barbieliberationarmy:

(I’ll Follow You) Into the Dark

Chapter 4

Seventeen years into the future.  Clarke went
about her duties by rote, compiling a list of the Arkadia’s medical supplies and making note of which medicines
needed restocking immediately and which they could likely make do without, but
those five, matter-of-fact words echoed repeatedly in her brain.  Captain Hunter’s pronouncement had been
shocking at the time—incomprehensible, really—but last night Clarke had been too
overwhelmed by physical and emotional exhaustion to fully process the
implications of it.  She’d woken from a
fitful sleep in the early morning hours, convinced the whole episode—the
attack, Wells’ death, the time jump—was a terrible, fantastical dream.  Convinced, at least, until she took in the Polis’s unfamiliar surroundings and
awareness kicked in, along with a resurgence of grief and pain.  

A hypospray eased her
physical aches, but offered no relief for her mental turmoil.  If anything, the absence of physical pain
left her mind free to churn away at unwelcome thoughts.  All of her friends and colleagues—those not
on the Arkadia, at least—gone, perhaps
dead, in the long years that, for her, had passed in the blink of an eye.  And family….Best not to think about family,
not yet.  She’d left things badly with
her mother the last time they’d spoken.  And now she thinks I’ve been dead for
seventeen years.  If she’s even still alive herself.  

Clarke tried to drive the
errant thoughts firmly from her mind and concentrate on her work, but to little
avail.  On Captain Kane’s order, the
first officer, Lieutenant Commander Blake, had informed the Arkadia’s surviving crew of their situation.  It was, understandably, the talk of the
ship.  Clarke had spent the better part
of the morning overhearing her technicians’ and nurses’ gossip and speculation
about family and friends’ whereabouts and circumstances.  All at once it became too much.  Clarke grabbed the padd with her tally of
supplies and bolted out of sickbay.

She headed for the
bridge.  Her accounting was still
incomplete, but she reasoned that she might as well provide an update of their
most critical needs to Lieutenant Woods, who was overseeing the Arkadia’s repairs and acting as the Polis’s liaison.  Clarke pretended that she didn’t feel a
flutter of anticipation at seeing the Lieutenant—Lexa—again, but she smoothed her palms down the sides of her new
uniform to adjust its lines as she walked.
As Lexa had warned, she’d had to go with the current style.  The blue-and-black pattern was certainly more
flattering to her curves and her complexion, but the jumpsuit style and its
rear fastening took some getting used to.
She suddenly envisioned dexterous fingers easing the closure apart, the
brush of warm lips at her nape, slowly drifting lower….

Lost in the pleasant
daydream, Clarke rounded a corner and nearly collided with an engineering
technician.  She excused herself, face
flaming with private embarrassment, and resolved that such inappropriate
thoughts were strictly off-limits.  You don’t even know the woman.  You’re just fixating on her because you feel
unsettled and she brought you some peace last night.  Those few moments with Lexa the previous
evening were the only time she’d felt she had her feet under her since this
whole sorry mess began.  So then why did
the prospect of interacting with Lexa again threaten to discombobulate her?  She shook the feeling off impatiently.  There was far too much at stake to get distracted
by a pair of vibrant green eyes.

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