Clarke sighed heavily, part resignation and part resistance. Always the contradiction, such is the nature of their relationship. Lexa kissed her cheek and squeezed her hand, "I will be close by," she said moving to the door. Clarke nodded, signalling her apparent readiness and Lexa opened the large double doors to Clarkes chambers and stood aside. She and Abby eyeballed each other briefly, Abby moved into the room and immediately Lexa moved out, closing the doors behind her.

Clarke and Abby came face to face, again. To have this conversation, again. Abby moved forward as though to embrace her daughter but Clarke just couldn't bring herself to participate in the charade. Abby was caught halfway between persisting and giving up, but she was used to the awkward nature of the fractured relationship with her daughter, or she should be by now. Didn't make it hurt any less, however.

"You wanted to see me, Mom?" Clarke was tired of rehashing the same arguments and this, she promised herself, was the last time. One final attempt to establish an understanding. Failing that an opportunity to outline her boundaries moving forward.

"Of course. You're my daughter. I want to talk, to see how you are. I'd like to resolve our differences, Clarke, go back to how we were."

"I am not going back. There is only here and now. And we don't seem to do that very well."

"No, we don't. I am just concerned about you, I want to protect you."

"Here and now, mom, there is nothing to be concerned about and I don't want or need your protection. I am fine as I am."

"I am your mother, I am always going to worry."

"What is it that you are worried about, exactly?"

Now it was Abby's turn to sigh. The answer to the question was obvious. She looked at her daughter and could hardly see anything remaining of her, all she could see was Lexa's influence. The braided hair, the grounder clothes, the weapons on her hip. The defiance in her eyes - all Lexa, as far as Abby was concerned. Why couldn't Clarke see that?

"She is controlling you." It blurted out, it had to. The sentiment repeated almost constantly in her mind, it was an obsession, the idea could not be repressed, it just had to come out and verbally was one such option.

This is the crux of the issue. They had danced around this issue for months, more or less directly, but they could never see eye to eye. Abby battled for self control, for balance, for the appearance of logic and rationality, any emotion here would compromise her argument and that would be a disaster. For Clarke, this was her life Abby was fighting for after all, and what would she not give for the safety of her daughter?

"Controlling me to do what?"

"Whatever she wants. Look at yourself, Clarke, you're not even yourself anymore."

"I am no longer myself, that is true. You seem to be referring to the person I was before dad was floated, before I was imprisoned, sent to Earth and had to fight for my life almost constantly since then. And I can confirm, I am on longer her."

Abby could see that, to a point. But the Ark had landed, she was here now, ready, willing and able to relieve Clarke of all of those burdens she should never have had to bear, was too young to navigate alone. Her mother was here now, things could go back, but no, Clarke was too stubborn for that.

"Now, I live in Polis, Mom, I work as a Healer. I am the Ambassador to Skaikru. By Lexa's generosity I am accommodated in luxury, I mean look at these rooms? I am well attended, well fed, well dressed. I have a bodyguard, I train with weapons, I have a horse, I have art supplies, I go where I want, do as I like. Those privileges alone make me far removed from who I ever was or might have been."

"Privileges? Is that how she positions things? That you are indebted to her for your privileges?"

"No, Lexa has never suggested such a thing. That is the way I feel about the opportunities that I would not otherwise have had, but for her."

"Those are things, Clarke, material things provided to distract you, to manipulate you. And it's working because you can't even see it." Abby was becoming frustrated, she knew she was falling into the same trap but she couldn't stop it, she was triggered by this same conversation, again. They could not stop having the exact same conversation nor could they seem to conclude it to the satisfaction of either.

Clarke could also feel the familiar tug but she had been working on ways to have this entire conversation once and for all, she kept calm and kept to the point, "What am I not seeing?"

"You're in danger, Clarke?"

"Of what?"

"This is pointless, you just won't see reason."

"I am still waiting to hear just what it is you are concerned about? You assume Lexa is this manipulative, controlling person. You seem to think that I am this mindless drone. The only blueprint for that dynamic is our own relationship, Mom, where the great harm that has occurred to me has been by your choices." And here it is. Forever Clarke had been dancing around this issue, reluctant to articulate the exact problem because she didn't want to hurt Abby but she could not keep getting hurt herself in the meantime. It needed to be said.

"It was you who reported Dad. Because of you he and I were arrested, because of you he was floated and I spent a year in sol con. Because of the choices of your Council I was sent to Earth on a suicide mission. You are the one who has caused me harm, and now you position yourself as my great protector, the one who knows what's best for me? Surely you can see why I resist?"

