“You’re really doing this?” Abby questions, surprised as she comes into the house, and finds Clarke on the couch.
“You’re the one who set it up, why are you acting so weird about it?” Clarke questions, knowing exactly what she’s referring to as she runs a hand through her hair.
“I expected you to go to dinner and do something stupid. I didn’t think you’d really get married to some random girl you hardly know,” Abby answers honestly.
Clarke shrugs, shoveling in another handful of popcorn.
“Why would she want to marry you?”
“Geez mom, way to help with my self-confidence,” Clarke deadpans, rolling her eyes.
“You look ‘ceptionally chill there, lass. Mind if I join you?” came a sudden question that startled Lexa out of her almost nap. She sat up in one fluid motion, her hand whipping to the small dagger strapped on her thigh, accessible by the conveniently placed tear in her plentiful dress.
When her eyes connected with one disarmingly clear blue eye she was frozen mid-motion for a second. It was obvious to her that the woman standing a few steps away from her boulder was not any immediate threat to her. She stared up at her, one eye closed, hand poised to block out the sun, the other hanging casually by her side. There were no visible weapons either in her hands or strapped anywhere. For all intents and purposes, the girl looked harmless.
Her golden locks reminded Lexa of the time she had first seen a field of ripe wheat and her sky blue eyes complemented that image nicely. Lexa had not yet decided if the cheeky grin ruined or enhanced the image but she gave the blonde a flat look to convey that she was thoroughly unimpressed.
“Cat got your tongue? Come on, scoot over.” The blonde said cheekily as she grabbed the ragged edges of the boulder to hoist herself up.
Lexa grudgingly moved to the side, seeing how she had not much choice in the matter. She was not about to kick someone off her boulder for trespassing on her hour of solitary relaxation. When the blonde woman flopped down next to her she allowed her legs to dangle down the edge of the rock. Her dress was extremely inconvenient for any form of excessive movement but when she dressed in the early morning hours she had not anticipated that she might need to defend herself against the annoying company of… surprisingly attractive blonde strangers.
“Well I’ll be… aren’t you a fine thing.” Clarke whistled appreciatively. “Name’s Clarke.” She suddenly remembered her manners.
Original ficlet for the Affair AU can be found HERE.
All prompts and headcanons can be found HERE.
***
Lexa drummed her fingers on the wooden bar, eager to take a sip of the ice cold sour beer in front of her. She told herself that she’d be polite, wait for Clarke to take the first sip, but the blonde was seeming to be running late and Lexa was getting thirstier by the second.
Her eyes had been wandering between her phone, her beer, and the door, every time it opened. Each person gaining entry wasn’t the person she had been waiting for. She thought to text her, but decided against it—her girlfriend was likely driving, and she didn’t want to distract her.
Perched atop a squeaky stool, she took in her surroundings—an old dive bar a few towns over, dark-colored walls, sticky vinyl floor tiles, barely any windows. When Clarke first brought her there, she couldn’t help but think it was because it was the type of establishment that none of her friends would ever find them, let alone anyone that Finn would associate with. After the next few visits, Lexa realized why. It wasn’t like the stuffy cocktail lounges and restaurants they would seldomly frequent, it was a place where Clarke felt most relaxed. It was truly her favorite neighborhood bar—friendly staff that always knew the types of beer or wine to bring her, a fantastic menu despite the grungy look of the place, and other patrons that had turned into friendly faces. It was an environment where they could be themselves, just Clarke and Lexa.
The sound of a person grabbing the stool next to her shook her out of her thoughts. Deflated that it wasn’t Clarke, she nodded and offered a friendly smile to the woman next to her.
“I’ve seen you here before,” the woman smiled back. “You’re usually with someone else, though. Solo drinks today?”
Lexa smiled at the mention of her bar-going companion, also noting that if the woman next to her has noticed her and Clarke before, she probably gathered that the blonde was more than just a friend, “Just waiting for someone.”
