Chapter Text
The atmosphere in the dimly lit motel room felt suffocating, tension hanging like a heavy shroud as Clarke's eyes widened in horror at the gruesome scene unfolding before her. The man's body lay twisted at an unnatural angle, his neck exposed for a fleeting moment before Lexa stepped in, blocking the sight with her body.
He's dead—he has to be, Clarke thought miserably, unable to fully comprehend the realization.
"He'll be fine," Lexa said, her voice cold and detached, as though plucking the thought straight from Clarke's head. Without a hint of struggle, she grasped the man's collar and hauled him upright as if he weighed nothing. Clarke watched in stunned silence as his body seemed to twitch back to life. His limbs dangled lifelessly, but then he blinked - slow and unfocused - like someone fragging themselves out of a deep, dreamless slumber. The glazed expression in his eyes was haunting, like someone lost in a trance, moving in slow, disjointed motions, barely aware of his surroundings.
Lexa leaned in close, her lips almost brushing the man's ear as she whispered something too soft for Clarke to catch. Whatever she said had an instant effect—his eyes snapped open wider, and a shudder passed through him before he stiffly nodded in response.
With a careless shove, Lexa released him, and he stumbled backward, clumsily straightening his rumpled clothes with trembling hands. Clarke instinctively stepped aside as he staggered past, barely aware of her presence. He moved toward the door with an eerie calmness, like someone who had no memory of the nightmare he'd just survived, and disappeared into the night without so much as a backward glance.
"What the hell was that?" Clarke demanded, turning on Lexa the moment the door shut behind him. Her fear quickly gave way to a simmering fury. "I thought he was dead!"
Lexa didn't answer right away. She exhaled slowly, her expression unreadable, as if choosing her words with care. "I told you, I needed blood," she replied coolly, as if explaining something obvious. "He won't remember any of this. He won't remember us."
"Won't remember?" Clarke repeated in disbelief. "You don't just forget something like that!"
Lexa's eyes narrowed slightly. "You speak with such confidence about things you don't understand."
Clarke's frustration flared hotter, although this may have been a poor decision considering what she had just witnessed. "How am I supposed to understand anything if you refuse to tell me?"
It was a fair question, she thought. After all, she was running headlong into this chaos without any real sense of what she was fighting for.
"There are things you need to know," Lexa conceded, though her tone was distant, already focused elsewhere. "But right now, our priority is getting out of here. This place is compromised, and it won't be long before we're found."
Clarke stared in disbelief as the woman continued to behave as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. The predatory shine in her eyes may have dimmed, but there was no doubting the feral intensity with which she had been feeding from the stranger. She thought it best not to push her patience any further.
"I'm exhausted," Clarke admitted, her voice weaker as she hoped it might convince the woman of her sincerity. "We need to rest."
"We rest when it's safe."
"No," Clarke shot back, her resolve hardening. "We rest tonight and leave in the morning."
The silence that followed crackled with tension, neither willing to back down. Clarke's gaze was fierce, though exhaustion weighed heavily in her eyes. For a moment, Lexa seemed ready to argue, but she couldn't ignore the weariness etched across Clarke's face. Without another word, Lexa nodded sharply and perched on the stiff desk chair, managing to maintain her regal composure even on the uncomfortable seat.
Clarke's racing pulse had begun to slow but she felt an odd numbness at what had just occurred. Perhaps her tired mind was unable to process any more of this insanity. She ignored the detached state of mind and proceeded to toss a bundle of clothes toward Lexa with barely a glance, maintaining a noticeable distance with eyes carefully averted. "Take a shower and get changed," she said briskly.
Lexa's was tempted to offer some reassurance, to find the words that might soothe the turmoil clearly brewing within the woman. But she knew better—sometimes words did more harm than good. Clarke had just witnessed something that went for beyond her human existence, it was only expected that it would make her distrustful. Silently accepting the offering, Lexa noted the sorry state of her own clothes—torn, stained with dirt, and stiff with the remnants of the day's battle. A shower was long overdue.
Lexa stepped into the small, dimly lit bathroom, turning the tap until steaming hot water gushed into existence. She stripped off the ruined garments, letting them fall into a heap on the tiled floor before stepping into the shower. The water cascaded over her skin, and she closed her eyes, savoring the sensation as it washed away the dirt and blood that clung to her. The warmth eased the tightness in her muscles, the relentless ache that had burrowed deep into her body.
