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Gravity \| Book II: Brave New World	By : Prophecy Category: 1 through F > The 100 Views: 1375 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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Chapter List
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I've tasted blood and it is sweet
I've had the rug pulled beneath my feet
I've trusted lies and trusted men
Broke down and put myself back together again
Stared in the mirror and punched it to shatters
Collected the pieces and picked out a dagger
'Cause kindness is weakness, or worse, you're complacent
I keep a record of the wreckage of my life
I gotta recognize the weapon in my mind
They talk shit, but I love it every time, and I realize
Someone like me can be a real nightmare, completely aware
I'm no sweet dream, but I'm a hell of a night
- Halsey, “Nightmare”

Lexa dozed on a couch with her feet in Clarke’s lap, while Clarke sketched an exhausted Octavia collapsed against a nearly unconscious Echo. Delicious smells wafted in every so often from the kitchen where Murphy had most likely disappeared to, and Clarke’s stomach rumbled with hope that whatever it was she smelled would be passing her lips sooner rather than later.

She was surprised, then, when Murphy came into the sitting room with Raven and Luna trailing him.

“I thought you were cooking?” She asked, unable to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

“I was going to, but your mom threw us out. Told us to relax, but..”

“But someone doesn’t know how to,” Clarke finished, giving Raven a knowing look.

Raven just shrugged. “You’ll be nicer to me when you see what we found.”

Clarke squinted a little at the small white box Murphy held up, as Octavia let out an ungodly snore. “What’s that?”

Murphy smiled—a real smile, and walked over to a metal box with a variety of dials and buttons on it. He plugged some kind of a wire into the box and suddenly, for the first time since they’d left the Ark, the sweet sound of music filtered into Clarke’s ears.

Her eyes grew wide as Raven grinned and kicked Octavia’s leg. “Wake up, sleeping beauty. It’s time to party.”

Octavia let out a sound that was some strange combination of a grunt, a snore, and a belch as her eyes flickered open in confusion. Raven kicked her again and wiggled her way over to the liquor cabinet, digging around in it for a moment before emerging triumphantly with several bottles.

On Clarke’s lap, Lexa was stirring awake, her face slightly panicked at the unfamiliar sounds that echoed off the pristine metallic walls. She sat quickly as Echo, too, awoke, her body already tensed and ready for battle.

“The skrish is this?” Echo gasped as Octavia’s face brightened.

“Music?” Octavia smiled dreamily. “It’s music! Bellamy used to play this song on the Ark, it’s by a group called.. I can’t remember. Something about bugs?”

Murphy, of all people, grabbed Octavia’s hands and yanked her to her feet with a broad smile. “You’re a heathen. They’re called the Beatles, and they’re the best band to ever exist.”

Lexa blinked at Clarke with confusion as she sat up slowly, her voice unsure. “Beetles do not make sounds like this. It is.. wonderful, though.”

Clarke laughed and stood up, tossing down her sketch and grabbing Lexa’s hands. “Not beetles, like the insects. It’s a band, a music group.” Her lips twitched into a small, slightly sad smile. “My dad loved them.” She tugged Lexa onto her feet as Murphy started singing along loudly as he twirled a laughing Octavia around the floor.

Luna smiled shyly as Raven took her arms and led her into the pit of furniture as well, starting to guide her movements in tune with the song. Murphy leaned over and easily tugged Echo to her feet, spinning her into the loose embrace between Octavia and himself.

Clarke pulled Lexa closer, her hands sliding over her hips as she helped her find a rhythm. Lexa’s cheeks flushed red with embarrassment, but in truth she rather liked this singing beetle, and liked the new way Clarke’s body was moving with her own even more.

“Ob-la-di, ob-la-da, life goes on.” Lexa smiled widely; Clarke had a lovely singing voice. It was softer, more melodic than her usual husky tone, although Lexa quite enjoyed that sound as well.

The song came to an end all too soon, and Murphy pulled back from the girls, who continued dancing with each other as he hopped over the back of the couch to the music player, fiddling with the dial for a moment before the first few chords of another song blared out, significantly louder and faster than before.

