May we meet again.

Four words that used to hold so much hope and companionship, now only held uncertainty and despair for Clarke. She had gone through so much to ensure the safety and survival of their group, sacrificed bits and pieces of herself to ensure they saw the rise of the sun again, and yet she now found herself forcing words that once came naturally. She was once happy that she could keep her friends safe, but now it only reminded her of the ghost she had become. She couldn't face them, not after the horrors she went through. In order to heal her shattered soul, she needed to leave behind the friends for whom she had fought so fiercely. Walking away from Bellamy and her friends had been hard. Staying would have been crippling.

Clarke let her feet take her where they would, losing herself in thought. I never asked to be this, to be their leader. The truth was, she never wanted it either. She just tried to do her part and keep all of the one hundred safe, and stop the descent into madness. She didn't even remember when she became the defacto leader, she just woke up one day and everyone looked to her for answers. Even Bellamy, the one who took on leadership from the minute they exited the dropship, started to defer to her. Everything she had done since then had been to protect them, as she had come to care for all of them. The power struggle with her mother and Kane, disagreements with Bellamy, Anya, and others all had to be done because it was necessary. She was needed by her people.

She made difficult decisions at the time, but with the support of her friends they always managed to make it work. Through much personal sacrifice she had even managed a peace with the Grounders, something that would stop the killing and ensure that stolen friends would be returned. Everything had been going right, until that night. Until the Commander betrayed me. Clarke's brow furrowed at the thought and she sent a nearby twig soaring through the air with a frustrated sweep of her leg. I had given her everything, helped bring them all so close to accomplishing their goals, and then she spit it all in my face.

There would be consequences for the Commander's actions that night, she knew. The peace she tried so hard to negotiate wouldn't last. Her own people would be furious at the betrayal. Tensions between the groups had been uneasy to begin with when the alliance was formed. Many of the Arkers had family in the forty-seven left to die in Mount Weather. That wouldn't easily be forgotten. Heat coursed through her at the thought of her last words with the Commander.

"I do care, Clarke, but I made this decision with my head, not my heart. The duty to protect my people comes first."

"Please, don't do this," she remembered, imploring the Commander to change her mind.

"I'm sorry, Clarke."

She let out a low growl of frustration. How could I be so stupid? She should have seen that the Commander would do what was in the best interest of her people from the beginning, nothing in her behavior had shown otherwise. Our people were just pawns to get what she wanted, nothing more. She had fooled herself into thinking the kiss they shared meant something, but the reality was that it was just another tactic to get Clarke on her side struck her like an arrow through her chest. "Love is weakness," the Commander had once told her. I was weak for just a moment, she thought to herself, the words tearing through her like a knife. Just a single moment, and all it did was cost me my soul.

Escape was what Clarke needed now, time to mend and process everything. Perhaps one day she would return to Camp Jaha, but when, she did not know. For now, Clarke Griffin needed to disappear from the guilt-inducing eyes of the world.

First, I need supplies. Leaving with only the clothes on her back, the knife the Commander had gifted her, and the pistol in her hand had been rash, but allowed her the most freedom. Nobody would have understood, not even Bellamy. I bear the pain so they don't have to. While Bellamy would buy her some time to get some distance away from Camp Jaha, Clarke doubted it would be long. People would notice after several hours of her being gone and start asking questions. Though it would be the first place the others would think to look, she needed supplies from the dropship. Taking a deep sigh, she took off in the direction of her old home.

It didn't take Clarke long to find herself outside the familiar gates of the dropship. Get in, get the supplies, and get out, she thought to herself. As she rounded the corner to the main entrance, the whole world came to a stop. All around her, bones and ashes from the war that Anya had started lay scattered about. The war that I ended, Clarke reminded of herself. Three hundred lives, three hundred souls perished in the blink of an eye at her command. What had once been her home and a source of wonder, now only served as a graveyard.

"Get it over with," Clarke muttered with a sigh. With a deep breath, she urged herself forward towards the metallic dwelling. She took long and swift strides, trying to cross the seemingly impossible distance to the entrance ramp as quickly as possible. It took every bit of her focus to glue her eyes to the drapery covering the entrance. Everything will be okay. Not too far now, just a couple more steps, Clarke. A sickening crunch stopped her dead in her tracks. As if they were possessed, her eyes immediately darted downward against her wishes to locate the source of the sound.

Below, her boot had been lodged in what remained of a Grounder skull, a ring of bone now surrounding her foot. Bile instantly crept up her throat at the sight of it. She lifted her foot off the ground to free herself, only to watch in horror as the skull came with it. The bile at the back of her throat erupted onto the ground at her side as she fell backwards, frantically kicking her foot to escape the grasp of the bones. Get off, get off, get off! Clarke let out a scream as the skull refused to budge, desperately kicking at her foot with her free leg. Another nauseating crack ensued as the bones finally gave way, followed by another violent release of vomit.

