Lexa woke to rain pattering against her bedroom window. It was dark still, and she found herself blinking away the sleep as she rolled onto her back and tried to remember whatever dream she had taken hold during her sleep.

She thought it something old, something uncertain, something known to her. Maybe it was a memory, perhaps a thought, an experience, something she wished would come back to her.

But, the more she thought, the more she tried to recall, the more it seemed to slip away. She knew that after all this time, it would come if it wanted, and would go as it pleased. And so she sighed and pulled her hand from under the covers and rubbed the fatigue from her eyes.

Lexa knew sleep would be slow to return, she knew the ache that seemed to settle in her core, that radiated out from her old wound, would keep her awake for hours to come, but she thought herself unwilling to brave the cold just yet.

She settled deeper into her covers, let her toes dance with the sheets however they saw fit, and she let her mind wander to places it wished. But as Lexa continued to think of little, as she continued to let her mind wander, she found flashes of thought moving through her mind. Things seemed odd, they seemed familiar, seemed constantly buzzing. Perhaps she saw fleeting images of a smile, of light that would set a head of hair aflame in the morning sun, perhaps she heard memories of a laugh, distant yet sure.

It took her a moment to realise she frowned, that her brows had furrowed and that she glared up at the dark of her bedroom ceiling as she tried to force her mind to remember. But that, too, she knew to be fruitless.

And so Lexa took in one last deep breath, rolled onto her side and let her eyes close. But through it all, she thought she saw blue, as deep and as vibrant as the depths of space, and she thought she saw golden hair, as brilliant as a smile lost in to memory.


Lexa woke to the sun brushing across her face. The light was only just a little warmer than the rest of the room, but she felt it enough that it pulled her from her sleep. She took only a moment to settle herself before her eyes opened to a single ray of light slicing through her closed curtains. She could hear Anya somewhere outside her bedroom door as she fell into her usual morning routine before work. It was times like this that Lexa found she enjoyed perhaps the most. And it was so for it let her turn back the years to a time when they had both shared an apartment, had both struggled with rent, with getting through each day as it came.

But she sighed, pushed those long gone memories away and she flung the covers from her body with a grimace. The cool air prickled her exposed skin and she couldn't help but to wince as she sat up and let her feet dance over the cold of her bedroom floor.

Lexa looked at the painting that hung on her wall, the reds far too vibrant and energetic than she felt in the moment. But she let herself take in the swirls, the patterns that seemed haphazard, done with little worry or care other than to simply exist withoutworry or care. She smiled, just once, if only because she liked the way it made her feel.

And then she rose.


"Nope," Anya said as she slid a plate her way.

"No?" Lexa asked, eyebrows creasing in annoyance.

"Yes," Anya said with a single nod. "No."

"Come on," Lexa didn't mean to sound like a brat, but from the way Anya's lips quirked at the corners, she knew that's what it must have come out as. "Why not?"

"Because," and Anya shrugged as she laughed and stepped back from the kitchen counter.

"You suck," Lexa said, and this time she let her lips pout a little more consciously.

"Maybe I'll kick you out."

"You wouldn't dare."

"I wouldn't?"

"You wouldn't."

"True," Anya laughed as she ran a hand over her hair subconsciously as she pocketed her keys. "But I'm not telling you who it is," she continued. "Not even going to tell you where, and it's not any of our usual places, too," she said. "Don't bother trying to find out who it is."

"Where's the fun in that?" Lexa countered as she bit into the toast.

"I'll have fun," Anya said. "Me, not you. The way it should be."

"You're no fun," Lexa grumbled past the mouthful.

"I am, and I'll be having fun until late if things go to plan," Anya said over her shoulder. "There's food in the fridge, or order delivery, or whatever, I'll text you the safe word if I think the date's going to be a dud, or they turn out to be a serial killer."

"Fine," Lexa let her voice call out to Anya as she slipped out the front door. "I hope you have a bad day at work."

