Clarke | Lexa

and this means someone is typing; ....

WEDNESDAY - 23 MARCH

[1:03 PM]:

Ok, I was your distraction so now be mine.

The message is gone before Clarke fully realizes who she's sending it to. She can't explain why she wanted to send it at all, she doesn't really know herself, and she doesn't have the time to change or remedy the situation because it's done now and all that she can do is wait for a reply. Carefully, Clarke manages to slide her phone out of sight on the front desk where she's waiting. The gallery is open and busy, but it's just another normal day and there are other staff on today too so it's not just Clarke, and the floor isn't her responsibility right now. She's at the front desk, taking the occasional calls, replying to emails, and getting distracted by people and the colors of the sky that pass her by through the large glass doors and windows of the gallery.

It doesn't help that it's in the middle of a very busy street, and every day she watches people moving on, carrying on with their lives, and that sometimes she thinks about their lives and then she thinks about her own. She doesn't always watch them, Clarke often drifts away while staring at the pieces of art on the walls inside. But her taste is a little different to some of the pieces in here. Of course she never says so, but it is, and she can't help but imagine stripping away all of their art from the walls and hanging hers up instead. It sounds selfish when she thinks about it, she doesn't want to take away anyone else's art. Sometimes she just wishes hers was out there too.

Well-hidden on her desk, Clarke's phone lights up with a green bubble several minutes later when she's halfway through talking to a client on the main phone. She ignores her message, brings the call to an end, then stretches to hit the middle button so it will light up and show her a preview of the message. She reads it, then unlocks her phone to read the rest of the reply. It both intrigues and confuses her.

[1:15 PM]:

I don't understand.

[1:16 PM]:

Who is this?

[1:18 PM]:

Are you kidding?

[1:19 PM]:

It's Clarke. We talked two days ago.

[1:24 PM]:

You thought that I was Anya. Remember?

[1:28 PM]:

Oh, yes..Clarke. What is it? How can I help you?

[1:31 PM]:

Um, I don't know. Maybe read my message again?

[1:32 PM]:

I was your distraction from the pain. Now I need one.

[1:36 PM]:

Are you in pain?

[1:45 PM]:

No, I'm at work. Which is sort of like being in pain, I guess.

[1:51 PM]:

Look, I just thought because I helped distract you that you might distract me.

After sending the last message Clarke looks down at her screen and considers typing more. She considers elaborating and explaining that right now she doesn't exactly feel like she has anyone else to distract her, and when she needed someone to text, to distract her from her work, she thought of the stranger. She thought of Lexa, for a reason she doesn't fully understand right now. Most of her friends are too busy, or it's been too long since they've talked and it would feel weird. Clarke just needs a temporary distraction from the afternoon, because her boss is still furious with her, the gallery doesn't bring the same thrills it used to, and she keeps thinking about getting up and leaving just like that.

Not to mention she's still got lots of things left on her 'things to do later' list that she keeps pushing to the next day, or to the back of her mind; like call her Mom later, buy and send flowers to the newly engaged couple and stop by Arcadia to check in on her friends that she keeps avoiding. Clarke sighs, switches off the screen of the phone before she types any of it up because it's really not Lexa's business, and then she starts replying to emails and setting up deliveries on the computer because that's what she should have been doing instead of texting a stranger.

Fifteen minutes or more pass before her phone lights up with a new message from Lexa.

[2:06 PM]:

How would I do that?

[2:09 PM]:

I don't know? I thought I helped the other night.

[2:10 PM]:

Telling you that story about that angry lady at the store.

[2:11 PM]:

Something like that?

[2:15 PM]:

I'm sorry to disappoint, Clarke, but I have no stories about encounters with angry ladies at stores.

[2:16 PM]:

....

[2:19 PM]:

I don't know what kind of things to say to distract you.

First Clarke just stares at the message for a while, uncertain of what to say. Then she's careful to slide her phone away again and finish up what she's doing on the computer, when her boss passes by the desk on her way around the gallery. Clarke tries to distract herself during all of this, tries to think of sunsets, or what she'll do tonight and what she might paint but it all feels hopeless. It all feels kinda grey, like the sky outside that she's been staring at for most of the day. It's not a bad day, she doesn't mind the faded grey skies or the chilly air. Sometimes she just misses the warmth and the colors.

Now that she's finished with the email and the deliveries for the next few days, Clarke stretches for her phone and begins to type up a response. She realizes there's still an unread message from her Mom on her phone, along with a few other ones she's read but hasn't answered, and she decides she'll get to them later. Clarke always tells herself that and sometimes she does get to it later, but sometimes she forgets and doesn't reply for a while. It can't be helped, it's just the way she's been lately. It's like a cycle of avoiding them that she can't get out of right now, one she doesn't even know if she'd want to get out of, if she could.

