she tucked herself closer, trying to lose herself in klark’s arms and forget what was undoubtedly going to happen. death was not unfamiliar, the deep scars that lined her arms and thighs proved that she had attempted to seek it out more than once. it wasn’t death she’d been afraid of all this time, not her own at least        and choosing it felt as easy as deciding on pieces of an outfit. she knew how she’d do it, how quick it would be over, how  it would finally be to succumb to what she’d fought for years. this time, it would make more sense. everyone died in this world.

    the good suffered, those who cared little for life lingered. it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right, but this world was cruel. klark deserved to live, deserved to use her survival skills to the fullest. if she couldn’t avoid being bitten, how could anyone else? the blonde’s admission only made her slide in closer, press herself into the space between shoulders and make certain that klark knew she was loved.   ‘ i know. ‘  her hand touched gently, brushing her arm. it was all she could say, without creating any more guilt. nothing would change things, all she could do was ease the inevitable.   ‘ it’s okay. ‘  it’s not, they both knew it. 

    knowing didn’t stop her from touching, reaching out for a cheek to cradle. she brushed her thumb along klark’s jaw slowly, fingertips settling across her face. she nodded.   ‘ of course. ‘   one last time, maybe more if she was lucky enough for it. her heartbeat in her ears was loud enough to contest the next apology, coaxing her to lean up and offer a slow, meaningful kiss, one that lacked the playful passion they usually exchanged before bed. kissing was easier than talking         but it didn’t last forever.

      she needed to breathe, releasing klark to do the same. her throat was thick, yet lexa refused to let herself cry.   ‘ i love you. ‘    her nose brushed gently, fingers playing in the edges of klark’s still damp hair. so many moments had been taken for granted, but not these. not now.   ‘ we’ll meet again. somewhere different, it won’t be long.  ‘ 

@klarks​ 

     tell her. it had crept up on her in the early hours of the morning, preventing her from getting any rest. had she been alone, it would have been easy to slip out of bed, but with klark beside her, she had laid awake until the sun rose. the blonde’s chest rose and fell slowly, she looked so peaceful that it felt wrong to wake her. klark had to work in the morning, she didn’t. tell her. the opportunity came when a blaring alarm started the day, prompting some movement, a touch to her side. she pretended to be half asleep, spoiling the last opportunity to say something — hearing the door close as she contemplated.

    her moods were a burden, one she never considered sharing with someone else. klark was different. they didn’t discuss anything as deep as the state of her mental health, or the reasoning behind her companion’s often excessive drinking. they weren’t at that point, and yet the sharp decline in her mood made not discussing it impossible. her relapse came with marks left on her forearm and thighs, short swipes carved, followed by her regret and bandaging. i should’ve told her. better now than never. her message might have sounded needy, it couldn’t be helped.

      “when are you going to be back? i’m not feeling well, don’t want you to catch it.”

wake up @klarks !

  the bed no longer felt comfortable. it was only klark’s limbs wrapping around her that provided something more, a warmth nothing        and no one        else had ever been able to provide. lexa shifted in closer, hands sliding along the ones around her, tucking them in as close as they could manage. the kiss against her neck was soft, though another reminder of the last she would ever have. it didn’t matter if it was dangerous, she was too stubborn to allow herself to miss the last few hours. her fingertips brushed along a hand, too distracted to absentmindedly trace shapes like they might have a day earlier. 

     it wasn’t her fault. none of this was anyone’s fault. the world was cruel and unfair. lexa turned a little in klark’s arms to look at her.   ‘ it’s not your fault. i’m sorry too. ‘  she could feel the lump in her throat, aching, threatening to bring her to tears. she wouldn’t let it happen        she couldn’t allow the moment to slip into that. a hand lifted to the blonde woman’s cheek, reacquainting herself with the soft surface, down to her jaw. for the last time.   ‘ i love you. i won’t forget. you shouldn’t either. ‘   it wouldn’t be long, she knew, she wouldn’t forget.

    there’s a bullet beneath her pillow, snuck under before she’d been joined on the bed. the bite had condemned them both. living without her pills had been difficult, yet not impossible while there was still a reason to get up every morning. without klark, she knew she would succumb to her own mind, whether it took a day, or a month. in the end, suffering wasn’t what any of them wanted. she’d do it quickly, slide back into the familiar space of klark’s arms and pull the trigger under her chin. out of all her attempts, this would be the last.  

   ‘ i know. ‘  someone else would find the supplies, make use of them where they couldn’t. for now, she only nodded        agreeing that she would use them herself. worrying klark now would only make things more unpleasant.  ‘ you always take care of me. ‘  lexa replied, taking the risk of pressing her lips against the taller woman’s softly. 

                “i’m so sorry, lex.”    there are tears that she blinks away - lexa doesn’t need that right now - and a quiet that she sinks back into. (usually there’d be something playful before they fell asleep like this - slick fingers between her thighs or the brief luxury of a bath and a soft tongue - but they don’t have time, and there’s something too final about every moment now. let’s enjoy this now. one last time.

    numbness crept up on her as they finished cleaning, water washing away all the day’s filth. klark’s hands reached where hers couldn’t, between her shoulders, down to the small of her back. it was little more than a ritual, a habit from before all of this. her own fingertips did the same, cleaning anything from the places too uncomfortable to get to. she had hoped to keep away the thoughts of how it would be the last time, though each moment slowed in her mind, knowing this would be the last particular memory. too many had already been taken for granted, too fuzzy in her mind to recall in vivid detail. she felt dizzy enough to keel over and empty the contents of her stomach. 

     it took everything in her to prevent klark from that sight. she didn’t want to make it harder. lexa avoided the half moon gouge in the blonde woman’s shoulder, angling herself around it to reach for some clothes. something loose was pulled over her own shoulders, handing another neat pile over. for the last time. her heart beat in her ears so loudly that it was the only thing she could hear, though she knew it wouldn’t be the loudest sound of the night. promises made that she would continue on without her loved one would be broken, she knew there was no living alone in a place like this. by the time she looked upward to steal a moment of mutual exchange with klark’s eyes, everything quieted.

       lexa extended her hand to be taken. for the last time.

