A/N: An early Christmas present for you guys :) I hope everyone has a great Christmas (if you celebrate) and a wonderful holiday time. Also sending out hugs to anyone who is struggling during this holiday season due to mental or physical illness or trauma, or whose families/homes aren't a safe space for them. Just. . . so many hugs. Especially with the way things are with Covid.
'So lately, been wondering
Who will be there to take my place
When I'm gone, you'll need love
To light the shadows on your face. . .'
- Wherever You Will Go by The Calling
"You know, I'm pretty sure the person who does the catching and the cooking is free from washing up," Raven noted, observing Luna as she entered the kitchen. She'd disappeared from the table about ten minutes ago, collecting everyone's plates as she went - and balancing them with an expertise that was more than a little intimidating.
Raven had wanted to follow her retreat but, having noted the sinking of Luna's mood at dinner, thought that maybe she would appreciate some space.
When she'd heard the clattering of dishes and running water, though, her control had fled - the woman already did enough for them without becoming their maid too!
Luna hummed. "And yet John and Emori have been doing it every night."
"Yeah, but they make a game out of it," Raven countered. "I've seen what they do with those bubbles - and one time was very disturbing."
She shuddered at the memory and Luna's nose wrinkled. "Perhaps for sanitary reasons then, someone else should do the washing up from now on?"
Raven snorted. "I do not volunteer."
Luna's eyes gleamed and Raven swallowed, stomach flipping off course, before she turned her attention elsewhere. Thankfully, Luna's clothes offered a more than appropriate distraction.
To say it was somewhat unsettling seeing the Grounder out of her usual attire would be an understatement and all throughout the night Raven had found herself missing the soft blues and greens she'd become so used to.
She even missed her stupid jacket.
(not that she would ever admit it)
Frowning, it took Raven a second to notice the other woman turning away, sinking her hands into the soapy water once more.
She groaned at the action, stepping forward. "Luna, really, you don't have to do that."
"It's fine," she said, lifting her shoulders lightly. "I was never allowed to clean as a child. Now I find it soothing."
(Murphy could never get wind of this. He and Emori would be lining up with goddamn wedding bands)
Raven snorted, coming up behind her. "You really are a freak of nature."
Luna grinned and Raven suspected that she took it entirely as a compliment.
"I hate cleaning," Raven admitted a moment later, gazing down at the dirty dishes buried in soap suds. "Was always cleaning up after my mum as a kid." And she'd been messy as hell, though most of that mess consisted of empty bottles and vomit.
Luna's gaze was curious but she didn't push for more information, even though this was the first time Raven had ever mentioned her mother. She liked that about Luna. That she could make a comment without expecting to be eviscerated for it. That what she had to give was taken as enough, no calls for more than that.
It made sharing easier.
"It's not for everyone," Luna decided finally, and turned back to the sink.
Raven exhaled before coming up beside her, reaching for one of the wet dishes and swiping a towel off the bench. Luna's mouth curved as she reluctantly went about the process of drying. "Like meditating?"
Her smile grew. "Like meditating."
Luna had tried a few times since the first attempt to convert Raven but so far had achieved nothing but a frustrated - and somewhat horny - mechanic. But she'd never seemed disappointed or irritated by this outcome (not that Luna knew the horny part, or at least Raven hoped she didn't), only smiling and promising to try again at a later date.
('. . . if you want to. Meditation isn't for everyone. And whilst it can be helpful for many, that doesn't mean that it will necessarily be helpful for you. If you want to stop, we can.')
Raven did want to stop.
And she didn't.
She wanted to be as comfortable with her pain as Luna so clearly was with hers. She wanted to be able to feel that pain - and the anger it fueled - without losing control and whaling on Murphy, or anyone.
Raven wanted to fix herself.
She was just deathly afraid that she couldn't. That there was no fixing her. That there never had been. She'd been born broken and then life had shattered her beyond repair - and there was nothing she could do to reverse that.
Every time Raven tried meditating with Luna and failed, the worse she felt; the more disappointed in herself she became.
But the meditation also gave her a palatable excuse to spend more time with Luna.
To touch her.
And Raven needed that excuse.
(for herself more than anyone else)
But she also didn't want to spend more time with Luna, to hold her hands and cave under the onslaught of her touch, her warmth.
It was too much.
Too dangerous.
And Raven craved it as much as she feared it.