Anya barked out a laugh as the front door shut with a gentle thud, the sound of Anya's keys being tossed and caught a familiar jingle to her ears.

Lexa sighed after swallowing a mouthful, and as she sat back in the chair she found herself with an uncertainty of what to do for the day beginning to settle. Normally she would fall into whatever routine she had, sometimes of walking the park, other times of wandering through the city with little to worry about except exploring, of seeing places new and old. Sometimes she would even brave the chill of the rains and simply sit on a park bench and watch the world go by.

And that was the thing, the sad thing, the odd thing. Her life had come to a sudden and, from what she had been told, violent halt. It had stopped it in its tracks and left her broken, beaten and at a loss for how to go about life. She hardly even remembered the days, weeks, perhaps even months after she had woken up. And the memories she did have were fractured, out of order and hard to wrestle into something that resembled a healthy memory.

She shook her head then, looked out the window and eyed the sun that peaked out from behind the clouds. She took only a moment to gauge whether it would rain, and then, with her mind made up, Lexa slipped off from the chair and reached for her red coat, destination already in mind.


The morning air was crisp, perhaps just a little too cold for it made the very tip of Lexa's nose sting. Each step she took was cautious if only because she knew how slippery the ground could be this time of year. With hands in pockets she didn't feel the cold too much though, and so she let herself embrace the chill, embrace the cold.

Lexa walked past shopfront, street sign, parked car and person without much on her mind. She had walked this path more times than she could count, she had memorised each turn, each landmark that would let her know she neared. But she came to a stop at a crossroads, the red of a flashing light enough to give her pause, to wait until it turned green and for the cars to her side begin their journey before she made her way across the road.

She passed a boy, somewhere between child and man, struggle with a too energetic dog, its tail happy to wag, its tongue lolling out the side of its open mouth, and Lexa couldn't fight the smile that tugged at the corners of her lips as the dog turned to her for only a moment to take a sniff before continuing its journey forward without worry or care.

Before long she came to her destination though. She stepped aside as an elderly woman exited the shop with a tired smile, and then Lexa pushed inside, she shivered to the change in temperature and she couldn't help but to be grateful for the warmth that made her nose burn just a little.

Though not excessively large, the deli she stood in was well lit. Rows of shelves lined one half the the interior backed by a mirror that spanned the entire far wall. Contents filled the shelves with exotic foods, spices, and a myriad of other things she couldn't quite place. The other half of the interior, where Lexa now stood in the midst of, was filled with small circular tables with three chairs around each. The table surfaces showed signs of use, of life lived over years, but nonetheless they were always clean and kept in as good a condition as could be expected.

People moved about the deli, too, some shopped through the shelves, moved from aisle to aisle as they searched for whatever their mind fancied, and some sat at tables, a coffee cup in hand, perhaps a small plate of food pieces Lexa found herself mentally longi—

"Lexa," she smiled at the gruffness of the voice that called out to her in greeting.

A man eyed her from behind the counter, one hand raised, a far too large knife held in it as he smiled before bringing it down with a thud.

"Hey Gus," Lexa said as she made her way between the tables and towards Gustus who continued to chop at a large piece of meat that she thought to be dried and spiced with far too much care for her to comprehend.

"What brings you here?" Gustus asked as he looked back up at, the beard that draped down his chin covered in a hairnet that she couldn't help but to think comical.

"The usual," she answered with a shrug. "Anya's left me for tonight, I thought I'd get something interesting."

"Good," Gustus said as he turned his back to her and handled whatever pieces of meat he had been working on. "The things I've seen you eat are shocking."

"Hey," she said, and perhaps for only a moment Lexa couldn't help but to wonder if she had once known how to cook much better than she now did, where her meals had never seemed to stray too far from reheating leftovers, a staple, she was sure, from her time renting with Anya. "Not everyone is some fancy food fella."

Gustus barked out a laugh as he turned to her, a platter in hand with the meat now neatly laid out on it.

