A/N: (If anyone's reading this who's been waiting for new chapters of "Holding On", I'm sorry to keep you waiting. I do plan to finish it at some point.)

Here is the long introductory chapter to an otherwise not so long fanfic. I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1

Twelve days. Twelve days and twelve nights they have been looking for her, and Clarke is exhausted. She has not slept more than a few hours each night, choosing instead to keep her eyes on the road, scanning the woods, looking for anything out of the ordinary, anything that might offer a clue. In those twelve days they have searched so many villages, Clarke has lost count. Everyone they meet on the road they press for leads. If there's any hint that information is being withheld, guns are pulled and threats made. Yet so far, nothing. No clues, no sense they are getting closer, no evidence that she's even still alive. But giving up is not an option. As long as Kelan and Ontari haven't shown up in Polis with Lexa's dead body, Lexa may still be out there somewhere. Clarke has to believe she's still alive.

It's been a full month now since Clarke said goodbye to Lexa in Polis. For a brief moment she had contemplated staying behind in the capital. Lexa had asked her, and she had wanted to. When Titus had interrupted their conversation and Clarke had looked at Lexa one last time before leaving the room, she had realized just how much she did want to stay. Stay with her. Stay with Lexa. But then she had talked to Octavia and when she found herself asking whether it wasn't possible for her to do more for her people by just staying in Polis, Clarke could hear in the tone of her own voice that not even she believed that. Her people needed her back home. She needed to make them see that Pike would bring a war upon them they could not win. Her people needed her and her people needed to come first. But still Clarke had felt torn. She had thought there would be more time. She had thought she need more time. More time to heal, more time to learn to trust again, more time to see whether she and Lexa could rebuild the bond they had shared before. But then Pike had slaughtered Lexa's army sent to protect Arkadia and dispatched a mission to obliterate a whole grounder village. Lexa had been forced into a corner. And all of a sudden saying goodbye had become inevitable.

Having to say goodbye had made all the time Clarke had spent being so angry with Lexa that she refused to see her suddenly seem like wasted time. But finding herself in Polis after those months in the wilderness had been excruciating. Being face to face with Lexa again so unexpectedly after all that time had made all the guilt, anger and self-loathing she had been running away from come crashing down on her. And the worst part was that deep down inside Clarke knew that Lexa had made the only sensible decision she could have. Their plan had failed. Mount Weather had moved the grounders from the harvest chamber to the front entrance. With the plan they had, getting their people out had become impossible. So Lexa took the deal. She saved her people. It had been the right thing to do. But Clarke desperately needed her to be wrong. Clarke needed Lexa to have done what she did not for her people but against Clarke. Only then could Clarke's anger and hatred feel justified. How could you hate somehow who made the only choice she had and in the process saved hundreds of her people? But Clarke had hated her and had needed Lexa's choice to have been one of cowardice and dishonor. And there had been moments when Clarke had hated Lexa all the more for not even granting her the perverse pleasure of justified outrage. And she knew it was irrational and she knew she had to let go of those feelings, but the fury and the hatred had been too strong, and for a while they had seemed the only things that kept her going.

For it had not only been a political alliance. She and Lexa had planned this war together. They had supported each other and come to rely on each other. And Lexa had turned around and walked away. Clarke had felt so betrayed and abandoned. The moment had haunted her: Lexa turning her back on her and walking away. And Clarke had slowly come to realize that the depth of her hatred and anger had everything to do with how she had felt about this girl. This girl who had kissed her so tenderly and then backed off when Clarke told her she wasn't ready. This girl who had, afterwards, simply continued to show Clarke that she cared for her without ever seeming to expect anything in return. And as the days went by and as they planned their war together, Clarke had found herself falling for her. For the commander who was smart and ruthless and strong and for the girl underneath the armor and war paint who was vulnerable and yet so loving and resilient. So it hadn't just been the commander of the grounders who had turned around and walked away. It had been Lexa. Her Lexa.

