The room seemed too dark and too bright, each flickering of a shadow only a ghost of what it should and could have been. But she paused as she took in the man who sat before her, she paused as thoughts took shape, as memories filtered through her mind, and she let thoughts coalesce and sharpen and focus into a point somewhere in the very far corners of her mind.
And she knew herself to have done this so many times now. She knew she had sat where she now sat over and over and over. And over.
And she knew what he would say, she knew what he would ask, what he would do.
And she knew what she would find herself saying, what she would find herself answering and what she would find herself doing.
If only because she had said and answered and done the same for each life she had lived since she could comprehend.
And so she smiled as their eyes met, she let herself take in the deepest of blues and strongest of depths that coloured the tie around his neck and she let herself remember all that she could.
While she could.
Lexa woke slowly, her mind just a little reluctant to slip from the warmth of whatever dream she had been living. Her breaths came in easily, happily, slowly as they let her waking mind settle into its waking senses.
She blinked though, or perhaps not quite, for her eyes remained shut, her sight too reluctant to wake just yet. But Lexa felt the presence behind her shift, she felt it move and settle closer to her warmth and she smiled as she felt the press of a tired body against her back.
Lexa turned then, eyes still closed as she found herself fumbling blindly for a hand, for flesh, for warmth and long sought comfort that seemed to evade her with each passing day.
But she smiled, too. She smiled as she felt the warmth of breath ghost her cheek, she smiled with just a little more fierceness as she felt feet tangle and dance with hers and she smiled as she felt a leg slide its way between her own, as it wove through hers and held her close.
And she smiled.
"Hey," the voice said, and Lexa always enjoyed the way it sounded as it woke, as sleep clung to it desperately, as tiredness pulled at its edges.
"Hey," Lexa repeated, and she found herself unwilling, still, to open her eyes, to let herself wake and move too far from her dream.
"You're awake," the voice said, its tone just a little teasing.
"I am," Lexa said, and she couldn't help but scrunch her nose at the touch she felt ghosting the tip of her nose.
"Then why are your eyes closed?" and Lexa smiled a little more widely than she intended. But perhaps she couldn't blamed.
Not when she remembered how things had ended.
"Because you always look better in my dreams," Lexa answered, and she knew she sensed eyes rolls, she knew she sensed feigned annoyance, feigned anger and shock.
"Really?" and Lexa couldn't help but gasp out just a little as a hand squeezed her hip, as a leg was thrown over her body and as she was pinned to her back as a weight settled over her.
"Really," Lexa found herself smiling.
"What about now?" and Lexa knew the game they played, she knew the things that were being done.
And so she opened her eyes just in time to see the light grey shirt lifted over sleep tussled hair, wild and curly and free in its movements.
And well, perhaps Lexa couldn't be blamed for letting her eyes take in the body that hovered over hers, the legs that straddle her torso, and the eyes that smiled down at her with a shine and a depth that she wished had never once been broken and empty and lifeless.
"Good morning, Lexa," the woman said, and Lexa couldn't help but let her eyes skim a level lower as the woman let the light of a rising sun catch her chest in just the right way.
"Good morning, Costia."
Lexa had had lifetimes of self reflection, lifetimes of thought and guilt and happiness and burdens and carefree days, but she had always found it odd that certain habits, that certain things had always stuck with her, had always followed her with each life she found herself living.
And so she bit her lip in thought as she watched and waited as the toaster continued to toast, as it continued to heat.
And she knew when the toast was just right from the way the filaments glowed a bright orange, when the toast's fibres only just began to brown and crust and burn. And so she smiled as the pop echoed out through the kitchen.
Lexa spared only a second as she licked her thumb and finger before reaching forward and taking the toast from where it stood and she smiled to the sound both slices made as they hit the plate with the slightest of crunches.
"I wish you didn't do that," Costia said, and Lexa looked up to see the woman watching her from the fridge, a carton of milk in one hand, a carton of orange juice in the other.
"Do what?" but Lexa knew what Costia spoke of, and so she couldn't help but laugh as her words were met with a rolling of the eyes.
"Licking your fingers before picking up the toast," and Costia mimed a gag.
"It's to stop me from burning my fingers," Lexa countered with a raised eyebrow.
"How would you like it if I licked your glass?" Costia said as she stuck out her tongue.
"How would you like it if I licked your toast?" Lexa said in answer, and she raised one slice to her lips.
"You wouldn't dare," and Lexa tried hiding the smile as she saw Costia's eyes narrow.
"Wouldn't I?" and Lexa let the tip of her tongue touch the edge of the toast.
"Stop," and Costia moved across the kitchen more quickly than Lexa anticipated and snatched the toast out of her hands. "Or you'll regret it," and Costia glared past the smile twitching at the corners of her lips.
