The door closed softly behind Lexa and Clarke cursed inaudibly, and rubbed her eyes. She was exhausted; it had felt like one of her longest days on the ground. From her first disastrous Council session as Ambassador of the 13th clan to the moment Lexa's spear pierced Nia's chest, she felt as though she'd been holding her breath. It wasn't until she met Lexa's eyes across the square that she had been able to exhale.

And now her head was spinning again. The Commander's visit had been unexpected, but appreciated. She couldn't believe Lexa had come to her room just to thank her. Gratitude was a new look on her, but a good one. But Clarke was struggling. She had spent all day desperately scheming to try to save Lexa's life, but she hadn't needed saving. Clarke was so used to having to be the hero lately; she'd forgotten how it felt to let someone else do the rescuing.

But though her plans for saving Lexa had come to naught, Lexa hadn't made her feel useless. She still appreciated the effort. And Clarke had finally, finally, realized that Lexa wasn't just capable of saving herself. She was potentially capable of saving them all, if Clarke let her.

She had asked Lexa how she was going to move forward with her ambassadors after their betrayal, but she didn't care about the other twelve and Lexa knew it. She had been trying to figure out how to move past Mount Weather since her arrival in Polis, and Lexa's grace under fire had convinced her. They were one and the same, she and Lexa. Just trying to save their people.

Our people. Clarke corrected herself. She wasn't alone in this anymore. She wasn't alone.

She ran out the door, down the hall, and to the lift. Convincing the guards to bring her to Lexa's chambers was too easy; she must have left word that Wanheda was to be brought to her anytime she desired. Clarke smiled to herself.

She knocked on the door and heard movement inside. Lexa appeared, still in the same gown. Clarke's breath caught in her throat as Lexa's face melted into a soft smile. They stared at each other for a moment before Clarke was able to speak.

"I…I'm sorry."

Lexa nodded. "I know."

"Do you forgive me?"

"Clarke," Lexa replied, reaching out and taking Clarke's hand in her own uninjured one, "there is nothing for me to forgive."

"I know that you were only doing what you had to do. I know that your responsibility to your people comes first. I know that it wasn't personal – "

"Clarke," Lexa interrupted. "It became personal. I did what I had to do. But I hated myself for it. More than you could ever know."

Clarke's eyes filled with tears. "I think I know."

Lexa nodded once, sharply. She glanced at the guards at the end of the hall and dropped her gaze. "Clarke…"

This time it was Clarke's turn to interrupt. "Can I come in?" The words were rushed and too loud, and she immediately blushed.

Lexa slowly lifted her head. The intensity in her gaze shocked them both, but she nodded. "Yes."

She didn't take her eyes off of Clarke as she led her by the hand into her bedroom, closing the door quietly behind them.

Author's note: Thanks for reading! May update with a second (smutty) chapter of what happens after the door closes if inspiration strikes.