Sighing, her gaze dropped to the plate in her hand, glad for the distraction it provided, however poor.
Raven could care less about the state of their dishes but she'd always liked having something to do with her hands. Besides, it felt rude as hell to stand back and watch Luna do all the work.
Taking a breath, she began the process of toweling the plate dry, straining to block out the sensation of soft hands, cradling hers. How cool they always were to start with - only to steadily fill with warmth the longer Raven held on. She'd learned to judge the length of time they'd been meditating just by the rising temperature in Luna's hands - how much of Raven's heat she'd absorbed.
She could feel the echo of that heat now, pulsing under her skin. The light graze of Luna's thumb across her knuckles, sending a tingle up her spine. . .
As well as an answering tingle, much lower down.
"Raven?"
She nearly dropped the plate. "Mm- yep?"
Luna's mouth curved as her eyes drifted momentarily towards the dish she was currently clutching for dear life. "I think that's dry now."
"Right." Hastily, Raven placed it in the stack. "Just being thorough."
Luna looked back down at the sink, hair falling in front of her face - but not before Raven caught the ever-expanding path of her grin. "For three minutes?"
"Hey, it was a very wet plate."
"Ah."
"It was!"
"I don't doubt it."
She narrowed her eyes at Luna a moment before retrieving another dripping plate from the sink, grumbling to herself as she set to work on drying it off - for an appropriate length of time.
At least, that was the plan.
It quickly became apparent that Raven was not the best at cleaning or drying dishes, despite her many years of forced experience.
Two shattered plates later and Luna had exiled her to the safety of the kitchen island, several feet back from the sink - where she could no longer be a threat to any inanimate objects.
In Raven's defense, she'd been pretty damn distracted: the memory of Luna's touch chasing her skin with every swipe of the towel.
Fuck. It's like going through puberty all over again.
Swallowing, Raven focused once more on the woman in front of her: the unhurried motion of Luna's hands as she hummed beneath her breath, mouth tilted faintly up - as though she really did find this shit 'soothing'.
Total freak.
Luna flowed through the dishes without a single falter, her movements easy, practiced, almost absentminded - as smooth as a leaf swaying downstream.
(certainly, no broken plates)
Raven wondered whether this was something she'd done a lot in Floukru. Going through the motions of daily chores, side by side with other members of her clan.
She probably missed it.
Probably missed a lot of things.
Raven frowned as the memory of their first conversation entered her consciousness. The empty words that had fallen from Luna's lips, moments before she'd walked away.
"Before you said that all your people were dead. Don't you consider the rest of the Grounders your people?" It was something that had been circling around in her head for days now but she'd been hesitant to bring it up, not wanting to add salt to any wounds - though, that was all she ever seemed to be doing with Luna, every time she opened her big mouth. Most days, Raven couldn't understand why she still wanted to be around her. If someone had stumbled so blindly across her festering sores, Raven would have run the other way - and possibly decked them for good measure.
Luna's clan was a touchy subject and, whilst she had never shied away from talking about them, Raven could see how much it hurt her.
And hurting Luna was the last thing she wanted to do.
But if her maybe-friend still cared about any people other than the ones she'd lost, if there was still a place of some form in the world for her, then Raven would feel a hell of lot better about kicking the bucket and leaving her alone in it.
A lot better.
Luna didn't look up from the plate she was scrubbing. "They stopped being my people the day I ran from my Conclave." She paused, shoulders growing tense as she worked at the plate. "I sacrificed my childhood and my brother for them. I don't owe them anything." She wet her lips. "And they don't want anything from me."
Raven frowned. "Do you not care?"
Luna hesitated, stilling in the process of placing her plate on the rack. It shouldn't have been such a hard question to answer, but apparently it was. "I do. But all they do is fight, and kill. Torture. I won't be a part of that." She turned around, resting her back against the sink as she came to face Raven. "Why should I fight for them when all they've ever done is take from me?"
Good question.
Raven wished she had an equally good answer - something inspiring, preferably - but she didn't. She wanted Luna to care about her people, to have a place with them, because Raven knew she needed people.
Just not as much as they needed her.
And that was the problem.
"You shouldn't," she said, finally. And although the words were unsatisfactory on her end, the way Luna's shoulders relaxed in the next instant was not.
Raven wouldn't guilt Luna into caring for a people who held no love for her. If she did want to fight for them, it would benefit humanity - considering she was the only one capable of saving it - but Raven wouldn't punish her for lacking the desire to do so.