"I'll regret it?" and Lexa pressed forward just enough that she invaded Costia's space.
"Yes," and Costia pushed back just a little as she lifted her chin in defiance.
And so Lexa smiled as she leant forward and licked the corner of Costia's toast.
"Then make me regret it."
It had always been there, and it wasn't an overt feeling, it wasn't even something that seemed to be conscious, but it was always there, always hiding in the furthest parts of her thoughts.
And it wasn't that Lexa tried not thinking of it, it wasn't even that it wasn't something she avoided.
But she had found that her memories of past lives never really affected her, never really seemed to impact what and how her life would unfold.
And it was strange.
It was strange because she remembered every life she had lived, she remembered Clarke, she remembered the times they had had together, the losses, the anguishes, the pains and the loves, and she remembered the lives where they had never quite found each other, where they had never quite been in sync, where their lives had been at different stages, when hers had just begun, where Clarke's was soon to end, where she had been too old, too young, too afraid, too stubborn, and others where Clarke had been too adventurous, too mysterious, broken, hapless, too fleeting for her to chase.
And for some reason Lexa couldn't quite figure out just why she had been granted the gift of remembrance.
But maybe it wasn't a gift.
If only because she wasn't entirely sure what she would do now that she had found Costia, now that she had found someone she had once shared a life with. And she couldn't be blamed for holding onto Costia as soon as she had found her, for pursuing Costia. If only because she remembered what they had had last time, she remembered the pain, she remembered the anger, the fury and the satisfaction she had felt when she had thrown the spear into Nia, when she had looked and taken in the life as it bled from that wretched woman's body.
But yet, in the very corners of her mind, Clarke still existed. And would always exist.
Somewhere.
"You're quiet today," and Lexa looked up to find Anya peering at her from across the table, eyes narrowed just a fraction as she took a sip of her coffee.
"Sorry," Lexa said.
"Don't be," and Anya groaned a contented sound as she leant back in her chair.
And not for the first time Lexa found herself eyeing where she thought the bullet had struck Anya in their past life, but only for a moment for she knew that pain, too, was not so pleasant, not so kind to her memories.
"How's Costia?" Anya asked, and Lexa looked away in thought for only a moment before deciding the truth was something she couldn't avoid.
"Good," and Lexa didn't even try to fight the smile that crept its way upon her lips.
"Good?" and Anya's eyebrow raised, curiosity piquing for just a moment. "Actually," and Anya held a hand up. "Don't tell me," and she took another sip of her coffee. "I can imagine just what kind of morning you both had," and Lexa laughed lightly, the sound something she had missed in another life.
"She's happy," and Lexa nodded to herself as thoughts took hold within her mind. "We're happy," and she looked down at her hand.
"She expect it?" Anya asked.
"No," and Lexa thought for a moment. "Yes," she added. "Sort of," and Anya's eyes rolled. "We've talked about it before, so she knew it was going to happen."
"Just not when," Anya said.
"Yeah," and Lexa found herself thinking of futures, thinking of days to come and she couldn't help but to feel the smile that pulled at her lips.
"You know," and Anya leant forward, eyes shining just a little in the morning light.
"I know?" Lexa trailed off, gaze narrowing a fraction as Anya's lips pulled up into a smirk.
"Seeing as though I'm the one who set you both up," and Lexa thought she knew where the conversation would end up going.
"No," and Lexa laughed as Anya glared, lifted her chin and hardened her gaze.
"Yes," Anya said, and Lexa knew the other woman wouldn't give up so easily.
"No," Lexa repeated.
"Why not?" Anya asked as she leant back in her chair, fingers tapping against the rim of the cup held in her hands.
"Because," Lexa said, and she paused for just a moment as she tried to think of a better reason than simply because.
"Because?"
"Because we aren't thinking about kids yet," and Lexa saw Anya scoff.
"Maybe you aren't," Anya said. "But she is. And I know her and I know you."
"And what's that supposed to mean?"
"It's supposed to mean that you'll cave, maybe you have already, you just don't know it yet," and Anya smirked as she took a sip. "And when you do, you'll need to sell the car because it can barely fit both of you already," Anya gestured to herself then. "And I'm in the market for a car that goes much too fast for a pregnant woman, especially one that can't quite fit two people, let alone three or four."
"Maybe the kids will go on the roof," Lexa said.
"Oh," and Anya's lip quirked up at the corners. "So it's more than one, now?"
"That's not what I meant," Lexa said as her eyes rolled.
"You're really just a big sap, I know it, and you know it," Anya leant back then, arms crossing over her chest as a smug smile spread across her lips. "I bet you secretly dream about having lots of kids, a nice big wedding, and cuddles by a roaring fire."
"I don't."
"You do."
"No."
"Yes."
"Nope."
But secretly?
She did.
