AN: You guys keep reading, and I'll keep writing. Sorry for any mistakes. Enjoy!


Lexa paced the living room while she waited anxiously for Clarke to return her calls. She had tried so many times that she eventually gave up. Her sixteen attempted calls and seven recorded voicemails were bordering on insanity, but her confusion and anger left her no other choice but to seek answers.

It was nothing short of a miracle when she finally threw herself down on the couch and sighed dejectedly into the plush arm.

The brunette kept repeating that she needed to stay calm, that everything would be alright, but she couldn't help the nagging voice that broke through every now and then questioning why Clarke had done what she did.

Eventually, she knew her only option was to get someone else to try and placate her.

Anya's voice came through after only a few rings and Lexa sighed in relief. "What's up little sister?"

"An, I need your wisdom and monotone voice. Now more than ever." Lexa muffled into the phone before turning to lay face up.

Her sister chuckled. "Asshole." She rolled her eyes at that monotone comment. "What happened? Are you having girlfriend troubles?"

Lexa sighed. "Kind of. No. I don't know sort of."

"Right." Anya laughed softly. "Nothing with you is ever that simple is it?" She teased. "What did you do to Clarke?"

The brunette knitted her brows disbelievingly. "I didn't do anything." She argued. "And I'm hurt that you would automatically think I'm at fault here."

"Clarke is a sweet girl. Not one for confrontation." Anya stated matter-of-factly. "The several Skype sessions we've had have been filled with nothing but smiles and praises from her." She continued.

Heaving another sigh Lexa closed her eyes tightly. "Fine. She's not one to fight, but she's not a saint alright. Stop trying to make her out to be one."

"Oh no, I'm sure she's not. You've probably already rubbed off on her by now."

"Asshole."

"Yes, hello, we're the asshole sisters." The older girl retorted. "So are you going to tell me what happened or am I going to have to guess?"

Lexa inhaled and began to recount everything that had led up to her finding out the manuscript had been mailed.

As it turns out, Lexa herself had forgotten about the envelope she had placed on the center table. She argued that she forgot about it because it had been moved in the first place. If it had been where she left it, she would have remembered to stash it away before she was truly ready to send it off.

The only reason she realized the packet was missing was because Maya Vie, MPC's lead administrator, had sent her a letter thanking her on behalf of Sienna Spencer, Cage Wallace, and the rest of MPC for having submitted her manuscript.

Anya listened on before she was ready to offer her opinion on the situation. "So when can you expect to hear back from them?"

Lexa groaned. "Anya you're digressing."

"Ok. Alright. So are you more upset that you were chickening out in sending it or that Clarke sent it for you without you knowing?"

The brunette almost yelled in frustration at her sister. She seemed to be in the mood of button pushing, and at such an opportune time. "I wasn't chickening out. It wasn't complete."

"Then why was it neatly stacked inside an envelope that you use to mail things in?" Anya asked in the same sarcastic voice her younger sister had just used.

Lexa rolled her eyes. "Because it was almost complete."

"Then you shouldn't have placed it inside if you still had reservations about it." The older woman's honesty was something Lexa could always count on. Even though she didn't always appreciate it. "It seems to me little sis, that Clarke simply misunderstood your intention and thought she was doing you a solid. Besides, you'd think that someone so attached to a work piece would notice if it went missing all of a sudden.'

Her sister's reasoning made sense, but it was irritating Lexa. "It doesn't matter, Anya. Clarke shouldn't have done that. She shouldn't have meddled in my life."

She regretted the way the comment sounded, but she had said it, and she knew Anya sensed her remorse immediately. "You don't mean that. Besides, you two have been together for a while now, it's natural that your lives start to become about taking care of each other's needs. Aside from the obvious ones you know."

Lexa rolled her eyes for a second. Again, she hated that it all made sense, but she nodded to herself nonetheless.

There was a moment of silence before Anya continued. "I understand why you are upset. It's like your privacy was invaded, but think about it, it was in good faith. Give her a chance to explain."

"Yeah." Lexa scoffed. "That's if she ever calls me back. Thanks, An, I appreciate the talk. I'm gonna go now. I need a shower and a drink."

"Alright. Be nice. Don't do anything brash."

When they disconnected the call, Lexa felt better, but only marginally. Her brain was still racing and asking her a million questions she had no answers to.


