Do you know where Madi is?'' Clarke asked, worriedness apparent in her features as she burst into the abode, leaving the door swinging. ''She hadn't told me about her leave. I checked the creek, our farm, the outermost forests and our rooms. Did she tell you anything?''
Lexa bit her lip, and stared at her legs. A prickle of worry aroused inside her: was Lexa's legs hurting again?
But the reality was far worse. ''Emerson took Madi,'' was what Lexa breathed out instead, and the sinking feeling in Clarke's gut plummeted.
''Shit. Fuck.'' Clarke groaned and slammed her fists into the table. Then, casting a desolate glance at Lexa, she finally noticed Lexa's bruised wounds. ''Shit. Are you okay?''
Clarke rushed over to her, snatching a roll of gauze along the way, as Lexa winced in pain. ''Fine, Clarke,'' she said out, amid gritted teeth. ''For now. I... may need more bandages.''
Clarke didn't say anything but rolled out a small stretch of gauze. Lexa adjusted herself, slightly, as Clarke knelt in front her, and after that, bit her lip and held out the arm for Clarke.
''Goddamnit, Emerson,'' Clarke muttered, as unravelling the gauze on her arm, she began to bandage the wound. ''We should've never let him live. Shouldn't've just ignored him like it was nothing. Shouldn't've stopped trying to find him after that trap... damnit, why'd we stop?''
''I'm sorry,'' Lexa supplied, her eyes flittering away, as Clarke bound Lexa's wound, a slight aggressiveness tinged into it now as she secured the binding.
''Shit. Madi,'' Clarke groaned. As if she was lost in her thoughts. And then, her eyes flickering back to meet Lexa's, as if just registering her words for the first time. ''Don't be sorry,'' she said. And then, hefting a sigh, she whispered out: ''It's his fault. Not yours.''
Lexa let out a whistle in frustration. ''But it was, Clarke. I could've killed him in a mere heartbeat. Ended the fight so much earlier. He wouldn't've kidnapped Madi,'' She almost grunted in frustration. ''There were so many openings, Clarke. So many flaws in his stance, so many openings for killing blows, but I couldn't do anything about it. Because of this.'' she scoffed, and glared at her immobile legs.
Clarke gazed at Lexa for one, long moment, and then she sighed. ''Lexa, if there's anything I know that's true, it's that Madi's not your fault. Sure, you might've been able to kill him before, and yes, you couldn't now—but there's no point in dwelling on the might've been.''
Lexa almost scoffed, but it had felt reminiscent. ''Doesn't make it any less true.''
Finally, Clarke sighed, as Lexa looked away from Clarke's eyes, that were trained on her, too closely. ''... okay,'' she said. ''It might be true. But dwelling on it doesn't make it any less broken. Like how dwelling on Emerson doesn't change anything.'' There was a slight sigh. ''There's nothing we can do about it—at least, not with what we have now. And because it's the present now, we've got Emerson to deal with. So.'' and there was a pause. ''What do you propose?''
''Kill him,'' she said simply, and she returned to meet Clarke's gaze in front of her. ''A road marks his blood, Clarke. He retreats to his sanctuary—Madi should be there—or at least, I believe so. It could be direct—''
''—or it could be a trap.'' Clarke sighed and closed her eyes. ''Shit.''
''There is nothing we can do for either,'' Lexa continued, and even so, she bit back a sigh. ''We are playing at his game now, Clarke. Madi—Mad is the bargaining chip. Even if we do discover his plans—it would not matter, much. Unless...''
But there was a glimmer in Lexa's eyes. Something akin to a fire, dancing around a pyre in the black. And realisation slowly dawned on Clarke's features. ''Unless we play along.''
Lexa nodded, and looked straight at Clarke. ''... Emerson loathes you. You are Wanheda, Clarke. For him, it is personal now. He may hate me for what I've done to his body, but your crimes to his people are immortalised in his mind.'' There was a breath, as she looked at Clarke with resolve. ''He is unpredictable. Insanity consumes him; there is nothing rational left within him now. Yet no madman thrives on madness—rather, on the act of driving others mad.''
''So we go,'' Clarke said, as Lexa's plan seeped into her mind. ''We play along with whatever mad scheme he has. T-to distract him from Madi.''
''Yes, Clarke.'' Lexa said. ''To distract him. And once she is safe—once she is out of his grasp—we can kill him.'' There was a long, slow breath, as Lexa's gaze hardened. ''But make no mistake, Clarke—this ends in death. Whether it be ours or his.''
There was nothing, for a moment, until Clarke nodded slightly. ''Yeah,'' she said, almost a swallow, and it came out as a soft whisper.
Lexa gazed at the stricken Clarke for one moment, her face clear in distress, desolation, fear and all else that must've plagued both their minds.
And Lexa kissed her softly. Clarke breathed into the kiss, and when they broke away, Lexa leaned in, and kissed Clarke again. And when it ended, too quickly, Clarke had moved in for the third—but then they had both froze when they remembered, all too clearly, the predicament of their situation they were currently in.
Moved apart a little, despite neither wanting to. Both of their eyes had lingered on the other's lips, until they had both looked away. Clarke's expression softened, as she made eye contact with Lexa, who was biting her lip, not meeting Clarke's eyes.
Finally, it was Lexa who spoke at last. ''We have to go, Clarke,'' she said, and it was soft, yet throaty.
At last, Clarke nodded, and got up from the floor. Without another word, Clarke grabbed a half-slung backpack, pushed it over her shoulder, and racing over to the broken weapons rack, she grabbed two guns, ammo, and strapped two daggers to her legs. When she moved back to Lexa, she extended out one of the guns to her.
''Take this,'' Clarke said to Lexa, handing her one of the guns. ''Just in-case, yeah?''
Sighing, Lexa took the gun. Even if she didn't like it and even if it did bring bad memories, it was a weapon one way or another.
She swallowed, and cast her eyes to the open abode door. ''Let's go. We follow the bloody trail.''