Lexa noticed the way the woman looked at her, brown eyes scanned the span of Lexa’s body—fresh from class, and noticeably without a shower, her toned arms peeked through the large holes of her cut off, and there was no doubt that her black sports bra was on show as well.
“Care for some company while you wait?” the woman offered a cheeky smile, well-knowing Lexa saw the way she was looking at her. “Just until your friend shows up, at least.”
“You’re more than welcome to sit wherever you please,” Lexa motioned, though taking note of the numerous empty stools that lined the bar.
Lexa gave the door one more look and opened her phone one more time, and there was no sign of Clarke. She resigned to the mindless conversation, including a slight ego boost, and finally took a sip of her slightly lesser cold beer.
Minutes flew by, and Lexa was actually glad someone had joined her—albeit not being the person she was expecting. She was at least able to have some of her drink and have somewhat of a conversation with someone; the brunette not being a fan of frequenting bars alone.
“Maybe your friend is going to be a no show, not that I’m complaining,” Dani, the woman finally introduced herself somewhere between sip number three and sip number four, raised her hand to gently rest it on Lexa’s arm.
Surprised by the touch, the brunette immediately turned to the door at the sound of it opening. Of course. Of fucking course, it was Clarke.
Green eyes immediately met the questioning blue ones, staring straight at the hand on her arm. Before Dani even had a chance to turn around, Clarke had already approached the two.
“Looks like she wasn’t a no show after all,” Dani eyed the blonde, now standing right in their proximity. Hand still on Lexa’s cool skin, “It was great finally getting to talk to you, Lexa. Hopefully I’ll see you around soon.”
Lexa nodded, then eyed the hand on her arm, waiting for the brown-eyed girl to finally retreat.
“Don’t worry,” Dani said, finally standing up and now at eye-level with Clarke, “I kept your seat warm for you. Enjoy your drinks.”
Clarke sat down on the other side of Lexa, clearly annoyed by the encounter. Not even a hello was offered to the woman who was waiting for her, her attention went straight to the bartender who gave her a nod and started filling a pint with her favorite seasonal IPA.
“Traffic?” Lexa offered, taking a sip from her beer and not yet daring to face the annoyed blonde to her left.
Clarke turned to her right, the indifferent look in her eyes shot through Lexa’s core, “Mom’s last surgery ran over, so I had to wait for her at my parents’ before coming this way.”
“Okay,” Lexa said tentatively. “Glad you’re here now.”
“Are you?” Clarke deadpanned, “Because you looked pretty comfortable from where I was standing.”
Lexa couldn’t help but roll her eyes, though well-knowing it would make the situation worse, “We were just talking, Clarke. She sat next to me and just started talking, it was nothing.”
“I wasn’t aware that ‘just talking’ meant hands on each other’s bodies,” Clarke scoffed before taking a sip of the cold beer.
Again, Lexa rolled her eyes, “It was nothing, can you drop it?”
“It didn’t look like ‘nothing’ Lex, not from where I was standing,” Clarke finally turned her whole body to face Lexa’s. “Her hand was on your arm for far too long.”
Lexa took a breath and sat up a little straighter, broadening her shoulders and raising her chin slightly, “Why are you so jealous?”
“Why do you think?”
“No, seriously, Clarke. Why are you so jealous?”
“Because I love you. What kind of stupid question is that?”
“It’s not fair. I didn’t do anything wrong,” Lexa sighed before adding, “When I go home, it’s with you, Clarke. When I hold someone, kiss someone, touch someone, it’s always you. Only you. You can’t say the same, so this isn’t fair.”
Clarke closed her eyes at the change of topic, “Do you have to bring that up whenever we fight, Lexa?”
“It’s the root of every problem and issue we have, Clarke.”
