What a wild ride…this was the first fan fiction I ever wrote, and because of your support and love I felt confident enough to bring the story to an end. Thank you for your support and reviews.

I'm sure you'll let me know what you think.

I wrote it listening to David Gray - Ain't no love

Once upon a different life

We rode our bikes into the sky

But now we're caught against the tide

Those distant days all flashing by

"It's too soon." Bellamy's voice was thin, like a whisper.

"It's too soon." Looking up from her book Clarke agreed at the sight of riders coming from the woods.

Three of the six horses that left less than a week earlier emerged from the woods, one seemed to be riderless. The gate was becoming crowded with onlookers as more and more people noticed the slow riders from the treeline.

Walking to the gate Clarke makes out the two riders and her stomach feels like the gravity went out in Camp Jaha. She pauses to get her balance and starts running to the gate, yelling that they open the gate. The commander, bloodied and weak barely hanging on to her saddle was leading a horse with a body wrapped in a fur, behind them, Monty rigid, in shock.

The gate opens and Clarke calls for someone to help bring Lexa off her horse. Her pants were shiny with blood, when two strong arms reach up and pull her from her leather saddle, blood that had pooled there runs down staining the horse below. "Where's Octavia?" Lexa moves her eyes from the blue ones in front of her to the horse with the wrapped bundle. Clarke looks to Bellamy who was standing beside her.

He silently walks over to the bundle, pushing aside anyone getting close and delicately removes his sister's body from the back of the horse. Choking on his grief he manages a single word, "Lincoln." Monroe throws her rifle strap over her head and without waiting for further instruction runs in the direction of the cabin.

As people start to chatter, and ask what's going on Clarke leads Lexa to their tent. Wetting a cloth Clarke washes the blood from Lexa's face, neck and hands, trying to understand the extent of her injuries. As the thick crust of foreign blood is lifted Clarke can see Lexa's skin is gray from loss of blood, her movements are slow and deliberate, her mouth is dry and when Clarke brings a cup for her to drink most of it spills out of her mouth. Clarke can tell without asking that she is weak and in a lot of pain.

"We were ambushed just on the other side of the mountain. They didn't track us down, they were waiting for us." As tears begin to form in her eyes, she bites her top lip, desperate to steady a quivering chin. "Octavia fought valiantly. She had a warrior's death." A high pitched whine rips from her throat as she tries to choke it down. "Indira was right about her being a fast study. She was honorable and courageous to the end." Coughing to clear her throat when the cup is brought back to her lips.

"Let's take your coat off and see where all this blood is coming from." Clarke puts her hands to the collar, it's also soaked in blood. Lexa will not budge, she sits like a statue only allowing sips of water. "Lexa please."

"I will not be healed Clarke. Not while my people still bleed for me. I need my long sword." With a surprising surge of energy Lexa stands and starts for the door. Her legs buckle under her and she falls to her knees. Clarke is right beside her, with hands soft around her ribs.

"Lexa, please."

"Clarke don't! I'm as good as dead. For the safety of your people I must be outside the walls of Camp Jaha when they come for me."

"Who's coming to get you? We'll fight them off."

"No, this is our way. You need to hide, do not go to Lincoln's, they will look for you there. You and whoever is harboring you will suffer the same fate. Is there a secret place you know?" Clarke's mind flashes with an image of the bunker. Her stomach is in knots, the anti-gravity feeling keeps creeping up. Even when she kneeling on the floor next to Lexa.

"You are delirious from the blood loss, let me take care of you and when you are better we'll come up with a plan." As the words leave her mouth, the alarm is sounded by the guards on the wall.

"Clarke please, the only comfort for me now is knowing you are safe. NASA!" The tall blonde charges in, "Emo laik coming gon her seintaim." (They are coming for her too.) Without a word Nasa reaches down and picks Clarke up off the ground like a child throwing her over her shoulder fast and leaving the tent.

A moment later they are deep inside the Arc. Raven leading Nasa still carrying a struggling and screaming Clarke into a glass room. The door opens and Clarke is roughly deposited inside in a back corner there is a bucket with clean water and a few pouches of dried meat.

"Don't do this! Nasa! Raven! Let me go to her!" Both of her friends walk far enough away to not hear her screams.

Outside Lexa has staggers to the gates, leaving a trail of blood behind her. "Stand down! Do not engage them!" she shouts to the guard over the wall. "Open the gate." Drawing her long ceremonial sword from her side, Lexa steps through the opening and greets the four charging riders with a war cry. Weak and barely able to stand she waits until the perfect moment to strike, knocking one off his mount managing to take the life of another. The remaining two rain heavy blows on her shoulders bringing her to her knees once again. They unarm her, bind her hands in thick shackles and deposit her on the dead warrior's horse, vanishing into the forest just as violently and quickly as they came.

Clarke emerges from the Ark wreckage near the electric fence. She looks up to the sky to asses the time. She is limping badly from a bloodied leg. An injury sustained from kicking her way through the ventilation system to her freedom. She wanders through the camp, gathering weapons, a head cover. Coming out of a tent the wind shifts and reveals the sickening smell of a burial fire. She turns and faces a large orange flame 100 yards away. Allowing herself a fraction of a moment to mourn her friend, and a whispered "May we meet again." She begins her search for a horse.

