecting, but she did her best to school her features.
"I think everyone has secrets like that, me included," Clarke said after some thought before smiling, "Why? Is there something about me you want to know?"
"I don't think there's anything about you that I don't want to know," Echo said unblinking and unmoving, "You're so...fascinating."
Clarke felt her heart pick up at Echo's words. Her cheeks felt like they'd been set aflame and anything she tried to reply with died before even making it to her lips.
"I was jealous of Skaikru," Echo said continuing as if she hadn't rocked Clarke's entire world, "Not because you had power or technology or anything, but because of your leaders. Because of you. You actually seemed to care about your people. You didn't see them as tools. I never had that."
Again, Echo casually praised Clarke as if it weren't a big deal. It made Clarke feel so happy and yet more than a bit disgusted with herself. Her past sins coming to the fore.
"You shouldn't think so highly of me," Clarke chose to say as she continued to draw Echo, "I've done monstrous things. I don't think doing those stuff for my people makes me a good person or leader."
300 Grounders burnt to a crisp. 300 citizens killed via radiation poisoning. Tens more from combat and that was just the people on the other side. How many of her own people would have lived if she'd acted faster or thought things through better?
"The fact that you actually think about stuff like that makes you different from the others I've seen," Echo said not at all offended by Clarke's reply, "You know the weight of your actions and you still choose to carry them out—not out of spite or anger or ruthless, but through necessity. Selflessness of that level is rare—was rare."
"I'm not selfless."
"What?"
"I'm not selfless," Clarke said louder as a painful memory was ripped from deep within her, "Speaking of secrets, only a few of my friends know about some of this, but that's fine. It's all over, anyways. I'm the reason Lexa got killed."
"The Commander?"
"Yes," Clarke said with a nod, "Lexa and I—we were close. It would have never worked. The 'leader' of Skaikru with the Commander of all the clans? I knew all that and yet she just pulled me in. I couldn't believe that someone as amazing as her—"
"—could think so highly of you?"
"Yes," Clarke said unable to tear her gaze away from her pad as she sketched away, "Being with her was so new and confusing and dangerous and safe. I'd never felt that way before. It was...overwhelming.c
"You found yourself doing and thinking about things you never had before?"
Clarke nodded the conversation fuelling her accuracy and drawing speed as if it were a steroid of some sort— enhancing all her senses and movements to an insane degree.
"There was a time where I could have chosen to leave her and if I had gone instead of staying she would still be alive," Clarke said not losing her drawing speed even as the painful memories looped through her mind, "I was selfish and that led to the mess that came after. Lexa and her people should and would hate me for doing that."
Echo was quiet after that, surprisingly. Clarke's breathing was a bit heavy from the charged conversation, they'd had but slowly she calmed down. Clarke would occasionally look up at Echo to make sure the sketch was going well—but never long enough to actually meet Echo's gaze.
After some time, Clarke truly didn't know, she was done. Clarke put her pencil down and finally met Echo's gaze. She seemed as calm and stoic as ever not even reacting once Clarke finished.
"Uh, I'm done," Clarke said as Echo rose out the couch, "Would you like to see?"
"Not yet," Echo said holding out her hand. A bit confused, Clarke grab hold of Echo's hand and that was a big mistake. Clarke yelped as her body was flipped through the air before landing on the sofa with a bounce.
Echo then straddled Clarke and pinned her arms above her head.
"What are you doing, Echo? Get off me."
"Do you hate me?"
"What? Of course not!"
"Why not?" Echo asked holding Clarke at bay with laughable ease, "I almost killed Octavia. I tricked Bellamy and let the Mountain blow up which ruined Skaikru joining the Coalition. I stole Polis almost immediately after the City of Light. I've done a lot of things that hurt you and your people so why don't you hate me?"
It was a fair question and one Clarke had to really think about before answering.
"You did those stuff to save your people like I did," Clarke said as she stopped fighting against Echo's hold, "It's exactly what I did just for my people. How could I hate you when you were trying to look after your own?"
Echo nodded apparently satisfied with the answer.
"So why do you think my people should hate you?"
"That's different," Clarke argued as she finally saw Echo's point, "We've spent time together too. If we hadn't—"
"Just like the people in the bunker will?"
Clarke's rebuttal died on her lips.
"My people have always feared and respected you. Outright hate isn't likely, though. You killed the Mountain Men. Do you know how much that means to them? To me?"
"I don't like thinking about it," Clarke admitted with a sigh, "How was it in there?"