Lexa turned from the blonde, and brought the last sip of beer to her lips, wishing that there was more in her glass. She felt a soft hand on her lap, the touch was an offer of apology, one she was already far too familiar with. She sighed and attempted to compose herself, compartmentalize her feelings like she had gotten used to, “It’s only you for me, Clarke. I love you, too.”
My one shots are often portraits of slow, sad moments, and I know they’re not for everyone. But I’m grateful for the people who take time to read them. I thought I’d post my most recent one in full here.
Photo by JR Korpa on Unsplash
Rating: T
Angst, Goodbyes
4,073 words
Can’t Stop Loving You
“To Clarke’s big adventure!”
“To Clarke saving the world just like we always knew she would!”
Clarke smiles and lifts her glass. “Prost!”
Mittened hands mute the gathering’s clanking of glasses. The six of them tip their heads back to drink.
Clarke had insisted on a roof party. Despite the December fog rolling in, erasing the usually breathtaking view over the Bay. Despite the wet cold seeping in through the seams, making everyone shiver. Even the white lights strung up over their heads seem too cold to shine.
“So where are you going again?” Cecilia asks. She is Lexa’s ex from years ago, but in the grand old tradition of queer women, everyone is friendly and mostly authentically so. Now Cecilia is with Kai whose arm is wrapped around her shoulders.
“Indonesia,” Clarke says. She looks towards the cooler on the edge of their gathering. “Is there more beer?”
“I know you’re going to Indonesia, Clarke, but it’s a giant place.” Cecilia looks up at Kai. “Will you please get Clarke another beer, my love?”
Clarke flashes a smile at Kai and nods at them as they make their way to the cooler. “It’s this island called Halmahera. It’s five or six hours from Jakarta by plane.”
Cecilia turns her head towards Lexa. “And how are you with all of this?”
Lexa jerks her head as if shaken out of sleep. “I mean, it’s an amazing opportunity.” She straightens her back. “They only accepted three researchers, so…” She trails off and lets herself be distracted by Kai coming back with Clarke’s beer.
“Is it developed? Like, is there running water?” Kai asks as they hand Clarke the bottle.
One corner of Clarke’s lips ticks up in a smile. “Yeah, of course. It’s a full lab. Probably even more advanced than the ones at Cal.” Clarke has her own general practice in Berkeley, but she stayed on at Cal researching rare diseases, particularly Mucopolysaccharidosis type II, or MPS. The disease occurs in one out of every 100,000 people, so when a full third of the children in a remote village in Halmahera were found with the disease, researchers took notice.
“But what about where you’ll live?” Kai’s face is open with curiosity. They’re bundled in a wool hat and winter coat and seem unaffected by the wet chill in the air.
“I mean, it’ll be pretty, uh, monastic.” Clarke shrugs. “But I’ll have what I need.”
“What about internet?” Monty asks. He’s a friend of Clarke’s from Cal and has done his fair share of research in remote places.
“Yeah, that’s the hard part,” Clarke says. She can feel the tension emanating from Lexa who is standing beside her. “It’s pretty remote, so it’s all by satellite and pretty restricted. The lab connects to Boston once a day to exchange data, but we’re not supposed to use it for personal stuff.” Clarke swallows and refuses to even turn her head in Lexa’s direction. “There’s a village about a two-hour drive away where there’s some connection. A van will take us on the weekends.”
Cecilia wraps her arms around Kai and pulls them in. “I don’t think I could do it.” She kisses their cheek. “I’d lose my mind if you were out in some remote jungle and could only talk to me once a week.”
“It’s more rainforest than jungle.” Clarke pounces on her chance to change the subject.
“Aren’t they the same thing?” Kai asks.
“Is she always this inquisitive?” Harper, Monty’s wife, asks Cecilia, smiling playfully and nodding at Kai.
“They.” Lexa’s voice is sharp and too loud.
“What?” Harper’s head spins around to look at Lexa.
“Kai goes by ‘they.’” Lexa’s voice is softer this time. She looks down.
“Oh, right.” Harper scrunches her face in Kai’s direction. “Sorry.”