Raven let out a little squeal and bounced on her heels, immediately singing along with the song she used to dance to with her mother—when she was semi-sober, anyway; before her drunkenness had taken over every moment of her life. Octavia and Murphy joined her singing, and Clarke laughed as she tugged Lexa to a less crowded part of the floor and began dancing faster, moving her hips with the beat and guiding Lexa’s to meet hers.

Octavia cut in and spun Luna across the floor, and Raven and Echo laughed as they moved together. Murphy hopped up onto the coffee table in the center of the merriment and sang loudly, dancing by himself as he did, howling “Shut up and dance with me,” at the room as he spun around, playing an invisible guitar.

Clarke threw her head back laughing as she twirled Lexa around, and Lexa thought she’d never seen anything as beautiful as the joyful grin on her face. The room seemed to spin around her in slow motion as the people she loved danced and laughed together, the tension and fear that seemed to permeate every move they made gone in an instant. These people, the ones who had all been enemies at one point or another, had somehow become Lexa’s family before she’d even realized it was happening.

Clarke laughed that deep, heady laugh again, and Lexa melted. Her eyes gazed intently into hers and it felt like they were the only people in the world for a moment; like she was singing only for Lexa. “Oh, don’t you dare look back, just keep your eyes on me,” cupping Lexa’s chin gently, “I said you’re holding back,” that smile that made her knees weak, skipping a line to give her the steely blue gaze that made Lexa’s everything weak. Cupping the back of her head gently as she continued to hold their gaze and said softly, “This woman is my destiny.”

And in that moment, Lexa felt like she could fly.

Murphy clapped out the beat on his thigh and pointed at the pairs spinning around him in turn, encouraging them to scream the fun but repetitive lyrics they’d all figured out fairly quickly.

Abby, who had come to call the motley crew to dinner, leaned against the doorframe and watched them all dancing with a calmness that was at once unfamiliar yet recognizable. She had a brief flash of her younger days that tugged on her heart; days when it had been she and Jake spinning around a dance floor as though no one else existed, lost in young love and each others’ eyes. She smiled a little sadly as the memories flowed through her; wished Jake could see the woman her daughter was turning out to be.

Wished she could tell Jake that he was right, that Clarke was strong and full of affection and would overcome his death and any other challenge she faced and still be whole, still be able to find the love and happiness she deserved. That neither his death nor any other trauma could or would turn his daughter—his starshine, he’d called her when she was little—cold and hard and fearful.

Abby felt her smile slipping away just a little as her heart filled with the hurt she never quite let herself be distracted enough to fully feel.

Murphy had noticed her in the doorway, and the boy she knew was as filled with pain as everyone in the room was despite his hard exterior, pointed at her and made a “come here” motion with his finger. Abby shook her head a little, declining, but Murphy wouldn’t be deterred. He leapt from the table and reached out, grabbing her hand and tugging her into the room. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment—an impromptu dance party was really something for young people to enjoy—but she followed him with a roll of her eyes nonetheless as another song came on.

Murphy led her into the area, shoving a chair further back as he did to make room, and began dancing with her. Abby hesitated and glanced around unsurely.

Octavia and Lexa were now dancing together alongside Raven and Luna, while Clarke and Echo held each others’ arms and twirled in a wide circle together. Abby felt herself smiling again and gave in, dancing with Murphy, who howled with approval at her acquiescence. She laughed, and it shocked her to realize that she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d done that. Not since Jake’s death, surely. Maybe even longer.

Clarke glanced over and saw her normally serious and reserved mother laughing—laughing—as Murphy easily twirled her across the floor. She felt the brief sting of tears in her eyes and caught Abby’s gaze as she spun in Echo’s arms easily, the Griffin girls nodding to one another in mutual approval. Echo laughed as they banged into a couch and wordlessly they both shoved it further out of the way. Octavia and Raven were doing the same on the other side as Luna and Lexa danced awkwardly together, both of them trying to find the rhythm that had seemed to come so easily to their lovers from the sky.

Octavia grabbed the bottles Raven had dug out and the two of them began filling glasses as everyone slowly broke apart, labored breathing filling the room and a sheen of sweat on every body. Even Abby took a fluted glass, sipping the sweet champagne with her eyes fluttering shut briefly, the taste surrounding her with even more memories of life before Earth.

