so i saw a tweet that says what if lexa had survived and she's stuck in the bunker thinking clarke is dead and i just knew i had to write it because i've been pretty obsessed with clexa lately. plus, can't disappoint my twitter friends who really despise me for that 'cold bones' series, but that doesn't mean this one doesn't have angst too. :-)

also, excuse the mediocre trigedasleng - this is my first time writing grounder language yikes. i tried to keep it as canonically compliant as possible, but i stopped watching the 100 after season 3 so i don't really know what happened. i know that octavia went nuts and all kim jong un-ish and that's just not up my alley, i love her too much to keep her that way. so yeah.

now, read, ponder, and enjoy!

Oh, you and I? Darling, we survived.

-in another world, softly, kindly, without question, P.D. Vulpe

Death, she used to think, was simply destined. Born to reach it. Raised to know it. Grown to accept it. It was an old friend – something she had become close to, a thorn in her spine that would stay there until it could finally grasp her in its grasp.

And when that bullet lodged itself in her abdomen, deep and hungry and burning, she remembered thinking one thing: there was no better way for her to die. In the place of someone she loved; someone she still loved. She couldn't save Costia, but she could save Clarke as much as she could, as much as Clarke would allow. Her dying wasn't something that Clarke had allowed, but she closed her eyes knowing that she had unlearned a lesson that she was glad to let go of: life was about more than just surviving.

When she expended her last breath into Clarke's mouth, she drifted away knowing that saving Clarke was her legacy.

There wasn't a better legacy.

Except then she opened her eyes to see Indra, her best warrior and most trusted general, looming over her, eyes dull if not for the slight glint of relief, lips twisted into something that resembled a smile, and sweat dotting her forehead like anxiety. She would speak, but her throat was dry and her mind was wild and she couldn't, for the life of her, comprehend the situation.

Did this mean Indra was gone too? Had she failed? Had her coalition fallen? Did the Sky People win, after all? Did Pike triumph? What happened to Clarke?

"Monin hou, Heda," Indra whispered, and she had never heard the woman so gentle before.

Her eyes flickered over the warrior's shoulder and saw another warrior. Octavia kom Skaikru, who had seemed to grow, more mature, clasped in the grip of grief still, and she had to wonder how much time had really passed. She looked back to Indra and gulped, not allowing the whimper to escape past her throat. No matter where she was, no matter what this was, she was still proud.

As if understanding her predicament, Indra only nodded and gestured vaguely at her second, who disappeared and then showed up with a goblet. Water. When the goblet reached her mouth, she greedily drank from the makeshift straw, relishing in the moisturization in the back of her throat and preparing for the questions she had.

"Did you fail?" she asked instantly, pinning Indra down with a firm gaze.

Indra shook her head and proceeded to tell her everything. About ALIE, City of Light, the chips, the lost minds of her people, and the ordeal Clarke had to go through to save them from the City of Light. When Lexa heard of Clarke's bravery and her brief possession of the Flame, the pride she felt was not for herself.

But then Indra went ahead to tell her about the rest. The threat of the nuclear power plants, the Praimfaya, their people splitting apart, and the retreat back to the skies and underground. It felt a little too much and she wanted to go back to sleep, but there was one thing she still didn't know – one thing that both Indra and Octavia seemed reluctant to tell her at all.

She glanced to Octavia who was avoiding her eyes, choosing to stare down at her shuffling feet instead. For a moment, Lexa wanted to reprimand her. Heda should never behave like a sniveling child – they should face obstacles head on and answer questions in a straightforward fashion.

"Where is Clarke?"

Like she could sense that the question was directed at her, Octavia lifted her gaze and met Lexa's. She took a deep breath, trying to not let Lexa see the way her chin trembled, but Lexa did see it. And she knew whatever was said next would hurt more than dying.

"She didn't make it."

After she took what was presumably her last breath. Titus extracted the Flame from her body and delivered her to the pyre – or that was what everyone had assumed. But it turned out that Titus either felt too guilty or cared for Lexa too much that he couldn't just allow her to be let go like that, so he sent her far off to a healer who had retired into nothingness, demanding that Lexa be brought back to life, no matter what it took.