Luna had a right to walk away.
To protect herself.
Raven couldn't. Didn't think she'd ever be able to. But her own people hadn't hurt her to the same degree Luna's had.
Actually, if anyone could empathize with her on that front it was probably Octavia. The girl had suffered from birth at the hands of their people, been rejected by them until, ultimately, she'd come to reject them in return - embracing the Grounders instead.
They'd wanted Octavia, even if her own people hadn't.
Ironically, Luna had been rejected by the Grounders only to become desperately sought after by the Sky People.
The universe was strange. And somewhat senseless.
(Raven could only hope it knew what it was doing)
"You don't have to fight for your people, Luna," she continued. "Or even consider them your people in the first place. But I just. . . I'd feel better if I knew you weren't alone."
The confession was hard to drag out, to admit that she cared enough about her to consider it, but Luna smiled faintly at the words. The appreciation in her eyes was clear, as though she knew just what it had cost Raven to say them.
"I'm not alone, Raven. I have you."
Stomach sinking even as her heart soared, she could only swallow, hands clenching at her sides as Luna turned back to the sink, intent on continuing her task.
But you won't have me.
She hated that, even through the guilt, a part of her delighted at Luna's words, at the acknowledgment of her importance in the other woman's life. That she mattered, even if it was just as a means to drive away the expanding ache of loneliness.
"About that, Luna, I. . ."
"Yes?"
But Raven's throat closed up. The terrible truth clogging her speech as she stared at Luna's unassuming back. If she told her, she would hurt her.
She didn't want to hurt her.
If Raven didn't tell her, then she would also hurt her. But not for some time. And hopefully by then, Luna would have found herself some other people to care about. Hopefully by then, Raven wouldn't be important to her at all.
(and why did the thought of that fucking hurt so much?)
"Nothing," she breathed.
She couldn't tell her.
Luna glanced over her shoulder, studied Raven a moment, the furrow of her brow and brief flash of disappointment in her eyes translating that she knew it most certainly was not 'nothing', but after a time she turned back, dismissing Raven and her secrets.
Or setting them free.
Raven exhaled, forcing her limbs to relax as she leant back against the counter for support.
She would tell her. Just not yet.
And, hell, if humanity went extinct, she wouldn't have to worry about telling her at all.
. . . she probably shouldn't be praying for that outcome.
"Nyko said that you didn't have any clan before Floukru."
Luna nodded, back still turned. "That's correct."
With everything Raven knew about the Grounders, she couldn't see how that was possible. True, she knew of those like Emori who had been cast out from their clans - but they'd actually needed to be part of one first in order to be cast out. And Luna wasn't like Emori, she'd been accepted by society from birth, treasured even.
Her exile had come later.
"Your father was Trikru, shouldn't that have made you Trikru?" she asked, remembering what Nyko had said. Was that not how it worked?
"And my mother was Delfikru. You can't belong to two clans." Luna pulled the plug on the sink, the sharp whirl of suctioning dishwater making Raven wince, her ever-present headache protesting the sound. "But regardless of that, you need to be born in a clan's territory or else have pledged yourself to that clan in order to be a part of it. I was born in Polis and wasn't at liberty to pledge myself to any clan until after I left. Though, even then no clan but Azgeda would have accepted me - and I think we both know why they'd be interested in a disgraced nightblood with no loyalty to Polis or the Fleimkepas."
Raven pursed her lips, thinking of Ontari. The idea of Nia getting her hands on Luna was. . .
She banished the thought.
Reality was bad enough without conjuring up nightmarish what-ifs for added flavor.
"So you made your own clan instead."
"Eventually, yes."
Fuck. That meant Floukru really had been everything to her. Raven's stomach sank. "When did you do that?"
