"No, the other Finn," she teased and rolled her green eyes. Adjustment: it did not come easy, especially to someone who'd spent a good portion of few months in an hostile environment where letting your guard down for even a second could mean the end of your life. Obviously, this place was not hostile or, if it was, not nearly as much as their savage version of Earth, but, after living so long in constant fear, letting go of paranoia, of apprehension was difficult, even if this world gave her no reasons to be. For one, Finn was alive here and to Clarke, that was a big deal. Despite a brief, shared kiss with Lexa, the Grounder Commander, Clarke had yet to be able to completely shake the man before her. Plus, the people here were hardly scrambling to kill her or one another...yet. They seemed friendly, much more so than those who greeted Clarke upon her arrival to Earth. Yes, the rational side of Clarke was chiding her silly behavior, but the other half, the half that had been leader of her people, who'd watch so many die at her expense, refuse to believe there was not a way yet to come.
His look of feigned innocence earned him a tiny smile and for a second, Clarke almost believed what happened before was a nightmare. Her stabbing him, allowing a whole village of Grounders to burn to keep Lexa and her alive, and her killing all of those within Mount Weather was a work of a horrible imagination. It could be something she'd read about in one of the few available texts on the Arc or a clip from a rare movie or television show. The normalcy of this moment almost made any of those explanations viable, believable, but unfortunately, Clarke knew so much better. It was a nightmare, one she had almost every night and multiple times then, but it had all happened. It was real. She'd smell the scent of burning flesh, felt as Finn faded in her arms, and the blood coated her hands. The blood had washed off, but it didn't matter because Clarke knew her conscience, her heart, would never be clear again. There was no redemption, no forgetting, and for her, it seemed there would be no moving on. To Clarke, this was acceptable, even welcomed. She had no right to move on, to live her life unscathed, with no guilt, for what she'd done. Looking at the others that day, on the outskirts of camp and Bellamy by her side, Clarke knew she could not go home. How could she face them? People like Jasper and Octavia? Bellamy offered her forgiveness, but his forgiveness provided no relief. There was no coming back from this path, this darkness infesting her soul, and she knew it. The solace she was seeking had to come from herself and Clarke did not believe she would ever forgive herself for the horrible choice she made that day. Choosing between lives, playing God, no-Clarke never wanted that role.
"I'm sorry. I'm sure it's out there Finn. If you want, I'll help you. I could go with you tomorrow," she offered. Leaving the apartment for a while might do her some good and provide necessary distractions for the blond. Still, it was up to him. If he didn't want her there or seemed hesitant about the idea, Clarke would not push further on the issue. She had killed him, but she knew he was still adjusting to having her around too. She pulled open one of the drawers, pleasantly surprised at the sight of silverware inside. Along with adjusting to this different life, she was yet to figure out where everything was in the kitchen. Pulling two out, she shut drawer and offered him one of the forks. "It's a start, but it does smell good," she added. Clarke hadn't eaten much since coming here. Considering everything, she figured loss of appetite was far from unusual, but she found it difficult to eat because she felt she didn't deserve to. What about her friends at Camp Jaha? Of all of them, Clarke was the last one to get a chance at enjoying actual food that she hadn't or some one else hadn't killed first. Food was hard to come by for them, but here, it was abundant as it had been rumored in their past and Clarke had access to as much as she wanted. Unfortunately, her conscience kept her from indulging in more than was necessary to keep herself alive.