When Clarke raised her head again, instead of the dropship all she saw was a field of bones. Rib cages, femurs, and spines all scattered across a field of death, a ring of fire. Smoke filled her nostrils and the air became thick around her. The ground beneath her shuddered before a massive soundwave exploded into the air around her, forcing her to cover her ears. The screams, I can hear them all, they're burning! Her eyes opened, and three hundred Grounders stood before her, faces replaced with burning skulls, hatred in their empty eyes. Their gaze pierced through every layer of Clarke, right into the inner most part of her soul.

"You killed us!" The voices shouted at her in unison, flares dancing out of their exposed jaws.

"You left me no choice, you would have murdered us all!" Clarke cried out, cupping her ears to drown out the incessant screams surrounding her.A lone crow sat perched on a tree, cawing while waiting for her destruction.

"Murderer!" They cried. "Defiler! Defamer!" The voices became all encompassing, enveloping every ounce of her being. "Butcher!"

"Stop!" Clarke pleaded, streams of tears flowing down her cheeks. "I never wanted this, I was protecting them!" The sounds in the air threatened to destroy her from the inside out. She couldn't think. She couldn't breathe. The crushing pressure was enormous.

The wraiths surrounding her held no sympathy for her plea, nor did they show any signs of acknowledgment. Slowly they advanced towards her, weapons drawn. Clarke could feel the pounding in her chest, imploring her to do something, anything to stop the pain. Her vision blurred as her head swiveled in all directions, looking for a way out. Only a few feet away stood the ramp to the dropship, all she had to do was will her body to move. The Grounders were closing in fast as she desperately tried and failed to get to her feet. Panic forced her to crawl. Every limb felt sluggish and unresponsive, yet she willed every ounce of strength to keep herself moving forward in the name of survival.

"Jus drein, jus daun!" The Grounders finally reached her, inches short of her ramp to safety. The ground shook with the force of their combined yells. They drew nearer and nearer to her, until they were right in front of her face, and four words encompassed her entire being. "Jus drein, jus daun!"

A bone chilling scream filled the air as the phantoms finally reached her. It filled her very existence, seeming to fill the air around her. She finally realized then that the scream was coming from her, before a wave of nausea overcame her and all went black.

Clarke woke sometime later to a splitting headache, and the sun was noticeably lower in the sky. She noticed small cuts littered her hands as she lifted them to soothe the storm inside her skull. There was a revolting taste in her mouth from the vomiting. She let out a small groan as she rose to her feet, feeling the hard steel of the dropship underneath. Confusion flooded her as she tried to remember how she passed out, then her eyes reminded her where she was. The dropship... the Grounders! Her eyes darted back and forth as she raised her gun, searching for the inevitable attack that lurked around every corner. Several tense moments passed without so much as a sound, and Clarke eased her tense muscles. The ring of fire had returned to ash, and the Grounders now once again were reduced to bones.

It felt so real, she thought to herself as she tucked her pistol back into her pants. Their voices, the smells, the flames... and their faces. Clarke shook her head, shoving the memory deep within her. "It wasn't real," she told herself. "Get it together, Clarke. You came here for supplies, let's get them and get out." Wiping off some of the dust covering herself, she turned and entered the ship. Inside, she felt relief at the sight of the scattered supplies still strewn across the floor.

Most of it she would not need, but she spotted a sizable backpack and one of the blankets that got left behind hidden behind some crates. She shredded a couple old shirts she found in the corner to serve as bandages, or even torches, should she need them. Scanning the main floor one last time, she gripped the cold metal ladder to go to the upper level. She hoped the canteen they used to nurse Lincoln back to health was still there. She would need it to bring water with her.

Hoisting herself up onto the second level, her eyes landed on her prize. Yes! she exclaimed to herself. She rushed over and gave it a quick shake, a smile forming when some water still remained inside. Greedily she opened the cap and washed the disgusting taste out of her mouth, then downed the remaining contents in seconds, wiping her mouth clean when finished. It wasn't as much as she hoped, but it was enough to clear her mind and restore some of her energy. Throwing the canteen in the backpack, she hooked it around her shoulder and made for the ladder, she didn't want to linger here too long. This room had been where Clarke allowed Lincoln to be tortured, where she fought to bring him back from the precipice of insanity. She watched him and any hope of peace with the Grounders die right before her eyes, and then her mother bringing both back to life in the next moment. So many memories existed here, yet she didn't want any of them. She just wanted to forget.

