020 - Cry
Clarke is lying on his back under the stars with his arms outstretched. Blades of grass tickle the scars on his ears. Dirt is lodged under his fingernails, the ground is cold, but what he really feels is the grass on his ears. He closes his eyes, silently begging the Earth to just absorb him.
He hears Shane and Tyler speaking nearby somewhere. He can't make out what they're talking about but they sound happy. Quickly what he hears morphs into Jenny's laughter. They're in bed, giddy and absorbed with one another. Clarke's head pops up from under the covers like a turtle in a shell and they kiss, laughing together. They hold hands when they walk around DC at lunchtime. She might be older than he is but she's smaller. She lets him be strong, lets his body dominate hers. She's secure when she's in his arms, secure during the rare moments she leans on him. He knows she's in more physical pain than she admits. She lets him see slightly more of this vulnerability than he'd show others. There is trust. There is love.
The image fades into another memory. Le Tetard taunting him, telling him that he is not going to be saved because he is not worth enough to Jenny Shepard. He can practically smell the Frenchman's black leather boot, can feel it hammering his skull over and over again. He remembers the blood trickling to his cheek, a pool of red staining his shirt collar. He feels the sting of cold metal pricking his skin when the boot got old. He remembers waiting. Suddenly he's at the hospital. He's cold, his head is pounding. Jen is sitting quietly in a green chair next to his bed. She does not look relieved that Clarke is okay. She does not look happy to be there. She just killed a man and saved Clarke's life but she shows no emotion. Her voice is steady but cold. She tells him that there's nothing left. She tried to force it but she feels nothing for him and he needs to move on. She looks as empty as he feels. The man tortured Clarke for two days but she felt nothing. How can he feel so much for her and she feel nothing? Had he messed up that badly?
He realizes tears have come when his cheeks began to sting with chill. He can't hold on any longer. It's going to eat him alive if he doesn't let go. After all, it's not his fault that she's sick. It's not his fault that Gibbs is with Heather. It's not his fault that no matter how much he loved her he couldn't make her happy. The affection has to go with the anger if he wants to move on. He wipes tears away, knowing that moving on is what he needs and what he truly wants. He allows himself to ache for Jen, truly ache, one last time and then he must start to let go.
He wishes Jen would allow herself to be happy like the other Jenny. Jen could be a lot like her if she allowed it. She could be lighter, less angry, funny like the other Jenny. She wouldn't be alone. She'd be happier. Clarke only dwells on this idea for a minute before forcing it away. Jen's happiness is not and never was Clarke's responsibility. That's up to Jen to find herself. Clarke can only be responsible for himself. He lays his cheek on the ground, taking a gulp of night air. All he wants is to love and be loved. He wants to be valued for who he is and what he can give. He wants to wants to give himself to someone and be trusted and loved in return. More tears come as he realizes that letting go of everything he's tried to grab on to might actually allow him to find that.
In the desert he has began to breathe again. Loneliness and anger reside on his chest like an anvil but even that has started to dissipate.
He hears Shane and Tyler speaking nearby somewhere. He can't make out what they're talking about but they sound happy. Quickly what he hears morphs into Jenny's laughter. They're in bed, giddy and absorbed with one another. Clarke's head pops up from under the covers like a turtle in a shell and they kiss, laughing together. They hold hands when they walk around DC at lunchtime. She might be older than he is but she's smaller. She lets him be strong, lets his body dominate hers. She's secure when she's in his arms, secure during the rare moments she leans on him. He knows she's in more physical pain than she admits. She lets him see slightly more of this vulnerability than he'd show others. There is trust. There is love.
The image fades into another memory. Le Tetard taunting him, telling him that he is not going to be saved because he is not worth enough to Jenny Shepard. He can practically smell the Frenchman's black leather boot, can feel it hammering his skull over and over again. He remembers the blood trickling to his cheek, a pool of red staining his shirt collar. He feels the sting of cold metal pricking his skin when the boot got old. He remembers waiting. Suddenly he's at the hospital. He's cold, his head is pounding. Jen is sitting quietly in a green chair next to his bed. She does not look relieved that Clarke is okay. She does not look happy to be there. She just killed a man and saved Clarke's life but she shows no emotion. Her voice is steady but cold. She tells him that there's nothing left. She tried to force it but she feels nothing for him and he needs to move on. She looks as empty as he feels. The man tortured Clarke for two days but she felt nothing. How can he feel so much for her and she feel nothing? Had he messed up that badly?
He realizes tears have come when his cheeks began to sting with chill. He can't hold on any longer. It's going to eat him alive if he doesn't let go. After all, it's not his fault that she's sick. It's not his fault that Gibbs is with Heather. It's not his fault that no matter how much he loved her he couldn't make her happy. The affection has to go with the anger if he wants to move on. He wipes tears away, knowing that moving on is what he needs and what he truly wants. He allows himself to ache for Jen, truly ache, one last time and then he must start to let go.
He wishes Jen would allow herself to be happy like the other Jenny. Jen could be a lot like her if she allowed it. She could be lighter, less angry, funny like the other Jenny. She wouldn't be alone. She'd be happier. Clarke only dwells on this idea for a minute before forcing it away. Jen's happiness is not and never was Clarke's responsibility. That's up to Jen to find herself. Clarke can only be responsible for himself. He lays his cheek on the ground, taking a gulp of night air. All he wants is to love and be loved. He wants to be valued for who he is and what he can give. He wants to wants to give himself to someone and be trusted and loved in return. More tears come as he realizes that letting go of everything he's tried to grab on to might actually allow him to find that.
In the desert he has began to breathe again. Loneliness and anger reside on his chest like an anvil but even that has started to dissipate.