Abby knew it, she knew that these accusations lay at the heart of the issues between her and Clarke. She also blamed herself but it had been for the best. Hadn't it? It suddenly occurred to Abby, for the first time, that it hadn't been best for Clarke. Perhaps she was wrong? She had been so loudly protesting her innocence, her commitment to the greater good, to herself and everyone one else within range, that she had never really stopped to consider the alternative. That she had been mistaken?

What use was the greater good if people were arrested, floated, imprisoned in solitary confinement, sent to Earth on, oh god, Clarke was right! It had been a suicide mission. She had been chosen because she was expendable, not for the greater good, that was just a charade. The truth was painful. She felt dazed. But before she could complete her thought or catch her breath, Clarke had pushed on. Abby tried to focus, to hear the words.

"Look around you, Mom. Lexa is well loved by her people, well respected by the clan leaders, she is working for peace. Skaikru is in the best position it could be in because of her generosity, you have peace and trade. And I can't convey to you how much it galls me to have to defend her to you, of all people, but I can assure you that one of us is seriously in error regarding Lexa's character and it just may not be me."

Abby was silent, she could hardly keep up with the new details Clarke was raising because she was finally listening, finally comprehending the deeper truth. She had been hell bent on infantilising Clarke, protecting her, not because of her current situation, but because of the past. The snowball effect of repercussions caused by Abby when she reported on Jake, and she had felt powerless to stop the unfolding chain of events. And in trying to undo them, actually everything she did, was doing, was compounding them. Oh my god. Clarke is right, Abby thought, maybe not about Lexa, but about everything else.

"This whole mother/daughter dynamic you keep invoking is meaningless to me, it's a fantasy that doesn't exist. The only way that we can have a relationship in the future is for you to open your eyes and ears to who I am, to what I am saying, not what you imagine is going on. I won't be disregarded or disrespected any longer and I won't have my partner assumed to be anything but the kind, loving and generous person that she is."

Clarke had hit her stride. Finally she was saying all of the things she had held back and even better she was saying them logically and calmly. No hysterical outbursts, no undermining displays of emotion. "I may be your child, but I am also a person, an independent, autonomous adult and you need to accept that."

"But that's just it, Clarke, you are not even of age -" Abby heard herself one moment too late, could have kicked herself, her mouth was still flapping, she was still reacting to this loop of a conversation.

"On the Ark, perhaps, but we are on the ground now. I came of age when the Council put me on that Drop ship, the fact that I am even alive is a miracle. That I even associate with the Ark and the Council here on Earth is insanity, evidence of my own humanity. It's a luxury you and the others are not entitled to, I owe you nothing after the way you all have treated me and the 100, and the way you all continue to behave. I am through explaining myself and justifying myself to you and anybody else. Write to me when you can move forward on my terms, Mom, I wish you well."

Clarke moved past her mother, opened one side of her chamber door and moved through it, leaving it open. Rather than taking the elevator she turned and slipped into the stairwell and began hurrying down the hundreds of steps to the freedom and anonymity of the city. She focussed on getting her feet and legs into a rhythm of the stairs, there were hundreds of them after all and Clarke wanted to exit the building as soon as possible.

She was sucking in the oxygen as she pushed herself to keep up the keen pace she had started with, for some reason slowing down had become a rule not to be broken, not that she had ever taken the stairs before. Feeling the heat, Clarke took off her valuable coat and dropped it on a step, only the guards used these stairs, as a rule, someone would recognise it and bring it up for her, if not, she would retrieve it later.

She pulled her hair back tightly and pulled her scarf up to cover her hair and face. Clarke could feel a swell of emotion welling up within her and knowing full well she was never going to be able to escape it, she wanted to escape everyone else before it hit. Avoiding her thoughts and feelings, Clarke concentrated on the endless number of steps she still had to tread and imagined herself hitting the ground floor and being absorbed, incognito, into the crowds of the marketplace.

Abby would still likely be collecting herself in Clarke's quarters, Lexa would be on the same floor waiting for the guard to signal when Abby had left so that she could return to comfort Clarke. She hated to dash out on Lexa like that, but she really did need to get away, to get some distance. That whole conversation was overwhelming, actually and symbolically.

She had no idea what floor she might have been on or how many left to go but she knew that when the steps began to show evidence of a thin film of a sandy coating she was getting close. Dust from the constant movement of wind, people, animals and products swelled up the ancient stone stairwell, the thin film became thicker the closer to ground level and bits of rubbish, leaves, dust and other debris clogged up the corners.