And so finding herself in Lexa's presence again had been hard. She had wanted to hurt her like she had felt hurt by her. She had spit in her face and put a knife to her throat. And the amazing thing was that Lexa had simply let her. Clarke had spit in her face, and Lexa had not even lifted a finger. Clarke had put a knife to Lexa's throat and although Clarke knew Lexa could've had her on the floor in less than a second, Lexa had simply stood there. She had stood there and given the decision over her life and death to Clarke. And looking into her eyes in that moment, Clarke had realized she wasn't the only one who had been hurt by Lexa's betrayal. Lexa had been hurt too. Choosing her head over her heart had cost her too. And it was in that moment that a small ray of sunshine had had cracked open the darkness in which Clarke had been shrouded for so long. And when Lexa had apologized, her big eyes so sad and loving, Clarke had known that despite everything, Lexa still cared for her.

But if putting a knife to Lexa's throat had allowed Clarke to see how much Lexa still cared, it had also shown Lexa how profoundly betrayed Clarke had felt by her actions at Mount Weather. And Lexa had simply accepted that. She had set Clarke free, not forcing her to stay in Polis, her city, her tower, any longer. But Clarke had chosen to stay and she could tell it had made Lexa happy. Still, from then on, Lexa had done all she could to be respectful of Clarke's need for space. She had given Clarke time to come to terms with what had happened. She had allowed Clarke to decide for herself whether and how she would move forward, how they would move forward. But she had also, in the most breathtaking way imaginable, shown Clarke that she would never put herself in a position again where she'd be forced to choose between Clarke and her own people. She had bowed down to Clarke and made Clarke's people her people, Clarke's needs her needs. And Clarke had simply stared at her, completely filled with awe and overwhelmed by the significance of Lexa's gesture. Then Clarke had offered Lexa her hand, and when Lexa took it, Clarke had felt her heart flutter. Lexa had gotten up and for a moment they had simply looked at each other. And Clarke had thought, How amazing that a few words can offer such reassurance and comfort and a simple touch such exhilaration.

And little by little, Clarke had found herself enjoying the time she spent with Lexa again. The anger and hurt no longer made it painful to be in her presence. She even found herself feeling at peace with Lexa in a way she didn't with other people, not even her mother or close friends in Arkadia. And watching Lexa as heda in Polis had been captivating. Lexa accepted her role, the burdens and the loneliness that came with it, with such grace. And Clarke realized once again what a tremendous leader she was. She was ruthless when she needed to be, made the hard decisions when that was what the situation required. But underneath it all was such a love for her people, such a strong desire to create better lives for them. And she was smart; she understood the other clans, their leaders and their ambassadors, like no one else Clarke encountered in Polis. And being in Polis made Clarke understand all the more how remarkable the coalition was that Lexa had managed to forge and how central Lexa was to the fate, and success, of that coalition.

And before she knew it, Clarke was spending more and more time with the commander, missed her when she was away, and found herself worrying about her safety. But then Pike had been elected chancellor and terrible decisions had been made, and Clarke had been forced to go back to Arkadia. And she had thought she needed more time. She had thought she was only just beginning to find her way back to Lexa. But when she had walked into Lexa's bedroom to say goodbye and caught sight of her, Clarke knew in that moment that she had already, deeply and irreversibly, fallen in love with the commander. It was done. In the month that had passed since then, Clarke had often thought back on the way Lexa had looked in that moment. Clarke had never seen anything so beautiful in her life. Clarke would remember the sunlight dancing on Lexa's hair, the way in which time had seemed to stand still. There had been such a softness to Lexa in that moment. A softness and vulnerability Clarke knew most people never got to see. It was always a stunning sight. The first time Lexa had allowed Clarke to see the young, vulnerable girl behind the heda mask, it had completely floored her. Clarke had felt so touched and special. And it had created in her an emotion she had not felt towards the commander before: she had felt protective of her, a deep desire to keep her safe.

