Work Text:
Clarke is entirely surprised when she finds Murphy chained and strapped to a chair, a gag placed in his mouth, blood trickling down the sides of his face and body. It becomes very apparent very quickly that he's been here for a while, that he's been tortured here for a while.
"Oh my god," she whispers, rushing over to him. "Murphy?" He looks up at her, his eyes tired. "What did they do to you?" Clarke frantically goes to untie his hands, pulling the gag out of his mouth a second later. He takes a shuddering breath, his eyes narrowed furiously. He barely even winces when Clarke starts to remove the shackles from his ankles, just snarling out in pain. "How did you get here?"
"Please, back away from your friend," Clarke stiffens when she hears Titus' voice, turning to face the man, her heart hammering in her chest. "He was caught stealing from the people of Polis on their return here," he says, his face blank, nearly emotionless. Clarke wishes that Lexa were here right now. Titus has made his dislike and distaste for her entirely open, and Clarke doesn't feel safe around him in the slightest. She starts to move, her breath hitching in her throat when she hears a gun click. "Please don't do that."
"Titus," Clarke breathes out, standing up. She holds up her hands, slowing starting to back away. "Titus, what are you doing?"
Titus stares at her, his face still emotionless, still. "I am sorry that it had to come to this, Clarke. Lexa will never execute her duty with you around."
"Listen, she's going to know it was you," Clarke tells him. "Octavia is coming for me now, okay? Just, just let me take Murphy and we'll go. Lexa will know it was you," she whispers, the idea of Lexa finding her dead body more horrifying than the thought of dying itself. "Titus, please. Please, don't do this. You don't have to do this." Clarke pleads, her voice coming out far more desperate than she would like it to. She's always been afraid of dying, she thinks that most people are afraid of dying. But she's terrified now, knowing that Lexa would have to go through that pain again. She doesn't want to die, not after she's fallen in love.
"She'll think it was him!" Titus snaps at her, his breathing laboured. "Skaikru weapon in hand...Lexa will never know," he sneers at her, and Clarke watches as his erratic hand movements waver, realising that he's about to shoot. Clarke all but throws herself to the ground, the sound of the gun firing echoing in her ears. "She might even be angry enough to declare war!" He shouts, and Clarke ducks again as he shoots again.
She scrambles to the side, racing to the opposite end of the room, a vase shattering directly by her side. Another shot goes off, and Clarke grabs a chair, throwing it at him. She catches a glimpse of Murphy, directly charging him, and there's another shot fired, though it's muffled by the sound of flesh.
A gasp.
Lexa.
"No!" Clarke screams, her entire world folding in on itself, shattering, all within a single second. She watches as Lexa's hand rises to her stomach, watches as her eyes widen. She's barely fast enough to catch her as she falls, holding Lexa so close to her chest that Clarke can barely breathe. "Oh my god, no, no, no," she whispers, her hands shaking. She presses them against Lexa's hand, against her stomach, black blood pooling out from behind her fingers. "Lexa, no," Clarke feels tears in her eyes, feels her heart pounding in her chest, her head spinning. "No, no, no, please...please..."
There's a gurgling sound, though it doesn't sound sudden. Clarke looks up, just in time to see Titus fall to the ground, face first. Blood pools out all around him, and Murphy is left standing there, a knife gripped tightly in his hand, his chest heaving. His eyes are huge, and as soon as he meets Clarke's, he's scrambling over to her. "We need to get her onto the bed," she gasps, sliding her hands and arms underneath of Lexa, carrying her to the bed with Murphy's help. "I need, I need something to stop the bleeding."
Murphy nods at her, moving faster than she's ever seen her move before. "Don't be afraid," Lexa whispers, her breathing coming out laboured, short. "Clarke, it's okay. It's okay. Death is not the end."
"This isn't your end," Clarke whispers, shaking her head. She turns when she feels something bump against her back, seeing Murphy there with a bowl, a wet rag in it. "Thank you," she turns back to face Lexa, pressing it against her stomach. "You're okay, you'll be okay. Just stay still, okay? Stay still, you're not dying. You're not dying, you're not. Murphy, I need, I need something to," Clarke pauses, a sob ripping itself from her throat, unable to stop herself. "A needle, thread, I don't know. I need something. Please."