[2:24 PM]:

I don't know, normal things? That distract other people?

[2:25 PM]:

It's not really a distraction if I have to tell you what to say.

[2:36 PM]:

What are normal things to say, to distract someone?

[2:38 PM]:

Um..Again, I don't know. I think it's meant to be spontaneous.

[2:39 PM]:

Like facts and or stories. Things like that.

[2:41 PM]:

What kind of facts?

Clarke's free to leave for a small break now, she took half this morning and can take the rest now. She doesn't leave to buy something to eat or a warm drink from one of the stores on the block, not today, she doesn't feel like it today. Instead of doing that, Clarke stops by the bathroom on her way outside, and then she goes outside into the tiny gap of concrete where some of her colleagues come to smoke. She just comes here to get some air and sunlight. There isn't much light outside today though, she notices. It's not always nice out here, but it's a tiny escape from inside and that feels nice.

[2:52 PM]:

You're really bad at this. You know?

[2:55 PM]:

Ok. Facts like..Did you know, sea otters hold each other's paws when they sleep so they won't drift apart?

[3:05 PM]:

Yes, I knew that.

[3:09 PM]:

I'm sorry I don't see how that is a distraction.

[3:17 PM]:

You're terrible at this, just forget it.

[3:17 PM]:

Thanks anyway, Lexa.

[3:18 PM]:

I'm sorry that I'm not very good at this.

[3:19 PM]:

I'm not usually asked to distract people in this way.

[3:19 PM]:

I'm also at work too, Clarke. If I sounded busy it's because I was.

Clarke ends up sitting on the bottom of the stairs. It's a tiny little alleyway, sectioned off by wire fencing at both ends. It's situated next to another building so there's really not much room at all, and sometimes it doesn't even feel like there's enough room to breathe out here with how closed in it is. But it's better than nothing, she guesses. She reaches for her phone a minute later, picks it up and types a quick response.

[3:23 PM]:

That's ok. What do you do?

[3:25 PM]:

I run a private security firm/team.

[3:26 PM]:

Wow. I'm sure that's tense..

[3:26 PM]:

Do you work on the tech side of things? Or out on the ground?

[3:31 PM]:

My team on the ground are out there everyday. They're grounders.

[3:32 PM]:

Protecting clients. Doing recon. Working events. Sometimes I'm out there with them.

[3:33 PM]:

I don't do tech stuff. I tell them what to do, and I make sure my rules are followed. I run it all.

[3:36 PM]:

Yeah, that definitely sounds tense.

[3:37 PM]:

What do you do, Clarke?

Clarke's about halfway through her reply to Lexa when she realizes how long she's been out here on her break. She switches off the screen of her phone, returns inside and sits back down behind the front desk. The gallery is noticeably less busy when Clarke returns, it gives her the opportunity to check her phone and reply to Lexa.

[3:45 PM]:

I work in a gallery. Nothing like what you do.

[3:49 PM]:

What I do isn't for everyone.

[3:51 PM]:

Are you an artist, Clarke?

[4:01 PM]:

Not really, no. It's not my gallery.

[4:03 PM]:

I didn't ask if it was your gallery, I asked if you were an artist.

[4:05 PM]:

I guess.

[4:06 PM]:

Work's busy, I have to go..

[4:06 PM]:

Thanks for the distraction, Lexa.

FRIDAY - 25 MARCH

It's late again when Clarke gets home. She repeats the same pattern of the past few days - the last few weeks, actually. Put away items from the store in the fridge, if there are anywhere. Check her answering machine for messages, remind herself to text her mom back. Write a few things down on that list she needs to finish. Shower, dress in comfortable clothes, and find water or wine to drink, and then sit somewhere comfortable to replay the events of the day in her mind. The last one she tries to avoid. But she always likes a small glass of wine to get her over the long day.

Tonight it's wine, not water. Clarke settles on the couch with a small glass of wine, and a book that she knows she's probably not going to end up reading tonight. She feels tired from the day, the repetitiveness always catches up with her around this time of the week. Actually, it's always there. It just seems to worsen at the end of the week, which makes no sense since Friday night is the start of her weekend, she has the entire weekend off this week and her plans off including drawing, stopping by Arcadia, and maybe catching up with an old friend. The last two probably won't happen, but right now she's determined to convince herself that they will.