Before his death, the only person he told of Lexa's remaining spirit was Indra. Lexa stayed in that woman's care for four summers, isolated and presence unknown to everyone except Indra. When the Praimfaya came, the healer had succumbed, and Lexa would have too if it wasn't for the blood flowing in her body. Indra found her before it was too late and transported her to the bunker, hiding her away from the other residents, informing only Octavia.

There, Lexa slept on, ignorant to the infighting and the chaos of the outside world, unbeknownst to the fact that the one person she had died for did not make it.

She was only Leksa kom Trikru now. And she had never been so tired.

Grief was a funny thing.

The last time was when she held Costia's head in her hands, she became cold and stiff, accepting Titus' advice, understanding that love was weakness, and became the Heda that everyone feared and respected. She reunited the twelve clans, did all she could to tear down the Mountain Man, only to have a blonde explosive of Sky Person to do it for her.

This time, there was no body, no traces, no souvenirs – nothing but the memories of pale skin under Lexa's fingers and ghostly moans that still haunted her dreams. The difference was that she no longer believed in Titus' mantra, and she would be damned if she tainted Clarke's memory by believing in that notion once again. So, she threw herself into being a part of Wonkru, offering advice only when asked, but mainly remained in her quarters and did what she did best before her ascension as Heda: exploring the outside.

She couldn't stay in the bunker. Leksa kom Trikru was born for the earth, the trees, and the wild. She was not made for metal wars and stiff beds and crowded spaces. The blood that ran within her had allowed her to be the only one to go out, which was good, because she was also the only one to be able to bring back the rare berries, hunt the occasional poultry, and build more comfortable furniture from the woods outside.

It was the only consolation she could get. But if she was being honest with herself, no amount of trees and grass and solid soil under her boots would be able to help her get over the grief that accompanied her every waking moment. She could see the blonde everywhere, resting against trees, marveling at the nature, and just there.

And Lexa was never too sure if that was a good thing – to have a dead woman constantly in her periphery. But she would take what she could get.

One night, she was preparing her pack for next day's venture when Octavia came knocking on her door, brandishing a bottle of mead that one of the Wonkru had brewed with the ingredients that Lexa had brought back on her ventures.

This wasn't an uncommon occurrence; they had always found themselves to be drinking partners every once in awhile. There were several times when they might have fallen into bed with each other, but alas, the reminders of their tethers to this world were relentless in the backs of their minds.

Lexa waved her in and watched as the woman who had grown so much over the past few years drag a chair over to the bed and sit down. Octavia uncorked the bottle and poured generous amount into two glasses, handing one over to Lexa. The former Heda took it with a grateful nod and knocked it back, extending it in the air for Octavia to refill it.

They were three quarters into the bottle when Octavia slurred, "There are too many people."

Lexa blinked, staring into her own glass, as she realized that this was another one of those times when Octavia came looking for her advice.

It took time for them to progress to this level of their friendship, for them to see each other as best friends – as the Sky People would call it – for them to know that they would have each other's backs without a word. They had stayed away from each other initially – each serving a reminder of the other's pain. Lexa had known that Octavia was one of Clarke's closest friends despite the brief animosity they carried towards each other, and she wouldn't be surprised if Lincoln had told Octavia about how close they had been as children and teenagers before her ascension.

Essentially, they both carried one another's scars.

Until one day, when Kara Cooper had led a rebellion and Octavia was running out of ideas, Lexa overheard Thelonious Jaha offering some of the worst advice that could be given to a leader. Deciding that their avoidance had to come to a standstill to avoid a massacre, she cornered her successor one night and decided to berate her with every insult she knew in the two languages she had learned for even considering Jaha's advice.

"You don't get to tell me what to do anymore," Octavia had snarled.

"No," Lexa agreed. "But I am certain Clarke would be where I am right now if she had known."

"Well, she doesn't. She's not here anymore! Or did you forget about that? You're always prancing around, all smug about the fact that you get to go out when none of us get to."

Lexa got up into Octavia's face, snarling, "Do not take me for an ignorant just because of my absence, Octavia. I am well aware of that fact. I am reminded of that every day, just like you are, when they are not by our sides when we wake up and rest." She took a step back. "The reason I have been quiet is because you are the leader now, and I know to respect a leader's different way of rule, as I was one myself." She clasped her hands behind her back and made sure that Octavia met her eyes. "If you carry out as Jaha has told you to, it will only decrease your people's morale, destroy the trust that you have spent so long building, and do more damage to your leadership than you can imagine."