It was a relief to Clarke to finally see it and as she hit the final step she ducked her head and allowed herself to get sucked into the crowds and swept along with their momentum. She would really like to go to the stables for her horse and take off but she knew that Lexa would look for her there. She felt terrible, Lexa would not worry immediately but she would worry. Clarke's emotions were starting to claw their way out of her gut into her chest, up into her throat and she needed to get away before they came howling, screaming out of her mouth.

Abby will eventually leave Clarke's rooms, if she hasn't already, the guard will signal, Lexa will seek her, the guard will point to the stairs. Oh God. Now her thoughts were chasing her just as surely as her emotions are and Lexa will. Clarke just had to get away. She began ducking and weaving between stalls, using the back streets, making her way toward the city gates, she was dodging because she didn't know for sure but there may be a guard or a warrior assigned to her, often there was but not always.

Clarke knew that her disguise was not so complete as to conceal her identity passing through the city gates, she would be recognised and her movements reported back to Heda at once. At least this semi pretence of escaping the city was somewhat tricking her mind and delaying her emotional response. She saw a pair of horses being attached to a wagon and approached the driver, putting some coins in his hand, she hopped into the back and waited for him to indicate when they were beyond the city gates. It was a common enough practice for drivers to make extra money, he gave her the once over and checked his palm and decided to make a move before he lost his opportunity.

Only one mile or so beyond the gates Clarke rolled out of the back of the moving cart and made a beeline for the trees, she headed back toward the city rather than away from it, hoping to trick a tracker who might assume she was taking off rather than buying time. She looked for somewhere to hide and opted for climbing a big tree, not so very high up, just out of eyesight if someone was scanning the area. Clarke began to settle herself against the trunk and as the drama of running away, escaping the city and finding a hideyhole began to recede her emotions came rolling in.

She let the tears come but tried to moderate the actual crying, she didn't want to make noise and draw anyone's attention. The thoughts to come creeping back in, the new ones, the old ones, the painful ones and ones she feared would rip her apart if she didn't repress them. She felt the strands of her emotions lapping constantly at her ankles like the waves she had only seen in old films. One after the other, each one a different source of upset.

Her father, she missed him terribly. She hadn't seen him get floated, thank god, that would have been horrific but she wonders whether he would have liked hers to be one of the last faces he had seen.

Her trial and subsequent sentencing to solitary confinement which would last until she was of age and then she would face trial and if found guilty, she would also be floated. In actuality, Clarke had only served twelve months, that had left her with some emotional scars, no doubt and then she was sent to Earth.

The trauma of being strapped into the dropship was something she will never forget, the fear, the bone aching dread of her own imminent death by surface impact.

The brutal reality of life on earth, just how unprepared for survival on the ground they were. The 100 had more or less turned into savages upon the opening of the hatch. How difficult it was for her to convince them to go to Mount Weather how they aggressively resisted her, threatened her, calling her Princess.

The internal skirmishes, then the external ones against the grounders and Clarke having burned three hundred warriors alive. The Tondc massacre and Mount Weather.

When her mother had said she had changed Clarke had wanted to laugh - some crazy, hysterical cackle, Abby didn't know the half of it. Clarke struggled to breathe against the surging tide of emotion, it was hot and bitter rising up into the throat, straining painfully against the muscles working to restraining it.

The grief, the rage, the injustice determined to defy her, demanding release until they burst from her in a strangled cry, half scream-half sob. She leaned forward and pounded her fists repeatedly on the thick branch her legs were coiled around, hoping to find more silent ways to express her emotions. She punched until her knuckles split and bled and she cried until she was out of tears, her thoughts which had swelled with intensity around and around with rapid repetition now began to ease and other thoughts crept in. Lexa.

She woke up with a start and was chilled, she surely could not have been asleep very long, she tried to gauge the position of the sun and thought it to be late afternoon. Perhaps she had been here for a couple of hours? Hard to tell. Clarke looked at her position in the tree, getting up in high emotion was one thing but getting down with thoughts of self preservation was quite another.

As she leaned forward, her hands tried to steady her body on the branch and she was reminded of the pain in her fingers and hands. Her knuckles were bruised and swollen knots, with dried blood congealed in the cracks and her hands would be less useful than they would otherwise be in the getting down again. Despite her training, Clarke was not the most physical of beings, not by a long shot and the tree she had picked was an easy one for a child of any age to scamper up and down. Part of her knew this to be true, so she shrugged and made a move.

