Work Text:
"You do what you have to do to protect your people, Clarke."
"Yeah, I wish it were that simple," Clarke sighed. "I don't think I can do it anymore, Lexa. I'm not strong enough."
/
"It is time to get out of bed, Clarke," Lexa says as she walks into their tent. "I brought you breakfast."
Clarke remains silent, curled up on herself. She doesn't want to get up, she's not hungry. All she wants to do is sleep and forget. Forget about all those deaths, but they follow her even in her dreams. It's exhausting.
Lexa sits beside her, brushes a few strands of hair out of her face. Clarke closes her eyes, leaning into Lexa's touch. Clarke allows herself this small comfort.
"It is a beautiful day. We could go for a walk," the Commander suggests. She's getting worried, doesn't know how to help her. Lexa hates this feeling of helplessness.
"You need some fresh air, Clarke," she tries again. "It will do you good."
But Clarke shakes her head and pulls the fur over it. Why should she get to breathe fresh air and have the sun kiss her skin when so many people can't? Because they're dead. Because of a choice she made.
Clarke cannot cope, can’t forgive herself for what she’s done.
Maybe tomorrow, but not today.