“No big deal,” Kai smiles and shrugs. “It takes some getting used to.” They turned to Lexa. “But thank you.” Their voice is sincere.
“Monty, didn’t you work in some jungle in South America for awhile?” Cecilia’s voice is full of cheer, but her eyes throw a sideways glance at Lexa.
“It was a rainforest, really.”
A light chuckle fills the foggy air. Lexa forces a smile onto her lips, but her eyes are icy.
Clarke waits until the conversation moves on to look at Lexa with wide eyes. What is going on with you? Lexa looks away and plants her icy eyes on Kai who is joyfully grilling Monty about his time in Brazil.
An hour later, Harper is bouncing from foot to foot in a little jig. “I can’t feel my feet, y’all.” She looks at Clarke. “I’m sorry, but I need to get home under my warm blankets.”
Clarke smiles and hugs Harper first, then Monty. “Thanks for coming.”
“I can’t believe you leave tomorrow.” Monty’s eyes reflect joy and worry. “Be safe, Dr. Griffin.”
“You know me,” Clarke replies lightly then looks down. Her voice gets quiet. “I’ll take care of myself.”
Lexa is standing off the group a few feet, so Monty and Harper throw an awkward wave in her direction as they walk to the door. Cecilia has no time for Lexa’s coolness. After she and Kai hug Clarke, showering her with both worries and well-wishes, she takes the extra steps towards Lexa and wraps her arms around her like a mother comforting a child.
“I know what’s going on,” she whispers. “It’s okay to be upset.”
Lexa feels angry at the tears that prick at the corner of her eyes. She won’t let Cecilia see them, and she certainly won’t let Clarke see them.
“Thanks,” she says briskly then pulls away.
Lexa drives Clarke’s car down Shattuck Ave. towards Oakland. It’s late and traffic is light, for once. Lexa looks straight ahead, her eyes only deviating to check the mirrors. The silence hangs between them like the fog over the Bay.
Clarke is buzzed, not quite drunk. She thinks about turning some music on, but stops herself. There isn’t enough room in the car for sound. Lexa’s face is already tight at the jaw and around the eyes. The smallest of stimuli and she might shatter.
Clarke sighs despite the risk. She rubs her eyes and shakes her head. She’s not made of porcelain. “Do you just want to drop me off?” Her voice is louder than she intends. “You can just drop the car off in the garage tomorrow or whenever.”
Lexa squints, still looking straight ahead. “Clarke…” She shakes her head and takes in a deep breath. Finally, the lines around her eyes soften. She sucks in her lips then lets out the breath. “No.”
Clarke reaches over, brushing Lexa’s hair away from her neck. Lexa flinches away from the touch. Clarke drops her hand into her lap and looks down.
Silence. They pull into Clarke’s building’s underground garage, take the elevator to the ninth floor, brush their teeth and wash their faces, take their clothes off, and crawl into bed without saying a word to each other. Lexa turns her back to Clarke and pulls the blankets tight around her. Clarke doesn’t close her eyes until she hears Lexa’s breath fall into a slow rhythm.
Clarke wakes in the darkness to Lexa’s arm snaking around her belly and up the middle of her chest, pulling her in tight. She feels lips at the base of her neck, working their way down vertebrae by vertebrae. She sucks in a sharp breath and tries not to move—she doesn’t want to fracture the moment. She wants Lexa to know she’s awake and open, but not too eager. She feels her skin rise in little bumps on every part of her. A shiver ripples through her. The very center of her starts to glow. Her body is eager.
There’s something different about Lexa this time. Her hands grip like she’s falling. Her lips linger longer on each inch of skin they find—a desperation that is slow and methodical. This isn’t about fun or release, it’s about memorizing every moment, every curve, every scent.
Lexa pulls on Clarke’s hip, turning her so that they’re face to face. The glow inside Clarke turns into something else, something deep like the middle of the ocean. Dark and undulating.