Lexa had almost forgotten what it had felt like to be able to sleep in, to be able to enjoy the warmth of the bed, of another body beside hers, to even feel the softness of bed sheets without the constant bite of a knife hidden within furs.
But as she rolled onto her back, as she let her toes brush against the softest of sheets, and as she let the warmth of the pillow cradle her head, she couldn't quite hold back the moan of satisfaction and delight.
And she enjoyed the life she lived, she enjoyed the days she would spend at work, where she would talk quietly at times, where she would scowl, would threaten, would cajole, humour and persuade when needed. She even enjoyed the bad days, the days when it rained, the days when it was too cold.
And she enjoyed those too cold days for her body never ached like it had, it never felt every stinging scar that had littered her body, where she hadn't broken her nose four times before she had even learnt to fire arrow from too large bow.
But most of all?"
She enjo—
"Too much," she gasped out as pleasure seemed to cascade through her mind, as her chest rose too heavily, as her eyes seemed to see stars, as her flesh seemed to tingle and burn and throb with every little twitching of her senses. "Too much," she whimpered just a little too breathlessly. But perhaps she didn't want it to stop, perhaps she didn't ever want it to end.
And she knew that Costia knew she didn't really wish for it to end from the way she hummed.
And perhaps Lexa could be forgiven for not quite letting thoughts of golden flames and piercing skies take purchase within her mind. Not this time, at least.
Costia looked up at the whimpers she couldn't hold back, and Lexa found herself drawn into the way Costia's eyes seemed to smirk with little struggle, how they sparkled just slightly as the light seemed to be captured between them both.
"What?" and Lexa couldn't quite discern what emotion she saw within Costia's eyes.
"Nothing," Costia said lightly, chin resting against Lexa's upper thigh.
But Lexa thought there more, or perhaps she sensed it, and so she let her own eyebrow raise a fraction as she sat up from the bed.
"What?" she asked, and she watched as Costia's gaze seemed to travel to a place not so close, yet distant enough that Lexa knew the woman lost in thought.
"You'd make a good mother," Costia said, and it came out simple, straightforward.
And of all the things Costia could have said, that would have been the least likely one Lexa would have guessed.
But Lexa couldn't fight the slightest of smiles that began to form at the corners of her lips as she looked down at Costia whose head now lay nestled in her lap.
"Is that so?" Lexa asked.
"It is so," Costia answered with a shrug and a smile.
"What's brought this up?" Lexa said, and she couldn't help but to cast her mind back as far as it could in an attempt to find the moment where Costia must have decided what she had.
"Nothing," Costia said as she pressed her lips to Lexa's thigh for a moment. "Really," she continued as Lexa found an eyebrow raising once more.
"Really?"
"Yeah," Costia smiled a little more freely then. "I'm serious," and a laugh whisked past her lips quietly as Lexa prodded her ribs. "I just have a feeling, that's all."
And so Lexa found herself thinking of children, thinking of the life she lived, of the days and weeks, months and years she had been with Costia, and perhaps, if only for a moment, she found that thoughts of golden hair and blue eyes didn't quite make themselves known to her.
"You'd make a good mother, too, Cos."
"You really think so?" and Lexa couldn't help but to feel her heart ache at the way uncertainty touched the edges of Costia's voice.
"I do," Lexa said, and she meant it. "I really do" and she shifted just enough so that Costia needed to rise onto her knees so that they both looked each other in the eyes. "You're kind," and Lexa couldn't fight the smile as she leant forward a placed a kiss upon Costia's nose. "You're strong," and she laughed as she poked Costia's ribs only for the woman to squeal quietly at the tickle. "Beautiful," and Lexa let her hands come to rest upon Costia's hips. "Smart. Charming," and she leant forward and kissed Costia's lips lightly. "Funny," and she pressed herself against the woman for a moment, she leant their hearts beat together, and she let herself embrace the feeling as Costia's lashes brushed against her cheek. "Sexy."
"Ok sweet-talker," and Costia leant back enough so that she could see into Lexa's gaze clearly. "Enough with that," and she hummed for a moment in thought. "But," and Lexa's eyebrow rose just a fraction.
"But?"
"Have you thought about it?" Costia asked.
"Yeah," and perhaps she hadn't expected the conversation to happen like it had, perhaps she hadn't expected it to come up in the middle of an early morning tryst between the sheets, where glistening body slid against sensitive flesh. And yet it had. "Have you?"
"I have," Costia answered with a shrug, and Lexa couldn't help but to admire the way the light streaming in from the window caught Costia's shoulder, how it followed the dips of her chest. "Eyes up perv," she laughed.
"Sorry," and Lexa didn't even try to fight the smirk upon her lips.
"And kids?" Costia asked once more, and Lexa found herself biting her lip as she imagined what it would be like, what it would feel like to have kids of her own.
