The Three Truths

transientpermanence
Summary:
It was always easy, until it wasn't.

Chapter 1
Ch apter Text

There were three truths to Clarke Griffin, Lexa knew:

1. Meeting her their sophomore year of college was a stroke of mere

chance.
2. Becoming her friend by the end of their junior year was an active
choice.
3. Falling in love with her by the time graduation rolled around
falling in love with her was an inevitability.

There were three truths to Clarke Griffin, and Lexa had them memorized
and etched into every crevice of her skull, swearing to herselfpromising
herselfthese truths would never in any way influence her relationship with
the blonde. And they dont.

She was practiced in the art of hiding the depths of her feelings for the
medical student.

She knew that when Clarke was drunk, she tended to become more
outgoing, louder, talkativetended to say painful things like how much she
needed Lexa, how much she appreciated Lexa, how much she loved Lexa.

She knew that after a particularly hard day, Clarke liked to call her, how her
guards went down for just a moment and things like I miss you slipped
from her lips.

She knew that when they got together, especially in environments that
Clarke knew Lexa wouldnt be comfortable in, Clarke would press against
her side, never moving far awaynever once asking if the heat of her skin
bothered Lexa more than the heat of the bar. (Lexa knew that Clarke got
particularly handsy on these nights, yet somehow she never found the
strength to say anything.)

Lexa was practiced in the art of hiding her feelings for the medical student.
She knew to avoid Clarke when she was drunk. Knew to text Clarke rather
than chat with her on the phone on the days her guards were down. Knew
to wear clothes that would make it impossible for her to feel Clarkes skin
against her own, knew that the easiest way to keep Clarkes hands (her soft
hands, igniting miniature flames against Lexas skin wherever they brushed,
driving her mad, driving her past all her limits, making her want to stop
fighting, stop pretending, stop, stop, stop, stop) was to buy her another
drink, occupy her with talk of the men in the bar, asking which one she
preferredall the while pretending that this didnt send shards of ice
through her heart, that the fire against her skin spluttered out with nothing
more than a whimper, that all her guards and protections flailed for a
moment before regrouping and reforming and coming back stronger.

It was always easy, because Lexa had known Clarke for five years. It was
always easy, because medical school kept Clarke busy, kept them out of
bars, out of each others apartments, out of each others hair. Because Lexa
spent more time reading and studying, couldnt and wouldnt answer
Clarkes calls. (She didnt think about how the current distance between
them made things easier, she didnt think about why theyve been so
distant, she didntshe cantthink about that.)

It was always easy, until it wasnt.

Its important, Lexa. I wouldnt ask if it wasnt. (There were three truths to
Clarke Griffin: 1. Meeting her was a stroke of mere chance.)

I know. I justI dont understand.

You made the most sense. (Three truths: 2. Becoming her friend was an
active choice.)

Because Im the only one whod agree?

Because youre my best friend. Because I trust youbecause you were

believable. Acceptable. (Three truths: 3. Falling in love with herfalling in
love with her was inevitable.)

Whatever you need, Clarke.

Its only two weeks. And all the wine you could possibly want.

Like I said. Whatever you need.

//
Lexa learned Clarkes family was well off about halfway through their junior
year.

It hadnt been because Clarke was necessarily vocal about it. She just had
that laissez-faire attitude that only the rich could ever really pull off, a
disinterested stance towards money that gave her away as wealthy (for
only the kids who grew up well off could ever just not care about the
amount of cash in their pocketsalways sure that there was more where
that came from). She never counted her dollars like Lexa did. She never had
to work two jobs just to cover tuition and necessities, like rent and food. And
Lexa never begrudged her for her money; Clarke always treated Lexa with
respect, and that was all she ever wanted from her anyway.

But knowing a family was well off and seeing it was two entirely different
things.

The home itself was enormous, white, at least three stories, great pillars
standing at the front, as if guarding the home from Lexas offensive gaze.
Beyond the home (the mansion?) was acres of landsloping, green, dotted
with enormous oaks and dainty rose bushes. She even thought she could
see the glistening of a lake from where she stood.

Its not ours, Clarke said suddenly, forcing Lexa to turn away from the
grounds and the pillars and the roses. Its my grandfathers. Or was. He
originally left it to my dad, but well, you know. Lexa nodded, remembering
the event that made her choose to become Clarkes friendthe event that
turned chance into an inevitability. (Dont cry in here. If you want to cry,
you have to do it properly. It cant be in the girls bathroom in the library.)

Whose is it now?

Marcus Kanes. I think he worked with my dad. At Lexas look, Clarke

elaborated. My dad hated this place. So my mom and I

Right.

This isnt the life I imagined for myself. I never wanted this.

Right. Clarke pulled on Lexas arm, not letting her take out the last of their
bags.

Lexa. Do you remember the code word? Thissomehow, somewaygot

a smile out of her.
You mean the word you told me I had to say if this all became too much?

You can say it.

I wont say it.

Do you even remember it?

Of course.

Lexa.

Relax, Clarke. I remember it. And if I need to say it, I will. But not yet. I can
deal withthis. She gestured to enormous home, the expansive grounds,
giving Clarke a grin. So your grandfather

Heshe was eccentric, yeah, Clarke said, grinning. She shouldered her
bag and led Lexa into the empty home, moving quickly past the photos and
paintings and living area and towards the large staircase. He wanted
everyone to be happy. So for two weeksbefore the sale is finalizedevery
Griffin and their significant other is to celebrate. Pretty sure he wrote
something about how he expected a grandkid to be born nine months after
this vacation. She was laughing, but Lexaa connoisseur of all things
Clarke Griffinknew better, knew that Clarke was brokenhearted, knew that
Clarke was hiding, knew that it was not the time to confront her.

Sorry, Clarke. That I cant do.

Aw man, and Id been so hopeful.

Im the wrong fake significant other if you wanted to go that route.

Bellamy said no when I asked him. Lexas mouth fell open as she paused
briefly on the steps.

You asked him first?

Jealous?

Of course not, she denied quickly. Offended. Bellamy makes a terrible

boyfriend. Hes also not very good at lying, whereas Im learning to become
a professional liar.

Youre in law school, Lexa.

Thats what I said. Clarke just shook her head, not bothering to answer.
Instead, they walked straight past the second story in silence before Clarke
led the two of them down the hall of the third floor. More photos and
paintings littered the walls, though they were differentless professional,
more homely, as if this was the part of the house actually lived in, actually
loved.

This was our floor, Clarke finally spoke as they went straight past the first
three doors, only pausing at the very end of the hallway. I spent more time
up here and out on the grounds than anywhere else. She opened the door
slowly, as if afraid of what shed find, but on the other side was just a
normalif unusually largebedroom. There was an empty dresser, a
nightstand on either side of the bed, a fancy wooden desk with an equally
fancy chair, and a closet, empty except for a few cardboard boxes in the
corner.

Lexa watched as Clarkes shoulders sagged, as she leaned against the

doorway, unable to enter the room, so she took a deep breath, pointedly
taking the first step forward, letting her bag fall to the ground, letting
herself collapse onto the bed. Come on, Clarke, she said, staring up at the
ceiling, knowing Clarke was still at the doorwayknowing that she still
couldnt move. This is a great bed.

Ah, the bed aficionado speaks.

Are you insinuating I sleep a lot?

Sleep around? Yes.

Jealous? She couldnt see Clarkes expression, unable to get her answer
(unsure why she so hoped that the answer was a resounding yes, why her
heart ached and screamed and begged for such a response). After a
second, she felt the bed dip, felt Clarkes warmth press up against her.

Of you? No. Lexa turned her head slightly, feeling her heart sink back into
the depths of her feelings, feeling the familiar weight that she felt whenever
she was around Clarke settle back on her chest. (Walls up! it seemed to
cry. Guards up!)

Its just two weeks, Clarke, she said, staring into her best friends blue
eyes, staring into them and wondering who she was talking toherself or
Clarke. Two weeks is manageable.

Yeah. Clarkes eyes were so blue. (Guards up, guards up, guards up!)
Do you want to talk about Finn? Clarkes face blanked immediately, and
she withdrew, shifting until she and Lexa were on opposite sides of the bed
only a few feet away, yet feeling like an insurmountable distance.

Were not talking about Finn. Ever.

It was always easy, until it wasnt.

//

The first half of the two-week family festivities, Lexa quickly learned,
would consist only of themselves, Clarkes grandmother, Carol, and Abby.

When Clarke told me you were coming, that the two of you were dating, I
couldnt believe it, Abby Griffin said, pulling Lexa into a hugonly the
second one shed ever given Lexa (shed blanked out the memory of the
first hug, the reason shed allowed herself to fall apart in the elder Griffins
arms, allowed herself to be comforted). She let Lexa go after a moment,
leading her to the kitchen and away from Clarkes conversation with her
grandmother. I was still under the impression you and Clarke werent
talking.

We worked things out.

Clearly, Abby said, pouring herself a glass of water. So? Hows your
mom?

The same.

Has she started

No. Not yet.

If its about the cost, I

My mother is a proud woman, she wont even take my money. She wont
take yours. Abby nodded, sipping at her water.

Have you told Clarke yet? she finally asked.

Dr. Griffin
Abby. I think you and I should be on first name basis now, dont you?

Right. She coughed, looking away from Clarkes mother, looking away
from the doctor, the reminder. I havent. Told Clarke yet, I mean.

Are you planning to? This isnt something you can hide, you know.

I couldnt risk having her get distracted. Now that she has some time off
now that shes off, Ill tell her. Abby stared at her thoughtfully, head tilted
to one side, blinking slowly. Finallyafter what seemed like agesshe put
her glass down on the countertop and leaned forward, giving Lexa a level
stare.

Lexa. Youre not a distraction to Clarke, you know that, right?

Yes

I mean, anyone whos seen you two together for more than a minute
knows exactly how much you two care about each other.

Dr. Griffin

Abby.

Abby. I know. That wasnt what I meant. Abby pursed her lips then moved,
patting Lexa on the shoulder as she strode past her.

We all knew Clarke would eventually come around, Lexa honey. So why are
you so surprised by it? Without giving Lexa the chance to speak, Abby
headed back towards the living room.

And Lexa went outside, strolling around the grounds with her hands stuffed
into the pockets of her jeans.

//

Your grandfather never made the grandkid joke in his will, did he? Lexa
asked much later that night, Clarke laying stiffly next to her, her closeness
at once suffocating and intoxicating.

No.
I believed you. Asked Carol about it.

I know. I heard.

She told me that hed have loved to write it, that only propriety made him
decide not to.

Heard that too.

He sounds like he was a great man.

He was.

Im sorry. She turned her head slightly, eyeing Clarke in the darkness. I
dont think I said that yet. Im sorry.

Yeah, Clarke said after a long silence. Me too. She shifted so that her
back was to Lexa, and after a moment, Lexa mirrored her action. He would
have loved you, Clarke muttered much later, clearly still just as wide
awake as Lexa. He would have loved you so much.

//

They sat next to each other at the table, accepting the eggs and bacon
Carol piled onto their plates with identical smiles. Abby stared at them
oddly, and Lexa had no idea why until she noticed that Clarke sat stiffly
next to herback straight, arms pressed tightly against her sides, as if
afraid of touching Lexa. (My mom thinks I cant do this. She called me
unbalanced. I need to get her off my back, and you need to help me.)