"Why do you care?"

The former Heda paused. In the corner of her eyes, she could see a golden-haired angel, nodding at her encouragingly. In her head, she could hear the lilting laughter that had brought such light to her life that she had first wondered if she had been dreaming, only to pinch herself and found the sting that told her it was real.

Grief was a funny thing.

"My legacy was saving Clarke," she said softly. "In turn, Clarke's legacy was saving my people, our people, they're now your people." She shook her head, a vain attempt to shake away the hallucination. "I have stayed silent for a long time, but I will not allow you to taint her legacy as such, not even when you are Osleya."

She had left the room expecting the younger woman to ignore her advice. After all, they had never really known each other, and Lexa wasn't ashamed to admit that Octavia had been a pain since the beginning. However, when she came back from her venture the next day, she found Octavia in her room, looking at her expectantly, waiting for advice.

So Lexa gave it. She had never said that she would never interject into the politics of this new people – she just didn't want to display disrespect to Octavia, who truly deserved all the respect for even trying.

Jaha's advice went ignored. Instead, negotiations were carried out. It went on for a week, and there were times when Octavia almost lost her patience, but Lexa was there to teach her exactly that. At the end of the week, they reached an agreement where the rebels would be able to have their say as much as all the other clans and their voices were guaranteed to be heard. Octavia also allowed them the choice to leave the bunker if they wanted to; it was their choice to die after all.

Since then, Octavia had been coming to her quarters more, either to drink, grieve, or look for advice. And Lexa was always a willing partner, though she was never the one to pull initiative. She was done initiating things.

"You are asking permission from me," Lexa pointed out.

"I am asking you to tell me what you told me that night."

Lexa considered the woman. Back in the day, Octavia would have just acted upon it, maybe even without Jaha's advice. Now that she was here showed Lexa how much she had grown. Perhaps it was time Lexa could step down from her unofficial advisor position.

"Do you have any alternatives?" she asked.

Octavia heaved a sardonic chuckle. "The only options I can think of is whether to do it painlessly or painfully."

Lexa nodded in understanding. She had noticed this obstacle early on, when people started fighting for rations and became itchy amongst the crowd. The quarters were filling up because celibacy just wasn't possible. They were simply out of space.

"I cannot tell you that," she decided, ignoring the glare Octavia sent her. "This is a different matter. It is neither a questioning of your leadership, nor a deliberate human act. It is simply nature taking its course."

"You're not helping."

The older woman sighed fondly, unable to help the smile crawling to her lips. She took a sip and stared firmly into Octavia's eyes. It was time. She had been tired anyway. She had always been tired. After all, the moment Octavia decided to come in here and not choose to demand anything from her, choosing instead to tell her the problem straightaway, was the moment Lexa realized that her role was no longer needed.

This place was not for her anyway.

"I have been thinking of leaving," she offered. Octavia straightened in her chair, panic painting her face. Lexa ploughed ahead. "This…bunker –" she bristled at the cold walls and the greyness of it all "– is exhausting. I am not made for an environment such as this. I will never be able to get acclimatize myself to it. The trees are where I belong, however many there remain." There was no need to say that if Clarke had been there, she would have stayed. She hesitated, but reached out to touch Octavia's knee still. "You do not need my permission. I am also not in the position to give you one. You are Osleya, leader of Wonkru. What you think is best, what your instincts tell you as a leader, you follow it."

Octavia looked like she was ready to blow up, the temper she was renowned for back in the day making a flashing appearance in those blue eyes. Except then she calmed down with a nod and just extended her goblet in Lexa's direction. See, Lexa told herself as she knocked their goblets together gently, Octavia was ready – all would be well.

"What would you do?" Octavia asked before she departed to her own quarters.

Lexa looked up from her satchel, finishing up her packing. She didn't need much. She was born Trikru after all. Survival was a mantra growing up. Self-sustainability was ingrained in their blood. There was much out there for her, since nature grew and she was all on her own. Isolation may not have been the Trikru way, but summers as Heda had given her enough time to not be a stranger.

At the askance look that Lexa gave her, the younger woman clarified, "If you were still Heda and you had to make this kind of decision, what would you do?"