Comfortable on the couch, Clarke tugs a blanket up over herself loosely. She stretches for her book that she left on the table and begins to draw. Not a sunset or a landscape. It isn't clear at first, it's not always clear. She starts to draw a pair of eyes, but she feels like she's never seen them before. She can't sketch the inside, only the dark shadow of the outside.

The TV plays in the background to provide her with some background noise. Monty and Jasper are suspiciously quiet across the hall, she decides that they're either out working on shifts they've picked up at Arcadia, or they're getting drunk and probably high somewhere. She's pretty sure she knows out of those two which one it is, and part of her considers going down there to Arcadia, but she just doesn't feel like it tonight. She hasn't felt like it at all lately, and it always feels like it's too late now. It's too late for her to go out, or to organize something. It's too late for her to get into contact with her friends or reply to their messages. It just feels too late.

Tired of thinking about it, Clarke turns up the volume on the TV and settles into the couch with her wine. She drinks it all eventually, then pours another. When she's in the kitchen filling her glass for the third time, her phone chimes from the couch. She expects it to be her Mom, so when she arrives to look at the message she's surprised to see it's from Lexa. It's past 10 on a Friday night, and Lexa is texting her.

[10:31 PM]:

Do you know how many atoms are in an adult's body?

Clarke blinks slowly. She finishes the glass of wine, pours another then picks up the phone. She's sort of still speechless and figuring out what to say back when Lexa replies and another message rolls in.

[10:33 PM]:

7 octillion atoms

[10:35 PM]:

....

[10:36 PM]:

Wow. How many zeroes is that?

[10:45 PM]:

27.

[10:49 PM]:

You totally just googled that.

[10:51 PM]:

Anyway, Lexa. Random message.

[10:52 PM]:

Wait. Is this your attempt at the fact thing?

[10:56 PM]:

Yes.

[10:58 PM]:

Was it not a good fact?

[11:04 PM]:

It was interesting?

[11:07 PM]:

And unexpected. I didn't think I'd hear from you again.

[11:09 PM]:

It was a good fact, Lexa. Thank you.

[11:11 PM]:

You're welcome, Clarke.

[11:12 PM]:

I'm pleased you liked it.

[11:19 PM]:

Well it was definitely something that I didn't know before.

[11:21 PM]:

So I just thought of something. Mind if I ask you a question?

[11:26 PM]:

Not at all.

[11:28 PM]:

I can't guarantee that I'll answer though.

[11:34 PM]:

That's okay if you don't.

[11:36 PM]:

I'm curious: How were you at work two days ago, if you were mugged right before that?

[11:38 PM]:

I call in sick when I have a bad migraine. How did you go to work injured?

[11:45 PM]:

It wasn't that bad, I was fine to work. I didn't go out on the ground.

[11:48 PM]:

Your concern is nice, but surprising. We don't know each other. You don't have to concern yourself with my well-being.

[12:02 AM]:

I know that. It's just my instinct to care about people.

[12:03 AM]:

My mom's a doctor. I learned a lot from her. I can't help but care.

[12:07 AM]:

And what of yours?

[12:10 AM]:

What about mine?

[12:12 AM]:

What about your career/job at the Gallery?

[12:13 AM]:

You needed a distraction from work on Wednesday. You asked me to distract you.

[12:13 AM]:

You are clearly not happy with what you are doing. Perhaps you should consider a different path.

[12:16 AM]:

It's complicated.

[12:19 AM]:

Most things are.

[12:23 AM]:

I suppose we can't always be happy with what we do. We just do it anyway.

[12:36 AM]:

Wise words, Lexa. Thanks for the chat.

[12:39 AM]:

Is that a habit of yours?

[12:46 AM]:

Is what a habit?

[12:49 AM]:

Three times now, you've tried to find ways to end the conversation. It's an observation.

[12:49 AM]:

It's also understandable, since I'm a stranger. If you wish I'll stop contacting you.

[12:49 AM]:

Good night, Clarke.

SATURDAY - 26 MARCH

The clock reads 8:03 AM when Clarke gets up. It's definitely the record for the earliest she can remember getting up on a Saturday in the last few months, especially on a week where she worked every day. She's up today because she couldn't sleep in, and after a terrible night's sleep she decides she'll just spend the day busying herself with tasks around her apartment - and then, hopefully, she'll just crash and fall right to sleep tonight. It doesn't always work out like that but today she hopes it will.