She knows she's not making sense, she knows, but she doesn't know what to do, she doesn't know what to say, how to act. "Okay," Murphy whispers back at her, disappearing again. Clarke rips open Lexa's shirt, tossing it to the side. She grabs the rag, pressing it against Lexa's stomach, watching as the blood pooling out of her slowly stops trickling past the rag. "Clarke. Is this something you can use?" Murphy asks, holding up a needle, some thread, and a pair of forceps, or at least something that looks like forceps.
"Yeah," she nods, swallowing. "Yeah, yeah, bring them here," Clarke whispers, watching as he sets them down next to the rag, lingering there. "Lexa, listen to me. You're not going to die," she tells her. "You're gonna be okay, love, you're gonna be okay."
"Get," Lexa gasps, closing her eyes for a second. "Titus should have, he should have a..." she trails off, wincing. "It'll be a small box. Get that."
Clarke doesn't have to even look and see if Murphy is going to do that, knowing very well that he is. "Don't give up, Heda," she whispers. "Please."
"I'm not," Lexa tells her, a soft smile on her lips, even despite the fact that she's been fucking shot. "I'm not, Clarke. I'm not," she whispers. "I love you."
Clarke sobs, her chest tightening so hard that she can't breathe. "I love you," she barely manages to get the words out, putting more pressure on Lexa's injury. "I love you. You're gonna be okay. I'm not letting you die." She gently lifts up the rag, studying the wound. The bullet didn't go through Lexa's stomach, it's still in there. Clarke doesn't think that she'll be able to get the bullet out of her without making Lexa pass out, and if she passes out, Clarke is convinced she won't wake back up. But the bullet wound isn't as deep as it had originally seemed. Clarke thinks that she can live, she has to, she has to.
"What can I do?" Murphy asks, staring at Clarke, his eyes full of worry. "Is she gonna be okay?"
"She has to be," Clarke tells him, swallowing. "Just, just...get her some water," Clarke tells him. "Get her some water," Murphy nods, disappearing once again. "Lexa, I'm so sorry," she whispers. "I'm so sorry. I never meant for this to happen."
"It's not your, your fault, Clarke," Lexa breathes out, her hand gently settling onto Clarke's. Clarke nods, sniffling, keeping pressure on the wound. She needs to wrap her wound, she needs some sort of dressing. "Clarke," Lexa says, and Clarke immediately shifts all of her focus onto the woman, onto her lover, watching her carefully. "I love you."
"I love you," Clarke whispers back to her, her voice shaking. "Lexa, I need to wrap your wound. You need to stay with me."
"I will," Lexa promises. "I will. My fight is not over," she whispers, her eyes shining. "Not while you're still here."
Murphy comes back with a bowl of water, setting it down on the wooden nightstand by the bed. "Murphy, I need you to clean her wound," Clarke tells him. "Just, just use that other rag. Get it wet, clean the area around it. It's still going to bleed, but try to get it clean enough so that I can see her skin," Clarke says, feeling a sense of calm wash over her. She's done this before. She's saved lives before. She's going to save Lexa's life. "Lexa, keep your breathing steady. Stay with me, Commander."
"Got it," Murphy nods, and as soon as Clarke releases pressure on the rag, Murphy is there, dabbing the second rag into the bowl of water, wiping away Lexa's blood. "The Grounders, back at that prison camp," Murphy starts, "they used this sort of, it was like a paste," he explains, rushing out the words. "They'd put it on all of my opens wounds and they'd close up. Do you know what that was?" Clarke realises that he isn't talking to her, but rather Lexa.
"It sounds like that lake seaweed," Clarke murmurs. "Lincoln kept a coagulant with him, I used it on Raven once."
"Check Titus' box," Lexa hisses out, wincing. "There may be shops, the people of Polis," she heaves a gasping breath, "they might have something, something similar." Clarke nods, not wanting either one of them to go out and see. Clarke can't leave Lexa's side, and Murphy is covered in blood and open wounds. She needs to save Lexa's life now with what she has. She can go out and hunt for an apothecary later, when Lexa is stable.
