Chapter 5/12
"How are you?" Gustus said as Clarke set a cup in front of him.
"Good," Clarke lied, and she thought he knew from the way his eyes narrowed a little.
"I saw Anya," and Clarke saw Gustus smile a little past the beard that seemed a constant.
"Yeah," and Clarke worried her lip as she sat opposite the older man, his eyes happy to follow her motions for a little while.
Gustus looked around for a moment though, and Clarke knew he searched for Bruce, she knew he listened for the telltale sounds of his nails clipping against the floor.
"I can get him, if you want," Clarke offered as she glanced out the window that led into her backyard, and she was sure Bruce was frolicking, tumbling and slipping through the snow that had already begun to settle over the frozen ground.
"It's ok," Gustus answered as he turned back to her. "Let him enjoy the snow while he can," and Clarke smiled at the memory of when Bruce had spent too long in the cold, how his hair had frozen at the tips, of how he had refused to come back inside unless he was bribed by far too much food.
"He never learns," Clarke said as she eyed Bruce dart past the window.
"Or he knows he only has a few more weeks before it's too cold," Gustus challenged with a raising of an eyebrow.
"Maybe," and Clarke smiled past the rim of the cup she brought to her lips.
And she knew from the way Gustus sighed a little, and from the way he seemed to sink a touch more deeply into his chair, that small talk was over.
"How are you?" Gustus said simply, and Clarke knew he studied her now, she knew he eyed the way her eyes would dart to a picture frame, or the way her fingers would whiten just a little around the cup in her hands.
"I don't know," and it was a truth, or perhaps half a truth.
Because she didn't quite know. Not really, anyway. She knew she felt pain, she felt hurt and loss and hopelessness. Maybe even regret for the things she had wished and planned and hoped for in futures less bleak. And she knew she felt hope. Just a little, at least. If only because she still had time. "I—" but she found her voice choke a little, and she knew her gaze had landed on a memory, on a recollection of a happier time.
"Hey," and she sensed Gustus pull his chair closer, his hand settling over hers.
"It's hard," she began quietly, her eyes closing and her mind trying to settle. "I don't know," and Clarke shook her head a little. "I miss her," and Clarke opened her eyes to see Gustus looking at her, his own eyes watery, his lip trembling a little more than Clarke had seen in a long while. "I miss her so much," and Clarke felt her tears begin to fall, and she knew she felt her shoulders begin to shake.
"Me too, Clarke," and Gustus took her in his arms, held her close, and Clarke couldn't help but cling to him, she couldn't help but let tears bleed into the shirt her wore. "All we can do is wait," he said quietly, a hand beginning to rub up and down her back gently.
"That's all I've been doing," Clarke said, and she was sure her voice was muffled, watery and broken. "All I've done is wait and hope," and she felt him squeeze her tightly, kindly, and perhaps she thought it seemed desperate, wanting, needing.
"I know," Gustus said, his voice coming more gruffly now.
"How?" and Clarke pulled away only enough that she could meet his eyes, enough that she could wipe a hand across her face messily, and she found herself uncaring of how it looked, of how ugly, how dishevelled she may seem. "How do you keep going?"
Gustus paused then, and Clarke felt his hands take her by the shoulders, squeeze once as he thought of how to answer, how to voice whatever it was that drifted into his mind.
"My daughter's a fighter," he began quietly. "And when you came into my family," and Clarke saw him blink a few times. "You became my daughter, too," and Gustus smiled a little. "Lexa will keep fighting because that's what she does, and I'll keep fighting because that's all I can do now," and Gustus wiped the pad of his thumb across Clarke's cheek as a tear began to fall. "And you'll keep fighting, too, because that's what you do when someone you love needs you."
"But—"
"But," Gustus cut in quietly. "If it comes to it then you will always be part of my family, Clarke," and Gustus pressed his lips to her forehead for a moment. "You are as much my daughter as Lexa is, and I love you as much as I love her."
And the words Gustus spoke were never a surprise to her, but she found that it always seemed to ease her mind, always seemed to settle her worries, and so she smiled, wiped the back of her hand across her face, once more uncaring of how it must look.