"Yeah," she said. "I've thought about it, too."
"Cool," and Costia's response came nonchalant, easy and a little too relaxed.
"What?" Lexa's head tilted to the side.
"Nothing."
"Cos."
"Names?"
And perhaps Lexa had never quite thought that far ahead. And it wasn't for any particular reason, just that it had never seemed to have crossed her mind.
"Well," Lexa began. "Not real—"
"Shotgun."
"No. Costia. You can't shotgun our kid's names."
It was dark, the sky seemed to cling to the clouds that drifted aimlessly on the wind somewhere too high up for Lexa to grasp. She blinked back the tired clouding her vision, she tried not to let her eyes close too much with each passing streetlamp and she couldn't help but to feel a guilt and an anxiety just barely creeping into the corners of her mind.
The radio played a song that thumped and echoed out through her car's cabin with little more than the quiet whisperings of a familiar tune. She found herself curing work though, and she found herself cursing the hour, cursing the moon that hung too high in the night, and she found herself cursing the way her thumb continued to tap against the steering wheel as she turned one last corner.
But her car came to a stop with little fanfare, with little more than a careful rumble and the flashing of her lights as they dimmed and clicked off, leaving her in a dark and a silence that seemed a little too foreboding.
And yet, she couldn't help but to worry, couldn't help but to hope and wish and think of something a little less bleak than the images that seemed to take place within her mind.
"Come on," Lexa said aloud, and she looked away from her reflection in the glass and she tried to spy movement behind the curtained window closest to her, where a sliver of light cut a swathe of life into the outside dark.
And so Lexa sighed, and to her it seemed heavy, it seemed lost, a little sad, a little too pathetic, but she steeled herself as she stepped from her car, tucked the flowers close to her body and shivered in the cold as she let her car door thump shut behind her.
And three six steps, perhaps seven if she let herself, before she came to the door, a hand already pulling out her keys.
But as her hand reached out, as it clawed at the doorknob, she heard the click of the lock, she heard the rattle of metal scraping against wood and she winced as the door swung open to reveal a light too blinding in the dark.
"I'm sorry," perhaps she truth was the simplest thing she could say. Perhaps it was the safest. "I'm sorry I'm late," again.
"Are they for me?" Costia's gaze seemed directed to the flowers clutched in her hands, yellow ones that seemed to glow, dance and sing to the slightest sign of movement.
"Yes," and Lexa watched as her hand reached out and offered them as inelegantly as she could have ever imagined. "For you."
Costia eyed them for a moment before signing, taking a step back.
"Come in," she said. "It's cold."
And so Lexa bit her lip as she stepped over the threshold, but she couldn't help but to moan quietly as the heat engulfed her, as the warmth of her home took away the cold of the night. Costia took the flowers from her then, and Lexa couldn't help but to watch and smile as Costia brought them to her nose and inhaled for a long moment.
"Thank you," Costia said gently as she looked up through her lashes. "They're beautiful."
"It's the least I could do," Lexa said, and she let her toes spread for a moment as she kicked off her shoes and let the floor meet the bottom of her feet for a long moment.
"What was it this time?" Costia asked as she leant against the wall, her gaze tender as she watched Lexa place her keys onto the table nearby and hang her coat.
"We almost lost a client," Lexa said as she brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, but she shrugged for a second. "I got them back."
"That's good," Costia hummed as she brought the flowers to her nose again. "I wish you didn't feel guilty, Lex," she said, and one of her fingers traced a petal. "I don't want to start associating flowers with you feeling bad about something."
"I said I'd be home before nine," Lexa countered. "It's long past that."
"It is," Costia agreed. "Are you hungry?" and she nodded towards the kitchen.
"No," and Lexa shook her head as she moved deeper into their home. "I just—" and Lexa tried thinking of what to say, or perhaps simply how to say what she desired. "I'm tired," and she paused and turned to meet Costia fully. "I'm tired."
"I know," and Costia took a few steps closer before coming to stand before her, one hand rising up to brush a strand of hair from Lexa's forehead as her other reached out and squeezed Lexa's wrist. "You've had shadows under your eyes for days, Lex," and Costia leant closer until she could rest their foreheads together. "You can't take a break? Take leave for a few days?"
"N—"
"I know," Costia preempted. "I know," and she pressed a kiss to the corner of Lexa's mouth. "I just miss you."
"I do, too," and Lexa meant it, more than anything. "I'm so—"
But a yawn cut Lexa's words off, and she found her eyes beginning to close ever so slowly, she felt herself beginning to lean more and more into Costia for support.
"Don't fall asleep just yet," Costia whispered, "you'll crush the flowers," and Lexa couldn't quite find it in herself to care enough to do much more than hum an acknowledgement of words having been spoken. "Stay awake for a little while longer," and Costia's hand came to press against her chest. "I'll start a bath for us."
