Lightning Only Strikes Once - Clexa

Chapter 37: Kane and Able

"Less than half the Council," Clarke says, fears still worrying at her. "Only three. Muir, Kane and my mother."

The Greens look at each other quickly, then Monty's father tells her, "Just your mother and Muir, then. The release mechanism failed, so Councilman Kane released it manually." He looks regretful. "He remained behind. It was a great act of heroism."

Clarke inhales quickly. For some reason she'd thought with all the careful planning this time that they'd avoid that problem, or set up some kind of failsafe. She hadn't mentioned it to them – how could she mention an unlikely system error without giving everything away?

And of course Jaha didn't stay this time. Last time, filled with grief over Wells' death and guilt over the culling, he volunteered. So it was only natural this time that Kane would do it instead. Talking with him over the radio, she'd noticed how nearly killing so many people had humbled him slightly, though he'd still been a long way from the nicest version of Kane she'd eventually known. Looks like he'd skipped to the end.

"Yes," a voice chimes in from nearby, "My son was a hero."

Clarke swings around and sees Kane's mother leaning against the wall, the Eden Tree in her arms.

She smiles at Clarke, eyes full of tears. "Hello, child."

Clarke had always liked Vera Kane, though the religion didn't strike a chord within her. "I'm sorry for your loss," she offers gently. She wonders if Kane will fall from the sky like Jaha did, finding another way. She hopes so. Kane's always been smart. If Jaha figured it out, he will too. Surely. Hopefully.

She really wants him to be all right, more than she thought she did until this moment.

"Thank you," Vera says softly, and returns her attention to her tree, touching one of the leaves lightly. "I shouldn't plant this in the snow. But it made it down, just as we did. So I will plant it somewhere – in our new home, perhaps. And remember my son."

"We'll all remember him," Clarke promises, her voice a little choked.

After she's spent another hour talking to Vera and the Greens, mostly going over the same things again and again, Clarke decides it's time to extricate herself and go find Lexa. She needs to know that Kane might no longer be a possibility for either leader of ambassador of the Sky People.

And besides, Clarke wants to get out of this press of people. It's so long since she's spent any real time with a large group of her people, apart from the 100, and that only briefly. They're suddenly foreign to her. The way they talk is so strange compared to the accent of the Trikru. They're so impossibly clean, it seems almost clinical, as if they've scrubbed for a surgery or something. Their clothes and hair are very neat but not practical for the cold or for a fight. They smell of the Ark's air conditioning more than dirt or sweat, and it seems so unnatural to her now. When they went outside to receive the blankets (because God forbid their saviours should be allowed inside the station) they stepped around everything like they were scared to go near the landscape, as if a tree was a threat. They're just – wrong , as out of place on the earth as a Trikru gona would be slashing their way through the Ark.

She wants to be with Lexa, breathe in her reassuring earthy scent of dirt and leather, bury her hands in her twisted braids, take in the way she fits into the landscape with as much unconscious assurance as a mountain lion. Lexa stands out against the scenery or blends in when she chooses to, but she always looks like she belongs there. She acts like the world is all her land, and the truth is, it is.

Octavia intercepts Clarke, though. "Clarke, we need to talk," she says. She has her disapproving face on.

"What is it?" Clarke says, trying to cover up her annoyance. She's not in the mood for a lecture right now.