And as soon as Lexa saw Clarke in her bedroom, she had understood Clarke was leaving. There had been such a sadness to her eyes. Clarke had moved closer to her and apologized for leaving. She had wanted Lexa to understand that she did not want to leave her. That leaving made her sad too. And she could tell Lexa was trying so hard to be strong, to not make this moment more difficult for Clarke. It had been heart-breaking to see her like that. And then all of a sudden even their goodbyes were over and Lexa had uttered the same words she had uttered on the mountain: "May we meet again." And a wave of panic had washed over Clarke as two realizations hit her all at once: the first one was that there was absolutely no guarantee they'd ever meet again, especially now that "blood must not have blood" put the commander in even more danger than she normally already was. And the second one was that she loved this girl. She completely and utterly loved this girl.

And without really thinking about what she was doing, Clarke had grabbed hold of Lexa's neck and kissed her. Feeling Lexa's lips on her own had seemed to make the world disappear from around them. It had felt so good. Then Clarke had slowly opened her eyes and seen a tear fall down Lexa's cheek. And Clarke had understood in that moment how much Lexa had longed for this, how much Lexa loved her, and how Lexa had not allowed herself to believe, until now, that Clarke would ever feel the same. And a wave of love and longing had washed over Clarke. And realizing that even now Lexa was holding back to allow Clarke to decide for herself whether this was really what she wanted, Clarke had leaned in again and shown her that yes, yes, this was absolutely what she wanted. She had kissed her again and again and again. And when merely kissing Lexa was no longer enough, Clarke had guided her to the bed. As Lexa sat down she had looked up at Clarke in a way no one had ever looked at her before. Clarke had been so moved. She'd never felt so loved and desired as in that moment.

They had let themselves fall down onto the bed and it had been amazing to feel Lexa's warm body beneath her own, no more empty space separating their bodies. As they continued to kiss, Clarke had slid her hands underneath Lexa's top and placed them on her ribs. She had felt Lexa tremble beneath her fingertips, and it had filled her with such desire. Clarke had deepened her kisses, seeking Lexa's tongue with her own. And when their tongues finally touched, it was as if Lexa had simply been waiting for Clarke's permission to give herself to Clarke completely, body and soul. Their kisses had become even more passionate as their tongues crashed into each other over and over again. It had been utterly intoxicating kissing Lexa like that. Slowly, Clarke had undressed both Lexa and herself. When she was done, Lexa had looked at her with her big dark eyes and had slowly taken off her headpiece, carefully placing it beneath a pillow. And Clarke had understood that Lexa was telling her that for this brief moment in time, Lexa was all hers. She did not belong to Trikru, was no longer commander of the coalition. She was only and wholly Clarke's. And they'd made love and it had been gentle and raw, overwhelming and comforting all at once. Afterwards, when the cold air had made them both shiver, they had crawled beneath the sheets and simply lain there for a while. Clarke had felt so in love and at peace with the world. And then they had made love again until Clarke really could stay no longer. She had quickly gotten dressed while Lexa watched her from the bed. Then Clarke had walked over to where Lexa was lying. She had bent down and kissed her one last time, softly and gently, allowing her lips to linger for a moment. Then she'd turned around and, without looking back, left the room.

Back in Arkadia, Clarke had felt out of her element. She had missed Lexa, had longed for her touch. But there was much to distract her. She had spent her first days taking stock of the mood in Arkadia, figuring out who was with Pike and who wasn't. More importantly, she tried to figure out who supported him but might be willing to listen to her. She had tried to keep a low profile, knowing that Pike would not hesitate to lock her up if she caused too much trouble. Pike had been distrustful but had not gotten in her way. And slowly Clarke had been able to make some progress. The blockade had been a good reminder that there were limits to what the Sky People could do, to the power they had. More and more people came to question the wisdom of treating all the grounders the same and rejecting outright any possibility of peaceful cohabitation. And to Clarke's great relief, she had found Bellamy more and more willing to accept that the slaughter of Lexa's army had been politically harmful and morally wrong. And so, even though they were miles apart, Clarke had felt that she and Lexa were still working together towards a common goal, a shared future. And that had made being apart easier to bear.