Satisfied that her work on the dishes had reached completion, Luna turned around, resting casually against the counter. She appeared at ease with this line of questioning, at least, despite the heavy pain associated with it. "Years after I left. Before then, I traveled a lot. The farther away I got from Polis, the less recognizable I became. Some of the outer clans only have a few members that have ever journeyed the distance to the Capital. It was. . . nice," she hesitated, brow furrowing in recollection, "to be a stranger for once. To not be known. I was reminded of my importance every day growing up, but it was when I was away from all that, that I realized how unimportant I truly was - in the grand scheme of things. There's a certain relief in that." She trailed off a moment, lost in the memory. "I stayed with a family for a week whose only concern was ensuring that their children got to eat each day and that they all survived until the next. They didn't know who I was but I think even if they had, it wouldn't have touched them. Politics, war. . . they had no time for it." She smiled, ducking her head and Raven's eyes chased the expression hungrily. "I liked that. But I also knew there was no place for me there. They would have welcomed me staying longer but. . . the longer I stayed, the more I threatened what little peace their lives held. I still thought the Fleimkepas were hunting me at that stage and I couldn't invite that to their door - to anyone's. But the more I traveled, the more I realized I wasn't. . . exceptional. That there were others like me - not nightbloods, but people who were tired of the fighting, of the killing. In Polis, no-one spoke of such things. It would have been, if not treasonous, bizarre. Like a fish proclaiming they didn't like the water. That was our way of life and no-one wanted to upset the balance of it. But on my journeys, I found people who felt differently, who felt as I did. That was. . ." She shook her head, as if still in disbelief over the fact, gaze on some far-off point over Raven's shoulder. "I wasn't alone. Wasn't some erroneous flaw in the makeup of the universe. There were others like me and that. . . well, that meant that perhaps I belonged, that I was meant to be here. Not by mistake but design."
Raven probably shouldn't point out that Luna did exist by design. Becca's design. And the Flame Keepers'.
She was the miracle they all needed, arriving at just the moment when it seemed there were no miracles left to be had.
But she knew Luna wasn't talking about her blood - and the roles she'd been assigned because of it. In many ways, it wasn't Luna's blood that set her apart from others.
It was her heart.
Which was something Raven had recognized the moment that drone had been placed down in front of her, the drone that Luna was under no obligation to retrieve. She'd sacrificed her one chance of escape that day, had put the needs of her (possible) captors above her own.
Because Raven had asked her to.
Because Luna cared. Even after she had been given every reason to stop.
Raven swallowed, massaging the thin band around her wrist, yet more proof of that care.
Luna shrugged, attention returning to her. "Anyway, that was when it first started to form in my mind. The idea to create Floukru. I didn't know how or where, but I knew then that I had to make a place. Not just for me but for everyone like me. Somewhere we could live as ourselves at last. A home." She grew silent for a moment, the small appearance of light shedding itself from her features. "It kept me warm for a time, that idea. The hope of it. But as the months wore on I started to cross paths with other people. . . people who did not share my desire for peace. People who were selfish. And violent. Cruel. . . Eventually, I began to stay away from villages, from homes, from everyone. It was safer that way. But also isolating. As the years passed, I lost sight of my goal. Lost sight of a lot of things. I was alone and I stopped being able to believe that I wouldn't always be alone." She swallowed, hand retreating to her necklace, one Raven hadn't seen since their first day on the island. "It wasn't until Derrick found me that I started to have hope for that dream again."
Raven wondered how old she'd been at the time. Prayed that she was still young, that such loneliness hadn't stayed with her for long. "Well, you succeeded." Raven managed a smile, hoping that it bellied the hurt in her heart. "You made the dream a reality."
"I guess I did." Luna's lips curved a moment before they lost their strength, fell. That reality hadn't lasted long. She sighed, combing some hair behind her ear. "I know that most people consider me to be naive, delusional even - someone who dreams too much and thinks too little. But I'm not. I know that universal peace isn't possible. There will always be people who fight. People who kill. There will always be war. But if I could create just one corner of the world where those who wanted peace could find it. . ." Luna shook her head, falling silent. "But maybe that was only ever meant to be a dream. One that couldn't survive reality."
Raven had the overwhelming urge to reach out and touch her. To place a hand over Luna's and not let go until the shadow was driven completely from her face. She knew the touch wouldn't be rejected. That it would even be welcome.
But she couldn't make herself move.
Coward.
Luna sighed before leveling her gaze once more on Raven. "I want to believe that this isn't all there is. That there's more to life than violence. Than death."
There was an underlying current to her voice that she tried to suppress but Raven still heard it.
A plea.
Like Luna wanted her reassurance that this wasn't just the foolish hope born of idealism and delusion.
A lingering naivety that life's cruelties hadn't yet been able to kill.