Well, call it a parting gift, she supposed. One last advice before they possibly never saw each other again. "I am well aware that I have been bringing back items that can be made into poisons."

She leaned heavily with her hands on her thighs, infinitely glad that she wouldn't have to be the one to make this kind of decision again. There was a long moment of silence between the two of them, her silently asking if Octavia really wanted to hear this and Octavia silently telling her that she needed this.

Leaders – what could they do?

"I would use them."

"Ste yuj, ai lukot," Indra whispered, her voice brittle from age but her grip still strong on the former Commander's forearm. "Yu laik mous yuj raunon don ai klin eva."

Lexa smiled at the warrior that had gone through so much, most of them at her making, but still chose to remain loyal to this young but old former leader. She found it easier now – to smile at them. There was no need to maintain a façade any longer.

This was one of the moments when she was glad that Indra did not carry black blood in her body. Otherwise, the woman would have chosen to follow Lexa without hesitation.

"Yu seintaim."

She then turned to Octavia who was stoic. They had first started knowing each other as the enemies, and then reluctant allies, and now, they were friends. Clarke and Lincoln would have been proud. She offered her arm, which Octavia glanced at for a long second before grasping.

"Lincoln would have been very proud of you," she said.

Octavia swallowed. What had felt like decades had passed, and yet she remained unrelenting in the haunting memories of her former lover. Not that Lexa was in any place to judge. She didn't want to say it, didn't want to remind Octavia of it, but she needed to hear it.

The shorter woman nodded in acceptance, her eyes closing for a brief moment. When she opened them, they were bright and firm and so much of the leader Lexa used to be. She was ready.

"You will always have a place here with us," she promised.

The throne had kept her away from doing this for far too long – running on mud, leaping over fallen logs, crawling up tall trees, whistling along with the birds, hunting the wild animals, simply surviving as someone of the greens. And then she fell asleep for a long time, only to wake up in an honest-to-goodness bunker and be at the receiving end of what could really be the worst news she had ever heard in her life.

And she was once Heda.

Lexa enjoyed it. She had forgotten how utterly free it felt. To be unbound by the shackles of her duties, unburdened the red sash that weighed her down the second she put it on every morning, free from the diplomacy that had been in her nature since the moment she realized what her future entailed when she had only lived six summers – it tasted well on her tongue.

Yet, as she dangled on the branches, bit down on freshly roasted rabbit meat, or sang with the sound of her surroundings, there was no denying the bitterness that still clung to the back of her throat. Like algae, only it would never leave. Of course, it would figure that the hallucinations were well gone, and this tang came as a replacement.

There had been times when she got so tired of the loneliness that she even missed Titus' overbearing presence. And that bitterness in the back of her throat was more prominent than ever, making all food tasteless and stale.

And those times were the worst, because her heart felt like it was being torn apart and her brain was just grey. Those were the times when she wondered if the knife she carried with her would be better utilized shoved in her chest. Wondered if she could gather the ingredients necessary and make a poison as she had told Octavia so long ago.

But she didn't. She didn't, because she knew that one of those stars in the dark night sky was Clarke, and she couldn't bear for it to flicker out.

The day her life brightened and found meaning again was a complete accident. She was on her way back to the bunker to drop off the latest hunt, sweets, and wood pieces at the door. It had become a habit since she left. Just because she had said her goodbyes did not mean she no longer cared, especially when two of her closest friends were trapped inside.

And then she heard shouts and yells and the hiss of the door sliding open. The door that had been forbidden from opening except for Lexa. She immediately narrowed her eyes in suspicion and dropped to a crouch, stealthily hurrying over to the nearest tree at the edge and hiding behind it, prepared to utilize her bow if needed. From she knew, the only living humans were either in the skies above or the ground below – no one else.

She stopped breathing when she saw who it was – who they were. These were those who had sent themselves off in a spaceship…and Clarke.

She clenched her jaw, almost certain that she was hallucinating again. They were not affected by the presumably toxic atmosphere, so this was surely a hallucination. The idea was bolstered when she saw Octavia leaping out with the brightest grin on her face, something Lexa had never had the chance of seeing, clinging onto her brother like a lifeline.

They were all unaffected, healthy and breathing and laughing.