Clarke?

Yeah?

Coffee? Clarke turned her head, eyed Lexa warily, like it was a trick
question.

I can get it.

But Im offering. Lexa stood, expecting Clarke to do the same, pleased

that after everything, she still knew Clarke better than anyone elsestill
knew Clarke, still knew her. They walked to the kitchen in silence, but as
Lexa poured two cups of coffee, Clarke broke.

Whats wrong with you?

With me? Youre acting like Im a stranger.

What?

Why am I here, Clarke? When she continued to look confused, Lexa

sighed, turning so that she faced her best friend. We need to talk about
Finn.

No.

Clarke, you can barely look at me. How is anyone supposed to believe
were dating?

We said we are.

You cant even meet my eyes now. If this is an attempt to get your mom off
your back, its not going to work.

If? If its an attempt?

Why am I really here? Clarke said nothing for a moment, just stared at
Lexa with her mouth hanging open, her eyes wide. After a few seconds, her
shoulders sagged, her expression cleared, and she let out a sigh.

Lets take a walk.

//

We probably shouldve ironed out the details before getting here, Lexa
said lightly, shivering without her jacket. She sat on the stone bench, her
legs stretched out in front of her, her arms crossed over her chest, trying to
stave off the cold as she looked up at Clarke.

I kept thinking you would say the word. That youd back out.

Clarke.
It slipped out, she said, rocking back on her heels, her eyes on the
branches above them. She asked about you again and again, kept telling
me that the fact that we werent talking was proof

Clarke.

So I just said it. And it was too late to back out. I cant. I cant back out.

I get it.

Okay.

You lied to your mom. You dont need to lie to me. Clarkes eyesher
blue, blue eyesflitted down, meeting Lexas gaze, her features hardening.

I havent forgiven you.

I know.

I just need you.

I get it.

Lexa. She looked up again, moving so that she sat next to Lexa on the
bench, their shoulders brushing. Thank you for saying yes. It was a peace
offering, an olive branch, and Lexa gladly took it.

I lied before, she said lightly, bumping into Clarkes shoulder with her
own, turning to grin at her best friend and her blue, blue eyes. If youd
asked Bellamy I wouldve been so jealous. Clarke laughed, almost despite
herself.

Yeah, I know.

We have a competition going and everything. The Whos Clarke Griffins

Best Friend? game. We keep score and everything.

Ive known him longer.

But I know you better. Clarke nodded, leaning her head on Lexas
shoulder, letting out a soft sigh.

For a while, Lexa, I thought you knew me the best. She didnt say
anything else, choosing instead to thread her fingers through Lexas,
gripping tightly to her hand. There was nothing romantic or even friendly
about the gestureLexa was suddenly her lifeline, and so she held on for
dear life.

And Lexa let her. (Lexa would always let her.)

//

Trouble in paradise, hon? Carol asked, stirring the cake batter, looking at
Lexas frustrated expression with blatant amusement. It took a second
before Lexa even registered her words. (For a moment, she regretted not
going out with Clarke and Abby, regretted offering to remain behind with
Carol.)

You mean between me and Clarke? No. Why?

The two of you seemed distant this morning, thats all.

We had a fight, Lexa admitted, adding more flour to her own bowl of
batter, not liking the way Carol eyed it. Were good though.

James used to say that fights were the spice of married life.

Did you fight often?

If we did, I dont remember. He had a habit of always coming around to my

line of thinking. Lexa laughed, wiping her brow with her sleeve, pushing
the bowl away from her in defeat. Carol just rolled her eyes. I take it youre
not much of a baker.

What gave it away?

The lost look in your eyes.

Clarke tried to teach me once. It was a friends birthday and we wanted

something homemade. And it was a disaster. Carol laughed, shaking her
head as she emptied the contents of her bowl into a baking pan.

I can imagine, she said as she worked, her movements sure, precise,
utterly natural. So youve known my granddaughter for some time now.

Five years.
Last Christmas, when she was here with that boyfriend of hers, she
mentioned you more than once. Thats when I knew you were something
special.

I dont

I know my granddaughter, Lexa, Carol interrupted, grinning slightly. She

didnt speak as she placed the baking pan into the oven, but when she
turned back aroundwiping her hands on her apron as she did soher grin
was still there. She handed Lexa a paper towel, smiling slightly as she
indicated the patches of flour on Lexas face.

Did Clarke ever tell you what happened?

With the boy? No. But I saw the papers.

She doesnt talk about it. About him. He was special. To her, he was
everything. Carol eyed her oddly and Lexa felt her cheeks heat up,
knowing shed said too much, knowing she gave herself away.

Its silly, Carol said after a minute, looking at Lexas batter critically before
adding a bit of water and stirring. People think that only the ones we love
can break our hearts, but it doesnt work that way.

How does it work?

Anyone can break our hearts, but its the ones who love us that puts it
back together. She pushed Lexas bowl of cake batter towards her,
grinning once more. There now. Its perfect. Well make a baker out of you
yet.

//

I tricked your grandmother into liking me today.

Really?

Yeah.

How?

I was charming.
You know how to be charming?

I dont know. It worked with you, right? Clarke shifted, propping herself up
on her elbows, staring down at Lexa.

I thought youd make a bigger deal out of sharing a bed with me.

What?

Remember that girl in our Economics class? The one you were crushing on
for weeks before you managed to ask her out?

Clarkeyou realize that I didnt just share a bed with her, right?

Thats not my point.

Then what?

Its just

Just what? Clarke didnt speak for so long that Lexa was sure shed
dropped the subject. But then, the words came flowing out of her, quickly
and furiously.

Before you started dating, before your thing, she got drunk and you
wouldnt let her drive home, so you let her crash at our apartment and you
refused to sleep in the same bed as her. I remember. You slept on the
ground that night. Lexa frowned.

I dont

Why? Why did you sleep on the ground?

Because I was drunk too. Because I didnt want to do something wed

regret. I was trying to be respectful. But what does that have to do with me
and you, Clarke? When she didnt answer, Lexa huffed, sitting up and
getting out from under the covers. You want me to sleep on the ground?
Fine.

Lexa

I dont get it. Weve slept in the same bed before. In college, after you
started med school and couldnt sleep She trailed off as she realized the
problem. This is about Finn. Of course it is.

Lexa, thats But she wasnt listening, wasnt willing to listen anymore.
It keeps coming back to that, doesnt it? Hate me so much you cant even
bear to be near me, right?

Lexa She shook her head, grabbing her pillow and tossing it on the
ground.

Dont worry, Clarke. You only have to suffer my presence for just thirteen
more days. Without bothering to wait for a response or a reaction, Lexa left
the bed and laid back on the floor, the tightness in her chest making it hard
to breathe, making it hard to think.

(There are three truths to Clarke Griffin, Lexa knew.)

Her heart ached. Her eyes burned. The code word flashed in her mind, and
she wondered if she ought to have said it.

(1. She had walls and shields that rivaled Lexas, though while Lexas were
to keep things in, Clarkes walls kept everything out.)

She knew Clarke, knew her better than anyone. And on some level she
knew, just knew, that if she wasnt such a liarif she bothered to sit Clarke
down and was honest with hermost of their problems could be cleared
right up.

(2. She could lie as easily as she breathed. Lied about her wellbeing, lied
about her feelings, lied, lied, lied, just like Lexa. Just like Lexa.)

Lexa rolled over onto her side, facing the wall, feeling cold and regretting
not grabbing one of the blankets and not feeling brave enough to take one
now. She was cold, Clarke was cold, and wasnt that just fitting?

(3. If Carol was right, then Clarke did not love herwould never love her
because Lexa only felt more broken when she was around her.)

//

My daughter-in-law is a smart woman, Carol told Lexa the next morning.

Her back ached and she wore a thick sweater, still cold from spending the
night on the hard floor, and she wasnt quite up for whatever Carol wanted
to say. But just as she turned to apologetically tell the older woman just
that, she noticed Carols small grin, the slight roll of her eyes.
I know.

Clearly you dont, because if you think you and Clarke are going to be able
to fool her with the train-wreck you have going, youve got another thing
coming. She handed Lexa a cup of coffee, one eyebrow raised. Get your
shit together, hon.

Sorry, what?

I know my granddaughter, Lexa. And I spent an entire afternoon baking

with you. Its not rocket sciencethe two of you arent dating.

Clarke told me to lie. I didnt want to.

Way to throw her under the bus, hon. Great show of solidarity there.

She just wants Abby to leave her alone.

I know. My daughter-in-law iswell, for lack of a better word, shes intense.

And thats why Im going to help you. Lexa sipped the coffee, staring at the
older woman with wide eyes, utterly impressed.

Okay. How?

First of all, dont argue all the time. And a little PDA every now and then
would be acceptable.

Okay

And for the love of all that is good and holy in the world, stop letting her
walk all over you. Show some backbone. Some fire. Clarke needs someone
to be her friend, and sometimes that means telling her when shes being an
idiot. Carol eyed her over her mug, and she grinned widely and
unashamedly. Lexa Woods, she said, chuckling for whatever reason,
welcome to the family.
 The Three Truths
transientpermanence
Chapter 2
Ch apter Text

Theyd met outside the library.

It had been cold, wet, a miserable sort of week, each breath taken feeling
like inhaling all the ingredients necessary for pneumonia. She had been
tired, she had been awake for over thirty-six hours, she hadnt been
watching where she was going, bumping hard into the blonde as she exited
the library, rubbing her eyes and mentally trying to keep herself prepared
for her next exam.

You know, its proven that students do worse while sleep deprived, the girl
said as she steadied Lexa, as she helped Lexa pick up her things. A nap
would be better than a cram session.

Psych major?

Biology.

God, even worse. The girl laughed and Lexa rubbed her eyes again, took
her things with a pained smile. Sorry I bumped into you.

It happens.

Right. Well. Sorry again. The girl smiled.

Good luck on your exam. Lexa nodded, hearing her, not really
comprehending the words, focused mostly on the girls blue eyes and kind
smile. Even much later, that was what stuck about the encounter. Not the
sleep deprivation warnings, but the blue eyes, the kind smile.

(Three truths: 1. Meeting Clarke Griffin was a stroke of mere chance.)

She should have known, she thought. The day she saw Clarkes blue eyes
and kind smile, the day they met because Lexa hadnt studied for her exam
until the last minute, she should have known she was a goner. (Because no
one ever dreams about seeing those blue eyes again unless that person
made an impression.)

Five years later, Lexa wished shed been just a tad more addled that day.
Just a tad more uncomprehending. Because then she wouldnt be where she
was now: Abby deciding she wanted to get to know Lexa better. Abby
deciding that she and Lexa needed to spend a day together.

Carol telling Abby that Lexa needed to learn how to bake a goddamn cake
first.

We baked yesterday, Lexa complained, eyeing the eggs, flour, and vanilla
extract uncomfortably. Clarke sat on one of the stools, a heavy textbook on
her lap, looking up from her studying long enough to flash her grandmother
a fond smile. What did you even do with the cakes?

The one you made or the one I made?

You threw mine out, didnt you? The older woman grinned, pulling out a
cookbook, handing it to Lexa with a flourish.

I did.

That bad?

Pretty bad, Clarke commented, not looking up from her book.