Clarke drags a chair to the bench, fills a bowl with some cereal, and pours herself some coffee. There's some fruit that's still good, she puts some aside for later and begins to chew on her cereal. She keeps her phone next to her, still undecided if she's going to reply at all. Her fingers twitch to reply but she's not entirely sure what to say back to Lexa. So she leaves that for later and decides on figuring out what she's going to say to her Mom's last emails that she hasn't answered in a while. They're mostly about how they need to talk, and how she'd love to see Clarke again - and the later ones are a little more firm, more tense, about how they have to talk now and it's been far to long. It feels tense.

She writes several versions of the email before settling on the one and sending that one without any more hesitation. It has to be done, the message has to be sent, it can't be avoided anymore and Clarke knows that - however, it can be ignored for a little while. Once the message is sent Clarke exits her email app and ends up at her desk in her bedroom, trying to finish this damn sunset while eating a few pieces of her favorite chocolate. It's early for chocolate but she doesn't care.

Until her Mom replies, Clarke wants a distraction. She wants to eat chocolate, and she wants to paint and draw, and get her mind as far away from this as possible. Abby will answer quickly, Clarke already knows this. She's been waiting weeks to get a proper message or call from her daughter, and it must have frustrated her but Clarke won't allow herself feel guilt for something that she had to do.

No contact, not just to Abby. She needed a temporary clean break from everything from work, and it had worked for a while. Until it hadn't.

Her phone vibrates on her desk after Clarke's just swallowed another piece of chocolate, she can't help that it's so good. It's really their fault that they make such good chocolate, it has her coming back for more every time. She chews on the piece in her mouth as her eyes cautiously glance over to her phone screen, Abby's message is small but far from simple.

From: Abby Griffin

To: Clarke Griffin

Date: 26/03/2016

[Subject: Call me back Clarke]

Clarke, I'm so glad you answered me. Can we please talk soon?

I'm free now. Can I call you?

- mom

For a while Clarke thinks on it. She puts away the chocolate because that's enough for now (but really, it's also because she wants to save some for later and she isn't going to the store today, so she'll need to save what she can). She tidies up her room a little more, puts some washing on and fetches a glass of water from the kitchen. When she returns to her phone at her desk, what feels like an hour later, she realizes it's only been about twenty minutes. There aren't any new messages or emails from Abby, she guesses that her Mom must really want to talk to her after all of this time, and that she must be torn between sending another email and not wanting to push it and push Clarke away.

Sighing loudly, Clarke retrieves her laptop and drags it over to her desk. She clears some of her books and art off the desk, before she opens up the laptop and clicks on the email to reply to Abby. It happens again, she probably writes thirteen versions of the email before she's sort of happy with it.

From: Clarke Griffin

To: Abby Griffin

Date: 26/03/2016

[Subject: Call me back Clarke]

Hi mom, I'm here. Do you want to skype chat instead?

It takes less than a minute for Abby to respond - and she doesn't answer via email or text, or even phone call - she gives her answer by calling Clarke through Skype. It pops up on Clarke's screen and the noisy sound of an incoming video call fills Clarke's apartment. She quickly steps away from the computer and over to the mirror, just to check that she looks reasonably decent for someone that slept so badly and is sort of nervous about this. Clarke returns to the desk, plops down on the cushioned chair and hits the green 'accept call' telephone button. This takes a minute. It's a little unclear at first, the picture is slightly crackly or something, but then it clears and Abby's face comes into view in the large screen.

Abby looks the same but of course she does, it's only been a few months since they've seen each other. It was just that it almost felt longer, and Clarke wasn't sure how different she would look now. Her hair is still long and a little wavy, and she looks tired too. Clarke guesses she just got home from a shift at the hospital, she's sitting in a bathrobe with damp hair too so she either just got home or just woke up. She looks as tired as Clarke feels, and on some level Clarke knows it's probably for the same reasons. They miss each other.

"Clarke." Abby's voice echoes across the screen. She reaches out to touch the screen. "Oh, honey. It's been so long."

Then Abby smiles, and Clarke returns it as best as she can. "Hi, mom. You look well."

She laughs, and it feels nice to hear Abby laughing again. Clarke's smile remains.

"No, I don't. But you do, Clarke. You look really well." Abby tells her. She moves a little off screen then returns with a mug of coffee. "I thought I'd never get a hold of you. I'm so glad you're free now to talk. I'm so glad."

Clarke's smile stays there, sort of, as she looks around the room behind Abby. She's in her bedroom at the apartment, Clarke vaguely remembers it, though she's only been there once or twice so it's no surprise that she forgets most of it. She remembers the elegance of it, the style - a combination of his and hers. And she remembers thinking that Abby deserved it, that she deserved something nice, and lovely, and comfortable.