She managed to directly avoid Roan for the better part of the night, but Clarke knew that eventually her luck would run out.

It was a mystery to her whether she was more concerned for herself or for him. Mostly, she wanted to avoid a scene, especially given the fact that she had the support and respect from so many professionals present.

So, when Roan walked towards her, she breathed steadily several times and straightened her back to stand taller.

"I knew you would get to this level…eventually." Roan smiled.

"Did you?" Clarke asked with a hint of annoyance in her tone. When he nodded in response she wanted to slap him for lying. "Well thank you." She continued despite his condescending tone.

They looked at each other for several quiet moments, sizing each other up, comparing how much they stayed the same, and how much they had changed. It was expected, but that didn't mean that Clarke was at all happy or accepting of the way he seemed to be scrutinizing every inch of her.

"You look good, Clarke." He smiled smugly.

She rolled her eyes subtly, but suddenly decided she was over the farce. "That won't work on me now, Roan."

He seemed impressed with her instant response, but she made him smile wider then. "Can't an old friend appreciate and admire someone he was once close to?"

The blonde smiled and shook her head slowly. "No. No you can't. I'm sorry, but you lost that right a long time ago…friend."

His eyes squinted to near slits as he studied her. He shook his head and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I understand. You're still not over what happened. I'm sorry it all happened the way it did. If it makes you feel any better, Ontari and I lasted all of three months after that. I haven't seen her since high school."

It was tempting to walk away as Roan went on, but the artist held her composure and stood rooted to her spot. "You're an idiot." Was her only response.

Roan nearly laughed out loud before he recalled where they were and only chuckled. "I'm a different guy than I was back then. No longer an idiot, thank you."

"Sure." Clarke nodded with a sigh. "Anyway, Roan, thank you for coming. I need to go talk to the Sinclairs."

She pivoted and proceeded to walk away, satisfied with her self-composure and sense of dignity.

The guy would not budge, however, and he followed suit. "Admit it, Clarke, you miss the times when we would make each other better and you know the sex wasn't half bad either. If you're lonely, I'm right here. I know the life of an artist is a difficult one. I'm sure it's been tough trying to hold a relationship. It's why I refuse to do it."

His words infuriated the blonde so much she suddenly saw red, the angry sting of tears in her eyes became hard to ignore as well. She knew the place was not appropriate for whatever might flow out of her mouth then, so she smiled at her hosts before turning to face the blue-eyed man. Subtly she pulled on him and towards the exit of the building.

The doorman scurried to get her belongings, but by the time he outstretched his hands to her, she had stomped out. He sighed heavily because her abrupt exit only meant he would have to listen to the incessant vibrating in her purse for a while longer.

In the crisp Chicago air, Clarke pushed Roan into the brick wall while her eyes burned into him.

"You seem angry." Roan stated with a smirk, hoping to push her buttons. He liked passionate women. "Sorry if I was too loud in there."

"Shut up." Clarke began. "Stop the charade, stop apologizing, and stop pretending like you care about me or my work, just stop. What the hell are you doing here, Roan? Why did you show up? You had to have known what would happen if we crossed paths again."

"So you still feel it too?" He nodded before reaching to clasp her waist with his hands.

In one swift motion, the blonde slapped his hands down definitively. "No, asshole. I don't." She shook her head incredulously. "You're either really stupid or you're oblivious still to your own short-comings."

His eyes searched her body still as he knitted his brows to question her statement.

"You hurt me Roan, more than anyone had ever hurt me before, and that's that. I learned my lesson, and it has taken me some time to trust anyone and myself again, but I have. So please don't come back into my life now and make me question the progress I have made." She stood in place with her eyes locked on his. "Say something." She begged for him to acknowledge receipt of her words.

"I heard the Sinclairs had signed a contract with an artist from Virginia, and I knew it had to be you. I've worked with them for a couple of years now, so when I mentioned it, they jumped at the opportunity to reunite us old artist pals. Aren't you even slightly happy to see me? We're both growing. We're both here. You're here because of me as much as I'm here because of you."

A small puff of air escaped Clarke as she shook her head in disbelief. The guy was definitely ignorant to it all. "No, Roan, I'm here because of me. Not because of you. I looked up to you, but you broke all of that and more. No amount of time could ever change that. I have forgiven you, but that doesn't mean I care or even like you enough to be in the same room as you."