And as Clarke looked away in thought, as she glanced into her backyard she saw Bruce run past, she saw his tongue flapping with each bounding step he took through the snow. But she saw him glance once through the glass of the door, and she saw him double take, she saw him register who sat before her, and she tried to stifle a laugh as Bruce tried to change directions, tried to slow his steps, only for him to skid and slip and slide over the frozen ground.
"I should get him," Clarke said as she looked to see Gustus smiling at Bruce's antics. "He'll start barking if i don't let him in."
Lexa's hands shook, she felt the sweat and she knew her breath came out shaky and uneven. And she hated it. She hated this feeling, she hated the adrenaline that coursed through her veins.
And she loved it.
She loved the giddiness that seemed to rage through her thoughts, and she loved the way her breaths came out quickly, rapidly, breathlessly. And she smiled. She smiled as she walked the short distance from the car and to the door. And it was odd. It was strange. And it wasn't that she hadn't asked Clarke out before, it wasn't that they hadn't been on dates before. But perhaps this time it felt more real, more tangible.
If only because she held a bouquet of flowers in her gloved hand, she had braided her hair into intricacies that would seem too far fetched, too complicated. But it was a special day. And so she smiled as she continued to step cautiously over the iced ground underfoot, her eyes scanning the windows in search of movement inside.
Her hand reached out cautiously, and she took a steady breath as she pressed the doorbell, the chime ringing out lowly. And she waited. She took in one more steady breath, and she focused on her breathing, on doing a little more than just feeling the panic that seemed to be slowly building.
But the door opened, warmth from inside flooded her and she squinted for only a moment before she smiled and blushed a little.
"Flowers?" Abby said, her eyebrow raising happily as she stepped forward and embraced Lexa, careful to avoid the flowers.
"It's not too much?" Lexa asked as she glanced past the older woman.
"No," and Abby laughed quietly as she beckoned Lexa inside. "Clarke's just getting ready."
And so Lexa smiled a little more freely as she followed Abby inside, a hand swiping at a strand of hair that tried to escape her braids.
"You look lovely," Abby said as she eyed the clothes Lexa wore.
"Thank you," and Lexa bit her lip just a little as she patted down the rumples in the long coat she wore, the red of it severe and deep in the warm light that seemed to glow around her.
Lexa looked around for only a moment before she heard the telltale thump of feet padding down a hallway, and she thought she recognised the gait by now, she thought she recognised the way the steps faltered just a little as a breath was taken before stepping out from around a corner.
"Lexa," and she smiled as she turned to find Clarke smiling at her from the hallway, the blonde's eyes trailing over her body for a moment.
"Clarke," Lexa said simply as she stepped forward, hand extending as she offered the flowers. "These are for you," and she smiled as Clarke blushed a little. "Happy birthday," she finished.
"Thank you," Clarke said, hand reaching out to take the flowers, and Lexa was sure she felt Clarke's fingers linger a little longer than usual against hers, and she was sure Clarke looked at her, eyes devilish in the light. "They're lovely," and Lexa felt her cheeks redden a little at the way Clarke's voice seemed to lift a little at the end.
"You look beautiful," Lexa quickly added as she eyed the depth of the blue coat Clarke wore herself, the ends of it reaching to her knees, the buttons doing much to keep the length hugging her body perfectly.
"You do, too," and Clarke leant forward a little, her lips brushing Lexa's cheek for a long moment.
"Off you guys go," Abby said as she shuffled past them, hand already beginning to reach for the flowers. "I'll get these into some water."
The lights seemed to shimmer a little more forcefully past Lexa's eyes, their beams a little unfocused, a little less sure and steady to her. But she didn't quite mind, if only because Clarke seemed to exist on a plane that seemed more focused, that seemed shaper, more sure and steady to her.
"What?" Clarke asked, arm happy to loop through Lexa's as they walked down the street.
"We're both adults now," Lexa said simply, her eyes glancing once to another couple that passed them.
"Yeah," and Clarke smiled a little as she bumped their shoulders together. "We are," and she laughed a little. "Seems weird, right?"
"A little," Lexa shrugged as she eyed a neon sign that glowed and glinted through the snow that fell slowly as it sang on the breeze.