The question made Echo release her hold on Clarke's arms. Echo's hands dropped to her side where she grabbed hold of her pants and squeezed. The anger and frustration in the action made Clarke feel an unexpected burst of anger.
"Terrible, " Echo said quietly, "My body barely fit in those cages and I watched as so many of my people were hung up and bled like animals. Man or woman, young or old, Trikru or Azgeda... it didn't matter."
"I'd accepted that I was going to die in there or be given as food to Reapers, whichever came first," Echo said and Clarke saw that her hands hadn't stopped their fidgeting, "The same had happened to many before me. I saw it as the easier path too. It was better than being turned into a Reaper and being forced to fight against my people and then capturing those we beat to bring them to a similar fate..."
Echo's fidgeting had grown in urgency and it made Clarke's heart bleed. She laced her hands with Echo's and held them so tightly Echo couldn't get free so easily. It seemed to work, even if only a little bit, as Echo calmed down.
"You made sure that would never happen again. Your people discovered a bunker that saved many from a horrific death," Echo said finally, "I think sometimes you focus too much on the wrong sides of your actions and not the good things they brought. You should know that your actions had immeasurable value to those you saved."
"They weren't just senseless acts of violence that you felt obligated to do," Echo said and Clarke felt her stomach twist as she saw the beginnings of tears in Echo's eyes, "I need you to know that you are good. Because if you're a monster what does that make me?"
Clarke didn't even really think her next actions through. Not really. One moment, she was pinned underneath Echo and the next she was sitting up and hugging the other woman. It was a bit of an awkward position, but Clarke ignored that as she held onto Echo— the smell and feel of the other woman all but enveloping her every sense.
"You are not a monster."
That was all Clarke said and apparently that was all that needed to be said. Echo's arms had been frozen at her side, but they slowly wrapped around Clarke— as if she were the last person in the world. For the two of them, this was actually quite true.
Clarke trailed her hand up and down Echo's back as the older woman let out silent tears. Clarke could feel Echo's tears on her neck, but they didn't bother her in the slightest. They stayed that way only adjusting once to be in a more comfortable position.
Clarke wasn't sure how long they'd hugged before separating, but she didn't care. Echo seemed to freeze up and begin to shiver despite their proximity and the relatively warm weather. Clarke loosened her grip as she made to stand up.
"Are you cold? I'll get you some blankets—"
"No, it's fine," Echo said as she moved away from Clarke a bit too quickly for her liking, "I'm fine. I just—"
Echo trailed off and Clarke was confused until she saw where Echo was looking. Clarke had left her notebook open and the sketch she'd made of Echo was facing up. There were a few teardrops on it, but it was an otherwise beautiful sketch. Not because of Clarke's technique, but more so the subject of the sketch.
Echo picked up the notebook with a reverent slowness. Her face was unreadable as she traced the paper with her fingers. Clarke rose from the couch to get a better look and she watched as Echo's fingers seemed focused on committing the feel of the drawing to memory.
"Is this how you see me? So—"
"Beautiful, powerful, brave, scared, strong?" Clarke asked as she stood in front of Echo, "I just see you, Echo."
The notebook clattered to the floor beneath them. Clarke placed her hands on Echo's neck and she tensed up as she felt Echo's hands on her hips. The height difference between them was all too clear and Clarke had to go on her tippy toes to reach Echo's face.
They moved closer and closer to each other at a slow and intoxicating speed. Clarke's eyes absorbed all of Echo's beautiful features. From her eyes to her lips to the faded scars and bruises. They were about to meet when Clarke froze.
"Echo, your nose..."
Blood was dripping from her nose and Echo took a few steps back in panic. Clarke watched as Echo used her shirt to wipe the blood away revealing more of her skin. What would have normally been a rather welcome sight was marred by the angry, red sores that had begun to form on Echo's front.
Echo dropped her shirt and made to leave, but Clarke held her back. She bunched her fingers onto Echo's shirt and lifting it upwards. Echo resisted for a bit before ultimately letting Clarke take the shirt off. Echo only had a bra covering her up now, but Clarke barely noticed that at all.
Instead, she was locked in on the burns across Echo's entire upper body. It hadn't spread beyond her front, but Clarke recognised them for what they were.
"Radiation burns," Clarke said and a hint of steel entered her voice, "How long?"
No elaboration was needed. The question was clear.
"Two weeks."
Clarke laced her hand with Echo and pulled her in the direction of the lab. She took a deep breath as she prepared herself for what she was about to do, but she found she didn't care.
As long as Echo got cured then all that other stuff didn't matter.
Echo eyed the drill in her hands with no small amount of worry. She'd hoped that things would not have had to come to this and yet here they were.
