34
Catch a Falling Star and Put it in Your Pocket... Never Let it Fade Away
CLARKE
The cold water lapped at Clarke's ankles, slowly stealing the feeling from her limbs, starting with the tips of her toes and climbing up her shins and she kicked her feet happily through the gentle current, wiggling her toes to keep the pins and needles at bay. She was perched beside Lexa, lounging in the dappled sunlight, drying off on the edge of the long, flat stone that had become one of Clarke's most favorite places in the entire world, real or not. It was a place unsullied by the touches of pain or suffering or loss. A place which only held memories of joy and love and peace and safety and sheer, absolute, uncontainable bliss. A place where Clarke could breathe. A place where Clarke felt 'home.'
Clarke's muscles were pleasantly tired from the effort of keeping her afloat and fighting the river's current with her clumsy strokes. Lexa made swimming look as simple as walking, as natural as breathing, as beautifully graceful as dancing. Her movements were so fluid and smooth, it was as if Lexa was not 'in' the water, but rather was a part of it. And Clarke felt like an absolute idiot trying, and failing, to mimic her motions. But Lexa was patient. And she seemed to find Clarke's awkward flailing more adorable than pathetic.
And Clarke was slowly improving. And she knew that if the pair of them could just stay focused, she'd probably have been able to hold her own in the water by now. But Clarke was still flailing her way through the shallows because it seemed, more often than not, either student or instructor got completely sidetracked and never failed to lure the other into her sweet, sweet distraction.
Honestly... Clarke thought to herself... who could possibly stay focused on staying afloat with Lexa standing naked beside them, grasping their hips in her long, slender hands? And when she said things like 'backstroke' and 'breaststroke,' how could Clarke NOT make stupid jokes or insist they practice those skills OUTSIDE the water just to make sure Clarke had properly mastered them before applying them in the water?
Anything could trigger the distraction... one silly joke, one slip of Lexa's fingers along the slick curves of Clarke... if the sunlight glowed just a little too brightly in Clarke's golden hair or sapphire eyes, if the water's chill made Lexa's nipples just a little too perky, if it was sunny and the heat made them drunkenly giddy, if it was cloudy and the chill made them seek each other's warmth, if the stars were shining and the fireflies were out and the golden glow was intoxicating... one wrong smile, one wrong giggle, one wrong glance, and all of a sudden instead of swimming, they were drowning in each other again.
And as much as Clarke longed to learn how to swim, she'd decided drowning was not such a bad way to go after all. And it was the moments of drowning that were keeping her afloat.
The sun on her cheek was as warm and soft as Lexa's hand resting lazily on her thigh. And she leaned back and let both caress her as she listened to Lexa's gentle humming. The melody sounded so familiar to Clarke but she couldn't quite place it. It made her think of her childhood, which confused her because it also made her think of feeling loved and happy and safe... Feelings that were rare for a child growing up on the Ark. Her inability to place the memory was bugging the back of her mind, but she would never ask Lexa to stop. Lexa could hum a rendition of the 'funeral march' or the 'itsy bitsy spider' on repeat or the entirety of '99 bottles of beer on the wall,' and her voice would still be so beautiful, so soothing, so mesmerizing, that Clarke would never ask her to stop.
Clarke watched as a butterfly broke from the swarm fluttering over the river's surface and lighted on her kneecap, its wings shimmering sunflower yellow and pumpkin orange and the boldest shade of magenta. Lexa's fingers lifted from her thigh and reached for the tip of a wing but the butterfly just flittered back into the fold, effortlessly rejoining the dance.
Suddenly Lexa took a deep breath, as if preparing to slip from the rock and dive back into the water. But instead, she just bypassed the messy heap of Clarke's scrunched and half inside-out clothing and dove her hand into the neatly folded stack of her own. And she pulled a small folded slip of paper from the pocket of her coat.
"I made Lincoln write it down because I didn't want to miss any of it, and because... Well... It didn't feel right for me to hear it." She sighed, handing the tiny square of folded paper to Clarke.
"Were you practicing your origami skills, or what?" Clarke teased. "Next time, make it a swan." She laughed, because the weight of Lexa's sigh was too heavy in the air and the weight of the tiny paper was nearly impossible for her palm to bear.
Lexa ignored her stupid attempts at levity. "I'm afraid you won't be able to take it with you when you go back. So you're going to have to memorize it as best as you can before you go."
Clarke stared down at the note she knew held a thousand little intimacies that were never meant to be shared with her eyes or her ears or her soul. And she understood why Lexa had folded it twenty times more than was necessary. Because she could not bear to see the words tucked carefully away inside. She didn't want to catch even a glimpse of a corner. And Clarke wondered, nervously, if maybe Lincoln had drawn something inside. And she wondered if she could possibly reproduce it with the same tender care of an artist in love.