You cant use school as an excuse to not help. Youre off.

Doesnt mean I can stop studying. Lexa opened her mouth to argue, but
Carol shook her head.

Clarke already knows how to bake. You dont.

Abby doesnt bake and shes not here.

She was offended that she couldnt spend the day with you. So she went
out, Clarke said, turning a page, shaking her head. She thinks I dont
know

Clarke

Dont know what? Lexa asked, looking from Carol to Clarke, utterly
confused.

She doesnt want to be here, Clarke said, finally looking up from her
textbook, her blue eyesthe ones Lexa fell in love with on a cold, wet day,
in front of the libraryhard and unforgiving. She hates it here. It reminds
her of my dad. She swallowed, looked down, then shut her book,
practically jumping off her stool. Ill go study upstairs. Lexa watched as
she left, and without any actual thought on her part, she made to follow her
before Carol grabbed her by the elbow and held her back.

Let her be, hon. We have a cake to bake.

Shes hurting, she needs me.

She needs you to give her some time. Go up in half an hour or solet her
decide if she wants to need you. Lexa stared at her, shocked, but Carol just
gestured to the cake ingredients.

She needs me, she repeated, no real fight in her tone.

I know, Carol said sadly, shrugging. But give her time anyway.

She went up an hour later with a cup of tea as a peace offering. But when
she opened the door, Clarke was sitting next to the unopened cardboard
boxes, fast asleep. With a sigh, Lexa pulled the covers off the bed and
draped it around Clarkes shoulders, then settled down across from her.

(Three truths: 2. Becoming her friend was an active choice.)

Shed seen her around campus. Saw her in coffee shops, ran into her at a
bookstore, ended up at the universitys cafeteria at the same time. They
never really acknowledged these passing glimpses, never acknowledged
that on a cold, wet day, Lexa had rammed into Clarke and Clarke had
lectured a total stranger on the detriments of sleep deprivation.

But then they took Sociology together.

It was a large class, Lexa had only taken it because shed heard the
professor was interesting and easy, and ten minutes into the first lecture,
she found herself staring at the back of a blonde head, wondering why it
looked so familiar. (It took her three more lectures before she gathered the
courage to sit next to Clarke. Another one after that before she introduced
herself and properly apologized for running into her on that cold, wet day.
By the eighth or ninth lectureshe stopped countingthey began to
actually talk. Small talk, but talk nonetheless. Then suddenly, Clarke
stopped showing up to class.)

Lexa?

Im here. Clarke stared at her for a moment, her blue eyes red rimmed,
looking soft, looking open, looking vulnerable.

I want to make a closet joke, she said, grinning, and Lexa watched as her
best friend shut down, as she turned away for a moment and seemed to
remember that she wasnt letting Lexa in anymorethat she couldnt be
vulnerable in front of Lexa anymoreand Lexas heart stuttered and
puttered and fluttered for a moment before resuming its normal, agonizing,
beat.

Im not in the closet.

Literally, though. Literally, you kinda are.

You were here first.

Ah touch. So. How did cake baking go?

Mrs. Griffin has proclaimed me to be a lost cause.

Yeah, that sounds about right.

She wants to try cookies tomorrow. She says screwing up cakes she can
forgive. But cookies are an absolute must in the Griffin family.

Part of the family, are you?

She knows, you know. That were lying. But shes helping because she says
Abby is too intense.

And shes teaching you Griffin secrets? She must really like you. We take
our cookies very seriously. It was a joke, Lexa knew that. But somehow, the
words felt like knives, the tone felt like a twist. For a moment, Lexa felt all
the air leave her lungs, leaving her gasping, reeling, heaving.

Clarke.
I mean, this is super serious. Its like an initiation into our family, Clarke
said, not noticing or not caring about Lexas sudden inability to breathe.

Clarke.

I guess thats the one good thing thatll come out of this. Youll become my
grandmothers honorary granddaughter.

Clarke, Lexa said a third time, leaning forward and grabbing her wrist.
Please. Stop.

What? Her eyes were wide, concerned, for a moment letting go of

everythingfor a moment forgetting her anger. Her eyes were so blue, and
Lexa was transported back in time, to the front of a library on a cold, wet
day.

My mom is sick, she said, her voice low, her tone somehow remaining
even. Shes really sick.

(Three truths: Becoming her friend was an active choice.)

Whatre you doing in here? shed asked, hearing Clarke in the girls
restroom, locked in one of the stalls. You havent been showing up to
class.
Hes gone, hes gone, hes gone. Clarke had replied, and Lexa leaned
against the stalls door, unsure what to do. She could leave. She didnt
know Clarkeshe had no reason to do anything. She could leave without
another word.
Dont cry in here. If you want to cry, you have to do it properly. It cant be
in the girls bathroom in the library. Come on, Clarke. My mom sent me
cookies. We can share. There was a long pause, the sound of sniffling, and
then, the stalls door was opened and Clarke stepped forward with a
hesitant, vulnerable, heartbreaking nod.
Hes gone, Lexa.

Clarke stared at her for just a second before she moved, crawling over to
Lexa and pulling the covers over them both, pulling Lexa into an embrace.
You should have told me, she whispered, no real reproach in her tone.

You havent forgiven me.

You should have told me, she repeated, pressing her lips to Lexas temple,
holding her tightly, and Lexa allowed herself to be held, allowed herself to
feel Clarkes warmthallowed herself to be comforted by Clarkes presence.
(Three truths: 3. Falling in love with her, falling in love with her was an
inevitability.)

//

Clarke held her hand during dinner.

She didnt know if it was because she still wanted to offer comfort or if it
was because Abby had glanced at them oddly before helping herself to a
second serving of mashed potatoes, or even if it was because Carol kept
winking at them, clearly approving of the effort they were putting in into
looking like a real couple, something she said would be harder to
accomplish once the rest of the family started arriving.

Clarke held her hand during dinner, and Lexa had no idea what she ate, her
entire focus on the warmth of Clarkes fingers, on the way her thumb
absently ghosted over Lexas knuckles, the way she squeezed every now
and then, as if assuring Lexa that she was still therethat she still intended
to offer comfort.

Clarke held her hand throughout dinner, and that was all Lexa thought
about because it was easier. It was easiernormal, evento think about
Clarke and block out the invading, pervading, invasive sadness that crept
into her chest and clenched at her heart and chewed away at her walls and
guards and protections. It was easier, and Lexa desperately needed easy.

Lexa gripped Clarkes hand during dinner, treated her as a lifeline during
dinner, and Clarke, Clarke let her.

(Clarke had always let her.)

//

If your mom was sick, why did you agree to this?

Its only two weeks.

You should be with her.

She said the same thing about you. A pause. A deep breath. The sound of
shifting from above her.

Lexa?

Yeah?

Dont sleep on the ground.

What?

Justplease. Will you please come back? A pause. A deep breath. The
sound of creaking joints as she got to her feet and slid into the bed.

It was freezing down there.

I know.

Clarke?

Yeah?

Im sorry about Finn. A pause, a deep breath, the sudden shift and the
press of Clarkes lips to Lexas cheek.

Yeah. Me too.

I dont expect you to forgive me.

I know.

Thats not why Im here. Why Im doing this.

Why are you here then? A pause, a deep breath, the swallowing down of
the truth that desperately wanted to burst from her lips.

You needed me. A pause, a deep breath, and Clarkes fingers thread
through Lexas.

(They wake up still holding hands.)

//
Abby is suspicious, Carol told Lexa, rolling her eyes as Lexa changed the
channel yet again. Just pick one. You cant watch two movies at the same
time.

But its way more fun this way. She paused, muted the television, and
turned to the older woman she sat knitting on the other side of the couch.
What do you mean shes suspicious?

Have you ever had a girlfriend, Lexa?

Yes.

Seriously?

Yes. Carol shook her head, looping the yarn around the needle as she
spoke.

Okay. So imagine Clarke as that girlfriend.

Id really rather not.

Why?

Bad breakup.

Oh. I see.

You see? What do you see? Lexa turned so that she faced the older
woman completely, no longer interested in either of the movies she was
watching. They could hear Abby and Clarke chatting in the kitchen as they
rinsed the breakfast dishes. Carol leaned forward, her voice dropping to a
whisper.

This whole trying to pretend you dont love her thing just isnt working.

Excuse me?

You get all guarded and standoffish. Its because you love her.

That doesnt make any sense, Lexa said, shaking her head, her heart
hammering away. Had she been so obvious? Had Clarke seen it too? Had
Clarke decided it wasnt even worth mentioning?
Normally, Id agree with you. But youre not a normal girl, are you? Youre
the kind of girl whod do anything for the person you loved, even pretend
you dont love them.

Again, that makes no sense.

Are you holding back because of the boy?

You dont know what happened.

I know enough.

Then you know she hates me.

Oh sweetheart. You dont ask the person you hate for helpyou ask the
person you trust.

Those arent mutually exclusive things.

With Clarke? With Clarke, they are.

//

She started dating Finn towards the end of their senior year.

Lexa, who had been friends for Clarke for months, who was quickly realizing
that she considered Clarke one of her closest friends, was the first to hear of
this development.

Hes funny and sweet, Lexa, Clarke had said, lying back on Lexas bed, a
soft smile on her face. I really like him.

I can tell, shed laughed, shoving Clarke gently, lying down beside her,
their shoulders, arms, thighs brushing. So turn on that Griffin charm.

What about you and that girl in our Economics class? Have you even talked
to her yet?

Shes coming to our party.

Really?
Yeah.

Thatsthats great, Lexa. Im glad.

//

Ive decided. Not only will I help you with my daughter-in-law, but Ill help
you with Clarke.

With all due respect, Mrs. Griffin, your husband just died. I dont think
Clarke and I are a priority. Carol snorted, shaking her head, grabbing the
remote and changing the channel once more.

You didnt know James. The man would come back and haunt me if I dont
fix his favorite granddaughters relationship before his funeral. She snorted
again, leaning back against the couch, her knitting forgotten. Its really a
damn shame.

I dont really know what to say.

You dont need to say anything. Its been decided.

I justI just think it may be better to give up on it. ClarkesClarkes my

best friend.

What did I say about backbone?

That I needed to show some.

Exactly. Now sit up straight, stop moping, and just accept this will happen.
Lexa stared at her, blinked slowly, then let out a sigh.

She doesnt feel the same way, Mrs. Griffin, she said, shrugging
helplessly. She just doesnt.

Lexa?

Right, I know. Fire. Backbone. Etcetera.

//

(Three truths: 3. Falling in love with her. Falling in love with her was
inevitable.)

They disagreed about everything.

Things as simple as dinner plans turned into loud and long arguments, and
invariably, Clarke would end up in Lexas room, laying in bed together,
staring up at the ceiling.

I think he might be cheating on me, she said one night, eyes dry for once,
tone even despite the fact that shed been arguing with Finn for the last
hour.

Oh.

What should I do? Clarke turned to face her, and Lexa suddenly felt
overwhelmed by her scent, her warmth, her mere presence. The blue eyes,
the tiny quirk of her lips, the fact that she was so close, so close, so close

I dont know, Lexa whispered, knowing she was too close, hearing warning
bells going off in her mind, sure that she was seconds away from doing
something stupid. (Blue eyes call to her, and it hit her at once,
understanding. She understood why she and the girl from her Economics
class didnt last. She understood why she felt a tug in her chest every time
Finns name was mentioned. She understood why, right now, she wanted
nothing more than to close the distance between them, to feel Clarkes lips
against her own, to taste her, to breathe her in, to eliminate that emptiness
that had taken up residence within her. She understood, she understood
now: She was in love with her best friend.)