Lexa goes still, the silence filling with ambient city sounds—tires on pavement, a distant siren. The darkness is tinged with the orange of street lights seeping in through cracks in the curtain. Clarke can make out the dip of Lexa’s waist, the round of her shoulder. There is shadow where her face is, but a quick flash tells Clarke that Lexa’s eyes are open, looking at her.
They don’t move. Their breathing fills the space. In, out in unison. Clarke feels fingertips on her face, light like a draft from an old window. They brush over her temple, down her jawline, over her lips. Clarke can feel the path they leave across the skin—the glow, the depth. She feels the tears at the back of her throat before they make their way to her eyes. She bites her lip, holding them back.
She hears a quick intake of breath before Lexa’s lips on hers, hard and hungry. Lexa’s body is suddenly on top of Clarke’s, and Clarke pulls her against her, the weight of her an anchor. She tastes salt as their lips come together again. Then Lexa’s mouth is on her cheek, her collarbone, her neck. Clarke’s breath catches as Lexa pauses.
“Don’t go.” The whisper lingers in Clarke’s ear as their bodies start to move against each other in a rhythm—their rhythm.
It’s still dark when Clarke’s alarm goes off on her phone. As she reaches to turn it off, she can tell Lexa is gone. Her eyes are heavy with too few hours of sleep. It doesn’t matter. She has two days on planes ahead of her.
She hears rustling from the kitchen. A soft light spills in through the not-quite-closed door. Clarke pushes her head into her pillow and closes her eyes again. When they had finally fallen asleep, Lexa had been wrapped around her, her head cradled in the nook of her neck and shoulder. Clarke can still feel her on her skin. She closes her eyes and lies very still, memorizing the feeling, but when the door cracks open, it melts away.
“Clarke?” Lexa is on the other side of the door, but Clarke can hear in her voice that she’s biting her lip. When they first got together, she’d always bite her lip when she wanted to kiss her but didn’t want to seem too eager. When she was trying to stay in control.
“I’m awake,” Clarke says, her voice scratchy.
“If you want me to drive you to the airport, we should leave soon.” Lexa’s voice is stronger, more even. More distant.
Clarke turns and looks at the clock. 6:30. She shakes her head. “Don’t worry about it, Lex.”
“Are you sure?”
“The traffic on the bridge will be horrible. I’ll just take the train. It’ll be easier.”
Clarke hears Lexa exhale. She still doesn’t come into the room. “Do you want some coffee?” she asks.
“Yes, please.”
The soft light of dawn is starting to trickle in through the blinds, mixing with the light from the hallway. Clarke rubs her eyes before she opens them. The room slowly comes into focus. She lets her eyes take everything in. In the corner, The backpack and two bright yellow suitcases she packed yesterday—her life for the next six months inside. A photo of her and her mom at the peak of Mt. Tamalpais, the Pacific glistening behind them. The dresser where Clarke emptied two drawers so Lexa could store some of her things there. They had talked about moving in for months in the same way they talked about getting married or having kids: someday in some unspecified future.
The last time had been different, though. They were drinking their morning coffee on Clarke’s balcony looking out over Lake Merritt. It had been a week since Clarke had told Lexa she accepted the fellowship in Indonesia, and Lexa had been sleeping over almost every night.
“You should live here while I’m away. Just move in,” Clarke said. “You could keep the place cozy while I’m gone. I’ll pay the rent.”
“You won’t even be here,” was all Lexa said. The way she clipped her words indicated that the conversation was over.
Lexa looks down at the cup of coffee on the counter. Something inside her wants to take it to Clarke black even though she knows she likes it with a half spoon of sugar and a splash of cream. Lexa has made it that way for her hundreds of times. She instead considers yelling down the hall that the coffee is ready—make Clarke get up and prepare it herself. One is passive aggressive, the other simply inconsiderate, especially on their last morning together.
