Third and final chapter. Let me know what you think!

"Open the gates," Lexa shouts the moment Camp Jaha is within earshot, and she's rather impressed that Bellamy doesn't have to echo the command before the gates part up ahead.

Abby, Raven, and Jasper are the first to appear as the metal moves aside, but she plants herself squarely between them and Clarke.

"We're bringing Clarke to her tent," she says firmly. "No one is to join us except for Abby and Octavia."

"Is she alive?" Octavia calls out from her spot beside a fire as she sharpens a knife.

"Yes."

Octavia still doesn't look up. "Then I'm staying right here."

Lexa's nostrils flare as she fights to keep calm. "We need—"

"Octavia," Bellamy practically snarls, "now."

She rolls her eyes and gets to her feet, and her arms are crossed tightly across her chest. "What do you want?"

Lexa closes the distance between them until they're separated by mere inches, and to her credit, Octavia doesn't flinch. "The drug they gave Lincoln to turn him into a Reaper," she says, her voice low and icy. "They gave it to Clarke."

Octavia swallows hard and wets her lips.

"You were at Lincoln's side during his recovery. We need you to… I need you to help me with Clarke's."

"Abby's the doctor," Octavia mutters as she shakes her head. "What do you need me for?"

Lexa opens her mouth but remains unsure of what to say, and ultimately no words come out at all; instead she just glances back at Clarke, still unmoving in Bellamy's arms, and tosses her gun to the ground. "So be it," she growls under her breath and turns away to follow Bellamy to Clarke's tent.

Abby is abruptly walking with her, so close that she nearly steps on Lexa's toes. "What's wrong with Clarke?" she demands, "What the hell happened in there?"

"We're going to need restraints, a lightning stick, and whatever medicine you used on Lincoln a few weeks ago."

Her strides stall just the slightest bit. "What are you talking about?"

"Sky People ask so many questions," Lexa snaps. "Just go retrieve what I've asked of you."

Abby departs with a shaky nod and Lexa practically rips open the flaps of Clarke's tent; Bellamy has already set her on her bed and is checking her pulse a third time.

"Octavia?" he asks when he sees Lexa, who just shakes her head, and he sighs. "I don't know what the hell is going on with her."

Abby enters the tent now and sets her armful of supplies on the bedside table, then opens up a medical kit and perches herself on the edge of the bed, leaning over Clarke as she reaches out to clean her wounds.

"Stop," Lexa says, and Abby's hand freezes in midair. "Restrain her first."

She doesn't look very pleased with the order but she still puts the disinfectant aside and grabs two plastic ties usually reserved for prisoners, and straps Clarke's wrists to the bedframe like she's tucking a small child into bed.

"Tighter."

Abby exhales sharply and gives each tie a quick yank. "Am I allowed to tend to my daughter now?" she asks through gritted teeth.

Lexa takes two more ties and fastens Clarke's ankles down as well, then retreats to the corner of the tent and crosses her arms over her chest.

"Go ahead," Bellamy tells her quietly as he takes a seat at the foot of the bed.

Abby swallows hard and soaks disinfectant into a small towel, then begins dabbing at the cut on Clarke's forehead. "How far did they get?" Abby asks, her jaw clenched hard. "In the, um. The process."

"Definitely a first dose," Bellamy replies, "maybe a second one, but we're not sure."

She nods and continues wiping away the blood, and when she finishes she brushes her fingertips along Clarke's bruised knuckles and cleans them as well.

There's a rustling of the tent flaps and Lexa glances over to see Octavia standing just inside, holding a few canteens and looking anywhere but at Clarke. "Here's some water," she mutters.

"Set it on the table," Abby replies but doesn't stop working on Clarke.

Octavia obeys and then sits next to Bellamy, who gives her a tight half-hug and a quiet "Thank you." She glances up at Lexa now and tilts her head in the smallest of nods, which Lexa returns, and they both immediately return to staring at opposite sides of the tent.

"How is she?" Octavia asks, not bothering to hide her reluctance.