But then, just as things were starting to look up and Clarke was feeling more and more hopeful that her people would oust Pike from power, reports had reached Arkadia of trouble amongst the Ice Nation. It appeared that Roan had not received the warm welcome he had hoped for upon his return to his people. While he was still in Polis, news had reached his people back home that their attempt to take over the coalition had failed and that their queen was dead. Then more reports had come informing the Ice Nation people that it was Prince Roan who had lost his solo gunplei against the commander and that he had subsequently bowed to her and subjected Azgeda to her rule again. And the people of Azgeda had felt ashamed and angry and had in their anger and shame tried to make sense of Roan's part in all of this. And soon two different interpretations of his role emerged, neither of them favorable to the new king. There were those who firmly believed that Roan must have made a pact with Lexa to get rid of his mother and assume leadership of Azgeda. Not only was his loss therefore an act of treason, it also showed that Roan had placed his own ambitions above those of Azgeda, an unforgivable crime amongst the Ice Nation. Then there were those, larger in number, who insisted the fight had not been rigged and that Roan had simply lost. But this interpretation did not do Roan any favors either. For it meant Azgeda was now led by a man who had lost his solo gunplei and had thereby proved Azgeda to be no match for Trikru. And for a nation with a strong sense of superiority and entitlement over all other grounder clans, such an outcome was just as difficult to swallow. And so Roan had found himself met with little enthusiasm and a great deal of outright hostility upon his return.

To make matters worse, as Roan was making his way back to his people, his uncle Kelan had started to make the case that his nephew wasn't fit to be king and that he himself, Nia's younger brother, should assume the royal title instead. As their king, Kelan promised, he would not rest until Azgeda ruled over all the other clans, as was their birthright as the most powerful clan. While there were many who backed Kelan, just as many worried that Kelan would not receive the support from the other grounder clans as Nia had. For one, although he saw himself as much more deserving of the royal title than Roan, the simple fact remained that he wasn't the rightful king. The leaders of the other clans would be reluctant to make a pact with him, lest it undermine the legitimacy of their own rules. Secondly, Lexa's defeat of Roan had done much to relegitimize her rule and restore faith in her capabilities, and the other clans were unlikely to throw their weight behind another coup attempt so soon after the previous one had failed. But perhaps most importantly, Kelan was no Nia. While the other clans had trusted Nia to allow them a certain degree of self-governance after she took charge of the coalition, they did not trust Kelan to do the same. Kelan's reputation as a petty, self-important, vicious man who was only interested in his own gain also worried his own people. While no one would deny that their queen had been ruthless, Nia had also been fair and had always put the needs of her clan first. No one trusted Kelan to do the same, and it was generally assumed he'd be a despotic, tyrannical ruler. Therefore, many Ice Nation people, even those who felt Azgeda should in fact be in charge of the coalition, felt that it might be better to bide their time with Roan. And so, understanding the fragility of his position, Roan had worked tirelessly to convince his people of the fact that becoming embroiled in an all-out war against Lexa and the other clans would be disastrous for Azgeda. It was a war they were unlikely to win. Roan explained to his people he was not asking them to give up their ambition to rule all the clans from Polis, an ambition he shared, now was just not the time. And soon reports started to reach Arkadia that Kelan's influence was dwindling, and everyone, including Clarke, started to breathe a bit more easily.

But then, just as Clarke started to think that yes, perhaps everything will somehow work out, a Trikru messenger had arrived at the gates of Arkadia, demanding to speak with Clarke. Pike had refused to let the man in, so Clarke had gone outside to meet him. The messenger had dismounted and as he started speaking, Clarke had felt as if she had the air knocked out of her. The commander, the messenger informed her, had been travelling around Trikru land to explain to her people the rationale behind "blood must not have blood" and in an attempt to win their support. She had travelled with a larger force than usual, mindful of the still delicate political situation amongst the Ice Nation. Everything had been going well, with Lexa making some headway, when all of a sudden a village elder had arrived in Polis, bringing reports that Lexa's entire force had been found slaughtered near his village. Not a single person had survived. The commander, however, had not been amongst the slain. The surrounding areas had been searched, but the commander had not been found. A crisis meeting had immediately been convened in Polis. All the clans had been present.