Lexa’s chest glows with a warm frustration. She knows she should feel sad, that she should make the most of this last hour together, but she just wants to skip this part. Her head drops over the coffee and she takes a deep breath. Then she walks over to the fridge to grab the cream.
When she brings the coffee into the bedroom, Clarke is toweling off after what must have been a very quick shower.
“I just needed to rinse off the…” Clarke glances down at the bed, which is a swirl of untidy blankets. The corner of her mouth lifts in a smile that is somehow sad, sincere, and playful at the same time.
Lexa forces a smile back but she can feel how shallow it is. She holds the mug out to Clarke who tosses her towel on the bed to take a sip. The site of Clarke’s bare body stings her. She wants to push Clarke’s wet hair out of her face, run her hand over the curve of her shoulder, but the desire burns off like newspaper in a fire.
Clarke suddenly feels exposed without any clothes on. She sets the coffee down and grabs the towel, wrapping it around her body. She squints at Lexa. “Are you okay?” She always picks up on whatever is going on under Lexa’s silence. Sometimes Lexa hates it.
“Are you all packed?” Lexa replies, glancing down at the luggage in the corner, aware that she didn’t answer Clarke’s question.
Clarke sucks in her lips and closes her eyes. She doesn’t want a fight right now. She nods. “Yeah, it should be everything. They don’t let us bring much.”
Lexa feels a laugh rise up in her. She can’t help it. When it mixes with everything else inside her, it comes out as scoff, but the smile that spreads across her lips is real and she can’t do anything to hide it. The suitcases are huge.
“What?” Clarke smiles. “That’s not much stuff for six months!”
Lexa feels her smile turn sad. “Do you have your headphones? The nice ones, not the ear buds.” She looks down at her hands.
Clarke nods, only a shadow of a smile left. Lexa bought her fancy headphones for Christmas last year. She uses them all the time.
Neither of them say anything for a few moments. Lexa looks down at the palms of her hands. Clarke sips her coffee.
“I need to take a shower,” Lexa finally says and pushes past Clarke into the bathroom.
Lexa’s takes a long shower. After, as she opens one of her designated drawers in Clarke’s dresser to grab fresh underwear, she realizes she may not be here again for a long time. She looks around the room. Her iPad on the bedside table. A stack of books from Half Price on the shelf underneath, only half of them read. Her running shoes by the closet. She sighs.
She doesn’t want to come back here after Clarke is gone.
“Clarke?” she calls, not moving.
“Yeah, Lex?” Clarke’s voice drifts in from the balcony.
Lexa opens her mouth to answer, but the words catch in her throat. This had been her other home for nearly two years. She woke up in Clarke’s bed more often than she woke up in her own.
Clarke materializes in the doorway. “What’s up?”
“I...I need a bag.” Lexa looks down at the drawers open in front of her.
Clarke bites her lip and swallows. Of course Lexa would take her things. Why wouldn’t she? But the realization pricks at the corner of her eyes. “Uh, yeah.” She swallows again and takes a deep breath. “Like a grocery bag or a duffel bag or…?”
Lexa lets out a long breath. “A duffel bag, I guess.”
Clarke nods and disappears. She comes back with a small gym bag. “This is all I could find.”
“That’s fine,” Lexa says quietly as she grabs the bag. She looks at Clarke for a moment, but even a moment is too much. Her eyes shift to the contents of the drawer with a strange intensity. She starts pulling socks out carefully, like she’s handling dried flowers.
“I’ll just…” Clarke can’t find more words, so she slips away. She walks through her apartment. She runs her finger across a layer of dust on a bookshelf and straightens a frame on the wall. She folds a blanket and drapes it over the couch. She rubs a leaf from her monstera between her fingers and pulls a wilting blossom off her Christmas cactus. They’ll be fine. Her mom had agreed to come by once a week to water them and to check on the apartment.
She knew she couldn’t ask Lexa.