"Stable for now, I think." Abby dives into the medical kit and takes out a small bottle and syringe. "This should keep her from getting a fever like Lincoln did," she explains as she sterilizes the inside of Clarke's elbow and gently sticks the needle in, "but we'll need to make sure she stays hydrated."

Lexa isn't sure who's included in her "we" but she finds herself nodding all the same, but every inch of her body freezes when she hears a faint groan from Clarke's corner of the tent.

Everyone watches Clarke's arms strain against her binds, watches her grimace as a string of breathless, grating coughs escape her throat, and Octavia clutches Bellamy's wrist as Lexa takes a few cautious steps closer.

"Clarke? Clarke, sweetie," Abby whispers, brushing her fingers through Clarke's hair, but when her eyes blink open they're just as wild and disoriented as they were back in Mount Weather; only now instead of thrashing against her binds she's trembling from head to toe.

Abby clutches Clarke's shoulder and Lexa can see her trying to hold herself together. "Come on, baby," she manages, the lump in her throat obvious. "I know you're still in there. Come back to me, Clarke."

The tremors begin to die down and she coughs a few more times, gasping for oxygen like she's just swum across an entire ocean. Abby opens one of the canteens and tries to tip some water into Clarke's mouth but Clarke chokes it back up and jerks out of the way and almost knocks the container out of Abby's hand in the process.

"More," she pants, then mumbles unintelligibly. "More."

"I'm trying, honey. Just stay still and you can have some water."

Lexa takes a breath to steady herself. "I don't think it's water that she's asking for."

Abby glances up at her in alarm, and then at Bellamy, who nods in agreement, and now Abby's mouth is a taut line. She goes back into the medical kit, pulling out another syringe and a second bottle of clear liquid and loading a dose, then clears her throat and uses her free hand to cup Clark's cheek. "Okay, Clarke, here's some more for you," she says, not quite keeping the emotion out of her voice, before injecting the liquid into Clarke's neck.

Clarke's eyes start to lose focus and she sighs in relief, and slowly her eyelids droop closed; the tremors remain, however, and Lexa can feel her jaw clenching again.

"What did you give her?"

"A sedative," Abby replies after a beat, setting the supplies back on the table. "Whatever that drug is doing to her, she doesn't need to be awake for it."

There's a heavy stretch of silence that's filled only by Clarke jerking against her restraints as short waves of tremors wrack her body.

"I need some air," Octavia mutters, and Bellamy watches her leave then glances at Lexa.

"Go," she says, nodding once, and he follows Octavia out of the tent.

Abby slowly places the bottle and syringe next to the kit and takes a deep breath in and out, and Lexa can see how badly she's shaking from the other side of the tent.

"If you need a moment," Lexa says quietly, "I can look after her."

She looks up like she forgot Lexa was there, but instead of getting to her feet like Lexa expects her to, Abby turns a little and pats the spot next to her on the bed. "Could you…?"

Lexa doesn't move. "Could I what?"

"Sit," Abby clarifies, and the syllable is desperate.

She's clutching the sheath where her sword usually is, more out of habit than anything else, and it takes her a long moment to convince her feet to move forward. When she lowers herself to the bed she waits for Abby to explode, to demand an explanation for their carelessness, for why Lexa let this happen to Clarke—

"Hold still," Abby instructs and Lexa has to hold back a flinch as Abby reaches out with a clean towel and begins wiping at the smears of blood Lexa knows are caked to her face.

She avoids eye contact as best she can, but then Abby leans forward to get a closer look at something and she balks at the proximity. "This is unnecessary," she mutters, and prepares to get to her feet.

"Lexa."

Abby's voice somehow manages to stop her cold; she clenches her jaw and faces her once more.

"Let me," Abby says softly, "please."

She swallows hard and settles back onto the mattress, trying to keep her breathing even while she silently dares Abby to wipe away any of her war paint, but Abby seems to be carefully working around it.

Abby brushes over a sensitive spot and Lexa feels the corner of her eye twitch, then straightens her posture to compensate and lets Abby continue.

