Haunted By You

Chapter 15 No Matter Where You Come From

Clarke waited for Lincoln to throw the first punch. The had been circling each other for a while, neither ready to step up and attack first. Clarke wasn't ready for this, she knew it deep down. She wasn't a trained warrior like Lincoln was. She hadn't picked up a gun until she was on the ground, and now she couldn't even look at one. The Grounders where trained how to fight from the time they could walk, and attacking someone superior to you with a weapon was deemed brave, but Clarke had grown up inside metal walls with harsh laws.

She was too caught up in her mind to notice Lincoln stepping forward and throwing a punch. There was no time to react and suddenly his fist was slamming into her jaw. Blood pooled in her mouth as her head whipped to the side. She coughed and gagged, spitting out a mixture of blood and saliva into the sand. She retaliated with a kick to his stomach, which she was lucky to land. He grunted, but seemed virtually unaffected.

They broke apart to catch their breath before diving back at each other, each determined to win under the gaze of the Commander. Clarke managed to dodge Lincoln's next punch and threw her own. She watched his deep brown eyes widen slightly before he tilted his head back, throwing it forward and into her own.

Black spots danced in her vision and she stumbled back, refusing to fall to the ground. She tried to shake off the dizziness and threw a sloppy kick in his direction, which Lincoln blocked easily. She squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath, not opening them until she heard him laugh.

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Lincoln could tell that this wasn't just a fight to Clarke. He had ended up throwing the first punch, hoping to beat her quickly so they could go back to the city, but she wasn't giving up.  She had managed to land a swift kick to his gut, and he had to respect that for a smaller woman, she had a lot of power in her muscles.

The ground seemed to have hardened Clarke in similar ways that he had seen it harden Octavia. He found another opening and, hoping to once again take her down, slammed is forehead into hers. He noticed the commander wince from the corner of his eye and felt bad. She shouldn't have to see this. But Lincoln also wanted to understand why this fight seemed so different.

He watched as Clarke struggled to stay on her feet, closing her eyes to refocus. He looked over at Lexa and hoped she could see in his eyes how sorry he was for what he was about to do. He was finally starting to get an idea of what this fight was to Clarke. But he had to make sure.

He laughed, and watched her blue gaze seek his own, no less intense than at the beginning of their fight. "Is that all you have, Clarke?" He felt horrible saying this, but he needed to provoke her, make her reckless. So he continued, "I can see why the Sky People are so weak." His words seemed to have their desired effect and he watched as a new flame erupted in her eyes.

She ran towards him, and he had to admit, she fought hard for a few minutes. But Clarke's body was exhausted, and anger had taken away from her form. So it wasn't really that hard for Lincoln to land a series of punches and kicks that took her to the ground.

He kneeled over her, pining down her legs with his knees and her arms with his hands. He was surprised as she still fought him, trying desperately to break his hold, though it was futile. Lincoln could see the glint of tears in her eyes before she closed them, body going limp beneath him. She was accepting defeat.

"Clarke." He spoke softly, not wanting Lexa to hear as she walked over to them. "You have nothing to prove." She opened her eyes and a few tears escaped. "Yes. I do. I love her, Lincoln. But I am not one of you. I have everything to prove."

Lincoln sighed and helped her up, knowing he wouldn't win this argument. Lexa finally reached them and Clarke saw a mixture of pride and fear in her eyes. As soon as she was back on her feet, Lexa's arms were around her. Clarke grunted as Lexa squeezed her bruised body a little too tightly. Lexa jumped back, "Clarke! Are you alright? Did I hurt you?" She shook her head, "I'm fine, Lexa. Just a little sore."

Knowing she would be alright, Lexa began to scold her, holding her at an arms length, "What were you thinking! Clarke, that was completely reckless!" Clarke flinched at her tone, "Sorry."

Lexa sighed, softening again, "It's alright, Clarke. I'm not upset with you. I was worried. Lincoln has been a trained fighter since he could walk. You could have been severely injured, hodnes."

Clarke looked down at the ground, "I just wanted you to see how much i've improved." Kissing her forehead, Lexa chuckled, "Yes, well, next time maybe you could impress me without being at the other end of a sword, hmm?" Clarke nodded, glad that Lexa wasn't angry with her, "Okay."

Clarke's body was crashing, the adrenaline from the fight wearing off. Suddenly she could feel every cut, bruise, and sore muscle. She sagged and thankfully the young Brunette caught her before she could hit the ground. "Alright, Clarke. Let's go home."

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Lexa led Clarke back to their room. She immediately went to fill the tub with hot water. She chose an oil that would help the soreness in Clarke's muscles and another that would hopefully help her sleep, and added those once all the water was in.

Lexa unbuckled the sash she wore in public, draping it on a chair in the corner. She also removed her heavy coat, leaving her in light pants, boots, and a simple shirt. She waited a few minutes for Clarke to join her in the bathroom, but when there was no sign of the blonde, Lexa crossed back into the bedroom.

She found Clarke sitting on the edge of the bed with her head in her hands. She noticed Clarke's shoulder's shaking and knew the blonde was crying, something she didn't do often. Lexa quickly went to her side, worry etched into her expression.

When she reached her, Lexa kneeled down in front of her and placed her hands on Clarke's knees. "Clarke?" She received no response. Lexa gently pries Clarke's hands from her face and held them in her own, but Clarke still refused to meet her gaze.

"Ai hodnes, please. Look at me." Lexa pleaded. Finally, blue eyes looked up to meet green ones. Lexa frowned and her heart ached in her chest as she took in Clarke's red, puffy eyes and her tear stained cheeks. She reached up with one hand to wipe the tears away. "Tell me what is wrong, Klark."

Clarke sniffled, "I tried. I tried so hard to prove myself." More tears began to fall as she continued, "but I'm not good enough. I'm not one of you."Lexa shook her head, "You fought well, Clarke. You have nothing to prove to me or anyone else. And I do not wish for you to be Trikru. I want you to be you." Making sure to look in Clarke's eyes she finished, "You are mine, Klark kom Skaikru. No matter where you came from."

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Once Clarke's tears had dried, Lexa stood and spoke softly, "Come. I got a bath ready for you."

Lexa helped Clarke undress with gentle hands and offered her a steadying hand as she stepped into the water. Lexa smiled and laughed quietly when Clarke let out a loud moan when she was sitting fully in the hot water.

Coming to the side of the tub after grabbing a bar of lavender soap, Lexa began rolling up the long sleeves of her shirt when Clarke asked in a small voice, "Will you join me?"

As much as she wanted to, Lexa shook her head, "Let me take care of you." Clarke nodded and Lexa began to wash the sweat and dirt from the blonde's body, exposing the pale skin underneath.

"I though the Commander kneeled for no one?" Clarke asked after a while. Lexa paused her movements and met Clarke's curious gaze. "She does not. But I will always kneel before you, ai hodnes." Clarke blushed and smiled, "Come here."

Lexa smiled as Clarke kissed her. When they broke apart, Clarke whispered, "Ai hod yu in, Leksa." Smiling wider, Lexa kissed Clarke again, "I love you too, Clarke."