Roan's smile faded a bit before he pushed forward. The blonde retreated immediately, keeping her distance from him. "You forget that you called me." He paused and Clarke's eyes widened when he so bravely went there. She hated him a little more as she waited for him to continue with what she knew was coming. "When they were in that accident. I was the one you decided to call."

"I called you because I needed a ride." Clarke rebutted with tears in her eyes.

"You could have called anybody else. But you called me." His voice softened and Clarke hated him entirely now. He had no right to make himself the good guy in any part of her life story.

"I didn't have anybody else." The blonde swiped irately at the tear tracks on her cheeks. "I needed a friend not a fuck buddy." She glared at him with fresh tears welling up in her eyes. "As I recall, you left me in that hospital when I refused your advances. I had to call Wells and he had to drive down from Boston to come get me. It took him ten hours." A small laugh escaped her mouth. Not because she was happy, but because she couldn't believe the rush of emotions that were resurfacing. "You were such an ass to try and take advantage of my pain then. You had reaffirmed in my heart that leaving you had been the right thing to do. I was just a kid in love, and you used that every step of the way until you got bored and decided to move on to my friend."

Roan shook his head. "I was in love too, I still am. But that doesn't mean that I was ready to make you my one and only. I'm still not ready to make anyone that." He continued, and Clarke realized he was beyond understanding anything. "I hurt you, but I taught you how to be strong and survive after that. You're here and you're alive and well aren't you? I don't understand why it's so hard for you to accept that and move on."

"Oh my god, Roan." Clarke shook her head and decided she had shed her last tear over the entire part of her life that involved Roan. "Understand this, you're a jerk and no girl owes you anything. You use them to fulfill your own twisted desires of needing to fix them just so they can be grateful. There is no way in hell that I would ever say thank you for what you did. Never. I have moved on, and not that it's any of your business, but I'm happy. My career is kicking off and I'm in love with a great person, but please understand that none of it is because of you. Good bye, Roan."

"Lucky guy." Roan muttered with disappointment as she began to walk away from him.

"She is lucky, but so am I." Clarke retorted, aware that she had just used the 'l' word freely and casually moved along with it. It was bound to happen eventually; she just wished her first time confessing it would have been to Lexa. In person. Roan had taken that from her as well. The man was the devil incarnate.

Clarke was so flustered and in shock with everything that had just transpired that she almost forgot where she was. She nearly walked past the entrance to the gallery before she stopped dead in her tracks to recover before going back in.

The doorman smiled in relief at her and handed her the clutch. "Your purse has been buzzing for at least an hour." Clarke accepted it before smiling awkwardly at him and thanking him.

She became concerned when she lit up the phone screen to see she had several voicemails from Lexa and about a million more missed calls.

When she dialed her nervously to figure out what was going on, she was met with a few rings and her girlfriend's voice telling her to leave a message. She sighed heavily before trying her one more time.

"Hi babe. I'm sorry I missed your calls. Haven't left the gallery yet and we're not allowed to carry our phones. I'll be here another while before I head back to the hotel. I'll listen to your messages then. I hope everything is alright." She resisted the urge to finish with those three words that itched to break free from her lips. "OK. Bye."

Eventually, she walked back in to join the guests before they became suspicious of her absence.

It was some time later, after the night at the gallery wrapped up, that Clarke strode in to her room nearly collapsing from exhaustion on the bed.

Remembering her outfit and the makeup still on her face, she stood with a grunt and walked to the washroom. Clarke was not one for makeup unless the occasion called for it, and she suddenly remembered why. Taking it off was a pain. Especially if she was tired and in need of rest.

When she landed heavily back on the bed she reached for her phone, recalling the fact that Lexa had blown her up a few hours ago. She was surprised to find that the brunette hadn't called her or texted her back after she had left her own voicemail, but she shrugged it off.

Clarke thought about calling her back then, but when she realized it was after midnight back in California, she decided against it. Besides, if Lexa hadn't reached out again after having heard her voicemail, then it was probably something that could wait.

Before succumbing to sleep, the blonde made a mental note to listen the voicemails first thing in the morning.


Clarke knew it was going to be bad, maybe worse, once she heard her girlfriend's voicemails. She had hurried off to the airport to make her flight, trying as she walked briskly to get ahold of Lexa.

Of course, it wasn't likely to happen. Not when Lexa's tone indicted she had been furious and in need of instant communication with her. Something that Clarke could not have given her then.