And she wondered what she could possibly say, what she could possibly draw, if all she could ever offer Lexa was a single piece of paper. And she felt so grateful to have Lexa, solid and if not exactly ALIVE, at least breathing at her side. So grateful... And so guilty. Because, after years and years of the off-suited jack and nine, for once in her life, Clarke had flipped her cards to pocket aces. For once, Life had put away it's whipping stick and, instead of a beating, had given Clarke the one thing she wanted more than anything in the world. And it was more than she deserved. And she wished she could give Octavia more than just a thin, dry piece of paper.
Clarke ran her thumb in circles over the face of the square, she pricked the tip of her pointer finger against it's fat corners, she closed her fist around it and opened it and closed it again. She did anything she could think of to delay the moment of unraveling its tight folds. And Lexa seemed to sense her hesitation and kindly offered her a distraction.
"I have a couple of messages for you too, Clarke." She flashed a shy smile.
"For me?" Clarke replied, completely surprised. "From who?"
"Well..." Lexa took another deep breath and Clarke tried desperately not to let the beautiful rise and fall of her chest distract her. She gave her head a small shake and tried to focus on the words escaping Lexa's lips. But those soft, plump lips were just as distracting.
"Finn..." Lexa continued, and suddenly Clarke found her focus. "Finn says..." Lexa paused and Clarke got the sense that every fiber in her being was fighting the jealousy, fighting to keep the grimace off of her face, fighting to keep the bitterness out of her voice. And absolute affection for Lexa battled the sadness and the nervousness within her at the prospect of hearing Finn's words.
"He says... He says he loves you. And he's sorry. And he never wants you to blame yourself for... Well..." Lexa paused again, wringing her hands in front of her, nervously. "For... What happened..."
At the look in Lexa's downcast eyes, Clarke pulled her feet from the waters, tucked them into the folds of her legs and swiveled to face Lexa. She leaned in close enough to force Lexa's green eyes to meet her blue ones, and quickly reached out and took Lexa's nervous hands in her own.
"I don't blame you for what happened either, Lexa." She spoke, meaning every word, hoping that every syllable sunk through Lexa right from her ears into the depths of her soul. "I don't blame you. Not even a little bit."
Lexa gave her a small smile. She looked like she was on the verge of tears now. And Clarke pulled her into her and held her and held her and held her until Lexa found her voice again.
"He also asked," She continued, clearing her shaky voice. "If you could also tell Raven that he's sorry and that she always WAS, and always WILL be, his family."
Clarke bit her lip, fighting back her own tears now, as Lexa continued. "And Wells... Wells says you'd better be practicing your chess skills because he has nothing but time now. And as soon as he sees you again he's going to... Quote... Clean your clock... Unquote."
"What a nerd." Clarke shook her head with a small, sad laugh. "He always kicked my ass at chess when we were kids. I don't think that will ever change, no matter how hard I practice... But don't tell him I said that!" This laugh came more easily and was filled with a bitter-sweetness. "Tell him I said the only thing I need to practice is saying 'check-mate.'"
"Will do." Lexa chuckled before growing serious, fixing Clarke with that look of tenderness and understanding that made Clarke feel like Lexa's piercing green eyes could see straight through her skin and bones and sinew and into her very soul. "I have one more message..."
Clarke waited... Her whole being absolutely longing for whatever was coming next.
Clarke waited... Her whole being absolutely dreading whatever was coming next.
"It took me a while to find him..." Lexa started. "He told me to tell you... That he's proud... He is so, so proud of you."
Clarke swallowed hard. Her throat was on fire now, tight and dry. The tears were building and it was all she could do to keep them from spilling out of her. Lexa hadn't said his name. But Clarke could tell by the softness of her voice and the compassion in her eyes... She knew exactly who Lexa spoke of.
"He said he's proud of your strong mind." Lexa said, placing her soft hand on the crown of Clarke's head. Then she let her hand drop to Clarke's chest so that her fingers lingered in the valley of her breastbone. "And he's proud of your beautiful soul and your kind heart." She finished, letting her hand fall to rest gently on Clarke's knee.
"And he said he's sure glad you got your mother's stubborn streak, because it allows you to follow all three no matter how difficult." Clarke didn't know whether she wanted to laugh or cry, or maybe both. And before her body could decide, Lexa spoke again.
"And he said... He said to tell you that from the very first moment he held you in his arms he knew he had caught a falling star."
"He used to sing that to me... When I couldn't sleep... When the nightmares came." Clarke whispered as the first tear fell. Because now she knew why Lexa's humming had sounded so familiar. And why the melody had made her feel safe... Loved... Happy.
"And I told him," Lexa continued. "That was exactly how I felt the first time I held you, the girl who fell out of the sky and knocked me right to my knees. The girl who shined so brightly I never thought I could possibly catch her." Lexa smiled, laughing shyly.
"And he... He kissed me on the forehead. And he... He thanked me for being there to hold you so that you would never fade away. And he said it was now MY job to kiss away the fear and sing away the nightmares. And... And... I really like your father, Clarke."
The tears were falling freely now, and Clarke didn't bother trying to wipe them away as Lexa wrapped her arms around her and held her and held her and held her.
"Thank you, Lexa." Clarke whispered, because other than Lexa's own heart and soul and flesh, this was the best gift Clarke had ever received.