A/N: For those of you who have never seen Pushing Daisies (I'm assuming most of you): it's not a prerequisite before reading this. Pushing Daisies is basically like a really long crack fic, where nothing is taken too seriously, everyone is eccentric, there's lots of adorable moments, some singing and minimal angst. This fic however, didn't turn out quite as silly as I was imagining, so it's more like moderate angst. Anyway, if you have the inclination, you should check out the pilot.
At this very moment, Lexa Woods was serving her last customer of the day, an elderly woman by the name of Francis Miller. Ms Miller reminded Lexa greatly of the sweet old woman who had run this store before her, and who had bequeathed it to Lexa upon her death. From early on Lexa had learned the horticultural trade from her father, Gustus. They would spend hours in the garden every day, dutifully tending to their charges. She had taken to it like a bee to honey, blessed with one of the finest green thumbs the town of Arkadia had ever seen.
Costia Greene was Lexa's assistant and apprentice, and rather infatuated with her. Costia was far from being a shrinking violet, and as such, she took many a private opportunity to let Lexa know just how infatuated she was. As Lexa turned the closed sign around, she could feel her presence. Not in an ominous way exactly, though Lexa did steady herself before facing the persistent girl.
"You got any plans for tonight?" asked Costia, standing one foot and five inches away.
Lexa gulped at the question and the hopeful (and seductive) glint in Costia's eye. She took a step closer but did not touch Lexa. From a young age, Lexa had been uncomfortable with touch, but not perhaps for the reasons you may be supposing.
"'Cause you look like you could use a drink, and I know the perfect place within walking distance."
Lexa highly suspected this perfect place was Costia's apartment, a place Lexa had only dared venture once before. After she found the drawing Miss Greene had made of her, a somewhat risque number, Lexa had decided never to go there again. Lexa was not afraid of Costia because her behaviour occasionally bordered on sexual harassment, but rather that she had begun to develop feelings of her own, something she vowed she would never do again. So far, playing oblivious to Costia's blatant attempts at seduction had worked to keep her at bay.
"I don't drink," she replied simply.
This was true. Lexa Woods did not drink. Loose lips would not do with someone like her.
"Oh, okay," muttered the crestfallen woman. "I just thought maybe...nevermind."
The back door to Grounders chimed closed upon Miss Greene's departure. A few moments later they chimed again, this time admitting one Raven Reyes, an ex-military brat who had been honourably discharged for an incident involving a bottle of moonshine, a tub of butter, and an explosion in the quartermasters quarters. Upon re-entry into civilian life, she had settled down as a private investigator, a fairly lucrative business if you knew where to look.
Raven leaned back against the door, her braced leg resting slightly forward. Against her hip an M9 was holstered. Weapons - guns in particular - made Lexa anxious, but Raven refused to go anywhere without her trusty sidekick.
Raven glanced down at Lexa's abnormally long and slender fingers, which were peaking around folded arms. "When you gonna give that poor girl a nice long bone?"
Lexa scowled at the lewd comment, positioning her hands behind her back. "Charming, as ever."
Raven shrugged, a smirk across her face. "I'm just sayin'. She's hot. You're hot. What's the problem?"
The problem was as follows:
Lexa Woods fell in love with a girl named Clarke nineteen years, thirty-three weeks, five days, eight hours and twelve minutes ago. She was wearing daisies in her braided hair, daisies Lexa had grown herself. Her blue eyes were animated by the wonder that had just been performed. She was the prettiest thing Lexa had seen thus far in her short life, and her heart was overflowing with the deepest of adoration. In a fit of ecstatic endearment, Clarke hugged and kissed Lexa on the cheek, proclaiming them friends forever. Tiny Pauna, Clarke's caramel haired Abyssinian guinea pig, was similarly thrilled. For you see, Lexa wasn't like all the other little girls and boys.
She could bring the dead back to life.
"You know," murmured Lexa. Before Raven could protest the oft repeated argument, she added, "It wouldn't be professional to have sex with my only employee."
"So fire her then."
Yes, because that would surely be appealing...
Lexa frowned at Raven. "Despite her questionable private behaviour, she's an excellent assistant, indispensable to my business."
"And how much you paying this," Raven did air quotes, "indispensable assistant of yours?"
Staring at a black spot of soil on the floor she replied, "The budget has been tight lately, I admit, but-"
"You do realize that you're taking advantage of her feelings for you, right?"
Lexa frowned further at the accurate assessment.
"You can't keep living in the past, Lexa. Go out with Costia, just once. See what happens. You might be surprised. You might actually enjoy yourself. You do remember fun, right?" Raven sighed at the lack of response. "When's the last time you got laid, anyway? One or ten years ago?"
Lexa flushed slightly causing Raven to smirk. "Why are you here, Raven?" she inadvertently snapped.
Sticking her hand inside of her red leather jacket, she pulled out her wallet and retrieved several hundred dollar bills. Then she strode over the few paces to Lexa and shoved them in her blouse pocket. "Thought you'd like to make a few bucks."
"Oh no," protested Lexa, with a raised hand, "I'm not doing that again. I only helped you the last time because there was a pyromaniac on the loose. I've heard of no such person in recent days, ergo, you don't need my help."