It took longer than it probably should have but Clarke had had enough self punishment for one day and paid no heed to her thoughts of would have, should have and could have. She was dangling by her pained hands from the lowest branch, her feet stretched to the ground, she was going to have to let go at some point. It was a contest between the current pain in her hands and fingers or the anticipated pain in her feet when she hit the ground, and then she felt it. She knew immediately what it was without looking down and she released her fingers with complete faith and Lexa who had touched her ankle, caught her before she could hit the ground.

Of course she did. Lexa was always catching her. Well, to be fair they were always catching each other. Lexa caught her around her middle and placed her on the ground and moved back. She had known Clarke wanted space and although she had been nearby for a couple of hours, waiting, she didn't approach until she thought Clarke would appreciate a hand - well she had been hanging in mid air for over a minute, so it was a reasonable assumption.

Lexa wasn't sure if Clarke had completely finished processing yet or not. If not she would likely be cross that Lexa had entered her space, if she had she would be more than ready to see her, Lexa looked up into those beautiful sky blue eyes to see if she could read her. No need, Clarke threw her arms around Lexa's shoulders and began crying all over again, Lexa held her tightly, "I am sorry," she cried, "Shhh, Clarke, it's ok, you're ok," Lexa soothed, combing her fingers through her hair and rubbing her back.

"I want to go home," Clarke said finally and Lexa nodded, she took her hand to lead her and she felt the rough skin there and lifted it to look, she made a soft noise and kissed the knuckles. As they passed by a large stone, Lexa bent and picked up Clarke's coat and held it open for her. Clarke couldn't help but laugh, of course, Lexa would have followed her down the stairs, and not finding her immediately had all available guards scouring the city for her. It wouldn't have surprised Clarke at all if Lexa had watched her climb into the cart and then watched her struggle to get up into that tree.

Later as Clarke lay back in Lexa's arms in the bathtub she was amused to realise that she had insisted that her mother treat her as an adult and then had proceeded to act like a child, running away, climbing a tree and punching away like that. She was going to chalk that one up to growing pains.

She further reflected Abby's insinuation that Lexa was manipulative and controlling. The very idea was as far from Lexa's character as could be. Lexa was so loving of Clarke, so adoring, so ready to meet her every need and desire. She was kind, thoughtful and generous. She was clever, strong, determined and would suffer no fools.

Clarke had seen her struggle to control her temper, battle herself and opposition to hold onto the right course of action. She had killed people, Gustus for example, but not out of temper or greed but out of a desire for justice. She wasn't perfect but she was good.

Lexa loves Clarke, with a gentle ferocity, she was steady, constant and faithful. And Clarke loves Lexa, with a wild abandon, she is hilarious, inconsistent, unrealistic and reactive. But somehow they met in the middle, their ends bleeding into each other, fusing them together, tempering them with each other's love and acceptance. Where they were was understanding, friendship and joy. And there was attraction, a heated wanting and need of each other.

Clarke felt that now. She turned back to Lexa and whispered, "take me to bed?" Lexa only nodded. She dropped a kiss on Clarke's temple, stood and climbed out of the bath and fetched a towel for each of them and one for Clarke's thick long blonde hair.

Some nights were like this, not many, but some, quiet, sombre but full of love and care, if Clarke had a particularly difficult medical situation that was playing on her mind or when Lexa was brooding over some complex political scenario. Whoever was not having the issue was generally the big spoon in the bathtub, the towel getter, the wine pourer and love maker.

Many other nights were either sexualy charged, or excessively chatty or even singularly hilarious. Lexa's mirth was less obvious than Clarke's, who would easily throw her head back and roar with laughter. Lexa was more restrained but on those occasions when a big belly laugh grabbed her and wouldn't let go, Clarke always loved those moments especially, they were so precious, revealing a side of Lexa that was rarely on display even at home. It was partly her training from a young age to always be so controlled and it was partly Lexa's personality, her humour was usually more dry and given to a wry grin than frivolous hilarity.

But tonight was a quiet night, not difficult or unpleasant, it was just a process that would pass, they had both been through enough to know that, and been through enough together to understand. Lexa dried off quickly, her hair was braided and hadn't required washing, so she turned and dried Clarke's back and sat in the chair. When Clarke was ready she sat on the footstool and Lexa dried and brushed her hair by the fire, kissing her shoulders until she noticed the blonde begin to shiver, then she took her hand and led her to their bed.