When some fan art on tumblr turns into a joke and a joke turns into a one-shot. Honestly, this isn't much more than a quick scribble, a small attempt to show how these two worlds could actually collide.

Story is canon up to FTWD 4x16 - though a few years have passed - and The 100 5x13. (In other words: S5 of FTWD and S6 of The 100 never happened!)

English is not my first language, I apologize for any spelling errors.

R-E-B-O-R-N

I'm not just born.

Sure, I've found my way to this world, like everyone else. I have a mom, and a dad. I even have a brother. Or had - I should say. I've had a childhood, although for some reason I have no real recollection of it.

I do remember the world around me changing, though. Quickly, and not for the good. I lost people because of it. Way too many people. All of my people, eventually. I made it through, but I still have to fight to survive. Constantly, and till this very day. Fighting to survive, that's my new life. But it doesn't feel new. It feels strangely familiar.

Why? I have no clue. I've never been able to figure it out. Not until today, until this moment. The moment that the sky opens up in front of me…

Hidden between the trees, together with my tribe, I watch how the foreign object comes closer and closer towards us till it hits the ground, almost gently, telling me there is nothing this pilot can't handle.

"Pilot?" the others cry out, bewildered. "That's no plane, is it?!" "What is this thing?" "Who's in there?" "Why d…"

I don't share their questions, nor their panic. Because I know what I'm watching. I've seen it before.

Strangers arriving from outer space. Invading my woods. My woods? Yes, I'm suddenly sure about that. There have been woods before and it had been up to me to protect them. And just like now I hadn't been fighting alone.

But…

I look at my friends. No, they hadn't been with me. And neither had my family. Madison. Trevor. Nick. They're not part of this… dream?

I look at the spaceship again. The spaceship that doesn't fit the scenery. That doesn't belong here. But that brings me back to a place I once knew so well. How could that be? I don't understand. Yet the longer I watch, the less doubt I have. I haven't just pictured this. I experienced it. This other, yet very real life.

It wasn't a dream. It's a memory.

A very blurry memory, that is. Which is why I can't see it. I can't see who's been with me. But I know: I have been fighting before - although with the living instead of the dead. And not just with one, or two, or… no, entire armies I defeated. Defeated and commanded.

No wonder I can kick everyone's ass!

A loud hissing sound breaks the silence that has fallen over the woods, bringing me back to the present. I move my eyes to the heavy door that is now slowly opening, like a drawbridge.

"Can't be Walkers, right?" Morgan quietly speaks up. "That thing just crushed the entire herd!"

I shake my head. "Stedaunon don gon we," I mumble.

He turns his head to look at me, his eyes questioning. "Say what?"

"The dead are gone," I repeat myself, vaguely aware that I was speaking in a different tongue, and with my gaze still stuck on that door. As soon as it hits the ground two bearded men, a teenager and a girl with face tattoos step outside - heavily armed, prepared for any danger. Unless they are the danger?

"The living are hungr-" I continue, but my voice stops mid-sentence as soon as my eye catches the blonde that follows them. She lifts her hand to protect her eyes from the bright light, covering her face for the lurking audience, but those first two seconds were enough for me.

Gasping for air, I freeze.

"Clarke," I whisper, subconsciously grabbing Strand's arm in the sudden need to hold on to something - anything.

He looks down on me and raises an eyebrow. "Are these your relatives?"

I look back at him. "What? No, I'm not talking about… I'm not even sure if… " I swallow, trying to wrap my head around this. "…if that's my name."

Now Strand is the one who's confused. "It's not? Then what is?!" he frowns.

"I- I don't know," I stammer, my eyes already drawn back to the scene in front of me. By now the small group has spread out. They've lowered their weapons, probably assuming it's safe enough. The girl is standing there by herself, her face turned towards the sky.

"But I know her," I murmur, more to myself this time.

As soon as the words are out I know that's an understatement. I don't just know this girl. I know everything about her.