"No," Lexa said as she continued to eye her reflection in the computer screen.
"Why not?" and from her tone Lexa was sure Costia pouted.
"Because," Lexa tried not to let her lips twitch, she tried not to let her eyes follow the movements of the kitten as it pounced.
"Because?" Lexa felt Costia lean a little closer.
"You know why," Lexa said, but she knew she felt her resolve slowly beginning to fade and crumble.
"It won't be that bad," Costia said as she clicked the next video, and Lexa couldn't quite stifle the twitch at the corner of her lips as Costia squealed at the round ball of energy that began to play across the laptop screen.
"When you guys said you wanted to take the next step in your marriage," and Raven blinked between them for a long moment. "I thought you were being more serious than this."
"Hey," Lexa said, and despite the truth of Raven's words, she couldn't help but to feel as though her honour had been challenged, that her strength of character had been wounded.
"You're seriously going to argue with me on this?" and Raven's smirk seemed to sit far too comfortably upon her lips.
"We are," Costia said, and Lexa found herself nodding her head, expression turning smug as Costia leant a little closer into her.
"See what I deal with, Raven?" Anya said as she brought a cup to her lips and inhaled the scents of coffee.
"Too much," Raven agreed.
"You're just annoyed that Lex never sold you her car," Costia said, and Lexa couldn't help but to admire the fire in Costia's voice.
"I am," and Anya nodded for a moment. "But when you started talking names, genders, how many," and she paused, and Lexa thought Anya took a moment to try to think of any other things she had forgotten. "We thought you were talking about children," she finished.
"And not cats," Raven said.
"Granted," and Anya laughed for a moment. "Spike would have been a horrible name for a kid. That should have clued us in."
"You'll change your tune when we get one," Costia said as her arms crossed over her chest. "You'll all want to come over, babysit. Look after, play, cuddle it," and Costia drifted off for a moment as she blinked and looked around herself, as she seemed to think, to ponder something a little too challenging for her to grasp in the moment.
"You forget something?" Anya ask.
"No," Costia shrugged. "Just," and she frowned, and Lexa found herself reaching out and squeezing Costia's knee for a moment. "Just thinking," she finished with a shrug.
"Ok," and Raven clapped her hands together. "Enough talk about cats. When are the children coming?"
Lexa's feet slapped against the ground, each bounding leap she took sending her forward faster and faster and faster. Her lungs expanded with each breath she took in and her heart raced as blood pumped and flooded through her veins. The sun sat high in the morning sky, the birds chirped and sung overhead, and the wind whistled through the air with an intensity that made her smile, that made her eyes flash and her thoughts run free.
She turned a corner, she squinted as the sun dipped into her gaze for a short moment and she she pressed onwards as sweat clung to her face, and as her muscles ached their joy to the world.
It was moments like this that Lexa found her thoughts seemed to wander for a long while without quite finding a place to call home, at least not for a long while. And she thought that all it took for her to think far enough back, for her to remember the pain, the blood, the yelling, the knife pressed to her throat, and the feel of trembling lips pressed against hers was a state of euphoria, was the time when her brain screamed for oxygen, when her lungs ached for reprieve.
And so she couldn't even try to think of much more than the hair that would glow gold in the sun, of the eyes that would shine a dazzling blue, and the anger, the determination, the ferocity and resolve of a woman who had crashed against her heart and mind and disarmed her as if she had been a child, a girl barely old enough to hold a sword in her hand.
Lexa took a longer than usual stride as she skipped over a puddle, the drink fountain having long since dripped its life into the ground around its base. But Lexa didn't mind that, didn't mind the break in her step, if only because it gave her a challenge, made her consider her surroundings, be aware of the things that happened, that existed, that would always exist around her, easily seen, easily dismis—
Blonde.
Lexa's gaze snapped to a woman who ran past her, whose gaze was directed forwards, whose steps came lithe, elegant and determined.
Blonde.
Lexa's breath seemed to stammer, seemed to freeze, her heart seemed to scream and her lungs seemed to beg.
She took just a moment to think, to try to organise, to relive, to acknowledge what she had seen.
Blonde.
Lexa let herself blink just once, just twice, enough that her vision would have cleared the demon from her sight, yet the woman still existed, still retreated into the distance.
Clarke.
Lexa took a moment to accept what she must have been seeing, what she must have been feeling, and she knew she would have to think, would have to war with herself in days to come.
But for now?
"Hey!" and Lexa's voice called out to the woman, she turned and she began to run after her, and perhaps Lexa should have considered what it must have been like, what it must look like to run after a strange, to yell at them, to wave, to give chase.
But the woman seemed to ignore, seemed not to listen, not to acknowledge.