"I've been so hard on her," Abby murmurs in a small voice as she soaks more disinfectant into the cloth. "Ever since the missile attack, I—" Her hand stalls for a fraction of a moment. "We sacrificed our people on the Ark to save oxygen; she sacrificed our people on the ground to help us win this war." She swallows hard and busies herself with grabbing a handful of bandages from the kit. "I'd thought it was different—it felt so different—but…" Abby sniffs. "The Ark taught her everything she knows."

Clarke lets out a sharp grunt and they both glance down to where her arm is straining against the plastic tie again, and finally her hand reaches out, her fingers extending until the tip of one brushes against Lexa's glove.

She coughs twice and sags back against the mattress, and Lexa is relieved that the sudden heat on her face is hidden by paint.

"Or maybe I'm wrong," Abby decides after a beat, still looking at Clarke's hand. "Maybe it was the ground."

Lexa locks eyes with her. "Perhaps it was both."

"Abby, we need you in Medical," Jackson announces, poking his head through the tent flaps and allowing himself the quickest of double-takes before clearing his throat. "Commander," he adds with a nod and sees himself out.

Abby glances between Clarke and the entrance a few times, then to the bloody cloth in her hand, then finally to Lexa.

"I can look after her," Lexa repeats, and she's a little surprised by how quickly Abby excuses herself; maybe even more so by the long breath she lets out once Abby is out of sight. She wonders if she should relocate, if she deserves to be the one at Clarke's bedside, if Clarke would even want her here after it was her own foolish attempt at intimidation that made Cage snap.

"Lexa."

The voice is barely more than a brittle whisper, but it is still unmistakably Clarke's, and Lexa's heart is in her throat as she glances down at the blue eyes fighting to stay open.

Her breathing is still ragged but her pulls against the restraints are more controlled now, more human. "What happened?" she wheezes.

"You're safe now, Clarke," Lexa replies after a beat.

Clarke frowns a little, though she seems more confused than anything. "Why am I…?" She squeezes her eyes shut for a moment. "Lexa, what happened?" she asks more forcefully. "How did we get out of Mount Weather?"

Lexa seizes the opportunity for an easy answer. "Bellamy helped us."

"Why can't I remember anything?" She strains against the plastic ties again. "And what are these for?"

Lexa wets her lips and takes a steadying breath. "Cage injected you with his Reaper drug."

Clarke's eyes widen and she opens her mouth to say something, but now she's studying the cuts and bruises on Lexa's face, and soon Lexa can see tears forming. "Did I do that?" Clarke whispers thickly.

Lexa swallows. "No," she murmurs, "it was Cage."

"I was there when he interrogated you," Clarke says, shaking her head until a single drop of moisture rolls down her temple. "I saw, and—and it wasn't that bad."

"He continued after they took you away," Lexa insists, keeping her voice as steady as she can. "Clarke, this was not your fault."

The second statement feels like a lot less of a lie, and Clarke nods after a beat.

Lexa eyes the leftover sedatives on the table. "You didn't sleep for long. How are you feeling?"

Clarke says nothing.

"Your mother's been treating you the same way she did Lincoln, but none of us is sure how much the effects will differ."

The tent is filled with silence again and she clenches her jaw. "Clarke, I'll understand if you blame me for—" She glances down to gauge Clarke's anger, but her eyes are closed and she's lying far too still. "Clarke?" Lexa checks her pulse and feels nothing, and now her own heart is racing as she lunges for Abby's lightning stick, presses it to Clarke's chest, and pulls the trigger.

Clarke stiffens against the mattress before going limp again, and Lexa tries a second time but gets the same reaction; a roar of frustration bursts from her throat and she shifts until she has a knee planted on either side of Clarke.

"Yu gonplei nou ste odon," she says firmly, almost like a promise, and sets the lightning stick directly over Clarke's heart.

Clarke's body seizes again, and then there's a breathless gasp and Clarke's lungs are heaving for air beneath Lexa. She hesitates for a moment but then tosses the lightning stick to the ground, checks Clarke's pulse once more, and holds her head steady.

"Clarke," she whispers, using her thumbs to brush away a locks of hair.