"I always thought it'd be a big deal," Clarke continued, her nose crinkling a little as a snowflake settled on it. "I thought I'd wake up feeling different, feeling like something big was going to happen."
"Yeah," and Lexa nodded as she let Clarke's voice take a hold of her mind.
"But it didn't" and Clarke swiped at her nose briefly. "No life changing event, no world shattering experience, no sudden life or death situations," Clarke finished lightly.
"No," Lexa nodded in agreement.
"So," and Clarke eyed another restaurant they passed. "Where are we going exactly?"
"It's a surprise," Lexa said simply, and she knew she'd find a glare beginning to settle across Clarke's face, and so she already felt the laugh beginning to escape past her lips as she turned to face her.
"So," Clarke said as she glanced up from her plate. "How's the team?" and Lexa didn't miss the caution in Clarke's voice.
"Not good," Lexa sighed. "With everything changing now, people are thinking it's going to be too hard to keep it together," she shrugged. "There'll be younger people to take our places, but most of us are probably going to end it," she finished.
"Do you want that?" Clarke asked.
"I don't know," Lexa shrugged. "I always knew it was either try to go professional, or move on to other things," and she worried her lip as she looked away for a moment, her mind turning back the years. "But I'll miss it," she finished. "But it's not like I didn't know it wasn't going to last," and Lexa shrugged as she turned back to Clarke. "But it was nice."
"It was," Clarke nodded, her eyes twinkling.
"I've got more important things in my life now," Lexa said simply, and she smiled as Clarke ducked her head. "Like Anya," and she laughed as she felt Clarke's foot kick her light under the table.
"And I have Raven," Clarke countered, and Lexa felt her eyes narrow just a little as Clarke's eyes turned distracted, as her face turned dreamy. "Have you seen her work out?" Clarke continued.
"Ok, you win," Lexa said with a laugh.
And so Clarke smiled, too, her tongue poking out quickly before she took a sip from her glass.
Lexa's feet crunched against the snow, her eyes careful as she took in the lake and the mist that drifted upwards.
"It's beautiful," Clarke said quietly, her eyes following the few that skated already, the sounds of their skates cutting across the lake's surface filling the air.
"You're beautiful," Lexa said simply as she guided them towards a bench.
"You want everyone to think you're some kind of tough guy, Lexa," Clarke said as she shivered a little. "But I know you're just a big teddybear."
"I am not a teddybear," Lexa said simply.
"Are you sure?" Clarke asked as wrapped her arms around Lexa, her nose cold as it brushed against her neck.
"Yes," but Lexa knew she couldn't quite fight the smile that began to spread across her lips. "Now let go or you're going to make us both fall."
Lexa turned easily, her eyes glancing behind her briefly before turning back to face Clarke who coasted behind her.
"Show off," Clarke said simply as she continued to watch as Lexa skated backwards.
"It's not showing off if you can actually do it," Lexa challenged, her voice, she was sure, smiling.
"Whatever," and Clarke started going a little faster, her feet rapidly taking them closer and closer together.
Lexa saw the challenge though, she saw the tease in Clarke's eyes, and she knew that Clarke would try to tackle her to the ground, would try to wrap her arms around her waist and send them sliding across the lake's surface.
"Before you do it," Lexa said quickly, hand coming out to slow Clarke's approach. "I don't have pads on," and she saw Clarke merely shrug as she continued to approach. "Clarke," she warned as Clarke continued to advance. "Clarke," and she started going a little faster, her eyes widening as Clarke continued to gain speed.
Lexa braced for the impact then, and she tensed, her eyes closed and she waited for Clarke's body to impact, to send them reeling to the ice.
But all she felt was arms wrap around her, all she heard was a quiet laugh and a breathless voice whisper out to her.
"I was just kidding," Clarke said simply, and Lexa's eyes opened to see Clarke smiling, her hair just a little frazzled.
"Whatever," Lexa said as she wrapped her own arms around Clarke as they continued to drift across the lake.
"You weren't scared, were you?" Clarke said quietly, her voice ghosting against Lexa's lips as it settled into the small space between them.
"No," Lexa said, her chin raising, an eyebrow arching just a little as she dared Clarke to challenge her.