"Want anything in particular?" he asked as he slid open a glass divider and placed the platter into the meat counter that sat atop the large counter top he stood behind.

"I don't know yet," she said as she took a seat by the closest table before turning to eye the meat counter.

"Don't have to choose yet," he said. "Want anything while you think?"

"Sure," Lexa answered. "Maybe something to drink?" she paused for a moment as she eyed a man who cursed as a box he had been trying to put upon a shelf fell and bounced off his head. "Need a hand, Murphy?"

"No," he glared at her, one hand rubbing the red mark on his forehead.

"You sure?" Lexa said, and she felt the laugh already beginning to bubble up in her throat.

"Yeah," Murphy said with a sigh as he stooped down and picked the box up.

"We have steps, Murphy," Gustus said, and Lexa didn't mind the rumble that filled his quiet laugh.

"Yeah, but that's no challenge, big guy," Murphy said. "See," and he flashed a smile as he managed to slip the box into place. "All it needed was a little finesse."

The clink of a cup being put down in front of her pulled Lexa's attention from Murphy, and as she turned back to look at what Gustus had put down in front of her she found a glass cup, its rim a golden band, and its contents aromatic, steaming and a liquid amber she thought intriguing.

"What is it?" she asked as she reached forward and touched the glass carefully.

"Tea," Gustus said with a shrug. "Turkish. It's new. I'm testing it on you first before serving it."

Lexa laughed for a moment as she brought the glass up to her lips and held it there as she inhaled, "smells nice."

"Good," Gustus said, his eyes narrowed a little as he continued to watch her.

"It's good," Lexa said as she swallowed, the taste something colourful that she couldn't quite put her fingers on.

"Good," Gustus said with a firm nod before moving back behind the counter.

And so Lexa fell into a rhythm not so unfamiliar to her. She sat, sipped at the tea before her and she watched the morning pass her by as it pleased. People would come and go, some would sit for a few short minutes, perhaps stealing a moment of rest in the middle of work, or perhaps they simply took the time to live in the moment without much thought. Some shopped the aisles, seemed to be as much intrigued as they were cautious of the exotic wares Gustus somehow always found. And Lexa enjoyed it. She enjoyed the calm at times, and the bustling at others.

But her attention was pulled from an elderly couple and to the outside when she began to hear the pattering of rain hitting the windows with a beat she found familiar.

Lexa pulled her phone out, checked the time only to sigh at how late in the morning it had become.

"Have somewhere to be?" she looked up to find Murphy already pulling out a chair before flopping himself down with a tactlessness she found refreshing.

"Not really," Lexa answered with a shrug.

"Stay," he said as he gestured around. "It's always pretty quiet around this time. Plus it's raining," and she smiled as he rolled his eyes as if the rain's simple existence had smite him in some way.

"Shouldn't you be working?" she asked.

"Nope," and he laughed as he stood, reached over the counter and pulled out a can of drink. "I'm on break."

Lexa eyed the way he glanced over her shoulder and to whoever it was that walked by, and she was sure from the smirk that played across his lips that Murphy, perhaps a little too obviously, must have been eyeing a woman who walked past.

"What?" he said as his gaze snapped back to her.

"Nothing," Lexa shook her head, and not for the first time she found herself trying to decipher why she found Murphy's company enjoyable.

Or perhaps enjoyable wasn't quite the right word. But she knew it to be refreshing, that he didn't quite seem to care much about his actions, that he just did what he wished, said what he thought and let whatever the consequences were flow around him with little resistance.

"You know, Lex," he began, only for her to wince at the name. "I've been thinking," and she narrowed her eyes for she was sure what he was to say next would be something silly. "I might go back to school."

"What?" Lexa didn't mean to laugh, she didn't mean to sound so incredulous, but she did and for a split second she saw just the hints of offence behind Murphy's eyes before he seemed to accept her reaction with more humility than she would expect.