"We'll get to that," Clarke says, scanning the room for any sort of gauze, anything that she could use to wrap Lexa's wound. She decides on the sheets that got pushed to the floor in favour of Lexa, picking them up. She grabs her knife out of her belt, cutting pieces of them apart, moving to stand back over Lexa. "Murphy, I need you to hold her up for a second," she says, staring into Lexa's eyes, trying to convey how sorry she is. "You're gonna be okay."
"Of course I am," Lexa gives her another soft smile. "I have you."
Clarke smiles back at her, sniffling again. "Okay. In three, two, one..." Murphy hoists Lexa up, just a little bit, and it's enough for Clarke to shove the sheet underneath of her, pulling it tightly around Lexa's sides, practically squeezing her ribs together with how tight she has it wrapped around her. She tries her best to block out Lexa's cries of pain, trying so hard to focus on her work, on keeping her hands steady. "Okay, okay, there we go," she whispers, tying off the sheet wrapped around Lexa. "There you go, the hard part's over, you're okay," she murmurs, glancing around the room again. She grabs another part of the sheet she had cut, wrapping it through the other sheet, putting even more pressure on Lexa's wound. "You're okay."
She stares at the sheets, her heart pounding so loud in her ears that she can barely hear anything else.
No black blood seeps through the sheets. There's a bloodstain directly in front of the wound, but it isn't pouring blood like it had been.
Clarke practically bursts into tears on the spot, her hands trembling. She feels another set of hands on her shoulders, practically crashing into Murphy, wrapping her arms around him, sobbing against his chest. Lexa is okay. She's okay, she's not going to bleed out. She has to figure out an actual, long-term solution, but this is good enough for right now. This is good enough. Murphy holds her for a while, hugging her back, but eventually he pulls away.
"You want me to go search the market?" Murphy asks. "I'm sure I can find something."
"No, your wounds..."
"Clarke," Murphy laughs, shaking his head. "I'm fine. I didn't get shot. She did. I think she's worse off than I am. I can figure something out," he waves a hand, wandering over to Titus' body. "What the hell do we do with him?"
"Lexa?" Clarke looks over to the woman, who glances towards Titus' body. "Titus is dead."
"A shame," Lexa mutters, her face screwing up in pain. "Leave him, for now. His death will not be, will not be taken kindly," she whispers. "There are kind people in Polis," Lexa says, her voice shaking a little. "If you ask for medicine, they may give it to you for free. Especially in your condition."
Murphy nods, and Clarke watches as he picks up his shirt off of the ground, pulling it over his head. "I'll be back with something," he pauses, blinking a few times. "Commander." Lexa laughs, her eyes sparkling with both pain and humour. Murphy ducks his head, disappearing a second later, after he picks up the gun that Titus had used to try and kill Clarke, the gun he had used to shoot Lexa with.
"How are you feeling?" Clarke asks as soon as he's gone, sitting down on the edge of the bed with her. "You're not losing as much blood, if any. I think that Nightblood has some sort of healing property."
"Perhaps," Lexa smiles up at her. "I feel okay," she says, closing her eyes. "Can we talk about something else?"
"We don't have to talk at all," Clarke murmurs, repeating her words from only a few hours ago. Lexa opens her eyes, her smile growing wider. Clarke smiles back at her, gently leaning down to press a soft kiss to Lexa's lips. "I'm staying. I'll tell Octavia that I can't come back," Clarke murmurs, pausing. "Sorry. I love you."
The words are freeing. It felt nearly impossible to say them beforehand, some weird form of anxiety surrounding them. But after nearly losing Lexa, there's no way in hell that Clarke could ever keep those words to herself. Lexa reaches out, her hand resting against Clarke's cheek, and she can't help but close her eyes, leaning into the touch. "I love you, Clarke kom Skaikru. Kiss me again."
Clarke laughs, feeling herself start to cry. She leans down, kissing Lexa over and over and over and over again, the rest of the world around them fading out, becoming obsolete.
Lexa is dying.