"Me too." Clarke answers, suddenly realizing how long she's been silent for. "How are you? How's work? And things with Kane?"

Abby's smile returns, though it looks a little tired again. "Things are good." she says, pausing to take a sip of coffee. "Work's busy, and things with Kane are great. What about you? How's work, Clarke?"

On her side of the screen, Clarke fidgets in her chair. She moves so she's a little more comfortable, it doesn't offer that much of an improvement though, and then she reaches for her glass of water and drinks some before deciding - she takes those few seconds to decide what she'll tell Abby about work. She'll either say that it's great and things have never been better, something Abby might not believe, or she'll tell her the truth, about things have been a little dull and shaky there and she's uncertain about her future there. She decides on something in-between, for now.

"It's been great. Some days are slow, dull. And you know how some clients can be." Clarke answers. "But overall, it's good and I'm doing good."

"You look it, Clarke. You look good. Better. Much better than I remembered. It's nice to see." Abby says, and the smile is pretty much gone now. "I've missed you so much, darling. Why couldn't we do this sooner? Why couldn't we talk-"

"You know why, mom. I asked you to respect that and you did. You still are, and that means so much to me."

Abby watches her for a second before speaking across the screen again. "What about now? What happens now, or after this?"

"I haven't really figured it out yet. I just want us to get through this call, then we can figure out what happens next."

Her face softens significantly. She leans closer to the screen. "I miss you, Clarke. So much. I miss you everyday."

Clarke nods, brushing a few strands of hair out of her face. Then she clasps her hands together, and tries to smile.

"Me too. I miss you all the time."

"Can we do something soon?" Abby's voice echoes across the screen again. "Please, just consider it after this. After this call. I'd love to see you again."

"Yeah, we can. I'm better now, Mom. I just need to figure things out with work, figure out when I'm free. Then we can do something."

"I'd love that, Clarke." she smiles. "It hasn't been the same. My life, without you in it as often. I miss it. I miss you."

"It can't go back to exactly how it was, Mom. But it could be good again. Just give me a little more time? Please."

"Yes, of course, Clarke. I'll give you as long as you need." Abby says, watching her through the screen. "As long as you need."

"I, um - I have to go soon. There's something I need to do today, shopping and stuff. But we can email, and maybe we can talk through here again. Or meet up." Clarke says, combing her hands through her hair gently. She drops them away then looks at Abby through the screen. "I'll be in touch this time. I never meant to make you wait this long. I never meant to make anyone wait this long, but it was what I needed. I can't be sorry for that. But I'm sorry if I upset or stressed you."

"Don't be. Don't be sorry at all, darling. Take your time. I'll be here." Abby's voice returns. "We'll all be here."

The calls ends a few minutes later. After Abby blows a kiss to Clarke across the screen - and Clarke returns her affection with a genuine smile, the best she can offer - the call ends and it cuts to black. Clarke cancels everything on her computer, closes the lid and retreats to the soft blankets of her bed. She collapses against them as she tries to deal with the feelings that linger after that call.

Since he died, and everything that happened after that followed, Clarke's kept her distance from everyone including Abby. It was only supposed to be for a few weeks, but weeks turned to months and she soon felt like she could never go back to how it was. Maybe she can't, but she realizes now something that she's always known; she can't keep everyone out, she can't keep her mom out, not forever. It hurts Abby, and it's hurting Clarke more than she realized.

So just for today and maybe tomorrow, she'll keep them out a little loner. She just needs some more time. Then she'll slowly start working on things, because this sort of feels like the start she needed to head down that path again. Seeing her mom like that, happy but missing Clarke so badly at the same time, reminds her of what this is doing to other people. Clarke's not sure she can mend things, she's not even sure she can mend herself, but she knows eventually she'll have to do something to fix all of this. It can't be left broken forever, she has to at least try to do something to fix it because it won't mend itself.

Right now it all feels like a mess that Clarke can't really deal with or process until later in the day, or until tomorrow when she's hopefully well rested again. Clarke settles into the blankets more, the room is sort of bright but there's a dullness to it that is soothing, and she feels like it might allow her to catch some sleep for a few hours now that her conversation with her Mom is over with. Her phone vibrates on the bed near her and she weakly stretches for it, expecting to see a message from Abby. It isn't from Abby.

[8:37 AM]:

Did you know that we're all made of stardust, Clarke?

author's note: sea otters are so cute right?

guest chapter 1 - march 29: Thanks for your review! I'm glad that you're enjoying it. You'll see more about Clarke's past soon :)

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