Clarke offered Lexa her glass and rubbed her back affectionately as she took a sip and smiled before whispering something in her ear. Clarke’s face brightened with a smile that was all Jake and slid her arm around Lexa’s shoulders. Octavia, Murphy, and Echo had collapsed onto one of the couches and were giggling over something together as Murphy ferreted yet another silver package from his cargo pocket, offering whatever sugary treat surely laid within to the girls. Luna yelped with a laugh as Raven sat in one of the arm chairs and pulled her onto her lap. Knowingly, Luna rubbed Raven’s sore leg as they continued giggling together.

Clarke perched on the edge of the couch Lexa, Octavia, and Echo had sank into, sipping her champagne and gazing around the room, quietly soaking in the relaxed laughter of people she would unquestionably die for. Breathing in the scent of what would no doubt be an amazing meal crafted at Abby’s hands, the feel of her heart pounding exuberantly, the casual way Lexa rested her head against her thigh tiredly. She stroked her hair lazily, watching the room full of former enemies laughing together, and she thought offhandedly that Becca Pramheda had probably never had this in her life. If she had, she never would have imagined love as a weakness.

Because there wasn’t a single person in this room that Clarke wouldn’t die for. There was nobody in this room she wouldn’t live for, either.

Really, wasn’t that worth more, anyway? Dying was surprisingly easy—it was living that came with the true challenges.

Everyone slept in the next morning.

Clarke awoke early, the telltale pounding of a hangover drumming inside her head, but felt no regret. She even thought last night might have been the best night of her life. She smiled, remembering her friends—no, her family—dancing and singing, eating together, shrouded in a cloth of relaxation they had all needed badly and rarely got.

She smiled before her eyes even opened, yawning and stretching her arm out to search for Lexa. When her fingers ran over cool, curiously unrumpled sheets, her eyes opened quickly and she sat up with a frown. The sheets and blankets were still tucked in on the other side of the suddenly overly large-seeming bed, betraying the fact that Lexa had not slept in the spot.

Clarke rubbed the sleep from her eyes and glanced out the window; the sun was just barely starting to peek over the horizon, and she felt a hard knot forming in the pit of her stomach as her mind raced through a dozen possible scenarios that had led to her sleeping alone. Most of them revolved around something terrible happening as she slid from the bed and quickly sought pants.

She was still tying the drawstring as her half-asleep feet stumbled towards the door when it opened to reveal Lexa in an apologetic frenzy.

“I am so sorry Klark, I didn’t realize how late it was, I wa—oof.” Lexa was cut off by Clarke flinging herself at her, wrapping her arms around her tightly, still shaking slightly with the anxiety that coursed through her. Lexa quickly returned the embrace, hugging her close and rubbing her back, her eyes closed and guilt weighing on her.

“I don’t care,” Clarke mumbled into her shoulder. “Just glad you’re oka—” Clarke paused, her brow furrowing as she reluctantly lifted her head. “Are you.. wearing glasses?”

Lexa just looked at her guiltily from behind the silver frames whose lenses made her eyes seem even larger and more vulnerable than usual. “I was up with Raven. We were going over the journals, and I mentioned Becca’s fuzzy handwriting, and she thought maybe..”

Clarke swallowed the lump in her throat that seemed to appear every time she heard the First Commander’s name these days, and leaned her head back a little further to take her in. Lexa just looked back at her unsurely, only relaxing when Clarke smiled a little. “They look good on you. Kinda sexy, really.”

“I do not think so, Klark. I look silly, but I can see things so much more clearly.”

Clarke paused, remembering the thumps and soft giggles coming from Raven and Luna’s room long after she’d gone to bed, and smirked knowingly. “You weren’t with Raven all night though, were you?”

Lexa shrugged a little. “Most of it. Then I was.. just.. on the couch..”

Clarke raised an eyebrow at her. “You were reading, weren’t you? That’s why you forgot to come to bed.” The splotch of red adorning Lexa’s cheeks told her all she needed to know, and Clarke smirked again and kissed her lightly. “You’re such a dork, Commander.”