"Don't worry this will all be over soon enough," Clarke said trying to calm Echo down as if she were the one about to have her bones drilled, "Don't worry about hurting me. I trust you completely."
Clarke saying things like that that made her such an enigma. Echo had on some level always seen herself as a good, little soldier. Taking orders for Nia and then Roan. It had been many years ago when she'd last had only herself to answer to.
It was Echo's choice to get off the rocket when her seatbelt snapped suddenly. Bellamy and Harper and Emori and Monty and Murphy had all offered to stay behind instead. Only Raven had not and that was understandable since she was their pilot.
Even so Raven had looked ready to abandon their mission and find a way to fix Echo's seat on time.
She had been stunned by how self-sacrificing they all were. She'd never been on the receiving end of such kindness nor had she offered it before. She was a stranger amongst a family and yet they were all willing to lay down their lives for her.
In the end, Echo chose to stay.
They had all tried arguing, but Echo assured them she would be fine. At the time, Echo knew it was a lie, but she could not and would not let them die. She hadn't bothered to take Clarke's seat either just in case she made it back on time.
That did not happen.
Echo had been going outside to meet Praimfaya head-on. It was preferable to a slow and tortured death. The rocket blasting off behind her had been the final nail in the coffin. Echo never thought she deserved redemption or saving or kindness. A quick death was a mercy.
That also did not happen.
Instead, Clarke had managed to outrun death itself and made it back to the bunker. Echo had just managed to save Clarke from hurting herself beyond her ankle and the rest was history.
It was quite the adjustment for Echo. Not just taking care of someone, but someone who she didn't ever see herself getting close to. Despite how ridiculous it sounded, on some level, Clarke had always intimidated Echo. She had seen what the girl did to her enemies and she never seemed to lose ever.
And yet, despite it, all Clarke shattered all of Echo's expectations of her. In Azgeda, Echo was an outcast for how quiet she usually was and Clarke didn't let it bother her. She trusted Echo more than anyone ever had before, which was proven by the task laid ahead of her.
Clarke had revealed her hip to Echo and had drawn an X right where Echo was supposed to drill her. Echo had known for a while that the radiation was getting to her, but for whatever reason, she had thought it would pass.
Or maybe she had seen how tired Clarke was and didn't want to burden her any further. It didn't matter anymore, though. Clarke had found out either way and the end result was the same.
"Are you ready?" Echo asked and Clarke nodded.
"Yes. The local anaesthetic will last for about thirty more minutes so go ahead."
Echo pressed the button on the drill and it whirled to life. Her hand was shaking ever so slightly and she looked at Clarke who gave a small nod. Echo was able to steady her hand even as her mind wondered about what had been about to happen between her and Clarke before all this.
Echo had never really been close enough to someone to say she liked them and the reverse held true. Yet, with Clarke after what they'd just had, Echo felt like that wasn't true anymore. Clarke seemed to accept Echo for who she was, but she still didn't know her last secret.
The one that only she and Nia knew.
Echo pushed the drill into Clarke's hip and she kept at it even as she felt it bore through bone. Finally, she stopped when it was clear she'd reached the bone marrow. She shut the drill off and then extracted it with a large syringe.
"Okay, you got enough," Clarke said as she looked over at Echo, "Now put it in that machine over there. I can patch myself up."
Echo did as instructed and she watched as Clarke took care of the wound as if she hadn't just been drilled for blood. Perhaps she'd been staring for longer than she had meant to as Clarke looked up and met her gaze with a soft smile.
"I probably won't be able to walk properly for a few days, but you did really good. Lucky for you, you only need to take an injection."
Echo nodded and she tried to think of what to say and all that came out:
"Thank you."
"Don't mention it, Echo."
"Ash."
"I'm sorry what was that?"
"My real name is Ash," Echo's secret flowed freely from her lips, "I had a childhood friend called Echo and Nia told her to kill me to prepare her for an infiltration mission in Sangeda... So I-I killed her in self-defence, but because Sangeda was expecting a girl called Echo..."
"You lost your name?" Clarke asked as she slid off the operating table
"I did... Echo was my best friend and she was going to kill me... We'd been friends for years and she just threw that away. Then Nia left me to rot in the Mountain and Roan exiled me... Why do all the people I care the most about always throw me away? Am I really so expendable? So worthless... That's why I've been so distant because I can't help but think that you—"
"Shut up."
A warm feeling suddenly enveloped her as Clarke swept her in a hug. Echo couldn't find the heart to continue to speak. Thankfully, she didn't have to. Echo returned Clarke's hug just as fiercely and this action spoke more to her than any words. They stayed that way for some time until the machine beeped scaring them apart.