It was frustrating when she kept getting the brunette's voicemail, and Clarke imagined Lexa had felt the same way the previous night when she hadn't been able to reach her.

But after having sent a few text messages asking the writer if she was going to pick her up from the airport, and she still hadn't received an answer when she landed at LAX, Clarke became worried. Angry yes, but more concerned about what it all meant and the discussion that waited for her back home.

When the blonde had failed to get any response after some time, she hailed a rideshare instead.

Now, as she walked the hall towards their apartment, she realized she was nervous.

It took her much longer to open the door and go in than it had ever taken her, but she did eventually and she wished she could have postponed this a bit longer.

"Hi." Clarke muttered as she set her bag down next to her and closed the door.

Lexa didn't look up from her laptop as she replied. "Hey."

"You forgot to meet me at the airport."

"Sorry."

The only sound that resonated within the apartment was the steady tapping of Lexa's fingers on the keys. Neither girl said anything and neither one moved for a few minutes.

Clarke felt uneasy in the tense silence and cleared her throat to breach the subject. "I think we need to talk." She sighed before moving to sit opposite from Lexa's favorite spot.

"No, we don't have to." Lexa replied, again not moving her eyes away from the screen in front of her.

It seemed to the blonde that this was going to be much worse than she had anticipated, and there was no easy way to get through or around it. "I'm sorry about last night. I left you a voicemail and I called and texted this morning, but I never heard back from you." She exhaled silently as she waited for Lexa to react. "Look at me, please."

The writer ceased her tapping and managed not to glare too menacingly at her girlfriend when she did look up. "It's not about last night." She mouthed as she kept her eyes glued on the blue ones.

Clarke nodded both satisfied and anxious. "Alight. You're angry about me mailing in your work. I gathered as much from all seven voicemails." She paused with an apologetic gaze. "I did it because I thought you had forgotten to. I thought I was doing you a favor."

"No good deed goes unpunished." Lexa retorted as she finally set her laptop down on the center table. Her hands now clasped as she rested her elbows on the tops of her knees. "I didn't ask you for any favors, Clarke."

Her tone and standoffish glare made the blonde flinch back further into the cushions of the seat. "I didn't say you had." She defended herself. "Why are you so upset? I thought at the very least you would be happy that you finished your work."

Lexa shook her head. "That's just it, I'm not sure it was finished. That's why I hadn't sent it out, Clarke. I was double checking everything before I sent it off."

"It didn't seem that way, Lexa." The blonde argued. "It was ready to go in that envelope. I figured you were on your way to mailing it before Lincoln called you that day."

"It wasn't ready, and I wasn't going to mail it yet. You shouldn't have assumed." The brunette insisted as she shook her head again. "You should have asked. You could have told me you had mailed it before I received a note from MPC."

"I was going to tell you, babe. But between packing, dinner that night with O and Linc, and the trip I forgot. I'm sorry." She wanted to move towards the brunette, but she knew the girl wasn't ready yet.

She was right because Lexa stood heatedly from her seat. Her impatience and frustration evident with every step and swipe of her arm across the air. "The story didn't have a title yet. I was thinking about it. The cover page wasn't in there. You sent an unfinished copy to a professional publishing company, Clarke." Lexa knew she was being harsh with her accusations, but she really was angry. Whatever the intention, whatever the reason, Clarke hadn't helped her chances with MPC by sending a manuscript that was less than perfect.

"I'm sorry. Can't we call them and let them know that was me. That I mailed it in before you could add in the final touches? I'm sure they'll understand." The blonde suggested in hopes that her girlfriend would calm down.

"No. They won't understand. And you don't get it." Lexa nearly grunted.

The blonde felt the sudden urge to defend herself, even if it meant opening up a can of worms. "What's this really about, Lexa? Are you really upset because your work wasn't complete or because you still can't get past your insecurities with that publishing company?" The blonde asked and watched awkwardly as Lexa shifted on her feet with wide eyes. "They don't own you, Lexa. They don't even know you. You're an amazing writer and if they can't see that then forget them. Stop feeling like a failure because of them."

"This isn't about them?" Lexa muttered as she sighed and paced behind her seat.

"Really? Because I've sat on the sidelines for a while just watching you as you exhaust and second guess yourself since they denied you." Clarke argued.

