''What'd she say?'' Clarke asked once she returned from her scouting, carrying a makeshift crutch with her as she lurched forward, her facial features contorted in pain.
''Careful, Clarke,'' Lexa said as Clarke ambled forward, her crutch dangerously unsteady by her side, and Lexa could only watch, eyes wide when Clarke took a step too far, too large—but thankfully she was caught by the doorframe.
''What'd she say?'' Clarke repeated once again, amidst her breathing.
Lexa took in a breath, and tried not to think about the Natblida or Clarke's sudden fall. The Nightblood's face... no, she didn't need another reminder. ''She had said she would think about it.''
After a while, Clarke finally spoke. ''You don't like this.'' Clarke said, breathing laboured, leaning against the doorframe.
''You're right. I don't.'' Lexa said, voice hard, staring upwards at the panting Clarke. Unconsciously twisting the dirt from her wheelchair between her fingers, trying to rid their images from her mind, she said: ''Although we can offer our hospitality to this... Natblida, when does it come that this Natblida decides she wants it no more? That she could do well on 152 days' worth of rations without having to share with us?'' Then, sucking in a breath, casting her eyes away from Clarke, she said: ''When does she decide she can do better without a paraplegic and a lame?''
Despite having to catch her breath, Clarke seemed stricken. ''Lexa...'' she began, but then gave a sigh. ''It's a risk we'll have to take. But trust me, Lexa, when I say that the Nightblood isn't that kind of person.''
Lexa almost snorted. ''That Natblida slammed a bear trap on your leg. That is not the best judge of a person.''
Clarke only gave an irritated sigh, before they both lapsed into silence. During then, Clarke wished that Lexa would become less cynical, while Lexa wished Clarke would've been more reasonable.
A pause came through the two of them. ''You didn't happen to catch her name, did you?''
Lexa shook her head. ''She refused. Doesn't speak much for your hopes.''
Another pause came between them.
''... why do you dislike this idea so much, anyway?'' Clarke was the first to break the silence, anger beginning to rise in her throat. ''Inviting the Natblida—the last survivor on Earth other than us— is the best shot we've got to survive. Hell, you're the Commander, Lexa. You know better than anyone what it takes to survive.'' And then, scornfully: ''Don't give me that ''love is a weakness'' or ''trust only yourself'' shit, because we both know you know it's not true.''
Lexa scoffed. ''For many reasons, Clarke. Your idea in itself is reckless and unreasonable, and hinges on the mere hope of trust. Firstly, she forced you into a bear trap. That does not exude trust, does it?'' And at Clarke's scoff, her mouth open, ready to fire a response in return, she rushed on. ''Secondly, she is dangerous. This is a world where everyone fends for themselves, Clarke. We can't simply invite a child into our abode and trust that she will help us. Nothing will change that.''
Clarke shook her head. ''Doesn't mean we should give up on her.'' Then, lowly, ''She's not Aden, you know that, right? She's not any of your Natblidas.''
Clarke looked at Lexa, hoping for a response, but the only one Lexa gave her was a guilty lookaway. Then, realisation dawned on Clarke's features, before it was quickly overshone with anger. ''I can't believe this,'' she said, nearly a scoff. ''You want to give up because she reminds you of the children you've failed?! Is that it? Because you think you'll fail her, too?!''
And then, Clarke seemed to recognise her outburst, for she took a long breath. ''You—you can't just give up just because...'' Clarke trailed off in disbelief, her eyes returning to Lexa. But Lexa was no longer listening.
Faces, so many faces haunted her in the recesses of her mind. And though they've floated, danced round her mind so many times, nothing prepared her for them to break surface. By the Spirits, Aden. Vos, Sharia, Clos, Xandri, Faish, Gl... What was her name?! By the Spirits, what was it?!
I'm forgetting. I can't forget. I made a promise not to.
''By the Spirits, Clarke,'' she whispered involuntarily, voice thick with emotion, stifling back tears from her eyes. ''There are so many of them.''
Clarke's expression moulded from anger to concern in less than an instant. ''Hey...'' Clarke began, inching towards Lexa. ''... it's over. You wrote them down in your book, remember?'' she said, hobbling over to the counter, trying to find the book, and when she did holding it triumphantly and offering a reassuring glance: ''see? It's right here.''
She's drowning. She knows she isn't, but she feels like she's drowning.
Clarke recites the names for her, leads her through it albeit her choked tears, but it's not enough. Aden Vos Sharia Clos XandriFaishGlesOrianEsoDaran... FAISHOrianXandri Aden ADEN vos clos SHARIA SHARIA gles orian orian ORIAN...
She's always drowning.