Lexa?

Yeah?

I dont think I love him. Unbidden, Lexas hand moved slightly, moved to
grip Clarkes. (Stop! her brain cells cried, stop! Abort, abort, abort!)

Thats okay.

My family hated him. They tried to hide it, but they couldnt.

Thats okay.
He broke one of the ornaments. From our Christmas tree.

Oh, well now thats unforgivable.

Thats what I said! He told me I was taking an ornament too seriously.

Its like he doesnt know you at all.

Exactly! They stared at each other and Clarke broke first, bursting into
giggles, burying her face into the crook of Lexas neck in an attempt to stifle
her laughs. Unbidden, Lexas arm wrapped around Clarkes shoulders.
Unbidden, Lexas body seemed to meld with Clarkes.

Its okay, Clarke. You know that right? A pause, a contented sigh, pressing
even closer to Lexa.

Im with you. Its always okay when Im with you, she said.

//

"The way I figure it, the major goal of this operation is to get Abby to leave
Clarke alone."

"That's actually the only goal, Mrs. Griffin."

"The secondary objective is to make Clarke see the truth," the older woman
continued, ignoring Lexa entirely. "Make her see she loves you."

"You don't just wake up one morning and think, oh yeah. I think I may be in
love with my best friend."

"Isn't that how it happened with you?"

"Actually, my realization came before falling asleep." Carol shook her head
and crossed her arms over her chest.

"I don't appreciate sass young lady."

"Mrs. Griffin, please. Just drop it."

"Drop what?" Clarke asked as she and her mother walked into the living
room. Carol gave Lexa a not so subtle wink and turned to her daughter-in-
law and granddaughter with a wide grin.

"I'm tired, and my knees ache. So I asked Lexa here to go buy a few
groceries but she says she's too busy to run errands for an old woman."

"What?"

"I'll go," Clarke offered, speaking over Lexa's sputtering.

"Take Lexa with you," Abby said, raising her eyebrows. "I'll take a look at
Carol's knees. Has your arthritis been acting up more lately?" Carol got to
her feet, and the second Abby's back was turned she winked at Lexa before
gesturing for the two of them to go.

"I don't even know what you want," Lexa hissed. Carol shrugged and Clarke
grabbed Lexa by the elbow and pulled her in the opposite direction.

"Let's go. It'll get us out of the house for a while."

//

He was cheating on her. They broke up before graduation.

For months afterwards, Lexa tried to come up with ways to tell Clarke the
truth. Tell her, bluntly, honestly, about how she felt. Tell her with a
longwinded confession, with a rambling note, with an email without any sort
of clarity.

For months, Lexa planned, agonized, hoped, suffered, ached. For months,
she felt that perhapsmaybeClarke felt the same things. That maybe
perhapsthe confession would be well received.

Until the first week of September.

They all went out. (Lexa shouldve said no.) They were celebrating surviving
their first week of classes. (Lexa had heard inklings from Anya that their
mother was ill. Lexa shouldve said no to Clarke.) It was just a bar, Finn was
just there as a friend. (She shouldve said no. She shouldve known better.)

(She really, really shouldve known better.)

So how long? How long have you been in love with her?

Youre drunk, Finn.

Im fine, he slurred, unsteady on his feet. Tell me the truth.

Youre drunk, and I promised Clarke Id get you home. So come on.

You two lived together senior year. And I could tell. I could tell. You loved
her. You love her.

Finn.

I told her she couldnt hate me for cheating on her because she was
fucking you. Thats why she broke up with me. Cause I said she wanted to
fuck you.

Finn, shut up. Shut up and get in the car.

How long after she was single did you wait? To tell her? I wouldnt have
waited long if I were you. She couldnt wait to run from me to you.

I swear to

Picked fights all the time. Then ran to you. I knew it, I knew why. And it
fucking pissed me off.

Finn

I hate you. I hate you. Youre the reason we broke up. He stepped forward,
and Lexa clenched her fists, glaring at him.

Im going to call you a cab. Ill stay here until it gets here. But after that,
you and me? Were through.

Dont pretend. We were never friends. You hate me. I hate you. But you got
the girl. You.

Im calling you a cab.

(She really, really shouldve known better.)

//
The grocery store was only a ten-minute drive out.

They drove in silence, parked the car in silence, entered the store with a
buggy in silence. Clarke grabbed a few boxes of her favorite cereal, Lexa
picked up colorful skeins of yarn for Carol, and they ambled through the
frozen foods, both of them choosing an ice cream flavorall of this also in
total silence.

Whats going on between you and my grandmother? Clarke finally asked

when they began checking out their items. Youre as thick as thieves
lately.

She doesnt think I have it in me to convince Abby were dating. Shes

coaching me. It wasnt a total lie, Lexa convinced herself. Not really.

Shouldnt I be a part of it too, then?

She trusts you. But not me.

Oh.

Oh?

Its justI think she really likes you.

Is that a good or bad thing? Clarke frowned, paying for their items before
turning back to Lexa with a shrug.

I dont know, she said.

 The Three Truths
transientpermanence
Chapter 3
Ch apter Text

The first time she had to actively fight against her feelings for Clarke, it was
merely a week before graduation. Clarke and Finn had broken up only days
before, and shed taken to sleeping next to Lexa, claiming she wasnt willing
to spend the night alone. (She was lonely, she said. She was sad, she said.
Would it be okay, she asked. Lexa was helpless to say anything but of
course.)

She woke up with Clarke pressed against her.

It wasnt innocent. Their legs were tangled, Clarkes back pressed firmly to
Lexas front, Lexas hand resting on the curve of Clarkes hip, fingers
splayed out, face pressing into Clarkes neck, lips against her ear. It wasnt
innocent, because Lexa woke up with her heart beating too fast, with heat
pooling in her belly, between her legs, and all she wanted was to move
slightly. To kiss Clarke down the slope of her neck, to hover over her, look
into her deep, blue eyes as she eliminated any and all distance between
themeliminated the inches of free space, eliminated the clothes,
eliminated, eliminated, eliminated.

It wasnt innocent.

And she knew, she knew, that Clarke was lonely. That she was sad. That she
just didnt want to be alone at night. And it was easy, it was effortless, to
quell the desire welling up, to stamp out her needs, her wants, and focus
only on Clarke. It was easy to move away, create distance rather than
eliminate it.

It was always easy. Until it wasnt.

The kiss was supposed to be innocent. A practice run Clarke had called it,
in case they needed to kiss in front of anyone (a point made by Carol after
they came back from their trip to the grocery store, barely acknowledging
each other).

You two are colder than the weather. Its ridiculous. I cant even believe
youre friends, let alone girlfriends.

Mrs. Griffin

All you do is say no, Lexa. Come on. What if someone asks you to pucker
up? They always do that in the movies. Clarke had agreed, claimed it
would be quicka dry run. She had grabbed Lexas hand and led her
upstairs, surprising her by stopping on the second floor, pressing her
against the wall, crashing her lips to Lexas.

It was supposed to be innocent.

But Clarke was warm and tasted like hot chocolate, she was warm and her
hands gripped Lexas waist, she was warm, and she tilted her head to the
side, deepening the kiss. Because when Lexas hands went up to her neck,
to tangle in her hair, Clarke let out a soft moan, pressing even further into
heras if she wanted them to become one, to eliminate the distance,
eliminate, eliminate, eliminate.

It was supposed to be innocent.

It wasnt innocent.

It wasnt innocent, and it was hardit was near impossiblefor Lexa to

break away, to breathe, to push Clarke back, to shake her head.

Stop, she managed, one word, one word, somehow making Clarkes face
fall with the one word.

That was

Wrong. She shook her head some more, not meeting Clarkes eyes, not
wanting to see more anger, more hate, more revulsion (she had seen all
that and more after Finn, she was tired, oh so tired. It used to be easy. It
used to be so very easy). Im sorry. I got carried away.

Right, Clarke said after a moment, and Lexas eyes flitted up to meet
hers, shocked by the desolation she saw. Me too. It didnt mean anything.

Right. Nothing.

So?

Were good. She coughed, clearing her throat. Ill, uh. Let Mrs. Griffin
know.

Thats a bit weird, right?

Shell ask. I just want it out of the way.

Okay. Yeah. Ill goread.

Okay.

Okay.

Clarke? Still hate me? Clarkes features, which had quickly gone back to
the blank slate she worked atthe emotionless expression she constantly
kept upsoftened almost immediately.

Oh, Lexa. No, I never hated you.

//

Hand me the chocolate chips.

Are you really going to force me to apologize?

I want you to admit you did something stupid.

I didnt!

You said she kissed you. Like, not just a peck. A real smooch. And you just
waved it off as a mistake? Lexa nodded.
Yes. Thats exactly what I did.

Okay then. Admit you did something stupid.

I stopped her from making a mistake, Mrs. Griffin. The older woman shook
her head, tossing her spoon down with a tad more force than strictly
necessary.

Dont you think shes a big girl? Dont you think she can figure things out
on her own?

Well, yeah, but

There are no buts, Lexa. The girl wanted to kiss you, wanted you, and you
just pushed her away.

You dont know that. You dont know how much I hurt her.

No, what I know is that youre hurting so much that youre not even willing
to contemplate that Clarke may have feelings for you. Clarke isnt the
obstacle, hon. You are. She gave Lexa a significant look, raising her
eyebrows, then picked up her spoon and continued stirring the cookie
dough.

Im not hurting, Lexa said after a long silence, merely watching the older
woman work.

You are.

What would I be hurt about?

A broken heart. Lexa shook her head, ready to argue, but Carol was too
fast. I love Clarke. Shes smart, kindhearted, selfless to a fault. But shes
also blind.

No

Dont argue, Ive known her longer. She jumps to conclusions, passes
judgments too quickly, refuses to listen to her heart. Shes probably loved
you from the moment she met you, but she wont be able to admit to
herself.

Mrs. Griffin, I just

Shes blind, and shes breaking your heart. Something passed over Carols
face and she put the spoon down again, walking over to where Lexa stood,
taking her by the shoulders and looking right into her eyes (Lexa tried to
ignore how they were blue, not as startling or bright as Clarkes, but blue
nonetheless). Promise me, Lexa. Promise me right now that you wont
spend your entire life waiting for her to open her eyes.

Mrs. Griffin

I know youd do it. I know you feel like you have to. But you cant. you
cant just give and give and get nothing in return. So promise me. Promise
me that if the two of you havent worked things out by the time you go back
to school, youll move on.

Its not that easy.

It is. It has to be. You cant let her keep breaking your heart. No matter
how much you love her. She tightened her grip on Lexas shoulders and
after a moment, Lexa found herself nodding shakily.

Okay. I promise.

Good girl, Carol said, patting Lexa softly on the cheek. Now. Were going
to put the dough in the refrigerator for a while. So it wont spread as much
when we bake it.

//

The first person to arrive was Clarkes Aunt Elizabeth, who Lexa quickly
learned was much more like Carol than shed like.