Meanwhile, in the other room, Clarke sat stiffly on the edge of the bed, hugging a pillow tightly against her chest. The steady hum of running water was a distant comfort, a grounding sound in the chaos that had become her reality. She buried her face into the pillow, stifling a frustrated sob that threatened to escape. For just a moment, she let herself unravel. It felt as though her life had been upended overnight, thrust into a terrifying world of monsters capable of unimaginable horrors.
A single thought gnawed relentlessly at her even as she tried to dispel them: she had seen a side to Lexa that she was not comfortable with and it was an ever lasting reminder that the human form in her company was far from what it appeared. The unnatural event made her stomach churn, the memory replaying in her mind until she couldn't bear to close her eyes for fear of seeing it again. She was intent to stay alert, especially after what she had just witnessed but exhaustion was merciless. Her body, worn thin by fear and adrenaline, refused to hold out any longer. Despite her intentions, Clarke felt herself slipping into sleep, unable to fight the pull of weariness any longer.
Back in the bathroom, Lexa let the water beat down on her, watching as the last traces of dirt and blood spiraled into the drain. She could already feel her strength returning, though she knew her body would take time to fully heal from the ordeal. Her mind drifted back to her last moments in her world, desperate charging towards a dwindling portal, untold horrors close at her heels. There had existed a searing light—exquisite and terrible as it enveloped her, burning her down to the core before spitting her out onto the cold, unforgiving ground of a new world. The pain had been excruciating, but it had quickly been met with shock when she opened her eyes to see Clarke's face hovering above her—those eyes wide with disbelief and concern.
The memory lingered as Lexa ran her hands over her cheeks, letting the water trail down her face. The warmth soothed her aching muscles, but it couldn't erase the discomfort of being trapped in such a fragile, human shell. Everything in this form was slower—healing took time, and the dull ache in her bones was a constant reminder of how vulnerable this body was. It was a miserable existence, she thought with a wry smile, though it served its purpose.
Lexa finally reached for the towel, drying herself off before slipping into the clothes that had been provided. The soft fabric of the leggings clung comfortably to her legs, and the loose top was a far cry from the elegant garments she was used to. The memories of her own wardrobe—cloaks woven with shimmering threads, armor that had seen her through endless battles—only made her present state feel even more pitiful. She stared at herself in the mirror, eyes narrowing in disdain. The reflection looking back at her was unrecognizable—a human face, ordinary and plain, with no trace of the power or grace she had once embodied. She loathed it, hated how well it disguised her true nature.
But for now, it was a necessary disguise. This world was nothing like the one she came from. Here, blending in meant survival. With one last glance at the reflection she despised, Lexa turned away and pushed those thoughts aside. The human form may be limiting, but it would be key to achieving what she'd come here to do.
When Lexa re-entered the room, she found Clarke sound asleep on one of the twin beds, her breathing slow and steady. She hesitated for a moment, her steps quiet as she moved closer, lingering at the edge of the bed. The dim light from the bedside lamp cast soft shadows across the blonde's face, making her seem almost serene—an image of vulnerability that she rarely showed in person.
Tilting her head slightly, Lexa studied the sleeping woman with a detached curiosity. It would be so effortless to end her life, if she wished to. A quick movement, a single precise strike, and Clarke's fragile existence would cease to exist. Humans were pitifully delicate—relying on moments of unconsciousness to recharge, unaware of how exposed they left themselves. Even when awake, their bones would shatter like brittle glass against the slightest force. The thought was clinical, almost indifferent, yet there was a hint of something deeper in the way Lexa's gaze analyzed the woman.
Suddenly, Clarke shifted in her sleep, her head turning sharply to the side. Lexa stiffened at the unexpected movement but the sleeping woman merely mumbled something unintelligible, her lips moving silently before she relaxed once more, sinking deeper into sleep. The moment passed, and Lexa exhaled quietly, the tension easing from her rigid posture.