"I get it," and he gestured around himself, to the aisle, to Gustus who she heard moving about at the back of the deli. "Look at me," and she did, she eyed the way his hair seemed to flop across his head without much care, or the way his lips almost seemed to pull at the corners in a permanent smirk that at times infuriated her and other times was oddly charming. "I've been here years," he sighed. "I messed about at first, didn't know what I wanted to do."

"But Gustus knocked some sense into you?" Lexa said.

"Yeah," Murphy shrugged. "You could say that," but he paused, seemed to become a little more serious with each passing second. "He really taught me how to take things seriously. That it's ok to have fun, but when it's time to switch on, you gotta be switched on."

"Yeah," Lexa found herself nodding for she could see what Murphy said. "So you're serious?"

"As serious as I can be," he answered after taking a sip from the can.

"What are you thinking of studying?"

Murphy let the can clip against the metal tabletop as he took a moment to think, and perhaps for just a split second Lexa was sure she saw a reluctance to answer before his gaze steadied.

"Teaching," he said.

"Teaching?" perhaps Lexa hadn't expected to hear that.

"Yeah. Teaching," and Murphy sighed. "I know how it sounds," he continued. He paused for another moment as he looked away, seemed to lose himself to memories or thoughts, and Lexa was happy to indulge, she was happy to watch. And not for the first time she found herself wondering what it must be like to be able to recall at will, to be able to rely upon years of life lived to help in times of uncertainty and change. "Look, I'm no saint," Murphy said. "I know I was a screw up. I still am sometimes," and he shrugged. "Comes with the life I've lived, I guess."

Lexa's eyebrow raised, if only in question.

"Yeah, I know. I'm not making excuses for my actions," he shrugged. "But if I can help others, if I can teach them that there's another way forward, then shouldn't I do that?" and Lexa found herself agreeing, if only a little, if only because she thought Murphy sounded sincere.

"What will you teach?" she asked, and it would be lying if the answer didn't intrigue her.

"That's the thing," and this time Murphy barked out a laugh. "I don't know yet."

"Yeah, that's a problem," Lexa said as she tilted her head to the side in thought. "Maybe something practical?"

"That's what Gustus says, you know?" Murphy answered. "And I quote," Lexa fights the smile that tugs at her lips as Murphy's voice drops lower and becomes more gruff. "Stick to what you know. And I know you can't count or write,"Murphy coughs before continuing. "I know my weaknesses. Maths and English aren't my forte."

"You want my help figuring it out, don't you?" Lexa asked, and for a moment she tries to think of what Murphy would actually be good at.

"Look," and he scratched at his cheek, the awkward amount of stubble on his face, Lexa assumed, enough for it to itch. "You're a smart cookie, at least Gustus tells me so," Lexa's eyes rolled. "And I'm not too proud to admit you're smarter than me," and he held up a hand. "And don't give me your sob story, I've heard it too many times to count—"

"—You can count?"

Lexa couldn't suppress the laugh at what she heard come from Gustus somewhere nearby.

"As I was saying," and Murphy takes Gustus' jest in stride. "You're smart, Lex. So what do you say?"

"I still don't actually understand what you want from me," Lexa said, and it wasn't that she was opposed to helping Murphy, but she just couldn't quite see why Murphy needed her help.

"I just need someone to bounce ideas off who won't laugh in my face," Murphy said. "I'd ask Gustus, but I think he's too close to me to give me a straight answer."

Lexa took a moment to think over what Murphy asked, and perhaps, if only because she did actually like him, she didn't think it could hurt.

"Sure," she said with a shrug. "No promises of how much advice I can actually give you though."

Murphy scoffed and waved his hand dismissively.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Lex," he said. "You're a lawyer. Even if you don't remember it. Giving advice is your middle name."