"You helped me last time because there was a twenty thousand dollar reward which I graciously split down the middle." She hooked a thumb towards the back lot, where a new automated watering system could be heard performing its duties. "Nice investment by the way."
Lexa flushed a similar shade to that of the roses in the display window.
Raven smirked again. "As an added bonus, I won't make any jabs at your pathetic love life for a whole week."
"Fine," grumbled Lexa, grabbing her long black coat and gloves. She liked to be covered thoroughly at all times. It reduced the chances of unwanted touching. "Let's get this over with."
They got into Raven's crimson Tesla Model S. Say what you will about Raven Reyes, at least she was environmentally sound, past bombs not withstanding. Classic rock played quietly in the background as they made their way to the morgue. A few minutes into the drive Lexa asked about the particulars regarding the case.
"A woman was murdered outside her apartment late last night. Strangled to death. The police think it was her ex-boyfriend. He was one of those obsessive, stalker-ish guys who wouldn't take no for an answer. She even had a restraining order against him. Not that it did her any good."
When you've been alone for a long time, you tend to lower your standards and make allowances for odd, potentially harmful behaviour, and maybe even fancy yourself in love. Of course Lexa didn't think Costia would ever harm her physically if she were to flat out reject her - the woman made sure to never touch her again after the first time Lexa told her it made her uncomfortable - it was impossible to say for sure.
Lexa shifted in her seat before saying, "That's terrible. Where do we come in? Who hired you?"
"No one hired me."
"What do you mean?" Lexa frowned, staring down at the bills still in her blouse. "Why are we going to the morgue if no one hired you?" Casting a suspicious eye on her friend, "We are going to the morgue, aren't we?"
Raven didn't immediately respond. Then she sighed and pulled over to the side of the road and turned off the music. In an uncharacteristically sensitive manner, Raven turned to her with pitying eyes and took her hand. Curiousity and dread blossomed within.
"There's no easy way to say this," said Raven softly, "so I'll just say it. The woman who was killed...it's Clarke."
Eight hundred and sixty-four things passed through Lexa's mind in that moment, most of which were some variation of, god no, and why me? Then her churning brain postulated there were any number of similar looking people in the city. It was a big place. There were seven million, three hundred and thirty-two thousand, five hundred and one people currently living in Polis. Mistaken identity happened all the time. The dead girl wasn't necessarily-
"Who I.D.d her?" Lexa managed somehow, body tremulous and in disbelief.
"Her mother went down to the morgue a few hours ago. Abby positively I.D.d her daughter." Raven squeezed her hand. "I just thought you'd like to say goodbye before they performed the autopsy."
Lexa swallowed hard through the lump in her throat. "Take me to her," she all but whispered.
Raven nodded grimly and restarted the vehicle, a disturbingly quiet silence enveloping them. Twenty minutes later Lexa found herself moving on autopilot through the back entrance to the morgue, barely registering Raven slipping a few twenties to the attendant who was unabashedly staring at her chest and the hundreds peeking out of her pocket.
"She's in slot six," he informed them in a bored manner before returning to his seat to play on his phone. "You've got ten minutes."
They stood in front of the designated slot, just staring at it. Lexa's head was spinning and she felt very close to vomiting, which was fortunate since there was a drain in the floor. She didn't want to think about the types of things that went down there. Being surrounded by dead people gave Lexa the heebie jeebie's...she always felt as though they were calling out to her to bring them back, an urge she had to fight to control. In her dreams however, she usually succumbed, and there were no consequences and everyone was just happy and alive.
"Whenever you're ready," said Raven gently. "Screw the time limit."
If only it were that easy.
Tiny Pauna's joy lasted for precisely forty-seven seconds when he nuzzled Lexa's hand and promptly dropped dead again. Both girls stared in abject horror at the cruelty of Lexa's gift. One touch brought life, the second brought death...forever.
When her stomach had settled slightly, she nodded to Raven, who opened the cold, chrome door and slowly wheeled out the body covered in a thin white sheet. If this was indeed Clarke, she had certainly...changed since Lexa had last seen her. Raven was saying something to her but Lexa didn't hear her. Her whole world was narrowed down to this one white sheet and what laid beneath it. Steeling herself further, she pulled the veil back. Tangled blonde hair greeted her. As well as a set of unseeing eyes, which may have been the same shade she recalled in life, but was slightly off kilter in death. Without that indefinable spark present, it could only be a poor imitation of the real deal. Thankfully that spark resided in her finger tip.
She looked over at Raven, who was watching her reaction, rather than looking at the body. "Do you think maybe I could do this alone?"
Raven ran her fingers through her hair. "I don't know, Lexa...that might not be the best idea-"
"Please. I need to do this by myself. I'd rather not have any distractions before..." she gulped, "before it's done."
"Okay," she said placing a hand on her shoulder. "Just make sure to keep track of the time."
Once the double swinging doors had come to a halt, Lexa took the opportunity to stroke the woman's hair and face for a few seconds, tracing down to the slight cleft of her chin. She winced as she ran her fingers over the discoloured welt across her neck, the result of what appeared to be a belt. The idea that someone would inflict such brutality on such a caring woman angered Lexa greatly. But now was not the time for hatred towards Clarke's killer, there would be time for that later.