So youre the girlfriend, Elizabeth said, raising her eyebrows. For some
reason, when Mom described you, I thought youd betaller.

Im a perfectly acceptable height.

I know. Its weird. Youre like, perfectly proportioned. Whered you find her,
Clarke? Some factory?

Shes not a robot, Aunt Liz.

Talks like one.

Well, shes not.

Hey. Do you know Asimovs Laws?

Aunt Liz. Shes not a robot.

Okay, okay. Just checking. She grinned though, holding out a hand for
Lexa to shake. No hard feelings, right Lexa?

right.

It was a long flight, guys. So Im going to go take a nap. Or twenty. Havent

decided. When are John and Hannah getting here? Are they bringing their
families? Will everyone be discussing my lack of a husband? Can I just claim
I want to be like Clarke? She rattled off more questions, talking animatedly
to Carol and Abby as they went to have a cup of tea before she took her
nap or twenty and Lexa found herself turning to Clarke in awe.

Its like no one told her why shes here. Your entire familyjust seems so
okay with your grandfathers passing. Clarke swallowed hard and
shrugged.

Hed been sick for a while. He made everyone promise. Its not supposed
to be sad so Aunt Liz is coping by talking. Thats her thing.

Whats your thing? Clarke smiled sadly and shrugged again.

I do things I shouldnt do.

//

So youre a law student?

Yes. Elizabeth opened her mouth (probably to ask another question), but
at that moment, Lexas phone rang and she quickly excused herself,
rushing outside. The night air was frigid, and after a few seconds she
regretted not wearing a second jacket.

Hello?

Hey, Lexa. Hows the fake dating thing going?

About as well as expected. Hows Mom? Anya paused on the other end of
the line, cleared her throat, and Lexa could practically see her shrugging.
She says its the same, but I can tell the pain is worse.

Abby offered to help

You know she wont take it. Ive tried convincing her. She says she raised
us by working three jobs and not accepting handouts, and shell die the
same way.

Right.

So, really. Hows the fake dating thing going? Still pretending youre not
head over heels for Clarke? The question made Lexas hands shake, and
she stepped further away from the house, hidden amongst the darkness of
the grounds.

What, do I wear a sign or something?

Yep. Its written all over your forehead. You practically scream I love
Clarke Griffin with your eyes.

Shut up. Tell me about Mom.

She wants an update on you. She says if you dont get the girl shell be
forever disappointed.

She does realize that my love life is less important than her health, right?

What love life? Anya asked, chuckling, and Lexa scowled, leaning against
a tree.

Ha. Ha. So funny.

Dont be bitter. I told you ages ago to stop moping and just tell her.

You told me that before Finn. Besides, Im not moping.

What happened to Finn wasnt your fault. And you are moping. Its getting
pathetic to watch. Lexa swallowed hard, knowing her sister couldnt see
her, knowing that there was no way for anyone to tell that she was having a
mild panic attack outside in the cold, under a tree, enveloped in darkness.

Anya

Lexa, stop blaming yourself.

But Anyashes right to hate me. Shes right.

You didnt do anything. That was the problem, Lexa wanted to scream.
That was exactly the problem. She didnt do anything, she didnt do
anything when she should have (and here she is, still not doing anything,
still not doing anything, still not doing anything). Justonce you accept it,
things will be easier.

Accept what?

Accept that it wasnt your fault, and that you deserve to be happy. Lexa
took a deep breath, letting herself fall to the ground, resting her head
against the tree.

But what if I dont? she whispered, and Anyaher sister, the one whod
always been there for her, who knew her better than anyonejust let out a
sigh.

Sometimes, she said, her tone hard and sad, I just wish youd never met
her.

//

The ground was cold. Lexa? Lexa! You out here? The ground was cold.
Whatre you doing out here? Lexa?

I called him a cab, she said, not looking up, breathing hard, her heart
racing, feeling as if she was falling, falling, falling, with no one to catch her,
no one to help ground her.

What?

That night. I called him a cab. He was drunk, he kept yelling, and I couldnt
I couldnt be in the car with him. So I called him a cab. Clarke said
nothing for a moment then Lexa felt her drop down next to her, their
shoulders pressed together, using each other to stave off the cold. Slowly,
tentatively, anxiously, Clarke reached out and took Lexas hands in her own,
warming them, heating them, gripping them, but Lexas heart still was
beating at a ridiculous rate, her breaths still came out uneven and heavy.
She still felt clammy and disorientated.

I know.
It was my fault.

You called him a cab.

You blame me. It was my fault. I shouldveI shouldve done something,

but I just let it happen. Clarke pressed her lips to Lexas temple, shifting so
that she could pull her into a one-armed embrace.

You called him a cab.

You cant. You cant forgive me now when you couldnt even look at me for
months.

Lexa. Youre having a panic attack. She turned, facing Clarke with wide
eyes, shaking her head in immediate disagreement.

Clarke, you hate me. Why are you here?

You called him a cab. Okay? I get it. I dont hate you.

I was there, I couldve stopped it, I couldve prevented

You called him a cab, Clarke said forcefully, pressing her forehead to
Lexas, not letting Lexa look away. You called him a cab.

I dont regret you. I dont. Never. Clarke didnt answer, just let Lexa bury
her face into Clarkes neck, just let Lexa grip her shoulders, seeking
stability, seeking comfort, seeking solid ground.

The embrace was innocent.

Their closeness was innocent.

Lexa could suddenly breathe again.

this heart, fossilized and silent (once was

tender and once was violent)
Chrmdpoet
Summary:
Clarke is only three days into being a runaway when she realizes that she
did not fully think this through. When she walked away from Camp Jaha, she
took only herself, a handgun with limited ammunition, and the gnawing
guilt inside her. Three days without food, water, fresh clothing, or bedding
of any kind, however, and she is painfully aware of how foolish that decision
had been.

Notes:
Story begins post-finale (s2), three days after Clarke leaves Camp Jaha.

This story is primarily focused on Clarke, and it is about her internal

struggle after the events of Mount Weather. It is about her healing process,
and how she also grows and evolves through that process with Lexa. The
romance/relationship aspects are slow-burn.

This is my first fic for The 100. I hope you all enjoy. Comments and Kudos
are greatly appreciated. XO-Chrmdpoet

Chapter 1
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Ch apter Text

Clarke is only three days into being a runaway when she realizes that she
did not fully think this through. When she walked away from Camp Jaha, she
took only herself, a handgun with limited ammunition, and the gnawing
guilt inside her. Three days without food, water, fresh clothing, or bedding
of any kind, however, and she is painfully aware of how foolish that decision
had been.

Her back aches from sleeping on the hard ground in the cool night air. She
can already feel a thick layer of grime coating her clothes and her skin. Her
hair feels stringy and gross, and she imagines that it probably looks just as
bad as it feels. Her ass itches, likely due to the leaf she used to wipe herself
earlier this morning, and her body is all but screaming for her to turn
around and flee; run back to shelter, to feasts, to friends and family
and baths.

Still, she refuses to go back. She can't. She isn't ready to face her people
after what she did to the innocents of Mount Weather, regardless of how
necessary that choice felt and still feels.
She needs time to process, time to adjust, time to regret or forget or
accept. She just needs time, and she doesn't care if she suffers through
every second of it.

Her stomach clenches and groans as she sits at the edge of a small creek,
her knees pulled up to support her hands as she scrapes the sharp edge of
a small rock against the end of a stick. She has been at it for a while,
repeating the motion over and over and over, and she doesn't stop despite
how intensely her palms sting and her fingers cramp. The pain of her empty
stomach caving in to devour itself is worse, much worse, and all she can
think, all she can hope, is that if she can just sharpen this stick into a
makeshift spear, then maybe she can catch a fish or two or fifty. At this
point, she feels like she could eat an entire deer on her own, or even one of
those massive mutant gorillas.

A flash of pain sparks in her chest at the thought of the beast, because her
mind doesn't flood with images of its wild eyes or with the echoes of its
roar, but rather with the haunted, lovely gaze of .

Clarke shakes her head to clear away the image and pulls a blistered hand
up to swipe at the sweat on her dirt-streaked forehead. She hisses from the
sting of the salt on her fresh wounds, but she pushes through the pain and
goes right back to her sharpening. She is determined to get something in
her stomach before dark.

She had not been able to convince herself to eat the berries she found the
night before, too afraid they would turn out to be poisonous and she would
down a handful to assuage her hunger only to spend a night or two violently
vomiting into the bushes or keeling over on the spot. Beyond medicinal
herbs and plants, Clarke has zero faith in what little else she remembers
from her botany courses on the Ark. She considers it accomplishment
enough that she knows how photosynthesis works well, sort of.
Regardless, she had fallen asleep on an empty stomach, the same empty
stomach that still growls at her like it would maul her if it could.

It sort of feels like it already is mauling her.

When the stick is finally sharp enough that Clarke can prick herself with it,
she removes her boots and socks, rolls up her pant legs, and then rises on
shaky legs and walks out into the creek. The water is cold but she grits her
teeth and bears it, because there are no fish flopping around on the dirt and
making this easy for her. She is going to have to suffer for her food.

Nightfall is approaching but the sun is still high enough that the creek is
washed in orange and yellow hues, and Clarke can see the sunlight
reflecting off the silvery backs of the small fish swimming around her legs.
She is impatient when she first jabs her homemade spear into the water,
eager to catch her dinner. She hits nothing but rock and loose soil, and her
spear exits the water as clean and fishless as it had entered it. She lets out
a sigh, shakes out the tension in her body, cracks her neck, and readies
herself again.

Clarke watches the fish weave around her legs and around each other for a
few moments before setting her sights on one of the larger ones. She
watches it draw nearer and then she strikes, hard and fast. As soon as the
spear goes into the water, Clarke jerks it back out and looks to its tip. There
is nothing there, and she looks back down to see the fish she had aimed for
still circling her legs, mocking her.

Letting out a harsh sigh that evolves into an annoyed growl, Clarke jabs the
stick back down into the water. She jabs and jabs, checking quickly after
each try, and every time, her spear comes up clean.

When the oranges and yellows of the sky deepen to red and then cool down
to a soft blue, Clarke nearly sobs at her failure. She trudges out of the
creek, her toes aching from the cold of the water, and grabs her socks
and boots from the bank. The tiniest whimper escapes her throat as she
swipes at the tears stinging her eyes before yanking on her socks and
boots, picking up her spear, and heading away from the creek.

She resigns herself to the fact that she will go yet another night with her
stomach empty and aching. Only this time, she has two blister-covered
palms to add to the mix and a headache pinging between her eyes that she
assumes is from dehydration. She figures it's better not to drink directly
from the rivers or creeks until she can find something to boil the water in to
make it more potable or until it rains and she can collect the pure source
directly. That is, unless she gets really desperate, and if she
gets really desperate well then, Clarke figures she won't much care about
whatever potentially dangerous bacteria or microorganisms might be living
in the water, and she will simply suck it down like it's a fresh glass of
lemonade on the hottest day of the year.

Cold hard ground isn't exactly ideal no matter where it is, but Clarke figures
slightly hidden and slightly covered is better than open and completely
exposed. She can't go back to the drop ship, and she refuses to revisit the
bunker. There are too many ghosts lurking there, too much history carved
into such a short amount of time. She will make her own shelter or she will
go without.

