(TW: Happy end although it talks about death and grieving process. Just wrote and threw it here, I won't rewrite and I don't care about it right now)
For Clarke, the worst part wasn’t the absence of Lexa. Instead, it was the almost perfect, palpable illusion that she was there, healed and alive.
It was the mere second after dreaming that she was there, that she was here, that they were together and everything was fine.
That unforgiving second that would come crashing like a wrecking ball, that sweet, sweet and fragile, sensation of not touching the reality of the facts destroyed by the conscience of her own surroundings.
It was to remember, after seeing that beautiful smile and vivid green eyes locked into hers, that all that was a lie of her mind.
Whenever she woke up after seeing and feeling Lexa’s feather touches on her skin, she would fall apart completely.
Clarke endured all those months at the hospital – even with a bad leg and too many nights of not sleeping well, she would argue and fight to stand by Lexa’s side until the very end. When Lexa was nothing than a tiny, fragile body struggling to endure a lung infection. When Lexa could barely open her now blurry-green eyes; Clarke would be there, observing and holding the world for her.
Describing the clouds outside.
Reading out loud Lexa’s favorite books.
Confessing her secrets that she already knew from before.
Clarke handled it all with a strength that no one would predict. Her grandkids wouldn’t believe of the capacity of that lady to hold the world with wrinkled, trembling hands, for Lexa, while she could barely breathe.
Clarke has comforted Madi and Aden. Assured them that their mother shouldn’t suffer any longer.
Even the doctors stood fascinated by her leadership during the treatment. She took every single decision on Lexa’s process of palliative care.
She guided her wife beyond worlds during her last breath. She even sang hoarsely as she would be a child about to sleep.
Everything and so far beyond it, Clarke could handle. Except the dreams that came after Lexa’s passing.
She would call for Lexa almost every night, quietly, and sob by her own ‘till morning, when she was finally able to sleep again.
(She couldn’t handle the stars of the night without Lexa to tell her silly curiosities about the constellations.)
(She couldn’t breathe properly without the well-known scent of Lexa’s perfume before bed.)
Madi and Aden, they dreamed about Lexa, too. She would talk to them and ask them to take care of their mother for a while. And so they did it. They’d felt her warm aura hovering their dreams as her tender presence always did.
But for Clarke, dreaming and talking with Lexa during that dreams, was too painful.
(Aden’s husband always guessed that the Griffin-Woods’ family had some kind of supernatural connection between them, meanwhile they would all find it funny to say the least.)
Months later, after a particular long conversation with Madi where Clarke finally convinced her daughter to sign the papers needed to inherit her mother’s patrimony, the old lady asked to take her grandkids for a walk around the main square of Polis. They had ice cream and talked about the beautiful birds that flew over their heads around the public garden.
Clarke went home with a sweet, however slightly sad, smile on her face.
She knew she would dream of her wife again.
Clarke opened her eyes and caught herself inside a golden bedroom, illuminated by sunset rays and candles. A lot of candles. The heavy scent of spices and wood filled the blonde’s senses.
Behind an intricate curtain, near the large bed covered with furs, came Lexa, wearing some different brown clothes that hugged her body perfectly.
She was young as 45 years ago when they met. Brown locks cascading by the side of her head through her right shoulder. Eyes’ perfectly green, highlighted with black eyeliner.
Her bee-stung lips half open in an expression of emotion and wonder. Clarke could not remember any kind of physical limitation by her age.
She was there, with Lexa. Reunited again after all that pain.
- Clarke. – She muttered so softly as the words could hurt if said out loud.
The blonde could not speak. Whenever she opened her mouth she would wake again inside her room, all alone and grieving.
Instead, she took to large steps towards the brunette and held her by the forearm as they did ages ago.
She pulled her in for a kiss – one that she had been waited for so long.
The hot tears running free through her cheeks as she thought: “finally, finally”
It wasn’t the first time that she dreamt of kissing Lexa just like they did when they were younger. However, it was the first time that she reached her lips.
They were sweet and soft as ever.
And it felt like nothing had changed.
45 years later and she would kiss those lips over and over and over again.
She would look for Lexa and fight for Lexa over and over and over again.
When the brunette hooked her arm around Clarke’s waist possessively, she knew it was time.
She wouldn’t wake up after that dream anymore.
When Aden called Madi late that night, she already knew.
