''Lexa... we need to talk about Madi,'' Clarke said, as she shut the door to their room.
''Is something wrong?'' Lexa asked, wheeling about to face Clarke. She seemed visibly concerned, as if she were worried about Madi. Lexa had a good idea of what the topic would be about—of Madi's constant, near-frequent nightmares, and the event that had happened during their hunt. And although she was reluctant to talk about either, she knew it was a topic they both had to discuss.
Clarke swallowed, once. ''... yeah,'' she admitted, looking at Lexa in the eye. ''We've—we've got to help her, Lexa. Somehow,'' she said, gaze still trained intently on Lexa. ''Maybe go out hunting, spear-fishing, I don't know. J-just something therapeutic t-that doesn't trigger...''
''Clarke,'' Lexa began, softly. ''We do not know Madi's triggers. And I believe testing is not the way to go about it.''
Clarke ran her fingers in her hair, and paced around the room in slight frustration. ''Yes, but—'' and then she stopped pacing, looked at Lexa. ''— we've got to do something about it.''
Lexa nodded for Clarke to continue. And then, quieter, Clarke said: ''Madi's got a lot of baggage. Trauma and memories and nightmares that—that she needs to unpack. And—'' a small, low breath. ''— I don't think she's improving. It's getting worse.''
Lexa cocked her head at the statement, prompting Clarke to continue. ''Lexa... she fainted while we were hunting just a day ago. That's bad enough by itself. When I asked her if she wanted to work on the trebuchet today, she refused. She—she doesn't want to talk to me about it. Which-which is fine, but it's just that—she's never refused before. A-and now she's going off on her own, talking about finding dogs in bear traps, doing something god knows where... I-I just...'' A sigh. ''I'm concerned.''
A small sigh came from Lexa. ''Perhaps it was only a bad day, Clarke.'' Lexa stated, returning Clarke's glance. ''Like mine. She may have hit a rough patch, or perhaps it is around this time and month that her memories are prevalent?''
''She collapsed in the woods, Lexa. That doesn't happen in bad days—'' and before Lexa could refute, ''—and even if it does, it's not like we should sit around and pretend like it never happened. Because it did.''
''We are not pretending that it never happened,'' Lexa stated firmly. ''All I am saying is that we should wait for some time to pass, before confronting Madi about it. She deserves some time to herself. We do not need to make her feel worse.''
''And we have to be sensitive about it,'' Clarke added. ''We don't need to be a cause for another incident.''
Lexa nodded, looking at Clarke square in the eyes. ''That is a given.'' she said simply. And then, quieter: ''Memories—they don't just pass, Clarke,'' Lexa murmured. ''Wounds become bearable with time. Her wounds are still fresh, raw, Clarke. She is only eight years old—her parents had only died two years ago, her sister and brother four. W-we should be surprised if she didn't have such memories.''
''Can't we make it more bearable for her?'' Clarke said, her eyes pleading. ''Tell her she isn't alone.''
And at this, the ghost of a sad smile grazed Lexa's lips. ''She isn't, Clarke. She knows that.''
Clarke sighed. ''I'm... just worried she'll forget, is all.''
''She won't.'' Lexa stated. And then, firmer: ''She won't.''
...
The man was still coughing when Madi returned with bandages, food, water and a damp cloth.
''H-here,'' Madi said shakily as she shuffled into the cave, as she put down the supplies she cradled in her arms, and pushed the load towards the man.
''T-thank... you...'' was all he managed to cough out before grasping at the supplies greedily, shuddering as he took the bottle of water and the food, and unscrewing the cap, in an instant downing the water as his withered fingers tightened against the ration packet Madi gave him, as if it was some sort of treasure, a prize.
Madi had watched, almost in a trance, as she watched the man drink and cough, grasp the ration packet, cough and drink again like it was some sort of weird, otherworldly cycle that she just couldn't tear her eyes away from.
''You... are you better now?'' Madi asked hesitantly. And when the man nodded furiously, once, twice as he stuffed the biscuit in his mouth, crumbs spurting across everywhere and landing his body as he tried to speak, Madi felt slightly more relieved.
At least he didn't seem like he was dying now.
And Madi watched, only a few feet away from the man, as she watched the water-drinking cycle repeat itself, but with a biscuit instead. It wasn't unusual to see a man that ravenous—heck, Madi had seen quite a few in her lifetime, in Louwoda Kliron Kru, but never had she really bothered to, well, take more than a glance at them before scurrying away. But for some reason, it was weirdly entrancing to watch.
Okay, Madi, stop watching the kinda-dead man relish his biscuit. It's not really polite. So, with a breath, she asked: ''D-do you need bandages or...?''
The man shook his head as he gobbled up the biscuit. ''N-no,'' he said in his mouthful, before refocusing on his eating. ''L-later.''
Madi hoped that he wouldn't accidentally choke himself or cough while he was eating. Both seemed like worst-case scenarios, included a cause of a very unpleasant death, and would be very strenuous to deal with.
''H-how did you survive?'' Madi ventured, slightly, after the man had swallowed most of the biscuit. (She really didn't need either choking or coughing happening while the man was savouring his biscuit.) And Carl gave a feral grin, and said, among the leftover biscuit crumbs:
''I-I could—'' A thick tirade of coughs overcame the man, ''—s-say the same... for you.''
Madi gazed downwards, her eyes meeting the cave floors. And then a moment later, she perked up. ''D'you wanna share stories? Survival stories?''
Carl stared at her, open-mouthed in surprise. Even as Madi smiled at him and waited patiently for a response. A few biscuit crumbs hung from his mouth as he worked his jaw for an answer. ''... sure.''
