When We Meet Again (The 100 Season 6 Clexa fanfic)

Chapter 12: Weakness

Lexa awoke what felt like hours later, but judging by the position of the suns that she could see in the singular window on the far side of the corridor, she must have been unconscious only a few minutes.

What the hell was happening to her?

Her limbs felt shaky; her hand trembled as it reached up to wipe the sore spot on her head.

The dampness she felt confirmed her suspicions of blood, yet as she pulled her hand back, she couldn't help but marvel at the sticky substance coating her fingers.

Red. Not black.

Her blood was red, and she was no longer a natblida. Apparently they'd skipped that detail when creating her new body.

It felt as though something fundamental had been stripped away from her. The nightblood that ran in her veins made her special, made her... more. And now that she was ordinary, completely and utterly normal, what was to become of her? Who would she be in this new world?

Those questions lingered in her mind as she slowly rose to her feet, her palms against the door for support.

She hated feeling this way. Hated the questions she had, the uncertainty. But most of all she hated feeling weak.

Fortunately, with every breath she took, the dizziness faded. Control over her body was soon regained, yet a sharp, tingling sensation at the back of her neck refused to flee.

Breathe, she told herself. Just breathe.

She half staggered into the room, gently closing the door behind her.

She didn't need to search the room to know Clarke wasn't here. Lexa could sense the lack of her presence like she was missing a limb. While concern had her biting her lip, she was also partially relieved. She didn't want Clarke to see her in such a state, to waste her breaths worrying.

A warm sensation trickling down her cheek alerted her to the blood that seemed still fresh enough to run.

Seeking out Clarke could wait a moment. Lexa didn't want to be seen like this, anyway.

It was just a small bump; her fall but an accident caused by an overwhelming first day of life. But Clarke would fret regardless. So, she needed to get rid of the evidence.

The bathroom attached to their dwelling was easy enough to locate, hidden behind a thick curtain of fabric on the wall opposite their bed. Inside, the first thing Lexa took in was a large tub—presumably for bathing, even if it didn't look like the one Lexa used to have in her chambers at Polis—that had an abnormal contraption jutting out from the wall a few feet above. It looked so peculiar: a long metal rod with a square at the end and hundreds of tiny holes carved out of it.

How odd.

She continued surveying the room, admiring the emerald greens and ocean blues that melded together to create the tiles lining the walls, which depicted swirls and whorls that all connected to form what looked like a giant star.

This place was so random. White walls and white furniture, but coloured bathrooms and black bedspreads? The designers of this entire planet must be mad.

A tinge of pain lancing across her wound had Lexa reaching for the basin, turning a small lever until water began trickling out of yet another metal rod. Only, this one was shorter and had but one opening.

The water came out slowly at first, then all at once. A plush cloth sat nearby on a raised platform, and Lexa took the liberty of dipping it under the tiny waterfall before swiping it across the tender flesh on her head.

She made quick work of cleaning her injury, which she noted—thanks to the mirror sitting just above the basin—was small enough that she could hide it with a few loose strands of hair. There didn't seem to be any other signs of her incident now the damn crimson blood was gone, but there was something else that had Lexa feeling uneasy.

Staring into that mirror was like staring at a stranger.

Yes, the resemblance to her original body was uncanny. But this form didn't possess the scars it should, didn't have the memories that came with those scars. In a way, she missed them. They were a part of her story, they told people she was a warrior, a survivor.

The girl in her reflection was a mere mirage, fake in almost every way.

Lexa lifted the bottom of her shirt, and with a single, blood-encrusted finger, circled the spot on her abdomen where that one final mark should be.

Although her body didn't, her mind still remembered what it was to feel life fading away, to know that her fight was over. But the pain of that bullet piercing her flesh was second to the pain of knowing she would never see Clarke again, and Lexa hoped to never know that suffering again.

A bang resonated through the room, followed by a distressed feminine voice carving through the air. "Lexa?!"

Shit.

Lexa hastily shoved her shirt back down, rinsing her hands under the water before whipping around. "In here."

Clarke was at the bathroom's entrance within seconds, relief washing over her features as she threw herself around Lexa.

The embrace was firm, desperate. Lexa almost squirmed from the tight hold she was in.

Damn this weak body.

As the tension notably drained from Clarke, Lexa felt herself relax as well, and allowed her own arms to wriggle out from Clarke's relentless grip and twine themselves around the girl's hips.

"What's wrong?" Lexa murmured into Clarke's neck.

"I thought..." Clarke pulled back, taking a shuddering breath. Not far enough to step out Lexa's reach, but enough so that she could look into her eyes. "There was blood outside the door. I thought something had happened to you."

A tear escaped down Clarke's cheek. Lexa leaned in and kissed it away before cupping Clarke's cheek in her hand.

"Look at me, Clarke. I'm right here, and I'm fine. You worry for nothing."

"I was so afraid..." Clarke's voice broke on the words, more tears cascading down her face. "I can't lose you again."

"Hey, hey," Lexa said, tilting Clarke's chin up with her free hand. "You won't lose me. Do you know why? Because I'm always with you, right here." She placed a hand over Clarke's heart.

A shadow over a memory passed over Clarke's eyes, dulling the blue to a near grey. "That was the last thing you said to me. 'I'll always be with you.'"

"I remember. I meant it then and I mean it now."

Clarke let out what sounded like a cross between a sob and a whimper, leaning in to press her forehead against Lexa's. "I guess love is weakness after all. My love for you is making me cry."

Lexa huffed a laugh, flashing a smile to the girl who possessed her heart.

In that moment, she realised that so long as she was by Clarke's side, it didn't matter who she was. Natblida or not, commander or not. She was Clarke's and Clarke was hers. And that's all that mattered.

This incredible woman who had the weight of the world on her shoulders, who knew the burden of leadership just as she did and kept on surviving no matter what life threw at her.

With a gasp, Clarke sobered, one hand reaching up to push the few fallen locks of hair out of her face. "I almost forgot! We need to get the others and go."

Lexa's eyes widened at the sudden change in Clarke's demeanour. "Why, what's happened?"

"The short version?"

She quirked a brow. Go on.

"We're all about to die."

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