let him sleep. it bounces around in her brain. he's in division more often than not these days, more than nikita or michael or alex or bellamy or her. called in on their days off, in charge of running everything and not just whatever nikita decided. he's there more than anyone, and he doesn't get enough sleep because of it. doesn't sleep there because it's division. doesn't sleep here because she keeps waking him up.

she's certain she hasn't wrapped her hands right, already forgetting the youtube tutorial she hastily pulled up, her knuckles feeling more and more raw each time her fist makes contact with the bag. still, she can't bring herself to stop. right jab, left jab, right jab, left jab. over and over and over 'til the rhythm feels more like her heartbeat than anything else. brooke sensed tasha's presence minutes ago, but hadn't deigned it worth it to break her concentration. if she does, she's afraid she might fall apart.

the break-in was a week ago, but it's been playing on a loop in her head 24/7. she doesn't feel safe anymore — not in her store, not in her home. she can't recall the last time she'd gotten a good nights sleep. it feels like a lifetime ago.

tasha breaks the tension between them, offering the sort of support that brooke isn't sure she's capable of accepting. she's gotten good at not burdening others with her problems, has become an absolute queen of internalizing. brooke's hands finally stop throwing punches. she finally turns to face her friend. she finally falls apart.

" um, aren't i supposed to be the one treating you? " brooke replies with a grateful smile as she takes the to-go cup out of aria's hand. she had been waiting for her cousin to meet her at the brew, settled into what she's learned is aria's favorite little nook, so much so that she hadn't even realized when the girl had walked in, gotten on line, and joined her. she was engrossed in her work — aka checking out some new artisans on insta in consideration of adding their jewelry as offerings to her brooke-tique.

there are more occasions than he cares to admit where he needed to hear these words, but right now was not one of them. the decision of leaving her behind was one of the hardest he’s ever made. he knows that it saved raven, harper, monty, murphy, emori, and echo, but it didn’t save clarke. it’s the latter that has plagued him. knowing she’s alive does little to salve the pain that action caused, and his heart aches knowing she’s been surviving alone, while he had other people to rely on. “clarke...stop.” he doesn’t want this action praised, some testament to him using his head like she wanted. “leaving you behind..” a sharp intake of breath as he shakes his head. he hopes she can finish the sentence for him because he isn’t sure he’s able to. he couldn’t do it again. he doesn’t know if he would make the same choice if given the chance, either. 

even after six years, there is limited surprise when clarke walks away from praise. aware that the comment would dredge up memories, hoping she’d talk about it, yet knowing the likely response would be removing herself from the situation. clarke always played the safe move, the practical one. sometimes it was infuriating, but avoiding conversations was a specialty of his own. no, he wasn’t surprised that he was watching her go. 

he was surprised that he didn’t get up and follow. his eyes didn’t even follow her departing figure, looking instead to the figure that used to be his sister. the resemblance is barely there anymore, even if she’s threatened his life enough times to recognize the signs. now he’s looking for signs of life, of the child he helped raise, of the girl under the floor. it felt like she was hiding behind something else now; the gladiator cult, the war paint, even her own tired mantra, he doesn’t know. but she is hiding from something. 

he feels torn between multiple worlds as he tries radioing monty again and again. his family from the ring, his family on the ground, and whatever clarke is to him now. the former lover he grieved? the person he felt closest to before venturing to space ( before the bunker drove a wedge between them )? or is she someone completely unrecognizable too? 

he pulls away with a sigh, giving up on reaching monty for the time being. whoever clarke was now, she was easier to face. guns would be drawn on him if he took a step in o’s direction, and he didn’t feel like pleading his way into a one-on-one yet. clarke feels like his closest ally, and a part of him longs for it to feel less like convenience. so he pushes aside the tent flap, thinking he’d apologize “clarke..” only the sight he sees instead is her body caving in on itself in a manner he recognizes all too well. instinct takes over then, as he rushes forward to wrap his arms around her, steadying her body before the sobs threaten to take her down. “i’m here. you’re not alone anymore.”  

he wants to apologize again, say he could have and should have done more to stop this from happening. he didn’t think anything of it when he saw her dancing with another guy ( ignoring the hint of jealousy he felt at their interaction ). someone had deserved happiness after everything. raven was drowning her sorrows, he was exploding on his family, and if he’s honest with himself, having a purpose ( saving clarke ) might have been the only thing keeping him together after losing monty and harper. it was hard to follow monty’s words, even harder to follow harper’s, when his family was falling apart. 

casting out octavia had been the hardest thing he’s ever done, and he still wonders if it was the right choice or if he could ever forgive or love her again. she’s a distant presence now, and he hasn’t been able to confront what her being here means to him on top of clarke dying on the table in front of him. he’d deal with o later, but right now... clarke was alive. 

they went from tragedy to tragedy; it was a part of the framework of their lives. he doesn’t know what they’ll be without an enemy to fight, but he’d like to find out. when there’s finally a moment to breathe, he looks around for clarke, surprised that he didn’t have eyes on her anymore. ever since she came back, it’s been hard for him to be away from her, thinking she’d slip back into a coma or worse. 

the air returns to his lungs when he spots her, tapping her on the shoulder and inclining his head to notify her that he wanted to go into one of the tents for a break. throwing themselves into the next task was always what they did, but for once they did have time, and more things left unsaid than he would know how to tackle. he takes her hand in his when he asks her what it was like when josephine had taken her over, wanting to know himself what she went through and be in that with her. 

tears fill his eyes when she begins to talk on it, and he knows that there’s more they’ll need to discuss about it, but for now he takes an opposite approach. one they’re far too used to in order to keep moving in this world, one he hasn’t broken out of yet. “you’re here now... you’re awake. this is you.” he squeezes her hand then, not knowing if anything he does will ever be enough to make her feel safe in her own skin again. all he knows is that.. she’s here. “kinda tired of losing you, you know? might want to work on that.” his teasing falls flat, but it was never a contest. he was always going to do everything he could to bring her back. he’d never give up on her. 

when he looks back up at her, the weight of what losing her again would do to him comes rushing back. she might not be ready for this, and he’d understand that after everything they went through, but life was too short. harper and monty....jasper...fox..roma.. everyone they’ve lost sits on his conscience, but for some reason they’re still here. that could change at any moment, and he can’t spend any more time without acting on something that could bring them some sort of happiness. not after everything they’ve been through. “clarke...” their relationship plays across his mind, small thanks to josephine for forcing him to reflect on it, but he’s tired of the constant betrayals. it was time to move forward. 

so he leans forward, taking her face in his hands and pressing his lips to hers. it occurs to him only briefly that it’s been over one hundred years since they’ve done this, that they’re both different people than they were then, and that they have a real shot at happiness now, something that was unheard of before. it doesn’t last long, just enough to show where he is and to hopefully ground her in their present “you’re here,” he repeats. “i got you. you’re safe.” promises to never let this happen again die on his lips ( for now ). “clarke...”