"Ok," and Clarke smiled a little as she leant forward, her cheek coming to rest against Lexa's shoulder. "This is nice," she finished, and Lexa was sure she felt Clarke press her lips to her shoulder.
"It is," and Lexa smiled as she felt Clarke's hair brush against her face.
The fire settled around them, and Lexa turned her face into the heat a little as she watched the stars that glinted in the night's sky. Clarke's fingers continued to wind through her own, and Lexa felt the smile that pulled at her lips as Clarke hummed along to a tune that had taken hold within her mind.
Lexa's eyes glanced out over the lake for a moment, and she let her eyes follow the way the mist seemed to catch the flickering of the fires that dotted the edge of the lake as other people gathered at its edge for however long they found themselves willing to brave the cold. She enjoyed these quiet moments though, and it was odd, she had always enjoyed the cold, she had always enjoyed how it made her feel alive. But she had never quite enjoyed sharing it, if only because it had let her feel free, feel unshackled, able to linger in a quiet that was for her only. But she didn't quite mind sharing moments like this. She didn't quite mind it when Clarke would move a little closer, when Clarke would squeeze a little more tightly. And she enjoyed the way the mist seemed to carry the flames deeper and deeper across the lake, patches of the surface seemingly aflame as the wind picked up the wisps of cold.
"It's beautiful," Clarke whispered quietly, and Lexa knew Clarke must have followed her gaze.
"Yeah," and Lexa smiled as she turned to Clarke, as she looked into her blue eyes, and as she reached up and brushed a snow flake from Clarke's cheek. "It is."
Clarke woke to the rapid beating of her heart, to the sweat that seemed to prickle her skin and to the sheets that twisted around her legs. It took her a long moment to remember where she was, where she lay, but as her thoughts started to settle she tried to steady her breathing, a hand coming to rest against her chest.
It took her a moment longer to register Bruce who lay besides her, his eyes looking at her cautiously as a paw reached out into the space between them.
"I'm ok," Clarke whispered as she ruffled his head for a moment.
And so Clarke rubbed her face forcefully, fingers digging into her cheeks as she tried to wake herself enough that she could fumble her way out of the bedroom. It only took her a moment longer before she rolled out of the bed, her eyes adjusting to the darkened room, her hand running against the wall as she began to feel her way through the house.
Times like this had become routine, too. And perhaps Clarke resented that she could only find sleep when she rested besides Lexa, when her back ached from lying in the chair, where the sounds of the machinery whirring filled her ears, and where the body shivered and broke a little each day.
But Clarke shook her thoughts free as she entered the kitchen, Bruce a constant clipping behind her as his nails scraped against the floor slightly. And perhaps Clarke didn't know what she searched for, perhaps she wasn't sure whether the longed for something hot, something scolding to wake her mind, or for something cold, something cool, enough to dull her senses, to numb the hurt and the pain.
And so she turned to the window, she approached it, she let her fingers touch the cold of the glass, and her eyes followed the path her finger cut through the fogged glass before her gaze.
She let her mind steal her thoughts again, and she let herself tune out whatever it was that drilled into her brain, and as her finger continued to brush against the glass, as her breath continued to fog it, and as her heart continued to beat, Clarke thought that things weren't so nice. Not anymore, not when only half of her seemed to exist.
She felt the tears begin to well up once more, but this time she let them fall, this time she embraced the hurt. If only because it let her know it was real, it let her know the memories she felt were important.
Clarke blinked past her tears then, and as she took a step back from the glass she thought she felt a churning in her stomach and a falter in the beat of her heart.
And she hated it. She hated the way her eyes seemed to take in what she had created, what she had drawn without much thought, without much effort.
And maybe she hated that it had become too routine, maybe she hated that it had turned her into someone who seemed to hold onto a past that slipped away with each passing day, with each rising of the sun, with each setting of its warmth.
But didn't that mean she cared?
Didn't that mean it was worth holding on for?
And so she let her eyes trace the curves and the lines she saw in the glass, she let it bleed into her mind and she let it war with the hopelessness that she knew was consuming her with each breath that broke past her lips.
There's still time.