At first, he thinks she's a mirage; an image of home his fatigue and shock-addled brain creates to replace the desolate landscape around them. There is a tiny copse of green amidst the red, and that is where he places her – as strong and resilient as always, peering down at them as the heat from their ship sears the ground beneath them. The wind is whispering through the leaves above her and she is there, smiling at him.

When she does not go away, he begins to wonder if there is still enough radiation left in the air to mess with his mind, and he hates that he continues to punish himself this way – with images and memories to fill the gaping holes she left behind when she did not board the ship six years ago. Among the memories of the two of them together and all they have faced, he also imagines what she would do and say to each and every problem, solution, and period of comfort and relaxation (brief as they are) that pop up as they attempt to make the best of their new life, watching as the Earth burns on the other side of the glass, miles and miles away. He pictures her reaction when one of the only habitable sections left on the Ark breaks down their third month in space, sending them all into a panic as they imagine their home becoming a tomb. Or when Harper is the first to discover the body of one of the Ark's former citizens and it is several days before Monty is able to get her to eat or speak again. He imagines Clarke's face when Murphy and Monty, who have formed a kinship on the Ark, steal Bellamy's undergarments and, declaring them the Ark's new flag, hang them from as many windows as they can before Bellamy finds out and is too busy enjoying their infectious laughter – so good to hear after such a difficult year – to do any sort of disciplining. He imagines her witnessing Echo's first taste of Monty's moonshine and the terrible singing (and dancing) that followed. He pictures her reaction to each situation, each circumstance – unfortunate and funny, sad and beautiful – and his heart always pangs with the realization that she will never get to experience these little moments ever again because she is gone, lost, like the hope each of the Hundred carried with them when the doors of the drop-ship first opened.

And though he would never admit it to anyone, he also imagines himself saying all of the things he was too scared to say to her on the ground – all of the what ifs and maybes and every single damn thing he ever thought about her smile and her hair and the way she so perfectly fits against him, physically and mentally, as if they were made for one another. He imagines himself explaining them to her, each thought, one by one, just as he imagines her here now.

Only this time, she doesn't disappear.

It takes Raven's gasp of surprise as her feet hit the ground beside him to wake him from his reverie. He can practically feel her eyes zeroing in on the mirage in front of them, her lips parting in astonishment, but it isn't until he hears her whisper the name - "Clarke?" - for him to realize what is happening. Everything suddenly snaps into focus and the mirage is now walking toward him, only it isn't a mirage, it's Clarke, and he's running before he even really has a chance to consider what he may be running toward because the only thing that matters is that he is running to her.

Always to her.

And she is running to meet him. They collide, grabbing on to one another for balance, for protection, for assurance.

Like always.

She wraps her arms around him, squeezing tight, and he buries his face in her hair, inhaling earth and salt and Clarke. She's crying and he's pretty sure there are tears streaming down his face as well, but he can't pull away because she's real. She's here. And all of their friends have surrounded them, crying and laughing and grabbing onto the pair as they sink to their knees and it is this moment – this moment of confusion, of love and heartache and renewed hope - that they realize they have actually made it. Against all odds, they're alive. Clarke is alive. And even though this Earth is not the same one they left behind, even though their friends and families could be lost and they have a million questions for Clarke and they all know, deep down, there are countless new threats ahead of them waiting to be faced, they are together.

And that's all that really matters.

End. x