The rain had turned into a light drizzle, only enough that it seemed more mist. Lexa pulled the collar of her coat up, tucked her face into it and let herself get lost in the warmth and softness of the fabric as she continued to walk the street, a tightly wrapped bundle of odd foods tucked under her arm. Cars moved past her without much care for the puddles in the roads, and at times, as if by some sixth sense, Lexa would find herself unconsciously taking a step away from the road as a car passed, its tires splashing water over where she had been standing mere moments before.

Few people walked past, partly because they were at work, and partly because most weren't so fond of the cold and the rain. But Lexa didn't mind, she never did. Not quite, anyway.

And so she let her mind turn to Murphy's question, to his desire to talk, to discuss things without worry of being laughed at. She found it intriguing though, and perhaps, if she was honest with herself, she thought it could help her, just a little. If only because recently she had felt just a little lost and unsure of where her life was to go after so long without more than the short flashes of memories having returned.

She couldn't help but to think of what Murphy had said though, of her life as a lawyer, and it saddened her a little that he assumed all those skills, all those abilities she was sure to have mastered, would be there, somewhere locked in her brain. But try as she might, Lexa couldn't even glimpse a sliver of what was once there.

Before too long Lexa came to a stop at a set of red lights. A woman in a blue coat stood offside, one hand in a pocket, the other clutching something to her chest. It took a moment longer for Lexa to recognise who it was past the beanie and the scarf that wrapped around her face, and as the recognition dawned upon her, she saw that same recognition in the woman's eyes.

"I'm not stalking you," Clarke said. "I promise."

"Hey," and Lexa felt her cheeks heat at the memory of what she had done in the shower. "Technically, I would have been stalking you, this time," and Lexa tried not to let her voice shake too much as she eyed the very tip of Clarke's nose that reddened with the chill of the day. "What are you doing?" she finished.

"Not much," Clarke shrugged, the motion just barely noticeable behind the coat and scarf she wore. "I was in the park," and she pulled her hand out of the pocket and gestured behind her. "I was drawing, but then it started to rain," and she smiled.

"Oh," and for some unknown reason Lexa found herself wanting to ask to see what Clarke had drawn.

"Here," and Clarke opened the sketchpad she held to her chest and angled it so she could see. "It's not done, obviously," Clarke added, but as Lexa took in the free brushstrokes of grey and black, as she traced the empty white still be to filled in, she thought it charming in its looseness, in its incompleteness.

"It's good," Lexa said, and she meant it. "I mean it," and she looked Clarke in the eyes.

"Thank you," and Lexa tried not to lose herself in the way Clarke ducked her head, the motion bashful, perhaps a little charming. But for a moment, as Clarke looked back to her, Lexa was sure she saw a sadness, something deep and longing in the blue of Clarke's eyes before she blinked and whatever she had seen disappeared.

The pedestrian light turned green then, and so both women began to cross, an awkward silence now settled over them. But, as awkward as it seemed, for some reason, Lexa found herself enjoying it, found herself thinking it comfortable and full of warmth.

But they came to the other side, Lexa's destination one way, Clarke's, she could tell from the way the woman had begun to turn, the other.

"I'm this way," Clarke said, head tilting down the street she half turned towards.

"I'm this way," and Lexa mirrored her motions with her own head as she gestures the opposite way.

"It was nice bumping into you again," Clarke said, and Lexa found herself feeling drawn to Clarke, if only because something in the way Clarke's gaze never wavered from hers seemed to pull her in.

"Yeah," and Lexa fisted her hands into her coat pockets lest she do something stupid.

"Maybe we'll bump into each other again," and Clarke smiled, "see you arou—"

"Hey, wait," and Lexa didn't know why she felt the need to reach out to Clarke in words. "Tomorrow," and she shrugged. "There's a deli back that way."

"I've walked past it a few times," Clarke said, eyes brightening.

"If you're around, I'll be there in the morning," and it wasn't that Lexa actually had plans to visit Gustus again, but it couldn't hurt. What else was she going to do?

"Yeah," and Clarke smiled a little more freely. "I'll be around."