“What is a dork? Your gonasleng words and traditions grow increasingly strange the more of them I learn,” Lexa responded, curling her fingers through messy blonde tangles.

Clarke laughed softly and shut their bedroom door. “Come on, Commander. There’s still time for you to get some sleep before everyone else gets up.”

Lexa let herself be led to the bed, the exhaustion settling in. “Sleep sounds very nice, actually.”

Clarke slept for several more hours before she woke up, once more, to an empty bed. This time she opened her eyes quickly, before the panic could set in, and took a breath when she saw Lexa sitting at the desk in the corner. She was reading a book, her brow lined with intensity as she poured over the text.

Lexa, feeling eyes on her, glanced up and smiled. “Good afternoon.”

Clarke stretched a little. “Did you sleep at all?”

“Mm.”

“Lexa..”

“We can go to bed early tonight to make up for it,” Lexa offered, her tone suggestive.

“We can go to sleep early tonight to make up for it,” Clarke corrected her, knowing full well Lexa would be interested in more than sleeping that night if she didn’t shut that plan down immediately.

Lexa pouted a little, but off Clarke’s glare, turned back to her book. Clarke grabbed her sketch pad and settled back against the headboard, the sudden urge to draw Lexa this way overtaking her as her fingers searched the messy nightstand on her side for her charcoal.

Clarke studied her quietly, taking in the neat but simple ponytail that had Raven’s name all over it. She watched a delicate finger nudge up the delicate wire-rims Raven had no doubt found among Becca’s belongings. They sat perched on her upturned nose like they'd been made for her as she stared down at the pages on the desk, entranced in the stories whose words were clearer than Lexa had ever seen before.

Clarke found herself entranced by the strange but endearing image of what might have been in another lifetime, a small smile curving her lips as she rolled the piece of willow charcoal between her fingertips.

The smile, however, turned to a frown and furrowed brow when several long elegant fingers reached out and tugged a steaming mug closer, bringing it to a set of plump lips that smacked slightly as she sipped.

“Is that.. coffee?" Clarke asked, her voice sounding tight and foreign even to her own ears.

“Mhm." Lexa didn't look up from the book.

Clarke frowned harder. “You don't like coffee."

Lexa merely gave her a noncommittal shrug. Clarke, aggravated with this newest development for reasons she couldn't really sort out at the moment, set her charcoal and pad aside and repeated herself more firmly, unsure whether she was trying to convince Lexa or herself. “You don't like it. I made you some, and you called it swill. That you'd rather drink with the horses than even try it again."

Lexa sighed and pressed her fingers to the page to mark her spot as she finally looked up at her, her face the portrait of patient annoyance. “I guess this just tastes better than that.”

It wasn't a dig; she knew that. but it felt like one, and Clarke felt her shoulders tightening even more. “You expect me to believe that the cockroach makes better coffee than I do?"

Bright green eyes burned into hers as they narrowed slightly. “John is quite talented in the kitchen, as I’m sure you’re aware. That being said, you're being ridiculous. It's just coffee, and it helps headaches and gives you energy when you haven't slept."

Clarke bristled a little. “Maybe you'd sleep better if you actually came to bed."

Lexa just looked at her dispassionately for a moment before turning back to her book. Clarke, having reached her boiling point, merely stomped from the room, slamming the door so hard it vibrated through the walls and tipped over the neat line of books Octavia had brought her from the library. They hit the floor with a series of thick thuds, and Lexa frowned in annoyance as she slid to the floor and began putting them back diligently.

So what if she was drinking coffee and, suddenly, enjoying it? Maybe John made it differently than Clarke had. Maybe Lexa’s tastes had changed over the past month. Maybe it was all in her head and she still hated it, but her body was tricking her because it truly did help with her headaches and exhaustion. Honestly, who knew?

Regardless of reason, she found herself moving to the bed on what felt like instinct alone and sitting cross-legged. She focused her breathing for a few moments, her eyes closed. She breathed out slowly and felt the slight tingle down her spine that preceded her soft slip into brief unconsciousness. When she opened her eyes, she was sitting on her throne at a long wooden table. As had become customary recently, only Becca waited for her, sipping a cup of coffee she’d brought from her mind space and sliding another cup towards Lexa.