There was no doubt that the conversation with Maunon had definitely left Lexa feeling inadequate. And yes, maybe more times than not she would delete entire sections because she felt they were a waste of space in her story, but what writer didn't overly criticize their own work?

Still, if the brunette was honest with herself, she would admit that her work ethic had changed since then, and not always for the better. But admitting that wasn't helping her at all.

If anything, it upset Lexa more.

"Let's not talk about insecurities, Clarke." She spit out, almost regretfully, but with clear derision in her voice.

Feeling the sting of it, the artist rose to walk towards the kitchen. She was unsure about her goal when she made her way in that direction, but she ended up in front of the fridge with her hands on the handle.

Lexa was confused and nervous. The silence that settled over them marked an unstable place for them in their argument. Were they finished? Was Clarke not going to argue back after that jab? Was she so upset that she had no words? Should Lexa walk away and let their emotions ebb some?

It took Clarke three minutes to decide she needed nothing from the fridge before she walked back slowly towards where the brunette stood awkwardly.

"I'm sorry." Lexa whispered as she shook her head. "That was a low blow."

"Yes, it was." Clarke nodded in agreement. "You know how much I struggled with myself, why would you bring that up? This isn't about me."

There was a heavy exhale with a hand rubbing the stress off her face before she replied. "This has everything to do with you, Clarke. You did something without my consent, took something that was mine and made it about you. Why couldn't you just leave it alone? Why did you have to intervene? And then you ignore my calls when I really needed you to explain." The flood gates opened and both the words and emotions came spilling out. Lexa was shocked at her outburst, but she waited for a response. She needed a response.

Clarke snorted and threw her head back as she tried to calm herself. "I intervened?" She paused in disbelief. She didn't even want to ask the girl to clarify that. "What the hell, Lexa. You think I mailed your story in for my fucking sake? Are you kidding me?" She shook her head. "I can't believe you right now. You sound like a child trying to pass the buck off to the next idiot kid on the playground."

"You've been pushing me to submit anything to MPC, and when you saw the opportunity you took it." Lexa continued. "Did you really do it to be a nice girlfriend or because you were tired of hiding your happiness and success while I moped around?"

This was it. This was what Clarke had feared all along. Whether Lexa meant it or not, she said it, and that meant that deep down the issue still lingered. Still, the blonde was flabbergasted.

"Wow." She shook her head again. "I'm at a loss for words right now."

"The truth hurts." Lexa nodded as she walked back around to sit in her seat.

"The truth?" Clarke asked rather loudly. "You couldn't be further from the truth if you tried, Lexa. I can't believe you. We talked about this, and we promised we wouldn't let that go there. I took your word for it and now you're throwing it back in my face?"

"Forget it, Clarke. We're done talking about this." The girl grabbed her laptop and continued to type away.

"You're right. We are." Clarke couldn't believe the argument, and she was so hurt and bothered by her girlfriend's demeanor that she couldn't stay in the same room for much longer. She sighed before moving towards the bag she had dropped on the floor and headed for the door. Her eyes burned, but she held the tears at bay. Their first real argument and she had no idea how to resolve it. "The truth is I sent it for you. Whether that was right or not I don't know, but I sure as hell never imagined you would be upset enough to say what you did." The blonde whispered as she opened the door.

"Where are you going?" Lexa panicked as she heard the doorknob turn and grind against itself. Her eyes moved immediately from her screen and towards Clarke's reddened eyes.

"I don't know. I'll call you."

"Clarke…." Lexa shook her head, but couldn't speak. She wasn't sure what to say or whether her words would mean anything to her girlfriend now. And because she was confused and still upset, she said the first thing that came to her mind. "Fine."

"Fine." The blonde draped the strap over her shoulder and walked out. "I'm surrounded by idiots." She whispered to herself, but Lexa caught some of it.

She had no idea what that was all about, but there was no use wondering now. Her girlfriend was out the door.

The door clicked shut and both girls exhaled dismally. Fresh tears rolled down each of their faces. Their argument concluded so far outside the realm of their expectations.

Having Clarke leave was the last thing Lexa wanted.

Leaving was the last thing on Clarke's mind.

TBC…

Wow. So much happened, and Clarke seemed to just not catch a break. I understand Lexa's qualms, however, but still. Clarke had a rough few days. That guy Roan is a skip. Hehehe. I wonder if we'll see him again or if Clarke finally go through to him. I hope our girls fix their issues though. See you guys next week!