She finds a tight space tucked under the jutted-out edge of a large boulder
and claims the spot as her own before settling in and trying for the
umpteenth time to start a fire.
There had always been someone else available to bring the flames to
roaring life at the drop ship. There had always been someone else shouting
their kill on the hunt and leading them all back to camp, eager and hungry.
There had always been someone else around to provide the basic
essentials, taking orders from Bellamy or herself or whoever happened to
be yelling the loudest at the time.

Now, though, there is only her, worn and weary and so damn hungry.
Clarke gathers a small pile of the driest leaves and grass and sticks she can
find nearby and then drops them onto the dirt in front of her chosen home
for the night. She sits, legs crossed, beside the pile and grabs the longest,
skinniest stick of the bunch. She holds it vertically in the center of the small
pile atop a thick, wide piece of bark and presses her blistered palms to it
from both sides. Keeping her hands open and flat, she shimmies them
rapidly along the stick's length, down toward the pile and then back up to
start again, creating as much friction as possible. She does this over and
over, ignoring the sting and ache in her hands, ignoring the exhaustion
riddling her muscles and bones, ignoring the throb in her head ignoring
the lonely clench of her heart in her chest and the wet drops slipping down
her cheeks. She ignores everything but a single thoughtfire, fire, fire.

She lets out a harsh sob and breaks her stick in half in a fit of anger when
she slips in her motion and accidentally slices open the sensitive skin
between her thumb and index finger. She doesn't bother with wiping her
tears away as she rips off a piece of cloth from the bottom of her shirt and
wraps it tightly around her right hand, tying it in a knot at the knuckle of her
thumb. The tears are still there when she curls in a ball under the long edge
of the boulder and drifts off to sleep with an empty stomach and stinging
hands, an aching head and still no fucking fire.

Clarke shivers in her sleep, the cold seeping into her bones like a cancer
intent on devouring her insides. Her brow furrows, images flitting through
her mind of the things she can't forget, the people she can't let go of. She
sees her own hands painted red with the blood she has shed. She sees the
hatred in Jasper's eyes, hears the growl in his voice as he demands an
explanation for her choice to kill his love. She sees the angry red flesh and
agonized eyes frozen in death of the bodies and bodies and bodies littering
the floor in Mount Weather.

She sees the hard line of Lexa's jaw, the steely resolve in her eyes. She
hears the lilt of Lexa's betrayal, hears the quiver she tries to hide from her
voice. She hears the Commander's solemn whisper and the rhythm of her
walking away.

May we meet again.

Clarke sighs, body curling further in on itself in her sleep, as her dreams
then shift and she is standing in the Commander's tent. Lexa's gaze dances
from Clarke's eyes to her lips, and Clarke feels the heat of her stare and
then of her kiss. It washes over her, warm and comforting, like she is being
enveloped in it, and she feels it everywhere.
Heat. Heat. So much heat.

She startles awake when a loud pop sounds from somewhere behind her,
and Clarke is shocked speechless to find a crackling fire, alive and flickering,
where her pathetic pile of leaves had earlier been. She rubs at her eyes, a
smile unconsciously tugging at her lips as she takes a moment to revel in
the warmth embracing her, no longer only in her dream, but then realization
snaps roughly into place and she scrambles up onto her feet as quickly as
possible.

Yanking her gun from the holster on her hip, Clarke holds her weapon at the
ready and squints into the darkness surrounding the outer glow of the fire
that she definitely did not create.
But someone did.

Inching her way around the fire, Clarke listens for any unnatural sounds in
the surrounding forest. She hears nothing beyond the buzzing of the
insects, the croaking of the toads, the breeze rippling through the leaves;
nothing out of the ordinary. Her sight fails her as well. She sees nothing
beyond the bright halo of the fire. Everything is dark, dark and quiet.

Grounders, Clarke thinks. She knows their capabilities, their grace in the
forest. They move through the trees with such ease and silence. They could
be watching her this very moment, entirely undetected. The thought makes
Clarke uneasy.

Have they come to finish her off, a literal severing of their fruitless alliance?
But then why build her a fire? Why keep her warm?

"All right," Clarke says, raising her voice just enough that its sleepy rasp
carries, "I know you're out there, so you might as well come out."

She waits but no one steps forward. Nothing stirs.

Clarke keeps a tight grip on her gun and shifts anxiously from foot to foot,
gaze darting around in each dark direction. She points her gun toward the
fire and shouts, "What the hell is this?"

She nearly jumps out of her skin when a deep voice spills out from the black
abyss of the forest.

"It is fire."
Clarke sucks in a sharp breath through her nose and fights the urge to roll
her eyes. "Yeah," she grunts, turning toward the direction of the voice and
pulling her gun up in front of her. "I got that, thanks, but why did you build
me a fire?"

"For warmth," the voice responds, and Clarke huffs out an impatient sigh.

She is confused and irritable and tired and hurting and hungry and the
slightest bit freaked, and she is done with games.

"Why?" she snaps. "What do you want from me?"

The reply is swift. "I seek nothing," the voice answers. "Faya kom heda."

Clarke's breath catches roughly in her throat when she hears the term
'heda'. She knows very little Trigedasleng, but she has heard that word
enough to know to whom it refers.

"A gift from the Commander," the Grounder clarifies from the shadows, and
Clarke nods absentmindedly.

"Lexa," she whispers, the name so thick and bitter on her tongue and in her
throat that she nearly chokes on it.

The rage bubbles up and spills over before she can contain it, and she kicks
the ground toward the fire, a shower of dirt threatening to extinguish the
flames but not quite managing. Clarke doesn't care. She shoves her gun
back into its holster, rips her jacket off the ground and yanks it over her
shoulders, grabs her hand-carved spear, and then walks away from the
warmth and into the shadows.

"You can tell the Commander that I don't need her fire," she calls over her
shoulder. "She's burned me enough already."

Her heart throbs with every step she takes, but she walks until she can't
hear the pops of the flames anymore. She walks until the fire's glow
disappears into the distance behind her.

She walks until she is numb.

Notes:
Translations:

"Faya kom Heda." - "Fire from the Commander.

 blood rush in the hazy glow
firetestsgold
Summary:
The locals arent fans of college kids. This is their neighborhood bar. They
can getterritorial.

Clarke studies the girl who stopped the fight before it began. Leaning back
in her chair in the back of the bar, she's all dark hair and dark eyeliner and
dark alcohol. Clarke can see what hes saying: the glare etched into her
face is a clear warning for anyone who might step forward to her.

But the vodka has thinned Clarkes blood; shes always been brazen and
right now she cant take that warning as anything less than a challenge.

She grabs Octavias wrist and pulls her forward. Cmon.

//

6/13/2016: Added the first of two additional post-story chapters.

Notes:
Just an idea I couldn't stop playing with after I offhandedly pitched it to a
friend. Title from the Oh Wonder song "Lose It." All feedback and criticisms
welcomed.

Chapter 1
Ch apter Text

Are you sure were in the right place? Monty asks.

Clarke doesnt doubt Jaspers sense of direction, but his decision-making

has always left a little to be desired. Yeahthis is a bad idea.

Jasper, on the other hand, looks delighted. Its a great idea! My friend was
right, theres no way Octavias gonna get IDd here.

That, they have to admit, is true. Clarke casts a critical eye over the front
faade of the bar before them: dark green painted wood thats chipped in
places, a single dirty window, and the gold lettering that reads The
Captains Room. The black door is closed, but a neon sign in the window
blinks Open. She rather wishes it wouldnt so that they could head home,
even if it was a long trip back to their apartments on the other side of town.
I dont know if Bellamy is going to be down for this, Monty tells Jasper,
taking the words from Clarkes mouth. You know how he is with O.

Clarke checks her phone, hunching against the cold evening air. She wishes
she would have worn more clothes; the breeze raises goosebumps on her
bare legs. Well, well find out any minute. He said theyd meet us at
seven.

The three friends stand in front of the bar for a few more minutes as Jasper
attempts to list all the positive things hed heard about the placethese are
mainly variations on a whole new crop of girls to talk toand Monty tries
to agree about the girls while simultaneously pointing out that people
probably lived in the alley that ran alongside the bar. This wasnt exactly
the best part of town, and nothing like the bars they were used to near
campus.

Luckily, Clarke doesnt have to listen to them squabble for long. Bellamys
black truck at last roars around the corner at the end of the street, rumbling
up to the curb. Bell rolls down the window and raises an eyebrow at the
place. Beside him, John Murphy slouches in the passenger seat and lifts a
hand in greeting.

Are you sure this is the right place? Bellamy asks Clarke, confused. Monty
lets out a triumphant sound of vindication and Jasper protests.

I mean, its definitely a bar, Clarke replies with a shrug. And it looks like
she wont get IDd here.

Yeah, but will she get jumped here?

Valid concern.

The answer comes when a hand darts out of the backseat and whacks
Bellamy on the back of the headhis indignant Uh, ow? goes unheard as
Octavia leans forward out of the backseat with a wide grin at Clarke.

Dont listen to Captain Killjoy over here, she says, Its perfect!

Ultimately, its Octavias call. Her nineteenth birthday passed during the
summer, and now that theyre two weeks into the fall semester and settled
in, its time to celebrate. Her enthusiasm trumps any reserve Bellamy has,
so with a sigh of resignation, he pulls forward into an empty space along the
curb and parks.

Octavia spent most her freshman year escaping her cramped dorm room by
crashing on the couch in her brothers apartment, so shes become a part of
the group as much as any of them despite the three year age difference.
Hell, she walks into Clarkes apartment unannounced as often as she does
Bellamys now. Clarke doesnt mind: Octavia may have Bellamys blood, but
shes much more forthcoming with her kindness and warmth.

Until, of course, she gets onto the soccer field, where shes all fiery Blake
no one who knows her brother is really surprised that she broke the schools
single-season fouls committed record in the first ten games of her
freshman season. Indeed, its part of the reason behind her athletic
scholarship.

Octavia clambers out of the car and jogs to join Clarke, Monty, and Jasper
where they stand on the sidewalk, looking up at the place. She seems to be
on the same level of excitement as Jasper, while Bellamy, when he joins
them, adopts Clarke and Montys dubious stare.

Murphy, one of Bellamys three roommates, walks up looking completely

content to get drunk wherever.

This still seems pretty sketchy, Bellamy says at Clarkes shoulder.

And thats the deciding factor for Octavia, ever the rebel. She casts a smirk
over her shoulder at her brother. Like I said, its perfect. Jasper, youre the
best. Cmon. She loops an arm into his and drags him inside. Monty shrugs
and follows his roommate, and then Murphy shoves his hands into his jacket
pockets, heading in too.

Bellamy looks to Clarke, who shrugs. You know she wont back down. Shes
just a prettier version of you.

How about this, Bell offers, Adam and Nate are always down for a party.
Well check this place out, see if Jaspers ID theory works, let O have a drink
or two, then head back over to the apartments and everyone can celebrate
there. Deal?

It doesnt matter what Clarke agrees to because she has as much control
over Octavia as she does a wild bull, but itll placate Bellamy so she nods.
Lets just get it over with.