That much is apparent very early on.
Clarke could stop the bleeding, she could stitch up the wound, but there's too much internal damage. Without access to any tools like what they had on the Ark, there's no way that she could save Lexa's life.
She just can't. The tools that she needs, she doesn't have.
Lexa is dying, and there is nothing that Clarke can do to stop it from happening.
Clarke has made her as comfortable as she possibly can. She's spent every single waking moment with her, she's slept by her side, kept her warm, kept her comfortable. Clarke really hasn't been anywhere that Lexa hasn't been, refusing to leave her lover's side. Murphy has been more than willing to help, and with Lexa's aid, they've figured out a relatively rudimentary plan for what they need to do after she passes. Titus was mentoring another Flamekeeper, Gaia. Murphy managed to track her down, and she's been informed of Lexa's situation. There's a ceremony for removing the Flame, Clarke has found out, and Gaia knows how to do it. Ontari has thankfully been absent, though Clarke has been incredibly worried about her showing up.
For now, things are at ease. As much as they can be.
Clarke traces Lexa's arm, ghosting her fingers softly against the woman's skin. She smiles when Lexa shifts a little, rolling over to face her. Her mobility has remained intact, though it's obvious that moving hurts. "Hi," Lexa whispers, smiling. Clarke smiles even more, studying her face, watching her eyes, her lips. She's beautiful. She's so, so beautiful. "You're quiet today."
"I'm just looking at you, Lexa," Clarke teases, moving forwards, pressing her body softly against Lexa's. She's careful to avoid the bullet wound, careful to not jostle her too much. She just wants to be close to her, as close as she possibly can be. "You're pretty," Clarke whispers against Lexa's lips before she kisses her, closing her eyes, bringing her hand up to cup the back of Lexa's head. "I love you."
"I love you," Lexa murmurs, nuzzling closer to Clarke. Her voice is still strong, and neither of them are saying anything that Clarke knows they're both thinking. Clarke thought that Lexa would be fine after she had stopped the bleeding, after she had managed to save her. Lexa dying without Clarke being able to do anything about it would have been horrible, it would have probably killed her. But Lexa dying slowly, the both of them being so aware, it's awful in a different sort of way. "Clarke."
"Lexa," she says, a lump forming in her throat. Clarke feels like she's going to cry. She's tried so hard to focus all of her attention and energy on the now, on just being with Lexa. She's tried so hard to forget that Lexa is going to die. It hasn't been working that well. "Do you want to do anything today?"
Lexa hums, pressing her head against Clarke's chest. "I'd like to lay here with you."
"Okay," Clarke laughs, her arms wrapping around the woman, her fingers automatically going to run up and down Lexa's spine, inadvertently tracing her tattoo. "We can do that," she murmurs, kissing the top of Lexa's head, closing her eyes. "When we were on the Ark," Clarke starts to talk, wanting to fill the silence. She's worried that if she doesn't, if it's silent for too long, Lexa will die. It's ridiculous and makes no sense, but she can't convince herself otherwise. "We had this Earth Skills class. I think that all of it ended up being pretty much wrong," Lexa laughs at that, a warm sound that Clarke treasures. "Some of it was right. Not most of it."
"What did they teach you?" Lexa asks, tilting her head up, peering up at Clarke. Clarke smiles right back down at her, moving her hand to play with Lexa's hair, smiling even harder when Lexa's eyes flutter shut, as Lexa leans into her hand. "Clarke..." Lexa murmurs, sounding breathless. "Mm."
"They mostly taught us about plants," Clarke says softly, warmth pooling in her chest, surrounding her. "About animals," she continues, her voice low. "I didn't get to be there for the most part. My father, when he was floated," she swallows, pausing for a second. "They locked me up, too. I don't know if my mom told them to or not," she says. "I spent a lot of my time in a cell in the Skyblock, away from everyone else. But I read a lot, too. Earth is so much prettier than I could have ever imagined."
Lexa hums again, shifting closer to her. "It sounds like your way of dealing with things was inefficient," Lexa murmurs. "What good did that do? Locking you up? You were young."
"Not that young," Clarke muses. "Not younger than you when you became Commander."