Becca’s voice had its usual mildly clipped but melodic tone to it. “She was being ridiculous, you were right. Even if it was a problem, that was unnecessarily dramatic.”

Lexa sat back in the throne, sighing heavily and taking a sip of the coffee. “I know she’s just worried, especially with the headaches and all the testing, but she should trust her mother, and she should trust you.”

Becca leaned forward a little. “You trust me, as you should. There’s no way for her to see all of what you see, but she should trust you, Lexa.”

Lexa frowned, lowering the cup. “She does trust me.”

Becca lifted an eyebrow. “Really? Because it doesn’t seem like it. She has a temper tantrum every time you try to make a decision for yourself. She treats you like a child, not the Commander. She doesn’t trust you and she doesn’t respect you.”

Lexa felt a knot quickly forming in the pit of her stomach and she chewed her lower lip, fingering the closure of her left bracer as she often did, finding the familiar motion calming. “That’s not true, Heda. She respects me, trusts me. Clarke loves me.”

She knew she’d said the wrong thing when Becca crossed her arms on the table and looked at her disapprovingly, shaking her head in disappointment. “Love is weakness, Leksa. You know that. Clarke isn’t concerned about saving the world or your people. Her only concerns are selfish ones, and she is a distraction from our mission.”

Lexa’s jaw tightened, her dark eyes flashing a little. “That is not true.”

Becca leaned forward earnestly, unperturbed by the anger carved into Lexa’s expression. “It is true. She stands in the way at every opportunity. She pushes you in the direction she wants you to go in. Just like Titus, and Gustus. And still, you ignore you’re calling, your duty. Your destiny, Heda.”

Destiny. She briefly thought of Clarke’s infectious laughter and the meaningful gaze in her eyes as she sang to her, and Lexa could take no more, the rage bubbling in her chest and threatening to boil over as she slammed her hands down on the table and stood. “Clarke and I are saving the world together, and we will continue to do so. I have seen your memories, Bekka—all of them as you wished me to.”

“And what is it you think you have seen in my memories, Leksa?” There was a bite to Becca’s tone; a clench to her jaw. In this shared mindspace, she had some idea of what Lexa was inching towards, and she steeled herself for it.

Lexa’s voice hissed between her lips, her gaze dark and dangerous, her voice low and firm. “You say love is weakness because the man you swore fealty to ended the world. He failed at a most simple task, and you have borne the blame for it. That does not make love weakness, Bekka Pramheda. It means love was your weakness.”

Becca’s face paled quickly, and it took all of Lexa’s strength to not shake as she turned away, seeming to melt back into her body in reality.

Lexa’s eyes opened, still dark as they had been in the mindspace, and focused in on the drawings that surrounded her; the drawings that sang of Clarke’s love from every corner of the room. Her heart raced from the fear and exhilaration of her disrespect towards Bekka, shocked at her own actions. She would go back later, she thought, and apologize. She did not think she was wrong, of course, but she did think she was unnecessarily cruel; particularly if Becca had felt towards him the way she herself felt towards Clarke. She simply did not know how to make it any more clear to Becca that Clarke was not a hindrance to their goals; rather she was instrumental in achieving them. She would make Becca understand that.

Lexa sighed and rubbed her face tiredly as her head began to throb yet again. She would ask Abby for another of those delightful pills, most likely—but only after she had spoken to Clarke about their disagreement earlier. She needed her head to be clear if she was going to make things right.

She unfolded her legs and stood from the bed, her vision blurring and the world tilting sideways as she did. She reached for the bedpost to steady herself, but missed it as she fell forward. The floor rushed up to meet her as she knocked over the books she had been stacking just minutes ago, and her body clenched tight as a trip wire, bile rising in her throat.

She felt the foamy bile pushing past her lips, her tongue seeming to fill her mouth at the same time as she hit the floor. She heard herself gagging and gasping as every muscle she had went stiff as a board, her body vibrating uncontrollably through the tension like the skin of a war drum.

And then Lexa was plunged into the blackest darkness she had ever seen and she suddenly felt nothing at all.
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Gravity | Book II: Brave New World