She makes her way back out to the balcony and watches the new day reflect on the lake. Early morning joggers make their way around the three-mile track while ducks disappear momentarily beneath the surface of the water. The rising sun catches on the walls of windows curving down the Cathedral of Christ the Light. Clarke narrows her eyes against the sharp reflection.
There’s nothing else for her to do but wait.
Her coffee is gone, the mug cold in her hands, when she hears Lexa’s voice.
“Are you almost ready?”
“Yeah.” Clarke doesn’t look away from the glare of the cathedral. “Just need to put on my shoes.”
Lexa nods but Clarke doesn’t see it. Clarke stands and leans against the rail, memorizing the curve of the lake shore, the morning light breaking on the water.
I’ll miss you.
When she turns around, Lexa is gone. She goes inside and hears water running in the kitchen. She goes to grab her shoes and sees the bloated duffel bag by the front door. She takes a deep breath. She can’t take her eyes off it, the sight of it burning over the lake scene in her mind.
Lexa had taken Clarke’s mug from the balcony. She is washing it and the few other dirty dishes in the sink. She has already walked through each room to make sure there was nothing that could pose a danger from neglect—unplugging appliances and opening blinds. She’s made the bed and wiped down the bathroom sink. As she places the last dish in the drying rack, she knows there’s nothing left to do but leave.
The breath catches inside her as she feels Clarke’s arms wrap around her from behind. She lets herself lean back and wraps her wet hands around Clarke’s, holding them tight. They rest against each other for a few moments, Lexa’s eyes closed, Clarke digging her nose into Lexa’s hair.
Lexa lets out a long breath and lets go of Clarke’s hands. “Can we take a Lyft?” she asks without turning around. “I’ll just take the train home.”
The ride to West Oakland station is silent except for what sounds like preaching in Spanish over the speakers. Miguel, their driver, nods every so often when the preacher gets especially passionate. Clarke looks out the window, taking in the graffiti on abandoned houses, the brightly painted cranes on the port, the fuzzy outline of San Francisco on the horizon. Everything seems brighter against the slate gray sky. Lexa scrolls mindlessly through Instagram. They don’t say a word.
When they arrive, the station is swarming with morning commuters. The train into San Francisco will be packed. Lexa’s jaw goes rigid. I should have driven her. But there’s no guilt. There’s not even sadness. There’s nothing—except a steady, heavy pounding in her chest.
Miguel pulls the suitcases out of the trunk and sets them on the curb..
“Have a good trip.” He smiles at Clarke as she grabs them. The smile is sweet. It’s genuine.
Something boils up in Lexa. How does it come so easy for him? She slings the duffel bag over her shoulder as Clarke looks down at her suitcases, sorting out the calculus of moving them both at the same time.
“How will you get those onto the train by yourself?” Lexa asks, her voice hollow.
“I’m a scientist,” Clarke replies. “I’ll figure it out.” It’s supposed to be a joke, but neither of them laugh.
“I should have driven you to the airport.”
“It’s fine.” Clarke has sorted her suitcase situation and starts to move them towards the elevator to the platform, pushing one ahead of her and pulling one behind her.
“Let me help.” Lexa rushes over.
“Lexa.” Clarke sighs and stops. “I’m fine. Besides, you’re going in the other direction.” She hits the elevator button.
It all hits Lexa at once, like a bright light turned on in a dark room. Her chest is burning, and heat pricks at the corner of her eyes. She feels every breath move through every part of her. In and out. She forces herself to look up at Clarke.
Clarke just shakes her head and looks down. She doesn’t know what to say.
In less than a heartbeat, Lexa’s arms are around her, their bodies pressed against each other, warmth and sadness. The doors of the elevator open then close. A sea of people flows around them in an endless current.
“Be safe,” Lexa whispers. “Come back.”
Clarke just nods and presses her face into Lexa’s neck, the smell of her skin slowing everything down. “I love you.”
Lexa just nods, sucking in her lips, holding back the water threatening to break through the dam.