"I'll get that," Echo said as she rushed to the machine.
The process had apparently been a success if the lights were any indication. Clarke was by her side almost immediately as she took the glass tube away. Echo watched as Clarke's used a syringe to extract all the fluid with practised ease.
"Please give me your left arm."
Echo held it out and she tensed up just a touch as Clarke's fingers held onto her exposed skin. It was a little odd to feel so nervous considering that Echo had helped Clarke undress and Clarke had just seen her practically topless and yet she could not help it.
The nightblood was injected into Echo almost immediately and she watched as it made black trails underneath her skin. Clarke smiled up at her, but it faded into a pained grimace.
"I think the anaesthetic is wearing off," Clarke said the pain in her voice clear, "Could you take me to my room?"
"Of course."
Echo carried Clarke through the bunker all the way to her bedroom. It was only perhaps the early evening, but Clarke seemed exhausted. Echo was much the same, but for differing reasons. The emotional highs and lows of the day had her feeling very weary.
She laid Clarke on the bed. Clarke was able to strip down to her underclothes and despite the massive bandage on her hip— Clarke still looked as radiant as ever. Echo couldn't help but look Clarke up and down before snapping out of her daze. She was about to leave when Clarke spoke.
"Please stay."
She froze and met Clarke's deep blue gaze.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I already told you," Clarke said as she grabbed ahold of Echo's hand, "I can't feel any pain when you're around."
Echo couldn't bring herself to leave, after that.
Echo dimmed the lights and took off her bloodied shirt and pants leaving her in just a bra and underwear. She stayed a bit away from Clarke, but that changed when Clarke shuffled over to her. Echo had been facing away from Clarke so she was able to feel Clarke's...chest press into her back.
Echo couldn't breathe as Clarke moved closer and closer until she was pressed up against Echo. A fiery sensation rippled across Echo's body and at once she felt like running from the bed, but also like turning to Clarke and just—
"What should I call you? Echo or Ash?" Clarke whispered and she was so close her voice was hot in Echo's ear and made her skin hot and cold all at the same time.
"E-Echo," her voice stuttered as one of Clarke's hands trailed her stomach, "I think it's too late to change."
"You know I'll never abandon you, right?" Clarke said as her hand continued to trace circles on Echo's stomach, "I care too much about you to do that. It's like I told you earlier. I see you, Echo and you're someone I want next to me. No matter what happens in the future."
Next to her. Not behind or out of sight, but next to her.
"Please turn over, my hip is really sore now..."
Echo turned over and the lights in the room just allowed her to see Clarke's face. Clarke's hand trailed up Echo's body before eventually stopping to cup her face.
"May I?"
Echo nodded.
She watched as Clarke got closer to her. Something in her was impatient, though, so Echo bridged the gap between them and pressed her lips to Clarke. She turned them so that Clarke was below her taking care to leave any weight off of Clarke's body.
Echo threaded her hands in Clarke's air as she deepened their kiss— their tongues teasing and swirling over and around each other. Clarke's hand had trailed down to Echo's breast and she gave them a squeeze that made Echo moan loudly into their kiss.
Echo let one of her hands fall to Clarke's breast and she tried to copy what Clarke had done to her. She was worried about her inexperience, but that was for nought as Clarke let out a beautiful moan that excited Echo. She continued to kiss Clarke and relish in the feel of her body until finally, they separated when Echo's knee accidentally bumped Clarke's knee.
"Ow!"
Echo climbed off Clarke and was about to apologise when Clarke pulled her into a kiss. It was short and quick and yet no less intoxicating and world-shaking than their last one.
"It's fine," Clarke said as if having read her mind, "Let's just sleep. My hip will feel a lot better in the morning."
The allure of that was too much for her to ignore.
"Okay."
Again, they ended up in that back-to-front position with Clarke almost acting as some sort of shield for Echo. It was as if the last invisible wall between them had been torn down and Echo was able to fully relax into Clarke's embrace.
"Echo?"
"Yes?"
"I'm really happy you came back."
Echo smiled.
"Me too."
Love wasn't quite what they had right now, but laying there in Clarke's arms, that felt like an inevitability.
Author Notes:
I really like how this one turned out. Originally, they were plans to have Clarke and Echo go to the bunker and then the Valley, but I nixed those because I didn't want this getting any longer. Keep an eye out for the next instalment: I'm unsure who it'll be but probably Anya or Octavia.
Thanks for reading!