She makes her way to the stables, finding and saddling a fresh horse. As if guided by divine intervention she and her horse find the road to Polis. In the thick dark of night they finds the old paved road. She leans on the horse's neck driving it faster like Lexa taught her. Her steed grunting and sweating beneath her.

Polis glows warmly before her as the sun rises over the water, Clarke approaches the city from the beach, remembering the secret passageway Nasa showed her the day of her mother's attack. She dismounts the exhausted horse just inside the city walls. Polis is still sleepy, it's residents not yet aware of the tragedy about to unfold in front of the stone steps leading up to The House. Clarke knows that whatever will happen to Lexa it will happen in public. Deciding she has time to intervene.

With a cover over her head Clarke walks quickly in the direction of the darkened alley Luna approached her on only a few months ago. She has never seen more warriors in the streets of Polis, the sight of Luna's slender green guard stop the panicked breath in her lungs as she darts behind an awning. Once in the alley she finds a way to climb to the roof. She watches for an hour desperate for a plan as a platform is erected, in the center a thick mast. It reminds her of the one Finn was tied to in the field in front of Camp Jaha.

The thought of Lexa tied to that pole send her into a panic, the more she struggles for breath the less her lungs seem to fill with air. Just as she feel the tunnel vision start to set in, choking sobs come. She muffles them as best she can with her arm. Desperate to stop them at first but unable she finally allows herself to sob until her back and her neck ache, until her arms are burning, and exhausted she crumbles further to the rooftop and sleeps.

She wakes to the sound of the gathered crowd. There are shouts for blood, shouts for justice and for death. Clarke is stunned by how quickly Lexa's people turned on her. Just a month ago she walked hand in hand with Lexa in the market, greeted by smiling faces, and extended hands.

There are enough people gathered that Clarke believes she can approach the podium undetected if she moves slowly and covers up. By mid-morning the sun is hot and sweat drips down the back of her neck. As she checks her gun and loads the chamber shouts call her attention to the mob below.

Lexa is brought to the podium by two hulking guards. She looks small, and broken. The guards are handling her nearly completely limp body roughly. Clarke struggles to place their faces. She thinks maybe she's never seen them before. As they loop the chains attached to her wrists to a hook over her head and pull until her toes barely graze the wood planks below, Clarke finds her feet and comes down in the shadowy alley.

Clarke begins to weave through the crowd. When she is close enough to see Lexa clearly her breath is caught in her throat at the sight. Her skin barely a different shade from the white tunic she has been dressed in. The back of it is dripping in blood. She covers her mouth so as not to cry out for her.

The generals of the 12 clans line up on either side of the podium down on the ground. Clarke swallows a scream when she sees Indira is first to administer a cut. Clarke can tell she averts her eyes the moment her blade penetrates the pale skin. Lexa has no visible reaction to the injury. Her eyes are barely open, revealing a sliver of what was once vibrant green.

Next is the general from the river clan, his head is recently bandaged covering one eye; an injury no doubt administered by Luna. One by one the generals take their turn, Clarke snakes through the crowd closer to her love desperate not to be noticed. When a familiar blonde pushes her way to the podium Clarke is close enough to smell the salt on her clothes. As Luna turns to the crowd raising her sea monster dagger to the sky, causing the gathered to scream and cheer, Clarke draws her weapon and fires.

Striking Luna in the chest and knocking her to the floor of the podium. Without hesitation Clarke drops the two guards on either side of the wooden steps leading to Lexa. The three loud pops startle the gathered and in the commotion Clarke climbs the wooden structure unnoticed until she reaches Lexa's body. Unable to pull her down she pulls her behind the mast to protect her from the arrows and daggers thrown by the gathered below. She fires two more rounds blindly into the crowd. Stopping the flying weapons long enough for her to spend another round on Lexa's chains sending her limp body down on a waiting Clarke.

Lexa is cold, Clarke pushes on her neck until she feels the echo of a pulse, "Lexa baby, I'm right here. We're going home, open your eye Lexa." Weapons start raining down again Clarke waves her gun wildly at the crowd, trying to identify her next target.

"PLENY!" a voice too high and young to wield that kind of power stops the flying objects and silences the crowd.

In the silence Clarke sits Lexa on the wooden planks, trying to revive her to no avail. She turns back to the the small figure climbing up to the podium. It's a child, about 12, shaved head, black leather cloak on their small shoulders, dagger at the small hip, face contorted in a grimace. "Jus drain ste odon, your gonplei ste odon!"

Clarke puts Lexa's arm over her neck like Nasa taught her, straightens her back, and starts pushing up with her legs just as she hears Luna's choked voice, "Where are you going Skygirl." The voice disrupts her momentum and she turns her attention to the woman still holding the dagger, and watches as it is plunged deep into her chest, under her ribs, through her right lung and into her heart.