Leaving the dropship, she looked off in the direction of the graveyard and knew there was one last thing she needed to take care of before leaving. Walking past the graves of her friends weighed heavy on her heart, casualties of the chaos that came with living on Earth. Though none of them were marked, she knew exactly to whom each mound belonged to. At the end of the row she sank to her knees, laying a hand across the smooth dirt.

"Hi, Wells," Clarke softly whispered. A bittersweet smile adorned her face. "I'm sorry I haven't come by more often, but I hope you understand." She looked to the sky and let out a long, tired sigh. "So much has happened, and some of it I'm glad you didn't have to witness." Tears formed at the edges of her eyes, and Clarke made no attempt to restrict them. Small droplets fell from her cheeks and darkening the soil that covered her best friend. "Raven came down from the Ark, we repelled an attack from the Grounders, myself and others were captured by people living inside of Mount Weather."

She absent mindedly ran her fingers through the soil, finding calm in the way it flowed across her hand. "We were being held like lab rats, but we got them out. I made peace with the Grounders and got all but one out of that hell hole." A small sob erupted deep within her,tears flowing faster than before. Leaning forward, she rested her head atop her hands and closed her eyes, trying to pull up images of Wells. "I just wish you were here, Wells. I'm so scared, hurt, confused, and I think I might be going insane. If only you were here to tell me it will be okay one more time." She thought back to all the time she had spent hating him, and how stupid it had been to waste it. Now, this was the closest she could ever get to him again.

She stayed resting her head on her hands for several minutes before gaining the courage to open her eyes again. I need to get moving, she thought. Wiping off her wet cheeks and taking a deep breath, Clarke rose to her feet. "Goodbye, Wells." Turning and walking away, she took a few steps before pausing. "May we meet again."

After an hour of wandering, Clarke felt her throat running dry again. She would need water soon, and wherever she decided to go needed to have a close supply of water. The sky shone a calming blend of orange and red in the twilight of the day. It would be dark soon, and she needed to find water and shelter before that happened. There has to be a creek around here somewhere, anywhere, she thought. She considered going to the dam Anya and herself had jumped out of, what now seemed to have happened a lifetime ago, but it would put her too close to Mount Weather. They will look for me there, and I don't want to go even if they wouldn't. The image still haunted her, pulling the lever that extinguished so many souls.

Clarke shook her head, clamping down her eyes and breathing slowly. Focus, Clarke. You need water and shelter. Food can wait until tomorrow. Her grumbling stomach roared in disapproval, but she had to prioritize for now. She knew she could survive longer without food, but without water or shelter she didn't stand a chance. She'd never had to care for herself in this way, but she was determined to make this work. She needed it to work.

Dimming rays of sun breached through the treeline to bring life to the forest one last time until sunset. The way the light reflected off of the leaves on the trees above in contrast with the foliage below took her breath away. A soft breeze caressed her face, and ran its fingers through her hair. The scene itself could not have been more perfect, and for a fleeting moment all Clarke wanted in life was to sketch this beautiful portrait nature had provided her. The moment passed as reality caught up to her. It will be night soon, and the view will be gone.

Letting out a sad sigh, Clarke continued carefully down the slope she had been traversing. She stopped briefly to catch her footing when she heard something off in the distance. Standing completely still, she focused on making out the sounds. A few moments of silence had her ready to give up when she heard it again. Shouting, off in the distance behind her. Several agonizing seconds later it became clear what was being yelled. My name, the search party has caught up to me.

Clarke cursed herself for leaving such an easy trail and resumed her descent down the hill. Her heart thudded as she wildly searched for a place to hide. Despair began to sink in as all she saw were trees and leaves on the ground, nowhere for her to hide. Suddenly, Clarke lost her footing and reached out for the nearest tree, putting all of her strength into gripping a low hanging branch. The limb held, but the bark bit into her skin with the force she stopped herself with. She knew there would be blood, but her pain would have to wait. I need somewhere to hide, Clarke thought. All of these trees and not a single place to hide? Just then, Clarke spotted what would most likely be her best option. Off to her right, an ancient tree's roots jutted out from the hillside, providing just enough room for someone to squeeze into. It wasn't much, but she needed to make it work.

Throwing her backpack in first, Clarke paused for a moment to listen. From the sounds of shuffling leaves and voices, they were almost at the hill. Twisting her body to fit through the roots, she crawled into her haven and waited. Part of her felt ridiculous for going to these lengths, but getting caught meant having to face her friends, her memories. Footsteps surrounded her and she sucked in a quiet breath, eyes closing in anticipation and prayer.

"Any sign of her?" a voice called out. She recognized the smooth and confident tone of Marcus. The man sounded tired and very winded. They must have pushed themselves hard trying to find me. Pangs of guilt battered against her heart, but she reassured herself this is what needed to be done for her own sake.