A consensus had quickly been reached that it was most likely Kelan who had taken the commander. Lexa's abduction was likely the first step of a larger plan to transfer the spirit of the commander to Ontari and have the Ice Nation under Kelan's rule take charge of the coalition. All the clans had expressed their abhorrence and shock at the abduction of a reigning heda on her own lands. But Kelan's brazen act had also inspired fear. The other clans realized that if Kelan was successful in having Ontari ascend, they would soon have an Ice Nation heda and an Ice Nation overlord. And while these clans continued to express their support for King Roan and Lexa's coalition, they were also reluctant to make an enemy of Kelan. Trikru had immediately sent out a great number of search parties to look for their commander. The other clans had promised to do the same, but whether they would actually do so, the messenger said, remained uncertain.

The only thing now standing in Kelan's way was the secret of how the spirit of the commander was passed on to a new nightblood. It was also the only thing that offered any hope that Lexa might still be alive. As soon as Titus had heard the news, the messenger had told Clarke, the flamekeeper had gone into hiding. He knew that if Azgeda got hold of him, all would be over. They would find a way to torture him to get the information out of him. Or, even more likely, they would find a way to torture Lexa until Titus could take it no more. So Titus had fled Polis. No one had any doubt that Kelan had already put an enormous bounty on Titus's head. Hundreds of Azgeda men and women were probably already looking for him. But for now Titus was gone and Lexa was all Kelan had. She was the only one who might be able to tell him the secret of the spirit of the commander.

Clarke had nodded as the Trikru messenger finished his account. "So you think she's still alive?" she had asked hesitatingly.

"It depends on how confident Kelan is he'll find the flamekeeper. But yes, we think it's likely he's keeping her alive for now to try to extract the secret of the flame from her."

Clarke had heard Lexa's voice inside her head: "Her name was Costia. She was captured by the Ice Nation whose queen believed she knew my secrets. Because she was mine. They tortured her, killed her …." Clarke had pushed the memory away.

The messenger had added, "I've come to ask Skaikru to help search for the commander."

"Of course," Clarke had said at once. "We'll help in any way we can.

The man had nodded and taken his leave.

Clarke had walked back inside in a daze. She had gone straight to Pike, explaining the danger their people were in if the commander was not found, demanding Pike make available as many teams as possible. Pike had flat out refused, telling Clarke that if the Ice Nation were going to take over the coalition and attack, they needed Arkadia to be prepared. He needed his people to stay where they were. After much coaxing Pike had finally agreed to allow Clarke to assemble a small team, five people at the most, and he had given her permission to take the rover. Clarke had found Bellamy, Miller, Lincoln, and Octavia willing to come with her, and after quickly loading the rover with some supplies, they had set out.

And so for twelve days they had driven around day and night and there had been no sign of Lexa anywhere. Clarke's team had occasionally run into Trikru search parties and it was always the same: some potential leads here and there but ultimately nothing. No one seemed to have any idea of where Lexa might have been taken. No one seemed to know whether she was dead or alive. So Clarke clung onto the fact that Kelan and Ontari had not yet shown up in Polis. There was still hope.

Three days ago the Skaikru team had moved into Sector 8, Ice Nation territory. Roan, knowing his own fate depended on Lexa being found, had sent out search parties of his own and had allowed any and all Trikru and Skaikru teams to search his lands and villages. Many of the Ice Nation villages Clarke and her team had questioned had expressed support for Roan and had seemed cooperative, but Clarke had found it difficult to determine whether this support and cooperation was genuine or whether it was just to throw them off. So after two days they had moved out of Sector 8 again and into Sector 7, leaving it to Roan's search parties to question their own people and determine whether their answers could be trusted or not.