Clarke swallows and starts to pull away. “I need to go.”
Lexa steps away and nods again. She looks into Clarke’s eyes, blue like an endless storm on the ocean, but she can’t hold the gaze. It’s too much. She presses the elevator button for Clarke. The doors open immediately. Without a word, Clarke steers her luggage in. The doors close before she can turn around.
Lexa takes a deep breath before she turns to the stairs that lead up to the eastbound platform. The duffel bag is heavy and awkward in her hand, but she still skips every other step on her way up. The sky feels even grayer when she reaches the top.
Only a few people mill about on her side, but across the tracks hundreds of people wait to head into San Francisco. Lexa scans the crowd, looking for Clarke, but there are so many faces. Something frantic rises up in her. She rushes down the platform, her eyes darting from face to face. Where is she?
“Lexa!” Clarke’s voice calls over the static noise of the station.
Finally, Lexa spots the bright yellow suitcases and draws her eyes up to Clarke standing next to them. Clarke holds up her hand in a tiny, sad wave. Lexa lets a tiny laugh escape and returns the wave. Clarke’s mouth is drawn in a slight smile, but her eyes betray everything going on inside her. This time Lexa holds the gaze, intent on keeping Clarke with her as long as she can.
They’re still looking at each other when the train to SFO rolls in, cutting the connection. Lexa stares at its grimy windows as it sits for a few moments, dirty silhouettes of people looking at their phones filling each frame. It lingers, swaying slightly as a wave of passengers swarm inside.
The train pushes off. Car after car goes by in a blur. When it finally reveals the platform on the other side, everyone has disappeared. Clarke is gone.
Lexa kissed Clarke as they lay in bed together. Both women knew their time together was short and they were determined to make the most out of every second.
“One more kiss.”
Lexa leaned in as they were walking out of her room. Clarke was due back in Arkadia by nightfall and it had not been easy coming to terms with saying goodbye to Lexa. It was like they had just found each other and now everything in the world was trying to rip them apart.
Lexa walked with Clarke down the halls. She dismissed her guards as they moved lower through the tower. They stopped in the shadow of a large statue near the entrance of the stables and Lexa pressed Clarke against the stone structure.
“One more kiss.”
Clarke’s lips lingered as long as she dared before walking into the stables. The two stablehands had already prepared Clarke’s horse and with a wave of her hand Lexa let them know they could go.
“One more kiss.”
Lexa’s fingers brushed through Clarke’s hair as they kissed once again. This time Lexa didn’t pull away, but muttered against Clarke’s mouth.
“One more kiss.”
Clarke could feel her own sadness threatening to overtake her as they finally pulled away. She saw the fresh tears on Lexa’s face as Clarke hopped onto the saddle and looked down at Lexa’s broken expression.
Lexa grabbed Clarke’s hand and kissed the back.
“One more kiss.”
Clarke smiled, her own tears now streaming down her cheeks as she squeezed Lexa’s hand and started off out of the stables.
She had made it to the entrance of the market before she turned back to look at the tower. She had no idea when she would see it again, or when she would see Lexa again.
“May we meet again, for one more kiss,” Clarke whispered, before pressing her heels into her horses sides and taking off out of the city.
Something twists in Lexa’s gut, but she pulls out the thorn before it can make roots. I’ll take solace in the fact that I’m the only one who stayed, even if you don’t want me that way.
sick and full of pride (ch 1) - poisonrain / @lizgilllies
Does anyone know of/remember the fic where Clarke loses her memory? I think it's a one shot. Lexa is a professor and when Clarke remembers she runs into her class and announces in front of everyone that she remembers?
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
My new chapter of The Journey Home is up!
Chapter summary: Clarke and Lexa reconnect.
Fic summary: After a bad accident, Clarke wakes up to find that 10 years of her memory have disappeared. She has now found herself in a life she never chose and a stranger she can't stay away from.
