Dinner

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Abby felt as though she had been transported back hundreds of years when she received the message, black ink pressed into weathered, dried hide.

"If she thinks I'm just going to come at her beck and call-"

A chuckle and scruffy, black beard against her lips silenced her. When Kane pulled away, he had her face cradled in one of his large, calloused hands.

"She's your daughter, Abby. You don't have to like her decision to stay in Polis, but she's your daughter. Don't make this a decision your regret later on."

Abby's jaw worked tirelessly as she tried to hear the rationale in Marcus's words. After a moment she sighed and shrugged away from his hand on her face. "I just-a formal invite? Is that really necessary?"

Marcus shrugged. He, unlike Abby, found the formalities of the grounder culture charming and nostalgic. "It's a dinner with the commander. Of course it's going to be formal."

"Not with, Marcus. For. We are being invited to a dinner forthe commander."

"If my Trigadeslang is not a complete disaster, I believe it says you have been invited. Not we."

Abby threw up her arms, and paced around the medical bay. "That's the other thing. Why use Trigadeslang? She knew it was coming to me. What point is she trying to prove? Is her moving to live there not good enough? She has to make it a point to rub it in as well?"

Marcus brought a hand to Abby's arm, stilling the doctor in her tracks. "Abby," he soothed, "she's only trying to assimilate. You and I both know she wasn't happy here. Be glad that she has found some peace."

Abby softened. Of course she was glad that her daughter had found peace. Of course she was glad that she no longer had to wake up to the sounds of Clarke screaming from her nightmares across the hall. The amount of times she had seen her daughter without being covered in cuts and bruises combined with the number of times she had seen a smile on her face could be counted on one hand. It pained her deeply to know how much Clarke had suffered nonstop from the moment she crash landed on the ground with the other hundred.

But, as much as she may want to deny it, it hurt that Clarke had to leave to find her peace. It hurt that she left just weeks after Pike was assassinated and unity was restored to Arkadia. It hurt that just when she thought the world was giving her another chance to connect with her daughter, she departed early one morning and never returned. They had their fleeting talks when Abby and other members of Skaikru visited Polis to trade, but Clarke made it very obvious that she was not interested, or maybe not ready, for any kind of in-depth relationships with her people. Her formerpeople. Abby almost groaned in frustration.

Soft ministrations on her back brought her out of her thoughts and she was greeted by Kane's warm, brown eyes. "You have to go, Abby," he said quietly. "If not for Lexa, then for Clarke. Clearly this dinner means something to her."

Abby nodded knowing that he was right and knowing that she could ignore the feeling in her chest that had lodged itself there the day Clarke left all she wanted, but it would never truly go away- she missed Clarke and she wanted to reconnect.

"Ok," she relented, quietly. "But you're coming with me. End of discussion."

Clarke was almost in pain with the delicious way Lexa's thigh felt between her legs. She burned and ached and her core throbbed so violently she thought that she might be close to passing out. And when Lexa's strong hands gripped her hips and took control of the rhythm, quickening it with lustful abandon, it was everything Clarke could do to stay present.

"Look at me, Clarke." Lexa's voice was heady and breathy, and it sent chills down Clarke's spine. She moaned against it and Lexa's green eyes flashed with something dangerous yet somehow tender. Something akin to undying devotion and utter desire.

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