"Clarke," Lexa laughs. "That's not saying much. I was thirteen when I became Commander."
"Oh," Clarke frowns. "They gave that much responsibility to a child?"
Lexa peers up at her again. "Titus mostly ruled. I was only there to say yes," she explains. "How old were you when your people locked you away? Surely you weren't that much of a threat when you were in the sky."
"I wasn't," Clarke laughs, rolling her eyes. "I was seventeen. I was about to turn eighteen before they sent us to the ground," Clarke tells her. "I can't believe you were so young when your Conclave happened."
"Nightblood children are typically found when they're young," Lexa explains. "There are scouts. I was not the youngest. Why did you stop?" Clarke frowns, then laughs when she realises that Lexa means her hand. She continues to play with Lexa's hair, only able to smile when the woman practically seems to melt into the touch. "You're so impressive," Lexa murmurs, sounding sleepy. "You've stunned me more than anyone in the world. You're special, Clarke, so special."
"Lexa," Clarke sighs, happiness settling in her chest. "You're the impressive one. You led your people when you were a child. You're kind," Clarke murmurs, kissing the top of Lexa's head again. "You're sweet. Gentle. You're smart," she continues. "And your legacy is going to be beautiful."
"I thought it was going to be peace," Lexa teases her, and Clarke can't help but grin down at the woman, kissing her again. "I'm happy that I have you, Clarke."
"You always will," Clarke whispers, holding Lexa tightly. "I promise."
They spend the rest of the day in bed, kissing and talking and holding each other, and it's almost enough to make Clarke forget that Lexa is dying.
Almost.
Lexa dies five days after she was shot.
It's a peaceful death. Clarke was with her, and Lexa was awake. It was in the morning. They spent her last moments together. She was comfortable, happy, warm. She knew she was going to die that day. They both did, it seemed.
Clarke feels anything but peace.
In the moments after Lexa's passing, Clarke had screamed. She screamed until her throat was raw, until she couldn't scream or talk, until she was sobbing in the bed where she had last held Lexa, curled up where Lexa's body should have been. She cried and sobbed for hours, shaking so hard that she nearly passed out. But sleep was never going to come for her, that much she was aware of.
At some point, Murphy joins her. He had handled Lexa's death, though Clarke had watched Gaia remove the Flame from her lover's neck, settling it in that tin box that Titus had had. Apart from that, Murphy was the one figuring things out. He talked with Lexa frequently, and was being prepared to pose as a Flamekeeper, just in case. He was in charge of the aftermath — Clarke was in charge of keeping Lexa warm.
Clarke barely processes his presence, not ignoring him on purpose, but not acknowledging him.
"Everything has been figured out," Murphy says from where he's sat on the bed, his voice soft. "Gaia will make the announcement later."
Clarke just nods, entirely unable to say anything else.
She feels Murphy's hand tentatively placed on her shoulder, and sobs even harder.
"I loved her," Clarke sobs, nearly choking on her own tears. "I loved her, Murphy."
"I know," Murphy whispers back to her, and he doesn't even flinch when Clarke rolls over, hugging him, sobbing against his chest. "I know. I'm sorry, Clarke. I'm sorry," he says, and Clarke believes that he honestly is. "She loved you, too."
"I miss her," Clarke whispers, her voice shaking. "I don't know what to do without her."
"Live," Murphy suggests, still holding her. "It's what she would have wanted. I don't think it'll get easier," he says. "I doubt it will. I don't think things like this ever get easier. But it'll heal. It'll get easier to deal with, at least. You'll get better at it. Everything involving the after is taken care of," Murphy tells her. "You don't need to jump right back in just yet. Take the day off, Clarke. Should I stay?"
"Please," Clarke sniffles. "Stay."
"Okay."
Clarke sobs against his chest for hours, crying about Lexa, grieving all their time that no longer exists. She grieves her future with Lexa, grieves the fact that she'll never hear Lexa speak or laugh again. Grieves the fact that Lexa is gone, forever. That she's never coming back.
Clarke sobs, and Murphy never leaves her side. Not once.
It's enough.