"Nothing over here," someone rang out, somewhere far off to her right. Several others echoed the same.

"Keep looking! My daughter is out there, god knows where. After what she just went through, she doesn't need to be alone right now." Mom, Clarke mouthed to herself. Her mother, the one person she didn't want to see. Just the sound of her voice made her want to cry out for comfort, to take all her pain away. She knew it wouldn't work, though, not with the torment going on inside of her. Abigail Griffin was a healer at heart and would do her best to help, but Clarke knew her mother would only make it worse. Her mother would sit her down and tell her she did what was necessary, what she had to do to save their people. She would call it sacrifice, instead of cold blooded murder. Clarke wouldn't let herself be coddled like that.

Footsteps kept shuffling around her, and Clarke heard some commotion above and behind her. "Abby, wait," Marcus' voice pleaded. "It'll be dark soon. Clarke has needs, just like we do. She couldn't have gotten far. In the dark, we could walk right by her and never know it. She is a smart girl, she'll find shelter. She won't risk traveling at night, and neither should you. You're barely walking now." You're wrong, Clarke thought to herself. I need to get farther. A pang of guilt coursed through her that her mother was enduring so much pain to be searching for her, but knew staying put would be for the best.

"That is my daughter, Marcus! My baby girl out there," Abby's voice was seething and Clarke could feel the pain and desperation flowing from her tongue. "We have to keep looking. Can you even imagine what she's going through right now?"

Clarke heard a long sigh from Marcus, followed by a short pause. It seemed like an eternity before he spoke again. "Some idea, Abby, we both do."

"That was different, Marcus," her mother fired back. "They volunteered, and we had no other information to dissuade that decision. It is a choice that will haunt us all for the rest of our lives, but it is not the same." There was a momentary pause before her mother spoke again. "Radio them back, Marcus. We'll search again at first light," Abby sighed.

"All teams, we're heading back to camp. Search will continue at first light," Marcus said, letting Clarke breathe easier.

"I don't like this, Marcus," her mother stated with concern lacing her every word. "We need to find her. Tensions are already running high back at camp from the betrayal. I'm hearing whispers of a desire to fight the Grounders again. I don't like it, but they listen to Clarke. We need her to come back."

"I know, Abby. We will find her, I promise you. Leave the whispers to me. We might have had our backs stabbed, but we still have peace, and I won't let that go to waste."

Footsteps began retreating around her, and Clarke started to relax, her shelter having protected her. However, she still heard her mother's voice as they walked away. "Radio back to the camp as well, get Lincoln and Octavia ready to go. They're going to set out and find the Commander, and I don't give a damn about any protest they will have. That bitch put us in this situation, she's sure as hell going to help get my daughter back."

Clarke's heart sank as the last of the footsteps faded into the distance. Not only will I have my mother looking for me, but now I have Grounders to worry about. Her options were limited as it was, with Grounders looking it became even more of an issue. She didn't know how long Lincoln would take to find the Commander, or if he would even succeed, but she needed to plan for it. She figured she had another day until the Grounders joined the search. After that, traveling by day would be out of the question.

Painful throbbing in her hand reminded her of the price she paid to find temporary safety, and slid off the glove on her hand. She winced as the fabric brushed against the raw skin, and she saw small streams of blood trickling out of the wounds. Could have been worse, but I need to be careful with this. Opening her bag, she took one of the ripped pieces of cloth and wrapped it into a makeshift bandage around her hand. It'll have to do, she thought, wishing she had some water to rinse the wound out with. Sliding her glove back on, she exited her cover and surveyed her surroundings. The beautiful rays of light had dimmed, and night was encroaching fast. "Looks like I'll be running through the night," Clarke said to herself aloud. Slinging the backpack across her shoulders, she chose a random direction and ran further into the vast wilderness, and away from her problems.

A/N: Thanks so much for reading! First, I want to give a big thanks to my wonderful Betas kotokodainetohru and Vivere Libri for editing this and working with me to make it as good as it can be. They are seriously awesome, go check them out.

If it wasn't evident already, this story is going to be a bit different from some of the stories I see on here. It will be dark, with lots of mystery and intrigue. This will not be fluffly love for Clarke and whoever she ends up with, this is going to be real and have some bittersweet moments to it. Most of this fic will be from Clarke's point of view, for better or for worse. This story means a lot to me, so I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I have writing it. I plan to update every week, just so I give myself time to write quality chapters and keep things saved up so I don't leave you guys high and dry with no material to read.

Feedback is always appreciated, but not necessary. As long as you all are entertained with this story that I'm sharing with you, that is all I need. Thanks so much!

I do not own any rights to The 100, it's characters, and the settings it takes place in. All rights belong to the CW.