Her story. Her mission. Her strengths and her weaknesses. Her pain, her joy, her losses and her victories. I know her voice. Her smell. I even know her heartbeat.

Still unable to move I keep gazing at her. At this girl, bathing in the warm, afternoon sunlight, with the softest smile on her lips.

Those lips! How could I ever forget about those lips!? I've stared at those lips - so, so many times. Secretly. Thirsty. I watched them when we talked strategies. I watched how they turned into a smile, just like they do now, but also how they'd set in a hard line after I… after I betrayed her.

I've seen them quiver. I've seen her wet them with the tip of her tongue, mindlessly. I've seen her biting the bottom one, trying to stop it from trembling.

And I've sensed them on my own. I've kissed them. Tasted them. Felt them all over my body. Softly, when they traced the lines of my tattoos, and more firmly when she'd reached her destination.

I've witnessed up close how she clenched her eyes, right before my name rolled off those lips.

"Lexa…"

I remember her, everything about her, and because of that I finally remember myself.

I am Lexa kom Trikru. Heda of the Thirteen Clans. Heir to Bekka Pramheda.

I'm not just born. I am reborn.

I have lived and died and yet survived - somehow, in this… this void, for God knows how many years. I have a past. A past that matters. That deserves a second chance. And that's why after all these horrific years, in which I lost everything, including hope, I suddenly know, more than anything, that I have a future after all.

My future is right there…

… getting captured by a Whisperer!

Shit! Where did he come from?!

Unable to move, or even to breathe, I watch how Clarke is attacked from behind, disarmed and thrown over that monster's shoulder. Three more Whisperers show up, carrying guns and knives, forcing Clarke's friends to hide in their ship - saving themselves instead of her. I get it. I do. They don't stand a chance. No one fights the Whisperers.

No one but me, that is.

I deeply exhale, draw my gun and start to move.

"Alicia, stop!"

I look over my shoulder.

"Don't follow them!" Lucy begs. "You can't keep risking your life for just anyone."

I show my friend a weak smile. "She's not just anyone…"

And then I run. Faster than I have ever ran. Zigzagging between the trees, following the Whisperers into a darker, more grim part of the forest. They are strong and fast and they seem to know their way around here. But I'm trained for this - even if it's a hundred years ago!

So I don't give up. I keep hunting them till they reach an old shack. That's when I stop. To catch my breath and to estimate the situation. There are two men outside, guarding the place. The other two went in, with Clarke. I can only hope that there's no one else inside.

I have to be quick since I have to rely on the act of surprise. I can't miss a single shot. Good thing I wasn't just trained by Anya… I learned a thing or two from Jake as well!

I load my gun, step from my hiding place and shoot twice - hitting both men straight in the head before they even see me. However, two loud, long-distance shots mean I have to run. I cross the open field between the trees and the shack in just a few seconds. Right when I get there the door opens. Without giving it a second thought I point my gun at the massive man in front of me. He doesn't seem impressed though.

"Let her go!" I command.

He gives me a once-over, head to toe, and shows me a crooked smile. "Or what?"

I answer him by shooting a bullet right between his eyes.

The fourth man, who's holding a big knife against Clarke's throat, turns towards me - dragging Clarke along.

"Let! Her! Go!" I repeat myself, my voice surprisingly steady.

The man seems in doubt. We are both armed, but I'm like half his size. I might not be a threat. I nod my head and he moves his eyes from my pointed gun to his friend's face - or what's left of it. Slowly he lets go of his grip.

Clarke tumbles forward, on to her knees, then quickly sits up. Our eyes meet - finally. She's gagged, but even if she could say anything she's clearly lost for words. I can see it in her eyes: could this really be…?

I step closer and kneel down in front of her. I gently rest my hand against her cheek. A sigh of relief escapes me when I feel her lean into my touch. My heart swells and I can feel how my lips curve into a smile, despite the current danger.

"Hey there," I whisper. "I told you I'll always be with you."

... ...