depth

iv

The walls of her childhood home are used to quiet. Apart from the TV in the living room, and the sound of a conversation from the girls, the air is heavy with stillness, heavy with silence.

It doesn't last long.

Clarke has very little time to wrap her head around her newfound realisation; dressed, hair drying in the heat, she suddenly becomes host to four more guests. She's happy to receive them, yes – she envelopes Raven and Octavia in a group hug, and receives hugs from their significant others almost immediately – but her mind is on the girl still in her room, hastily finishing getting ready before she comes to greet their high school friendship group.

Finn greets Bellamy and Lincoln with the same overly manly gestures as always. She sees him transform right before her eyes: the Finn who tried to shrug his way out of conversation has melted away completely. Replaced by a more enigmatic version of himself, Clarke's reminded of the Finn she knew in high school. Or something closer, anyway. The tobacco stains are unmistakeable.

Yet it makes her smile, the picture of Finn and their high school friends getting on well. It makes Finn's presence more... manageable.

Lincoln, ever helpful, shuts the door behind them, prises the bag out of Octavia's fingers, follows Finn's directions to Abby's and Kane's bedroom and picks up Bellamy's stuff along the way. Finn next directs Bellamy to the kitchen, where he can put their alcohol in the cooler. None of the girls have noticed. Still talking, feeling right at home.

As they talk, O fusses with the braid in Raven's hair she'd done earlier, mouth moving a mile an hour regardless of her preoccupation. Raven just lets it happen, more than used to it by now. (Clarke wonders if Bellamy is too.)

Clarke is ecstatic to have them back, feeling like a part of her has come home too. But they notice how antsy she is – how she keeps looking not to Finn, but for Lexa – how her hands drum on her sides – her awkward chuckle when Octavia calls her childhood home her "loveshack" with Finn.

Is it possible to show just how conflicted she feels? How simultaneously right and wrong she feels? She didn't think it was, but apparently she has.

Raven cocks her head as she watches Clarke, like the blonde is akin to an engineering problem she's finding it difficult to sort out.

Please, not right now, Clarke thinks.

Lexa's arrival is quiet – measured, insurmountable – but at last it happens, so thankfully Octavia and Raven are preoccupied once again. And so, too, is Clarke. She can't stop looking at her. Her eyes are at the mercy of what life has set out for her; she follows life, and follows carers of life. Hands enclosed, around flower stems, potted plants – her eyes find forest green and her agitation amidst the calm grows.

Lexa. She says the name in her head like a thanksgiving. A prayer, perhaps. For what we are about to receive...

The smile Lexa gives Clarke is both an answer and a question – a reassurance, and the lingering curiosity. They are okay, but why does Clarke need that reassurance? Clarke's responding smile gives nothing away, yet somehow shows everything Lexa needed to see – if the way she nods quietly and throws herself into greeting their high school friends is any indication.

Their two friends don't mind that Lexa's hair is still wet, framing that sharply defined face. (Neither does Clarke.) They are here, they are together, and in the midst of a silent hurricane. At least that's one thing to latch onto.

When Raven and Octavia break away from Lexa, Clarke's arm finds itself wrapped around her best friend almost immediately. Lexa leans into it. Not obviously; no one hears the almost imperceptible sigh released hand in hand with the almost imperceptible gesture. No one but Clarke.