Clarke had been at the gallery almost all night, she'd been working with a… less than negotiable client. He had her working almost nonstop with how he needed not wanted, needed his work displayed and apparently every time she did as he asked she did wrong. So tonight she'd been there again re arranging everything to hopefully meet his desired.

So finally at half past midnight she was walking down the dark streets of DC her jacket wrapped tightly around her as she walked, "It's fucking March. It needs to be warmer." She growled to herself as she finally reached her apartment building and trudged up the stairs.

Her apartment was on the 4th floor and the elevator had been down for ages so by the time she reached her floor she was significantly out of breath but everything froze when she saw the lock on her door busted and hanging open.

Dread filled her body as she very slowly walked in and looked around, her things thrown about and her television was missing. She didn't care about that so much as all her art was trashed. Her canvases were ripped and broken, her sketches had muddy boot prints on them. The worst of all was her proudest painting, a beautiful close up of Lexa's sleeping face, had been trashed. You could barely tell it was a face anymore.

Before Clarke knew what she was doing her phone was in her hand and it was dialing Lexa's number and her body relaxed slightly as she heard her girlfriends groggy sleep filled voice. "Clarke what's up is almost one am." She asked softly. Clarke's voice was shaky and it was clear she was on the verge of tears, "M-my door was broken in and they took my stuff and…. All my paintings were destroyed." She whispered her voice shaky as she sat on the couch. She suddenly felt small and violated, like every aspect of her life had just been put on display for the world.

Lexa's voice cleared immediately and the sounds on the other side of the phone indicated she was getting dressed, "Did you wait for the police to go in?" was the first question Lexa asked and her only response was sniffles, which was an answer enough on its own. "Clarke! The robber could have been in there you could have gotten seriously hurt!" She scolded as she rushed out of the apartment. Lexa lived about four blocks down from here so she practically ran the only sounds on the phone were her heavy breathing but she refused to hang up on Clarke.

When she raced up the stairs and burst into her apartment Lexa finally hung up the phone. The brunettes heart crumbled as she saw Clarke curled in on herself on the couch the phone pressed to her ear. Lexa moved over and scooped her up holding her in her lap as she called the police and gently rubbed Clarke's back. Once she was done she held her closer and kissed the top of her head, "I'm so sorry Clarke…. All of your work…" She whispered finally looking around the apartment.

Clarke just shook her head and pressed closer, "Don't leave me…" She murmured into her neck.

Lexa shook her head and closed her eyes as she held her close, "Never." She whispered softly and true to her word long after the police left and Clarke was curled up asleep in her arms Lexa remained vigilant watching over the girl that held her heart.

(My first Clexa fic and it'll just be a oneshot but I have an idea for a longer one. I'd appricate any feedback I can get and I'm sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes I've made.)