Based on a prompt on tumblr: "Go back to sleep." Check out more fics at .com.

The scene always started the same. The mess hall formed out of nothingness—blackness. Clarke was standing in the middle of the room, watching contentedly as Mount Weather residents ate their dinner. She usually thought about joining them—she had heard the pie was great—when all of a sudden, an alarm sounds.

The people don't panic, but Clarke, confused, looks around her. Even though her logical brain knows that radiation is odorless and colorless, she watches helplessly as a putrid orange fog pours into the mess hall. When it reaches the end of a table, some people drop like flies in mid-air.

Panicked, Clarke opens her mouth to scream—to tell them to run away to safety—but she cannot form words. It's as if someone cut out her tongue. Urgency and adrenaline rushes through her, and she runs to Maya, to shake her, but her touch goes right through the curly haired girl. Clarke looks at her hands and sees that they are translucent. She is right there, but she cannot help. This is her own personal hell.

The people of Mount Weather don't scream as the fog spreads, nor do they seem to notice its presence. Instead, they all die peacefully into their meal. It is a silent, slow process. Clarke stomps her feet and wills herself to scream, to cry out, to do SOMETHING, but she can't. She just can't. Frustration boils inside her and she rages against the sturdy pillars, angry with herself for not saving them, when…

"Clarke!"

The blonde girl snapped awake, sitting up suddenly. She pressed her hand to her rushing heart and felt that she was panting, and the hem of her shirt was wet with sweat. She rubbed her hands around her hot neck, feeling how wet her hair was, and dropped back against the pillow, still breathing heavily.

"You had another nightmare," Lexa said simply.

It wasn't a question—it was a fact. Clarke was sure that Lexa had seen her trapped in her nightmare for what felt like the millionth time—watched as she thrashed her limbs and moaned helplessly.

Clarke nodded, reaching for a glass of water that Lexa had placed at her bedside. The liquid was cool against her throat, calming her.

"What was it this time?" Lexa asked, sitting at her feet.

"The same," Clarke said, and her girlfriend nodded.

"You're certain you won't take the draught we concocted for you? It should provide a dreamless sleep."

Clarke shook her head. She appreciated that Lexa and her guards were so concerned about her that they were looking for a solution, but she wasn't ready to give in yet. She kept thinking that maybe, just maybe, if she didn't let the nightmare take control, she could defeat it. If she could just warn the people in the mess hall of Mount Weather—it would end. Besides, it had been a few months now, and she was finally starting to move forward—slowly, but surely. Why was it fair to let this nightmare dictate how she lived and slept?

"Clarke," Lexa said softly; her name sounded so warm and safe on her lover's tongue. "I am worried about you."

"I know," she said. "But don't, really… it's just a dream… it can't hurt me."

Lexa's face twisted in a way that said she disagreed. Clarke elected to ignore this.

"Go back to sleep," Clarke insisted, patting the open space next to her. "I'll feel better if you hold me."

"We should discuss the prevalence of your nightmares," Lexa continued.

But Clarke rolled her eyes. "Not now. Please… I'm exhausted. I just want to sleep."

"In the morning, then," she insisted. When Clarke made a face of annoyance, Lexa said, "I just want you to feel safe."

"I do," she promised. "When I'm with you…"

"No," Lexa interrupted. "In your own mind."

Her words startled her. Clarke had never considered that her nightmares were threatening her safety, but maybe Lexa was right… she was tired and nervous all the time… she loathed even hearing about Mount Weather… she couldn't stand speaking with members of Arkadia or Polis knowing what she had done.

But she was a fighter—Clarke had always been able to cope on her own. Even after her mom (then, she thought it was Wells) got her dad floated, she successfully buried the trauma and used it to motivate her. But now… her life seemed to be consumed by guilt. She had always thought that after some passage of time—three months, then six months, maybe a year—that the problem would dissipate. But just when she started to feel a little more like herself, the nightmares started again.

"Okay," Clarke said suddenly, tangling her fingers with Lexa's. "I hear you. Thank you."

Lexa smiled very slightly, then kissed her forehead.

"I will keep you safe tonight, Clarke," she whispered. "But in the morning, we will find a way for you to slay this burdensome demon."

Clarke smiled. She genuinely believed that with Lexa by her side, she could do anything.