Not to hear.
And Lexa saw the earphones, she saw the cords, the white of their colour, and she knew her voice to be unheard, unregistered.
And so she sped forward, she grimaced as her legs moved as fast as they had once done up the sides of a mountain bathed in blood and she grit her teeth, she snarled her demons and she let her hand reach out, she let her fingers just barely brush against cloth, sweat, fabric and a drea—
"Oh," Lexa said and she found herself blinking, found herself staring the woman in the eyes, found herself trying to recognise.
"Can I help you?" the woman asked, and the blue of her eyes seemed curious, concerned, apprehensive, unsure.
"I—" and Lexa bit her lip, cursed herself and tried not to let the emotion she felt in her chest take hold. "No," and she shook her head. "No," and she grimaced for a moment. "I'm sorry, I thought you were someone I knew."
"Oh," and the woman looked around, tucked a strand of too dark hair behind an ear and smiled as awkwardly as Lexa could imagine a smile to be. "Sorry to disappoint."
"So," Costia said as she sat down opposite her. "How is it?" and Lexa couldn't help but to feel an ache in her heart at the way Costia looked from the fork to her lips with apprehension and anxiousness.
"It's," and Lexa paused as she chewed, as she let the tastes fill her senses. "It's good," and she meant it. At least partly.
"You aren't lying?" and Costia bit her lip as she leant forward, a fork in her own hand as she reached for the plate between them.
"No," and Lexa watched as Costia took a bite, her gaze followed the fork as it came to Costia's lips, and she couldn't help but to smile as Costia blew on it for just a moment before braving forward. "I told you it's good."
Costia chewed for another moment then, and Lexa couldn't help but to laugh as Costia's nose crinkled, as she hummed and seemed to shift the food across her tastebuds.
"Yeah," Costia said with a shrug. "Not bad."
"So," and Lexa leant forward, her own fork already reaching for another piece. "You'll start cooking more often?" and Lexa was sure her eyes smiled as Costia glared.
"You just want me to do all the work, don't you?"
"That's not true," Lexa said, and she let her voice fill with feigned hurt, "I love your cooking. I love the things you make," Costia's eyes rolled. "I love your deserts, your baking, yo—"
Costia winced then, a hand came up to rub against her forehead for a moment and she grimaced as her eyes closed and as her breathing came out a little more laboured.
"You ok, Cos?" Lexa asked, one hand already reaching for her across the table.
"Yeah," Costia shrugged as she blinked and let her gaze settle onto the present. "Just a headache."
The steam fogged her vision, the heat stole her breath, and Lexa couldn't help but to wipe away at the shower window, at the steam that clouded the glass. And she did so for Costia stood not far, her figure silhouetted by the haze of the steam, by the halo of light that broke through the air from an overhead light, and from the reflections of the metals, porcelain and tile that decorated the bathroom.
Water beat down upon her shoulders, each drop sending a shiver of warmth, of excitement, ease and comfort down her spine. Lexa smiled into the heat, she smiled into the vision before her and she tried not to let her mind slip too far away, too close to days, lives, times long gone, when she had been older, if not in body, then in mind.
And perhaps it was a guilt, something that would always linger, something that would always exist. But she recognised the guilt, for she couldn't help but to feel it each time she met Costia's gaze.
And it was because some part of her would always long for Clarke, would always call out to the woman with golden hair and crystal blue eyes. Some part of her would always reach for the girl who had fallen from the sky, and some part of her would always love the woman who had come to her time after time, who had begged for the life of those she had loved, had held knife to her throat, and who had kissed her with a desperation and a desire that had made her heart soar and beat and thrum with something more than weakness.
But perhaps all those things were not for her to have.
At least in this life.
"What?"
Costia's voice surprised her, it sent a shiver down her spine, and Lexa couldn't help but to jerk away in barely contained surprise as Costia's body pressed against her back, the woman seemingly having slipped into the shower with little sound.
"Just lost in thought," Lexa answered, and she found herself resting her forehead against the cool of the glass as Costia pressed her lips to the back of her neck.
"What thoughts?" Costia murmured.
"Nice thoughts," and Lexa couldn't help but to whimper just barely as Costia's hands began to wander with ease, with laze, with want and fervour.
"Nice thoughts?" Costia echoed as a hand travelled down Lexa's body ever so slowly, her finger tips tantalising, teasing, cruel and wicked.
And so Lexa couldn't even try to suppress the moan that came next.
"Very nice thoughts."
The sounds of feet pattering against the hardwood floor mixed with the sounds of cutlery clinking against plates, each little bouncing step that followed seemed to come with far too much excitement, far too much energy and yet Lexa found it to be endless, limitless and eternal.