Leaving Clarke to her dreams, Lexa turned away and crossed the room with silent precision, coming to stand by the window. She gazed out into the dark expanse beyond, her eyes scanning the shadows that clung to the edges of the parking lot. A pang of something dangerously close to regret twisted in her chest as she thought of what might be taking place on her own planet. There were people she had left behind, an entire species who's very existence depended on her mission. Her world was one of unrelenting ferocity, where power was respected and survival was earned through blood. How different it was from this place—this world of weakness and disorder.
Pushing heavy thoughts aside, Lexa silently left the room and ventured out into the night, her senses on high alert. The chill in the air sharpened her focus, the darkness wrapping around her to shield her from watchful eyes. She moved through the shadows with practiced ease, each step precise and soundless. The world before her looked peaceful although her instincts warned her of a faint disturbance—a presence she'd already detected but had yet to address.
Sure enough, a figure stood waiting at the edge of the nearby tree line, an ominous figure in the black of night. Her light hair was drawn tightly back, accentuating prominent facial features. Lexa's eyes narrowed as she approached the woman, her expression unreadable. The figure straightened, revealing a familiar face—one of her own, but her presence was uninvited.
Lexa's voice was a low murmur as she closed the distance between them. "You shouldn't be here Aya. Explain yourself."
The visitor stepped forward, her movements cautious as she spoke with a firm tone. "Why is she still alive?"
Lexa's features remained impassive, but her eyes held a dangerous gleam. "That's not your concern."
The woman didn't flinch. "My orders are to protect you," she persisted, her voice steady, "but we must act quickly."
For a moment, Lexa appeared unaffected by the interaction. Then, in a blur of motion, she seized the woman and slammed her against a nearby tree. The impact was hard enough to make her thoughts of such disobedience clear, but not enough to cause real harm. The woman gasped but didn't resist, swallowing any further questions about their mission as the wood dug into her back.
"You do what I tell you," Lexa insisted, her voice a low venomous whisper, laced with restrained fury. "The next time you question my choices, it will be the last."
The woman's eyes darted briefly to where Lexa's grip held her pinned, and hurriedly choked out an apology. She had pushed her superior too far. "Of course, I meant no disrespect. It won't happen again."
Lexa's grip loosened, but her gaze remained sharp and unyielding. "Good," she murmured, her voice once again calm. "You'd do well to remember your place." She released the woman, stepping back smoothly. "Now go. I don't want to see you again unless absolutely necessary."
The woman inclined her head in obedience, but before turning to leave, she added, "The enemy have not been sighted yet, I will take care of any that get too close."
Lexa's eyes flickered in acknowledgment, but she said nothing more, her focus already shifting back to the motel. It was not surprising, the portals opened without precision so they would be safe tonight. The unwanted visitor took her leave, disappearing into the night silently.
Once alone, Lexa allowed herself a brief exhale, frustrated by the unnecessary encounter. This mission was delicate to say the least, they couldn't afford any insubordination within the ranks that might jeopardize it. She couldn't, in fact she wouldn't tolerate any interference—not even from her own people.
Satisfied that there were no threats in the vicinity, Lexa returned to the motel room where she found Clarke still sound asleep, blissfully unaware of the encounter that had just taken place. Lexa paused by the window, her gaze scanning the darkness, reluctant to accept that the area was secure. Relenting from her task, she crossed the room with measured steps, settling onto the bed opposite Clarke's.
She found herself watching over the sleeping woman, her gaze lingering on Clarke’s peaceful face as she wondered how this fragile human could be the key to something so crucial. The unsuspecting blonde couldn’t even begin to fathom what lay ahead, what role she was destined to play. But Lexa knew—knew that every moment from here on was borrowed time. Aya’s earlier intrusion had only reinforced what she already knew: time would eventually run out and they could run no longer. Soon, decisions would have to be made, choices that could seal the fate of both worlds.
For now, the night was calm, deceptively so. But Lexa’s mind raced beneath her still exterior, calculating every possible outcome, preparing for the inevitable storm. With a final glance at Clarke, Lexa steeled herself. There would be no room for hesitation when the time came, no space for doubt. The path was already set, and she would follow it, no matter the cost.
Lexa remained vigilant as dawn threatened to break the horizon, unmoving, waiting patiently for the moment when fate would demand its due.
Because when it did, there would be no turning back.
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