She's blinking again and her eyes finally find Lexa's and they're scared and confused but crystal clear, and Lexa takes out her knife to free Clarke from her bindings.

"No," Clarke blurts, shaking her head, "don't cut me loose… not yet." She swallows hard and glances down at each of her hands like she's trying to figure out what they might do if they're not restrained. "I don't want to hurt you."

Lexa tightens her grip on her knife but forces it back into its sheath, then moves off of Clarke and returns to her original position on the edge of the mattress. "I trust you," she mutters regardless.

"I don't." Clarke's breathing is still too heavy and her forehead is damn with sweat. "Just…"

"Water?"

She nods gratefully and Lexa grabs a canteen, then tips it into Clarke's mouth and waits while Clarke downs several greedy gulps.

"Heda," Nyko calls from outside the tent, a sliver of his face visible beyond the entrance flaps.

Lexa brings the canteen against her chest like she's been caught in some sort of wrongdoing. "What is it?"

"Unrest is growing in Tondc. More are dying and the rest crave reassurance that not all is lost."

"Tell them I will return once an important matter has been attended to." She takes a deep breath and gives him a firm nod. "Tell them this war remains ours to win."

He returns her nod and departs a moment later, and Lexa takes her time facing Clarke again.

"Please don't say I'm the important matter." Lexa says nothing and Clarke tries to sit up as best she can, settling for supporting her weight on shaky elbows. "Lexa, your people need you."

Lexa forces her eyes to meet Clarke's and looks at her for a long moment. "Clarke," she says simply, "you are my people." She takes out her knife again without another word and cuts each of Clarke's binds, ignoring Clarke when she tries to squirm out of Lexa's way.

"What are you doing? Lexa, stop—"

Clarke stalls in midsentence as Lexa finishes freeing her wrists and ankles, and Clarke's hands are shaking as she holds them out in front of her like she's afraid to let them out of her sight.

Lexa takes one of them into her own and turns it palm-up, then examines the faint red scars left behind by the plastic; she lifts it to her mouth and presses her lips lightly against the marks, feeling the tendons in Clarke's wrist twitching, her pulse beating, and when she locks eyes with Clarke again, the tears have returned.

She hasn't let go of Clarke's wrist and now her hand drifts along her forearm to her elbow, then up to her shoulder, and Clarke lets out a small sob as she wraps her arms around Lexa and squeezes for all she's worth.

"I'm so sorry," she croaks in Lexa's ear.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Clarke."

Clarke pulls away and looks at her with wet, miserable eyes. "I'm the one who hurt you. I know I—"

Lexa buries her fingers in Clarke's hair and kisses her forehead, and all the air rushes out of Clarke's lungs; neither of them moves for far longer than Lexa anticipated, but then Clarke sniffs and clears her throat and the moment is over.

"You should go," she says quietly, wiping away the moisture coating her cheeks. "Thank you for everything, but you should—you need to go."

Something in Lexa's chest tightens at her words, but then she studies Clarke's expression again and finds no sincerity. "Clarke, we don't know if the drug is completely out of your system yet, and if you have another reaction, you'll need someone to help you through it. I think it would be best if I stayed here for now."

Her words are just pointed enough to make the corner of Clarke's mouth twitch as she nods in relief, and she eases herself back onto the mattress and covers her face with her hands, taking deep breaths in and out.

Lexa removes her shoulder guard and leans over to lie beside Clarke, neither touching her nor saying a word but simply listening to her inhales and exhales. Eventually Clarke lets her arms drop to her sides, then swallows hard and turns her head to look at Lexa.

"Rest," Lexa says, and the command is gentle.

Clarke nods, curls up on her side facing Lexa, and closes her eyes.

Now Lexa is back in the dark room with Clarke strapped to the chair, with Clarke's empty expression and merciless fists. "Clarke?"

"Yeah?" she asks, her eyes blinking open again.

Lexa drinks in the softness of her features, the absence of any hostility or rage, and feels her own pulse begin to slow.

"Nothing."

Yu gonplei nou ste odon = Your fight is not over

Thank you so much for reading. xoxo