Keeping her emotions locked securely in the recesses of her heart, Lexa pulled off one of her gloves and touched the woman's cheek, a pleasant surge of warmth lingering. The previously pallid woman immediately jolted upright, as if shocked by paddles, as if her heart had only momentarily stopped beating. Because of this sudden movement, the sheet slid down her torso, revealing ample breasts that Lexa really should not be staring at, and promptly screwed her eyes shut.
Fighting the flush creeping up her neck she said, "Hello, my name is-"
"Lexa?" said the woman, her voice much deeper and sultrier than Lexa recalled. The wonders of puberty.
"How...how do you know who I am?" she stammered, rather taken aback. Did she still look like a lanky eleven year old girl?
A husky chuckle came in response, one that caused an unasked for shiver. "I only know one person who can command death."
"Right," replied Lexa, feeling slow witted, among other things.
"You can look now," said Clarke, clearly amused.
Why was she so damn cheerful?
Hazarding one eye open, she found that Clarke was now propped up on an elbow, holding the sheet in place. Opening the second eye revealed much the same thing.
Clarke just stared at her, a tiny smirk in place. "So this is awkward," she said helpfully.
"You're not mad. I thought you'd be mad. I always pictured a lot more yelling than this."
Clarke cocked a brow. "Why?"
"You know why."
Clarke just looked at her blankly and Lexa wondered if she sustained head trauma when she was killed.
Somewhat exasperatedly (and bitterly) she elaborated. "The whole hating me and never wanting to see me again thing. That's kind of where I got it from."
Clarke chuckled. "Lexa, I was ten years old when I said that. My dad had just suddenly died...I wasn't exactly in my right state of mind."
"Still," persisted Lexa, "you never did reach out later on. You knew where I was."
For the first time Clarke wasn't smiling. "Yeah, well, I've always been crap at apologizing."
This was true. There were fifty-nine instances where Clarke Griffin should have apologized last week alone. She was one of the most stubborn individuals on the planet, ranking in the top hundred, between a thirty-nine year old Uzbekistani man named Ansar Ibragimov, and a ninety-seven year old Icelandic woman who had never once said she was sorry, not even after running over her neighbours cat...twice.
"You could've come to me..." said Clarke, attempting to deflect her own guilt at their lengthy separation.
"I thought you hated me," reiterated Lexa.
Clarke huffed. "Well I didn't...and I don't." She reached over and took Lexa's gloved hand in hers. "I once told you we were friends forever...I hope that still rings true."
"It does," reassured Lexa, embarrassingly quickly.
Dopey smiles across both their faces, they shared a rather intense gaze for a few seconds, by the end of which Clarke blinked and said, "Kiss me."
"Kiss you?" echoed Lexa, not trusting her ears in this regard. They had been buzzing ever since she came in here, though perhaps it was just the overheard lighting. She wasn't really sure about anything anymore. Clarke wanted her to kiss her?
Clarke blushed prettily, glancing down and toying with their joined hands. "Never kissing you was my biggest regret in life. I just thought maybe you could kiss me goodbye."
Despite the cool nature of the morgue room, Lexa was sweating and stiff as a board. She felt as though she'd been petrified. She had just seconds to decide, though really she had decided the instant she had laid eyes on Clarke, eyes once more vibrant with life.
"Lexa, promise me you won't bring me back," her father said weakly, coughing up blood. In a freak accident, he had managed to fall from the ladder and impale himself with the gardening shears. They had gone straight through him like a sword, piercing his lungs. He would expire within minutes, long before any substantial medical aid could be retrieved.
"But I can save you!" she exclaimed, frantic, trying her best not to cry.
Gustus shook his head. "The cost is too high."
She had no idea what he was talking about. "Cost?"
"Everything must remain in balance. If you take life for yourself for more than a minute, you steal it from somewhere else."
"How do you know this?" Lexa hadn't even been aware that her father had known about her ability. Was he special too?
Gustus coughed up some more blood. He sounded completely exhausted when next he spoke, so unlike the man she loved with all her heart. "Just promise me you'll let me die."
Voice choked with emotion and unshed tears, she whispered, "I promise."
"Goodbye my sweet pea," he said with one last kiss to her forehead. "I love you."
She had made the right decision with her father, but she couldn't bring herself to lose someone else she loved again, not when she had the power to save her. So rather than meet Clarke's lips for the first and last time, she released her hand and allowed the minute to expire.
Clarke gave her a disappointed, and then confused look. "Lexa, how much time is left?"
There was a thud in the other room, just behind the swinging doors.
Wide-eyed, Clarke said, "What have you done?"
What had she done, indeed.
So there's the first installment, following the general premise to Pushing Daisies...what did you think? Should I try to include singing in here at some point?
And I was messing around with google translate, and this is really childish, but when Lexa says 'who I.D.d her?' it sounds like 'who did her?' and then Raven says, 'Abby positively did her.' And yeah, I thought that was important to announce for some reason.