And now, in the late afternoon, some miles from the Azgeda border, they had found themselves observing a party of fourteen Ice Nation warriors in the glade of a wood, resting in front of a big rock formation. It was particularly their number that had drawn the attention of Clarke's team. Most Azgeda search parties they had come across had consisted of at most five people. The same was true for the occasional Azgeda hunting party they'd encountered. So this group was definitely out of the ordinary, and anything out of the ordinary was worth checking out. Bellamy had parked the rover some distance away, and the five members of Clarke's team had made their way to some rocks that gave them cover while they tried to make sense of what these Ice Nation warriors might be up to.

Clarke looks at Lincoln and nods. Slowly, Lincoln steps away from the rock behind which they've been hiding and starts walking towards the Ice Nation men who are still some fifty yards away. Clarke, Miller, Octavia, and Bellamy follow a few yards behind him. When Lincoln is within hearing distance, he addresses the Ice Nation men in Trigedasleng. He tells them they have come in peace and are looking for the commander.

He inquires whether they are looking for her too. For a second, the men simply stare at them. Then, all of a sudden, before Clarke and her team know what's hit them, the entire Azgeda group has jumped to their feet, drawn their swords, and comes charging at them at full speed. Clarke, Bellamy, and Miller quickly draw their guns and start shooting. But there are too many of them and they're running too fast. Lincoln and Octavia draw their swords as the other three keep shooting. Soon Clarke sees the first sword coming towards her head. While she ducks, she sees Octavia jumping in from behind her, plunging her own sword deep into the Azgeda warrior's chest. When Clarke looks up again she sees Bellamy wrestling one of the Ice Nation men to the ground, putting a bullet into his head, while Lincoln draws his swords out of the abdomen of another warrior. Clarke then sees Miller being thrown to the ground, and as the Ice Nation warrior standing above him is about to bring down his sword, Clarke quickly points her gun and fires. As the man collapses onto the ground next to Miller, Miller looks up and gives Clarke a grateful nod. And as suddenly as the fight started, it is over.

The five stand in the middle of the dead bodies and look at each other with eyes all saying the same thing: What just happened here? But that thought is immediately followed by: Could it be true? Could she be here? But looking around, Clarke can't figure out where "here" could possibly be. There's nothing but trees and rocks and more trees and more rocks. Where could they've put her? Clarke looks up at the trees. Then she looks around again, scanning the woods for any movement. She hears Lincoln say, "Let's take a look around," and soon Miller, Octavia, and Lincoln have all taken off in different directions. Clarke, starting to feel antsy, casts another glance at the spot where the Azgeda men had been sitting. There is nothing there but an open spot amongst the trees with behind it a rock formation overgrown with brambles and bushes. Lexa, she thinks, where are you?

And then all of a sudden Clarke sees it: the face of one of the rocks is of a much darker color than the rest. Clarke runs up to the rock and starts moving branches and twigs that cover that part of the rock to the side. They give way so easily, Clarke looks down and realizes the shrubs and bushes don't have any roots in the earth. They have been put here by people. Frantically, she starts throwing all the branches and twigs away from the rock until she has uncovered a small opening in the rock face. Clarke turns around and catches Bellamy's eye. "Be careful," he says.

Clarke takes a deep breath and steps into what appears to be the entrance to a cave. The passageway is narrow and low. Clarke has to duck to avoid banging her head. She takes some careful steps forward. Barely has she taken five full steps, or she hits a wall. Clarke puts out her hands. Solid rock. Then she glances to the left and realizes that the tiny passageway continues in that direction. Clarke follows the tunnel deeper and deeper into the cave with Bellamy close behind her. As she continues to walk, it becomes increasingly difficult to see properly. Very little daylight makes it this far into the cave. After another few steps, Clarke finds herself enveloped in darkness.

"You still here?" she asks.