It was possible she might have swallowed some Jobi Nuts. Or maybe it had gotten so bad that her mind was playing very severe tricks on her. This couldn't be real.

Clarke couldn't be here.

Clarke was dead.

Clarke was here.

Hair short, a little girl clinging to her arm, and the smile on her face dimmer than Lexa would have liked, but she was still here, and the noises they were making kept permeating her hearing. Lexa was frozen in her spot, unable to do anything else but stare at the blonde angel who had thrown away all the lessons supposedly carved into her brain since she was escorted away from her home.

Lexa had spent so much time mourning over the love that never had the opportunity to flourish.

As if noticing someone's eyes on her, Clarke fought out of Octavia's arm and stared in the general direction where Lexa was, frowning. Octavia grasped her arm, as if trying to tell her something, but Clarke shrugged her off with an apologetic smile before she knelt down to tell the little girl something and transfer the hand she was holding to Bellamy. She started making her way towards the trees, towards Lexa.

And Lexa was rooted where she was. She was hallucinating.

Clarke's footsteps grew closer and louder. And Lexa was certain she would go deaf to the noise. She had never been so motionless and afraid before – rejoiced was waiting at the periphery, soon to be broken at any moment this hallucination was over. She just watched, taking in the Clarke that had grown over the last six summers.

Still the most beautiful person she had ever encountered. But there was strength as well in the way she held herself, the firm steps she took, the wood piece that she held onto almost as strongly as she had held onto the little girl's hand. This may be a hallucination, but Lexa was proud. She knew that if Clarke was still alive, this would be who Clarke would turn into. Independent and strong and savior of worlds.

Clarke was in front of her, staring down at her in both shock and relief and disbelief and happiness. Tears were welling in those deep blue abyss pools that were Clarke's eyes.

"Lexa?"

Oh. "This is real," Lexa whispered, more to herself than to Clarke as she looked into those blue eyes that had haunted her dreams since she woke up.

Clarke was trembling. Lexa couldn't stand up. The world around them might as well had faded away as the two women looked at each other like one was the other's final puzzle piece – each other's completion. Slowly, the blonde fell to her knees in front of Lexa, hands trembling as they came up, reluctant to touch Lexa at all. Lexa understood.

What if she touched her and this hallucination cracked?

This was the realest hallucination Lexa had ever had and she didn't want to let go.

But then Clarke did touch her, calloused hands gingerly stroking her cheeks, and Lexa couldn't fight the soft whimper from escaping her lungs because, oh, this was real. She closed her eyes and leaned into those hands, surrendering herself completely, her walls crashing down in just one instance. There was nowhere safer than with Clarke. Unbeknownst to herself, a drop of tear slid down her cheek and onto her hand was supported on her knee.

When she opened her eyes again, Clarke was full-on crying, but there was a smile too. It seemed that Lexa's returning smile was the final straw, because Clarke immediately slithered her hands behind Lexa's neck and pulled her forwards, their lips clashing together in a violent reunion, teeth clicked together, tongues sought one another. This was how Lexa became completely convinced that this was real.

They withdrew from each other, and without caring for the how and the why, Clarke beat her to it.

"I love you."

One of the things she regretted most after finding out that Clarke was dead, which she apparently wasn't, was that she didn't get a chance to tell her. She didn't get a chance to tell her the deepest sentiment that no one else in her life had ever had the opportunity of hearing. Being Heda had robbed her of that privilege, and saying those three little words could be disastrous.

Lexa rested her forehead against Clarke's, still in slight disbelief that Clarke was actually here. She reached up to gain a more solid ground of their presence by slithering an arm around Clarke's waist, pulling her closer.

"Ai hod yu in."

But now, now she could.

Translations:

1. Monin hou, Heda: Welcome back, Commander.
2. Ste yuj, ai lukot: Stay strong, my friend.
3. Yu laik mous yuj raunon don ai klin eva: You are the strongest person I have ever known.
4. Yu sentaim: You too.
5. Ai hod yu in: I love you.

at least there's a happy ending. so, this is technically my third foray into writing clexa - what do you guys think so far?

before you leave, i would just like to ask a small favor from you. if you have been a fan of my work so far and would like to show me some support in a substantial way, please head over to my tumblr at overcanary and you will see a small button on the top left corner of the page. click on it and you will probably know what to do! thank you!