              ‘ we could lay down     i feel a little dizzy. ‘

@klarks 

          ‘ i love you. don’t forget that. please. ’   through all of this - all the shit, all the blood and gore and hoping that this’ll be the last of it, there’s a chunk pulled from her shoulder and there’s still nothing she’d like more than to go through it all and more if it meant staying with her.

       she hadn’t asked for this. not for the ground, not for her cell, not for being mistaken for someone of importance in klark’s world. nothing could be done about it now, nothing could be taken back   —   not that she wanted to take back the nights they’d spent together. life as a captive with those who might have preferred to kill her, and certainly wanted to now, had made for better nights than those on the ark. without anya, home hadn’t been home, and dreaming of the ground had lost it’s lustre once there was no one left to share it with.

   if only anya could see her now. no doubt she’d be horrified by the sight of her, the broken skin, the scent of burning flesh   —   the fear in the whites of her eyes when anything drew too close to her injuries. they would need to be touched often and for some time, and she dreaded it with what little energy was focused on the future. with what little modern medicine the commander’s people possessed, there was no guarantee her wounds wouldn’t fester and grow infected.

  when it came to that, the choice would be clear. she’d thought of asking  —  begging  —  for it to end, but niylah was too soft to slide a knife under chin and make it quick. before she could be convinced, no doubt, the healer would seek permission from her commander, a woman who didn’t need another body on her hands. feeling klark’s hand against her own was tempting enough to stay. before long, she would have to leave, retreat back to her people or lose herself where she would be difficult to find. though she hadn’t told her captors anything about the woman she knew, that kind of opening was dangerous for a leader.

    for a few moments, selfish behaviour won out. she wouldn’t beg the woman at her bedside to kill her. not yet. her palm was too warm, her voice comforting  —  her strength enveloping the room. the combination, along with the lingering tea, was enough to distract her from some of the pain. Iexa’s fingers curled around rough hands, well worn from the training she spoke of often. those hands could fulfill any promise of protection the commander offered. 

     ‘ more. ‘  her eyes lifted, stealing a half lidded glance up at klark. working herself up had ruined the peace the tea had first brought, not enough to close her eyes and sleep through the lasting aches.   ‘ more first. ‘ 

                              ‘for now, sleep.’    and the cup is raised to her lips.

@leksas: #lizzy? on clarke? dang

 the upset in clarke’s expression seemed to carry some permanence now, whether it was her entrance, reports from those who had tended to her afterwards, or now        watching as multiple emotions crossed over her features. anger was familiar, she often found it hiding behind the the niceties of her council, of faces among the crowd. compared to others, this was too personal. clarke was angry with the woman behind the treaties, the title, as she had made the promise to join her in the fight for mount weather. the betrayal had not been one that expected, nor one she had come to terms with.

  why?   the question hung between them, not needing to be elaborated on. her initial explanation might have been enough for some, for those who understood the weight of her rule. what benefited her people was not what was always aligned with personal interest, now just as much as it when the choice had been between revenge, and allowing costia’s murderers to be welcomed back into her good graces. their commander had looked the other way, yet leksa had not. would clarke feel the same distaste as long as she did?   selfishly, she hoped not.

      there was one clear thing to address         the small girl tucked into her sash. they were not related, she would have no children, would never truly know a mother, a sister. anya had been the closest, and she too was out of reach, never to be seen again. she knew little of children this young, the warmth she brought made it difficult to turn her away.   “ she is of my blood. “  her fingertips touched the edge of the sling, gently enough not to stir. waking children was something leksa preferred not to do, having learned from experience. 

 they had both chosen different paths, different ways to cope with the immeasurable weight of leadership. clarke had run, a luxury she had never been afforded        but not one she could be blamed for. war was no simple undertaking, the sight of mass dead, the loss of loved ones, the physical toll wore down the strongest of warriors. still, they were two leaders on two opposing sides, and she could not first think of others over her own. her expression attempted indifference, knowing emotion could not sway the same as reason could.    “ my choice was to save my people, or step over their bodies to save yours. i did my duty. “

   her duty was bitter in comparison to what they had shared. regret had only ever been present twice in her rule, twice due to the complicated feelings she held for women in her world. twice, she had been made to choose what she had been taught to choose. the natblida were not given a choice. perhaps if they were, she would have chosen in a way that would have left clarke less upset with her. it didn’t take much to cave, to grow softer in the face of the grief she knew was present behind the blonde’s anger.     “ i did not want to hurt you. i am sorry. “

          ‘   ---    that’s   ---   that’s not good enough, lexa.’      if it’d been a plan  --  a tactic  --  if what was bundled in lexa’s arms and wrapped tight across her chest was supposed to placate her for a moment, give her a level head, make her consider before she draws out the knife from inside the cuff at her wrist, then it was working. cheap, and wrenching, and though it might make her careful before she opens the commander’s neck in her own chambers, it crushes something else within her. it’s manipulative, and that’s the only word she can come up with right now. everything’s too fast. everything happens, and everything seems to make her eyes flicker from the commander to the child to -- anything else in the room, because now it feels like she can’t breathe and she can’t think and she can’t do anything and it’s ---