Humming Bird Lexa/You/Clarke story

Epilogue

Lexa shifts in bed, pulling her arm that is wrapped around Clarke's torso closer as the blonde begins to thrash in the bed from one of her nightmares. She turns on her side and hugs the blonde's shaking body, her eyes landing on the old journal slipping off the edge of the opposite side of the bed. Leaning over cautiously, Lexa takes the journal in her hand and pulls it over Clarke's sleeping figure. She calmly closes her eyes and takes a moment to feel the indents in the leather covering from Y/n's hands holding and bending and moving the worn out journal. Her eyes open and her breath catches in her throat as a small smell of dirt and ink mixes in the air for her to smell, Y/n's soft smiling face playing in her memory. She looks at the ceiling of the tent and stays there momentarily lost in the smell and feel of the journal, her fingers lightly brushing the weathered edges of the pages.

-

Abby makes her way out of the medical tent to the eating clearing to make sure that the wounded warrior she is taking care of has something to eat. She continues with the lunch crowd into the clearing and gets in line for food, grabbing two plates to fill.

"Hey Ab." She looks up to see Marcus making his way over to her, she pulls her lips into a small smile to try and show she is okay. "How are you?"

"Fine." She moves up in line, serving the wounded warrior plenty of meat while only giving herself a sparing amount. "Just have to make sure that my patient is eating well."

"And how are you eating, Abby?"

"Fine." She scoops the last bit onto the warrior's plate and swiftly moves away not looking back because she knows that she will regret being so cold to Marcus when she knows all he does is worry. She makes her way up to the main clearing, her eyes shifting back and forth to the familiar faces of the people of Hireath. Her gaze stops when it lands on the little tent, swearing she sees a flicker of light coming from the tent. The plates drop from her shaky grasp.

"Abby?" She moves towards the little tent, nearly tripping on one of the plates. "Abby, are you okay?"

Her hand comes to the door of the small tent, pushing it to the side she enters the dark room. Her gaze desperately searches the tiny dark area to find the source of the light. Her breath hitches in her throat as it dries and clenches, the tears falling down her face as she sees what's left of Y/n's things that never made it to Clarke and Lexa's tent. She moves to the box, a tear falling on an old withered sweater before she takes it in her hand.

"I'm so sorry Y/n," she rubs the sweatshirt in her fingertips and brings the withered soft material to her face. "I am so sorry." The tears sink into the fabric as she gets a whiff of Y/n from the sweater, her knees buckling beneath her as she lets out a sob and crumbles to the floor with the sweatshirt tightly in her grasp.

"I.." A breathy sob erupts from her throat as the tears continue to poor.

"Abby?" Marcus makes his way into the tiny tent, his eyes immediately falling on Abby's body on the floor. "Abby, are you alright?" Abby shakes her head, leaning into the sweatshirt as Marcus sits on the ground beside her and wraps her in his arms.

Her sobs fill the empty tent.

-

A quiet tear falls down Clarke's cheek, resting for a moment at her chin before continuing its race to the end and falling within its small perception of space to land splatted on the back of the blonde's hand. She sits there in the lull of the night sky on the dirt staring at the ground where a cute brunette was once dropped and left in a laughing heap. Her laughter gracing the ears of the blonde and brunette who were sitting proudly on the well-worn stumps while they stared adoringly at the childish girl rolling on the floor in laughter. Her lips perked up. Her eyes smiling wide. A small crater is created in the cool loose dirt while her fingers absentmindedly squish the malleable substance within her engraved fingertips while her eyes stare distantly at her loves. A toothy grin. A hummed okay. A crinkle of an eyebrow. The blonde stares at the memories, feeling skin under her touch and rosy lips stuck against her own. The bags under the blonde's eyes are only growing with no sign of stopping until they pull the love she could see from her vision and burn it as they did with their loved ones.