---

The inside of the bar is no different than the outside, no different than a
thousand bargain dive bars across the country: wood paneling, chipping red
and gold accent paint, dirt cheap drinks, and spindly tables and stools
cramming most of the free space. The actual bar spans the length of one
wall, and theres a single pool table in the back, partially obscured by the
crowd around it.
You going to hustle anyone tonight, Griffin? Bellamy asks, pointing the
pool table out.

Are you always going to be bitter about that?

I was drunk.

Still counts. And you were arrogant, that's why I did it.

The crowd is more than they expected, more than the shoddy exterior
would suggest. But its no surprise that a group of obviously overdressed
college kids stands out against the blue- and no-collar patrons crammed
into the room. Clarke points out her friends huddled at one end of the bar
and she and Bellamy begin pushing their way through the crowd, avoiding
the strange glares of the locals.

In addition to the attention of the usual bar patrons, their friends have
already gained the bartenders attention, as well: when they join the group,
Clarke slides into a barstool on Bellamys left and pays little attention as the
man takes her friends orders, until he gets to Octavia.

Everyone holds their breath.

Ill have a vodka martini. Please, she adds demurely, looking up at the
bartender through thick lashes.

Wow, he replies, I dont get that one here often. Dont think Ive touched
a martini glass in weeks. I got you covered, though. And he moves on
down the line after giving her a little smile, without mentioning her ID.

Classic Blake move, Clarke mutters to Bellamy, whos trying to hold back
a proud grin.

Jasper looks downright triumphant.

Bellamy orders a beer, rather than his usual Jack and Coke. He still has
every intention of getting the group back into his truck and getting Octavia
back into more familiar territory, even if he has to give up a night out to do
it.

As does Clarke. Theyre by far the youngest in the place, dressed for a night
downtown rather than a few beers after work. Perhaps her friends had been
too enthusiastic about the night to notice, but she knew Bellamy had picked
up on the same uncomfortable tension between them and the bar regulars.
The sooner they could head back to their usual bar down the street from
campus, the better.
And then the bartender fixes Clarke with dark eyes and an easy, charming
grin. And what can I get for you, Princess?

He has her. She hadnt noticed how attractive he was. The thoughts of the
rest of the bar vanishing, Clarke cocks her head at the name and lets a
practiced smile spread over her face.

Just a beer, she says, echoing a little of Octavias coyness. Someone has
to look out for my alcoholic friends.

Responsible. Well, thats no fun, he replies. Youll have to let me make

you one of my signatures later.

I have pretty high standards. But shes smiling back as he slides her a
beer.

Good, you should. Hopefully I can meet them. Im Finn, by the way.

Clarke. And well see.

The quirked eyebrow she gives him has worked plenty of times before and
judging by the twinkle in his eyes, its working again tonight.

---

A group of grizzled men in jeans and muddy work boots wait impatiently at
the other end of the bar, pulling Finn away as soon as he finishes the drinks.
The voices and the music in the bar have picked up, so Clarke and her
friends Clarke and her friends circle around each other, beaming with
success.

Okay, Clarke. Octavia leans into her, easily the most excited of them all.
Flirting with the bartender already?

You know me better than that, Octavia, Clarke backpedals, Do you really
think Id steal your thunder?

You dont need to steal it, its all yours. I just needed him to forget my ID;
youre the one who needs the stress relief. A few hours with the bartender
after the place closes down and youll be

Cheers! Jasper saves her by thrusting his glass into the center of the
group. Octavia pretends to ignore Clarkes indignant glower. A toast, to
Octavias first dive bar adventure!

May we all remember it, Monty adds, wistfully.

With laughs of agreement, they clink the glasses together and tilt their
heads back for long first drinks. Clarke relishes the first taste of cheap beer
after the week shes hadshes needed a night like thisbut Octavia scoffs
when she brings her martini away from her lips.

Uh, is there even any alcohol in this? she demands, confused. She offers
the drink to Clarke, then to Monty, to taste. I can barely taste anything!

Monty chuckles. Oh, my sweet summer child. Welcome to the world of

legal drinking. He throws an arm around her shoulder, which she promptly
shrugs off with a fake glare. Here, bartenders put the normal,
recommended amount of alcohol in each glass.

At least its dirt cheap here. I mean, two dollar drafts? says Jasper. Hell be
forever proud of himself for finding this place, with all its virtues. In fact,
two blonde, long-legged virtues walk past and completely mesmerize him.

Youre used to the drinks Bellamy makes, Clarke explains when she sees
Jasper and Montys attention is gone. Her group of friends has spent many a
night passed out around a homemade beer pong table in the living room of
Bellamys apartment on the nights he plays bartender. Those drinks are
equal alcohol and mixer, and taste like the stuff I used to sanitize at the
hospital. Thats why bars arent usually the same horror show frat parties
are.

Most frat parties, Bellamy interjects defensively. My brothers and I throw

some good ones. Speaking of, whats the plan, Princess? We sticking
around?

Clarke nearly chokes on her beer. What did you just call me?

What, the cute bartender guy can say it but I cant?

Hes not an ass, Bell, Octavia says plainly, taking a sip of her drink. Clarke
grins at her in appreciation.

Point taken.

Bellamy flashes her the same arrogant smirk hes worn since freshman
year, back when he was insufferable. Luckily for him, though, he mostly
does it in jest now. Hes come a long way in three years.

Nevertheless, Clarke rolls her eyes at him, her habit that has stuck in
freshman year, then sends a glance down the bar at Finn. Hes been
engaged with other customers for the last few minutes, laughing with them
as he pours their shots, but he has sent more than one surreptitious look up
the bar at her when he thinks she wont notice.

Shes noticed.

Shes a senior in college. Passably cute. Definitely comfortable with a drink

in her hand. This game is nothing new to her. For her first move, she
pretends not to notice Finns attention and turns back to Bellamy.

Yeah, lets stay.

Octavia lets out an immediate yes! and thats probably what prevents
Bellamy from protestinghes never been able to deny his sister. He
instead settles for giving Clarke a withering look as he digs his phone out of
his pocket and texts Adam and Nate, his other roommates, to tell them not
to wait up.

Octavias not the only one who looks delighted; theres a certain bounce in
Finns step when he returns to find them in their seats again.

Alright, everyones taken care of, so Im all yours. Hes speaking to the
group but looking at Clarke. What can I get for you?

Clarke raises her beer, still half-full. Bellamy leans forward, with other plans:
Shots. Whiskey.

For everyone?

Hell yeah, Octavia says. Jasper, Monty, and Murphy voice their
agreement. Finn gives Clarke a questioning look.

Cmon, Griffin, Murphy drawls, sounding bored, I remember when you

used to be fun.

Do you remember the time I beat you by five seconds in the shotgun
contest? Clarke fires back, then she turns to Finn. Fine. Shots.

Jasper lets out a whoop and Finn is smiling at her again and its worth it.

Finn reaches below the bar and comes up with a handful of larger-than-
normal shot glasses. Wanna make them doubles? Oh come on, he adds
when he sees her start to balk, youre currently on pace for three beers for
the night. Live a little, Princess.

He holds that challenge as he pours and slides her the first glass. Never one
to back down, for better or for worse, Clarke grabs it and downs the shot
without hesitation and without diving for her beer after. She stares him
down, victorious, even as she hisses at the taste of house whiskey.

Finn lets out a low whistle. Alright, he concedes, laughing, Maybe I was
wrong about you. Maybe you can hang with the locals out here.

But Clarkes not thinking about the regulars. Shes too focused on Octavias
valiant attempt to hold back her grimace when she takes her shot; too
focused on Jaspers laughter at he tells the stories of all the times he and
Monty barely avoided getting caught smoking weed in the dorms; on
Murphy and Bellamy cheering along with the crowd when a baseball player
on the only TV in the bar makes a diving catch. Shes too focused on the
way Finn pushes a hand back through his dark hair and leans on the bar to
talk to her over all the din. Too focused on all of it to let anything ruin this
night with her favorite people.

I can have fun, she tells him, leaning back slightly and letting the whiskey
burn down into her stomach. She finishes her beer and he starts pouring a
second.

I never doubted you, just wanted to see it. So, Arcadia University, yeah?

Wow, how did you figure that one out?

He deflects the sarcasm with a laugh. Not that Im complaining, but how
did you end up all the way over on this side of town?

Were she looks sideways at Octavia, finishing the last of her martini.
Were just trying new things.

Fair enough. So what are you studying at school?

If she had a dollar for every time shed been asked that question, she could
buy this place and have money left over for better alcohol. Her answer is
well-rehearsed: The best way to work myself into an early grave, at this
point. Bio, she clarifies, when he raises an eyebrow. Pre-med. Fourth year.
Nothing but med school applications, volunteer hours, school, workI need
nights like this.

Uh, yeah. He starts to laugh. Yeah, you do. Now I understand why youre
so responsibleyou dont know how not to be.

His laughter is not at all unwelcome, but she narrows her eyes at his words.
Wanna bet?

Wanna try one of my signatures?

Well played. She really enjoys this game. Its been too long since she last
played.
Signatures?

The voice cuts through the music and clatter of the bar to interrupt them is
brash, indignant, and undercut with amusement. Finn groans.

The hell are you telling them? Im only fifteen minutes late and youre
making signatures?

They turn to see a dark-haired girl pushing through the striding through the
cutout that allows the bartenders behind the bar. She tosses her purse on a
shelf below, then shrugs off a jacket, revealing bare shoulders and a tank
top that is nearly too tight and definitely too low-cut.

The smirk on her face is all confidence in her appearance. And deservedly
so.

Another older patron to their right speaks first, letting out a sigh of relief
and smacking his hand on the bar. Raven, he says Thank god youre
finally here.

Finn rolls his eyes at the man. Oh come on, Frank, its not like I messed up
your Budweiser refills.

Yeah, but look at you. And look at her.

The new girl, Raven, seems to have no problem with the comment and even
Frank a sly wink. Aw, thank you, Frank. You know how I love flattery. Im still
not knocking any of your drinks off your tab, but I love it. Thanks.

She takes his tip and his empty glass before she turns to Finn, arching one
eyebrow and fighting back a smile. So, youre making signature drinks,
now, huh?

Finn shrugs in response.

Striding forward, she shoos him out of the way and grabs the bottle of
vodka he had been holding; she pours the shots with practiced flourish as
Finn takes up the role of readying glasses for more drinks. Raven slides the
shots over and leans on the bar to chat as the six friends throw them down.

Finns a decent enough bartender to cover me for me between shifts when

Im running late

Which is always, Finn points out, good-naturedly.

and hes just so nice. Raven shoots him a sarcastic glare, before
finishing: But hes still in training. Im the head honcho here, at your
service.

Bellamys attention has at last been pulled from the baseball game. He
swirls the last sips of his drink thoughtfully. The ones hes made us have
been fine.

Raven grins, licks the corner of her mouth. You havent had mine yet. How
about a Moscow Mule? Hold on one second, then Ill hook you up.

She smacks her hand on the bar, jarring himBellamys senses may have
been a little dulled, be it by the gorgeous new bartender or the alcohol
before she bounces away, heading to the far side of the bar and leaning out
over it, calling to the crowd that has been occupying the pool table all night.

Hey! You guys good, or you want another round?

Oh good, youre here, one of the guys calls back, raising his glass without
turning to look at her. The usual. And get me something top-shelf this time,
Raven.

We only have one shelf, as always, Gus. She returns to the group, looking
satisfied, and starts pouring beers for a few other impatient customers up
and down the bar.