"You know," Costia began, fork midway to her lips. "We're going to have to find a way to keep Spike from breaking anything," and she gestured to the kitten that jumped after a small ball that bounced and spun and rolled as Lexa kicked it away with a laugh and a smile.
"We are," Lexa agreed, and she pulled her away from Spike for long enough to find Costia smiling at her.
"I told you that a cat would be good," and Costia seemed smug, seemed happy, confident.
"You did," Lexa said, and she wouldn't even try to deny.
But Costia's attention turned to Spike, and Lexa watched as Costia winced for just a moment as Spike seemed to run into a piece of furniture far too fast for it to not have hurt, but, despite that Spike seemed to shrug it off, seemed too happy, too eager to give chase to the ball Lexa had kicked that now rolled somewhere across the other side of the room.
"He's going to be trouble," Costia said, and Lexa knew Costia spoke with no disquiet, no desire for anything to be different.
"He is," and Lexa shrugged as she lifted her fork to her lips and bit down. "But," and she chewed briefly. "It'll get Raven and Anya off our backs."
"Only for a while," Costia laughed. "Then they'll start asking the same questions all over again," and Lexa couldn't help but to agree.
"I know," and she sighed, she glanced to Spike in time to see his tail disappear inside a cardboard box of old books still packed.
"Let me get him," Costia said with a laugh, "I don't want him chewing your mother's books again," and Lexa found herself being pulled closer and closer to Costia's voice as it sang out to her ever so quietly, as the laugh seemed to give the timbre of her voice a warmth, a life and a spark of something she had long missed. "She'd never forgive me if I let anyth—"
But Costia winced, her hand came to her head.
"Cos?" Lexa found herself coming to her feet, the chair she had sat in scraping against the floor. "Cos?" and she took a step closer to her as Costia's hand reached up, as it came to press against the side of her head firmly.
"I'm ok," Costia grimaced. "It's just," she paused, she bit her lip and looked away as tears seemed to well in the corners of her eyes.
"Costia," it wasn't quite panic that filled her voice, if only because Lexa thought whatever happened to be a joke, a jest, a fabled story the universe would dare not repeat.
"I'm ok," Costia repeated as her hand wiped away at the tears, but the motion screamed of pained, screamed of fear, of uncertainty, of something Lexa knew she recognised. "It's just—" Costia's hand wiped at her nose, and as her hand pulled away Lexa's eyes widened in horror, in panic, in anger and fear and fury as blood seemed to cling to every inch of Costia's palm, as it seemed to etch itself into the creases of her skin, into the very pores of her flesh. "I'm—" a pause. Something too long, too sudden, too broken. "I— Onl— ju—"
And Costia's eyes rolled back, her lips slackened.
And she fell.
Lexa woke to a pale early morning. Rays of light streamed in through the windows whose blinds were cast aside to reveal a morning still young, still uncertain of the hour.
It took her a moment of waking before she let herself shift in the bed in search for the warmth of Costia's body, but as her hand reached out behind her, as she fumbled aimlessly with wandering hands, she found herself alone, she found herself in an empty bed, where the heat she had thought she felt was nothing more than the shadow of a presence.
"I'm here," Costia's voice reached out to her ever so gently, each slight syllable enough to fill the quiet of their bedroom with its timbre, with its defiance to the cold.
"Cos?" and Lexa groaned as she turned, as she squinted past a ray of light.
"Here," and Lexa's gaze settled on Costia who sat at the foot of the bed, legs draped over its side as her hands hang limp and listless over her knees.
"What time is it?" Lexa asked.
"Early," Costia answered, and Lexa hated the shallowness of breath, the coolness of her voice. "Too early."
Lexa took in a steadying breath before she cast aside the blankets, let the cold morning prickle her skin. And she found herself falling into a rhythm, into a routine that seemed too cruel, too short, too swift for her to understand. But Lexa came to rest beside Costia on the edge of their bed, she found her hand reaching out for her hand, and she watched with a breath that seemed too uncertain, too fearful, too knowing to do more than ache past her lips.
"I'm scared, Lex," and Costia's voice broke the silence, it cut a searing pain into her heart and it made her think of a life so far gone that, at times, she had thought herself a dreamer. "I'm so, so scared."
And perhaps Lexa shouldn't have been surprised by the tears she felt welling in her eyes, perhaps she should have expected the shaking of her fingers, and the quiet choked sob that broke past her own lips.
"We'll get through this, Cos," and she squeezed Costia's hand as tightly as she could. "I'm not going anywhere. I promise."
But Costia's head shook, it seemed to deny the very words Lexa spoke.
"We're in this together," Lexa whispered. "I won't leave you. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever," and she hated that her memories seemed to bring forth images of pain, of blood, of lifeless eyes that stared up at her with a suffering that broke her mind as much as it broke her heart.