Raven didn't know what to tell her. She hadn't exactly seen much to convince her of humanity's capacity for peace or, well, anything that didn't suck. Sure, they were smart as hell. Well, some of them were anyway. And they'd invented some really cool shit throughout history (with the slight side effect of some of that shit blowing up in their faces). Hell, she had the literal fucking scars as evidence of just how much people could screw up, of how cruel and reckless and thoughtless they could be.
And she would have to live with those scars for the rest of her life.
And the pain of them.
Finn was the first person who'd shown her there was actually something worthwhile in the human race. The first person who'd made her pause and think that, hey, maybe there were good people in the world. People who were kind. People who cared.
And then he'd gone and broken her heart.
Slaughtered a village to finish off the process.
And that belief had started to wither. And die.
But she'd had Sinclair. Someone who had always done their best to look out for her too. Someone who had died trying to protect her.
(a useless sacrifice that hadn't amounted to anything.
But even if it had, Raven still couldn't say whether or not it would have been worth it. Though she supposed time would tell. If she fixed the problem with the barrels, if she managed to save everyone then maybe. . .)
And now she had Luna.
Who, despite all the horrors she'd seen - the pain that, like Raven, still nipped at her heels - was good. Or, at least, what passed for good in this shitty excuse for a world.
She wasn't spotless. Or bloodless, or whatever you wanted to call it.
But she was kind.
And she cared.
She wanted to make things better.
And somehow, despite everything, still believed that was possible.
She'd even made Raven start to believe it, too.
But if she'd lost that belief, or was starting to, what the fuck did Raven have to offer her? What could she say to inspire Luna as she had her?
This wasn't like at the dock. This wasn't convincing her that there were still people out there worth saving. This was convincing Luna that, if they did save them, there was hope that they were saving them for something better. That their future had more to offer than just this.
And Raven couldn't promise her that.
"I don't know if there's more, Luna," she murmured finally. "But. . . I do know that you found it once. Or created it. And that means there's a chance you can do it again. That we can. We just have to get through this first."
Keep fighting.
Luna considered her words for a long time, expression unreadable. That earlier plea and vulnerability had flown away, replaced by a calm that Raven found more frustrating than settling. "And if we don't get through it?"
Raven shrugged helplessly. "Then I guess none of this will matter. We won't have to worry about it."
Luna nodded slowly, eyes down as she considered her words. "Well, perhaps there's some peace in that."
And Raven didn't know why she found that statement so disconcerting but even after they'd turned off the lights and retreated to bed - her skin hot and itchy from the passing trail of Luna's fingertips as she'd murmured goodnight - the words stayed with Raven, echoing in her head as she forced her eyes to close and give into sleep.
Peace.
The term had never sounded so foreboding.
'I think I thought I saw you try
But that was just a dream
That was just a dream
That's me in the corner
That's me in the spot-light
Losing my religion. . .'
- Losing My Religion by R.E.M.
[next time: we flash back to a pivotal moment in Luna's past (not her Conclave) and Raven FINALLY gets some sleep]
A/N: I'm trying, and probably failing, to reflect/bring across in this fic that Luna's thoughts and feelings are all over the place at the moment.
I also kind of deliberately switch between Luna referring to the rest of the Grounders as 'her' people and rejecting them altogether. Because it reflects how Luna really feels. She doesn't consider them to be her people, but at the same time they'll always be her people. She was raised to think of them as her people. Her life's purpose was to take care of them. And she's torn between that and the harm that's been done to her because of them, by them. In her mind, she doesn't consider them her people. In her heart, though, they always will be. So that leads to some conflicting speech.
There's also a line in this chapter that is actually pretty important: 'Meditation isn't for everyone. And whilst it can be helpful for many, that doesn't mean that it will necessarily be helpful for you. If you want to stop, we can.'
I see meditation/mindfulness toted a lot as a cure-all and whilst it's really helpful for some people it is absolutely not a panacea - or a one size fits all. And if you have a history of trauma it can actually make things worse for you unless you're practicing trauma-informed mindfulness (and most professionals/organizations will not be giving this to you because they are unaware of the adverse effect meditation can have on trauma survivors). Even in people with no mental health issues, a study in 2020 on mediation practices and therapies found that there was a total prevalence of 8.3% adverse events among participants. These included: depression, anxiety, cognitive anomalies, gastrointestinal problems and suicidal behaviours. Which isn't to say that meditation doesn't help, just that for some people it might not be a good fit.
Raise your hand if you've ever had a panic attack whilst meditating lol?