"Yes," Bellamy answers.

Clarke puts her hands on the walls to either side of her to help keep her balance and continues to walk. After another few yards the wall on her right-hand side gives way to a void. Clarke extends her arms forward. Another wall. "Bellamy?" she says.

"Yeah?"

"This passageway ends here but I think there's a cave to my right."

"How big is it?"

"Dunno. Hard to tell."

Clarke takes a step into the chamber. The air is moist and cold and Clarke can hear clear dripping sounds. Quietly she forces herself to say, "Lexa?"

Nothing. Nothing comes back to her but the sound of her own voice echoing off the wall. The echo tells her the cave must be sizeable.

Clarke turns to Bellamy. "A flashlight," she says. "We need a flashlight."

She hears Bellamy turn around and retrace their steps. When she no longer hears his footsteps, Clarke takes a deep breath in. "Lexa?" she tries again, adding, a bit more loudly, "Are you here?"

No response.

Clarke closes her eyes for a moment, trying to see whether that will allow them to adjust to the dark more quickly. But when she opens them again, the darkness is still as complete as it had been before. There is nothing she can do now but wait for Bellamy to return with the flashlight.

After what feels like ages, Clarke hears Bellamy's footsteps again in the distance as they reverberate through the cave's tunnels. As the sound moves closer, Clarke also starts to make out a light.

"Hurry," she says.

Bellamy picks up some speed and moves into the chamber. Slowly he moves the light from one cave wall to the next and then again on to the next. Definitely big. Big enough to easily fit a hundred men into. Bellamy points the light up to the ceiling to see how high it is. As he does so, two bats suddenly fly past Bellamy and Clarke, making awful shrieking noises. Clarke can feel her heart beat in her throat. She takes a deep breath to steady herself. The ceiling is not very high at all, and Clarke can't shake the feeling that the whole cave must be man-made. Bellamy points the flashlight down and starts scanning the cave floor. It seems completely empty. But then, all of sudden, something seems to reflect the dim light emanating from the torch in the far left-hand corner of the cave. "Did you see that?" Clarke asks.

Both she and Bellamy take a step closer. Metal? Is that the shine of metal? Clarke takes another step closer and then there's no longer any doubt about it. Those are long metal chains, lying on the cave floor. Bellamy shines the light to the left. The chains seem to be attached to the cave wall, a few inches above the ground. Shining the light back to the right, Clarke realizes with a start that there's a dark shape on the floor where the chains end a few yards from the cave wall. And when the light settles on the figure, Clarke simply knows. There's no doubt about it. It's unmistakably a human body, curled up on the cave floor in a fetal position, facing the wall.

"Lexa!" Clarke runs towards it and lets herself fall onto her knees. She extends her arms and puts her hands on the body. A shiver runs down Clarke's spine. The body is completely damp and cold. So cold. With a shock, Clarke takes her hands off the body again. She looks down at the ground and realizes she's kneeling in a pool of dirty water. Her knees are already soaked. Then she looks at the body again. There are chains around the wrists, ankles, and neck. The face is covered with strands of dark, wet, dirty hair. Slowly Clarke moves the hair to the side. Clarke swallows hard. A lone tear appears in the corner of her eye. Lexa. Her beautiful, precious Lexa. Completely battered and bruised and broken. Her gaunt face is covered in dried black blood. Big bruises under her eye and on her cheek seem to have been inflicted some while ago for they have started to lose their dark color and have turned an odd combination of green and yellow. Her lips are badly chipped, and her cheekbones protrude so much, Clarke is convinced she must've lost at least thirty pounds since she last saw her. Clarke looks up at Bellamy with desperation in her eyes. It does not look like Lexa is present in this cold, demolished, humiliated body. Slowly, Clarke lifts up the linked chain around Lexa's neck and places two fingers where she knows the carotid artery must be. And at once she feels it. A pulse. It's weak but it's there. She looks up at Bellamy and with an unsteady voice whispers, "She's alive."