"It's not fair," Costia's voice seemed small, seemed childlike, too innocent, too full of longing and desperation for Lexa to stand.
But, perhaps what made Lexa's blood boil, what made her rage into the night, what made her want to scream and beg and plead was the fact that she thought Costia too kind to suffer, too innocent for the lives she had had to live full of pain.
"I love you, Costia," Lexa whispered as she pulled Costia closer to her. "I will love you for all of today," and Lexa blinked away the tears as she pressed her lips to Costia's forehead. "I will love you for all of tomorrow, and all of the days to come. Until I don't know how to love anymore," and Lexa hated the pain, the ache and the agony that seemed to be slowly coming to settle within her mind.
And, as Costia's pain seemed to grow with each ragged breath that escaped past her lips, Lexa found herself thinking that life had been so unkind to Costia.
And Costia deserved so much better.
The world outside seemed to pass her by with little care for the days, for the nights, for the cold and the heat, the warmth and the aches. Some days she found herself not so sure of what to do, others she seemed to know, seemed to embrace, seemed to cherish each moment with an eagerness that never sat too easily upon her shoulders.
But, she could never quite discern why. Not now, anyway.
Lexa took in a deep breath as her vision seemed to waver, as it seemed to shift, as it tried to focus on something in the distance, a moving car, a bird that raced through the sky, a man, child, woman or pet that raced through the grass below, whose sounds of joy she knew would exist, would be there for those who could hear.
Lexa took in another deep breath, this one seemingly less confident, less sure, less certain of the one to follow, but she did so. And she found that it had come slowly, had come at a creep, but it had arrived as surely as the sun would rise, and as comfortably as the night settled over the lands. And so she worried not.
She heard the quiet beep then, and it seemed distant, it seemed constant, something she should remember, perhaps something she had remembered sometime in the past.
But she ignored it, if only because a strand of hair seemed to tickle her nose, and as Lexa reached up, as she hooked a finger around it, she couldn't help but to marvel at the way it still barely clung to the richness of colour it had once sported, whose amber brown had been something she had always secretly cherished, if only because it reminded her of something she couldn't quite remember anymore, at least not as well as she once did.
She leant back in her chair then, each little movement she made enough to make her body ache ever so slightly, but that, too, she was sure was a familiarity, was a constant, something she had endured for years.
"Mrs Woods," a voice spoke out to her, and it seemed young, happy, vibrant, something far too youthful for how old she thought of herself now. "Mrs Woods, it's time," the voice spoken again, and Lexa shook her head despite the ache in her shoulders.
"Please," and Lexa couldn't fight back the smile upon her lips. "Octavia, it's Lexa," and she blinked away the clouds in the corners of her sight as she turned to the voice. "It's just Lexa."
"Ok, Lexa," and a woman's face appeared before her, her eyes vibrant, her hair brilliant, and familiar.
"Octavia?" and Lexa wasn't so sure she quite knew what else to say. If only because Octavia had hair as dark of the bark of any mighty tree, whose eyes seemed to harbour a challenge, a defiance somewhere deep within the kindness.
"She's on her honeymoon, with Lincoln," the woman said softly. "Remember? You made her promise to take lots of pictures, to tell you all about it," and the woman smiled ever so kindly.
"I—" but Lexa looked away as she tried to remember, as she tried to recall, as she tried to pictu— "Yes," and she nodded, if only because she was sure that what had been said was the truth. If only because the woman who smiled as her seemed trustworthy. "I remember," and she reached out and patted the woman's hand for a moment. "Thank you," but she found that she paused, if only because she couldn't quite recall the woman's name.
"Clarke," the woman said.
"Oh," and Lexa couldn't but be taken aback by the name, if only because she thought she should know, should recall, should recognise who the wom—
"Clarke?" and perhaps for the first time in a while, Lexa found that her mind turned to a life so far removed that she had thought it forgotten, that she had thought it to be a dream.
"That's me," Clarke whispered ever so gently, her eyes quiet and thoughtful.
"Oh," and perhaps Lexa thought herself a little foolish, if only because she was sure this conversation must have happened time and time again from the way Clarke's eyes harboured the barest hints of humour.
"I'm taking over O's shifts for the next two weeks," Clarke said. "Now come on," she said as she squeezed Lexa's hand. "Let me get your pills then we can talk all about what O must be getting up to," she finished with a laugh.
And so Lexa found herself smiling, uncaring of the wrinkles that must have adorned her face, uncaring of the grey that streaked her hair, and the years and years and lifetimes that had existed within her mind.
And she didn't mind that she had found Clarke too late in this life.
If only because Clarke seemed happy, Clarke seemed free of pain, free of burden, free of guilt, free to do what she wished.
And so Lexa smiled just once more as a thought found a place somewhere deep within her core.
Maybe next time.