They have that joke every night, Finn mutters.

Yes we do. Stand-up comedy every night, all night, so you all might as well
start tipping me now. So what are we drinking?

She talks Monty out of another beer and into a gin and tonic, Murphy into a
Manhattan, and the entire group into an extra round of shots with their new
drinks. Between the extra tips she must get and her ability to get people to
purchase the more expensive mixed drinks, Clarke understands how this
place stays afloat.

Despite Ravens charm, Clarke looks to Finn when it comes time for her
drink order. Just surprise me, she tells him. I want to see what you can
do.

Damn, Clarke. Get it, Octavia whispers in her ear when Finn turns to grab
a bottle from the shelf on the wall behind the bar.

Stress relief, she murmurs back, all smiles.

Now help me find someone to take home. Her hazy eyes dance across the
crowd, alighting on a number of men that Sober Octavia would never
consider. This is her default intoxicated mode. Shes nineteen and craves
the freedom to make poor decisions.

Clarke, however, is twenty-two. She knows better. She scoffs to regain

Octavias attention. Yeah right, Bellamyd kill him. And then me.

Fffffuck Bellamy, Octavia exclaims, louder than she realizes; Bellamys

head whips around at the sound of his name. Clarke waves him off and pats
Octavias thigh to quiet her. No, no, Clarke, dont actually fuck him.

You got it, O.

---

Raven quickly proves herself to be more than worthy of all the extra tips;
shes splashing alcohol into multiple glasses at once with effortless
accuracy, adding mixer with the other hand, sliding the completed drinks
down the bar, all while chatting up Jasper and Monty.

Finn hands her a tall glass of something sparkling and strong, like
champagne and vodka and some fruit that shes too drunk to name. Shes
felt the alcohol seep in over just the last few minutes, taking the edge off
her consciousness and making everything lighter, warmer, blurred. She
feels good. Better than shes felt in a while.

Then she notices Bellamys red face, as he laughs at something Raven says
and throws another drink back. Hes had far more than she has. Clarke
reaches over and grabs his arm before he can replace the empty shot glass
with the full one in front of him.

Hey! You drove here, genius. How are you planning on getting everyone
home? Where are your keys?

Bellamy digs into his pocket, but pulls out his phone instead of the keys. He
waves it for her. Relax, Princess, Nate and Adam. I told them were staying,
they said theyd come pick us and my truck up. They owe me one anyway.

Still wary, Clarke releases Bellamy and allows herself to be appeased by his
confident smile, though she maintains the glare for the nickname. Raven
appears in front of her, holding two shots like a peace offering. She hands
one to Clarke; then, surprisingly, throws back the second herself.

So, youre not from this part of town, clearly. She grimaces against the
alcohol burn. Arcadia? Juniors, seniors?
Seniors.

Me too. Double major in mechanical and aerospace engineering.

Wait, what? Monty demands, shaking his head to clear the alcohol haze.

Im one of you, Monty, Raven says with a grin.

Finn speaks up. Usually, locals arent really fans of college kids. Ravens
the only exception to that rule.

Shes the smartest bartender I ever met, that one. Its Frank again. And
he has clearly seen his fair share of bartenders.

Thats sweet, Frank. Alright, fine, your next beer is on the house. You know
how to play me.

Monty, majoring in electrical engineering, still has confusion written all over
his face, as if he hadnt heard Raven correctly the first time. He waves his
hand to regain her attention. Wait. Mech and aero? How the hell are you
handling that workload?

Ravens face tinges with embarrassment and a hint of pride. Well, its
taken me like six years so far.

You also did a semester internship with NASA last year, Finn points out.

Yeah, filing and making coffee. Like every other intern across this
wonderful country.

Ugh, Clarke groans, Amen to that.

This is much more fun, isnt it? Cmon, my turn to make you a drink.
Without waiting for a response, Raven starts grabbing bottles. Youll
probably still break my heart and pick Finn over me, but Ill try anyway.

Clarke shrugs, but Octavia smirks and raises an eyebrow. You never know,
with Clarke.

Taking an order three customers down, Finn flashes Clarke a raised eyebrow
and receives an angelic smile in response.

Raven has the next round of drinks out a few minutes laterand yes,
whatever she makes Clarke is damn goodand she lingers in front of the
group, wiping down the already water-stained bar, moving absentmindedly
to the beat of the music. Bellamy watches her for a moment, then speaks
up.

So, NASA, huh? Whats a future astronaut doing in a shitty place like this?

Hes more than a little drunk. Its evident in his voice, in his face, in the
number of shots hes thrown back. Clarke winces when she sees the way
Raven jaw clench.

Pulling in a deep breath, Raven polishes the bar for another few seconds
before she turns to him; she has unclenched her jaw, but she fixes Bellamy
with a defensive glare. Clearly, I could ask the same of you. Minus the
future astronaut part. Why are you sitting in this shitty place?

It clicks for him after a moment and Bellamy flushes red with
embarrassment. I-I didnt mean But when Ravens cool gaze doesnt
soften under his foundering. When he realizes he lacks the articulation to
apologize, Bellamy raises his hands in surrender, backing away from the
bar. Im

He backs right into another customer, sending a drink crashing to the floor.
Clarke sees it all coming from a mile awayshe knows Bellamy is drunk and
uncomfortable and edgy and she knows his next action before he does it.
She jumps to her feet, any drunken unsteadiness gone, but Bellamy has
already spun around.

Come on, man, pay attention to where youre walking!

Not the wisest move.

The guy draws himself up to his full height, a half-head taller than the
already tall Bellamy. If that werent intimidating enough, he has the lean,
hungry look of an athlete, packed with muscle throughout his body. His
scarred knuckles curl into fists.

What did you say? he asks.

I said, watch where youre going. And you should keep a better hold on
your drink."

I dont take shit from kids who dont belong in my bar. Every word is a
threat. Bellamys whole body tenses.

Then back off, Bellamy dares.

The rest of the group suddenly picks up on whats happening; they all move
at once. Murphy is on his feet, ready. Jasper eyes an empty bottle within his
reach. His fingers twitch. Octavia reaches forward and twists her hand into
the back of Bellamys shirtBellamy doesnt seem to feel it.

Bell, Octavia warns, softly.

Clarke is at his side, trying to gain his attention. Bellamy, come on. Were
fine. Sit down.

Hey. Chill the fuck out. Its Raven, hard and serious. I swear to god, any
blood hits my bars floor and Ill kick both your asses.

Neither of the men seem to hear any of it. The other man lifts his head,
exposing his throat, daring Bellamy, while every muscle stands taut and
ready to snap.
Lincoln.

It comes from the back of the bar, loud enough to carry over the head of
every customer but somehow low and threatening, a warning call. Clarke
blinks in surprise when the mans body relaxes and he steps back in
response to the voice.

Shes even more surprised when she registers that the voice was feminine.

No one moves except for the man, who gives Bellamy one last snarl before
turning and stalking back to the pool table. The crowd parts to let him
through. When he takes a seat at a table against the far wall, they see the
tables other occupant through the space in the crowd: the girl who called
him back.

Most of the bar clientele has no idea what almost happened and continue
their drinking and arguing and laughing without interruption. Gradually,
Clarkes friends allow themselves to release the tension in their muscles
and they ease back to the bar, quiet among each other. Bellamy assures
Octavia hes fine.

Finn leans forward, muttering almost into Clarkes ear.

Like I said, he tells her, voice low, The locals arent fans of college kids.
This is their neighborhood bar. They can getterritorial.

Clarke studies the girl who stopped the fight before it began. Shes all dark
hair and dark eyeliner and dark alcohol. Clarke can see what hes saying
the way the girl slouches back with her drink cradled against her shoulder,
Clarke thinks shes never seen anyone wearing skinny jeans look so regal
and so dangerous at the same time. The glare etched into her face is a
clear warning for anyone who might step forward to her.

But the vodka has thinned Clarkes blood; shes always been brazen and
right now she cant take that warning as anything less than a challenge.

She grabs Octavias wrist and pulls her forward. Cmon.

The walk over is shorter than she thoughtthe girl watches her approach
every step of the wayso Clarke doesnt really have time to come up with
anything to say before theyre standing in front of her.

Clarke freezes, trying to come up with something.

Uh, hi.

The girl raises an eyebrow without response. Next to her, the man who
nearly destroyed Bellamy is equally reticent.

Im Clarke, and this is Octavia.

They nod. Lexa, she says. You met Lincoln.

Its not exactly welcoming. They fall silent, and she flicks her gaze up and
down Clarkes body, waiting expectantly.

Clarke is doing the same. In fact, though she blames her own wretched
communication skills partially on the vodka, shes also struck dumb by how
good this girlLexalooks as she reclines in her chair as if its a throne,
fingers resting around her glass on the table. Shes lean, toned, with long
legs kicked up on the chair in front of her. A white t-shirt a size too big
hangs loose from her slim body; beneath the collar, the edge of a black
tattoo is just barely visible, accentuating the shape of her collarbone and
reaching up over her shoulder to her back.

An artist herself, Clarke has a wild urge to reach forward and pull at the
collar of the shirt, to reveal more of the interesting tattoo. She says a prayer
of thanks that she had declined the multiple shots Jasper had tried to get
her to take earlier.

Nonetheless, against the nonchalant style of this girl, Clarke feels suddenly
self-conscious, overdressed in her short skirt and silk top. Shes out of her
depth herea rare experience. She would have continued gaping dumbly
had Octavia not elbowed her in the side.

We, uhwe just wanted to apologize. For what happened.

Octavia steps forward with an apologetic smile, far more eloquent. Yeah,
my brother can be a bit of an ass, she tells Lincoln. Dont take it
personally.

And we wanted to thank you for calling it off, Clarke adds, giving Lexa a
half-smile. It vanishes when its unreturned. It...wouldnt have been a
pretty fight, at all.

It wouldnt have, Lexa agrees evenly. Lincolns one of the best fighters in
the neighborhood.

And he has a whole cadre of grizzled, muscular friends standing behind him
all of whom, Clarke realizes, have stopped what theyre doing to watch
this conversation. As if another fight is about to break out.

Clarke forces herself to ignore them, giving Lincoln a quick glance before
returning her attention to Lexa. Octavia is doing enough staring for the both
of them anyway.

He looks like one. We

Maybe if youre looking to get in bar fights, Clarke, you should stay closer
to the university. Where you can win them.

Irritation sparks up into Clarkes chest. No one was looking for a fight.
Were just here to have a drink.

Fine. Lifting her drink, something plain and dark in a lowball glass, Lexa
heaves a sigh of impatience. We get a few Arcadia kids down here at the
beginning of every semester. They all want to look cool by coming to the
shitty bar in the shitty neighborhood, instead of your usual clubs. Then they
realize they dont really fit in with the people who actually grew up in this
neighborhood, and they dont come back. Ill save you the trouble of
figuring that out for yourself.

A half-dozen possible replies jump to her lips, borne of mingled resentment

for and attraction to this girl and the aloof, arrogant gaze she fixes Clarke
with. Her instinct wants to make Lexa smile, but her wounded pride wants
to see Lexa taken down a peg.

But before she can decide either way, she feels Octavia stiffen next to her.
Clarke knows that a Blake with lowered inhibitions, regardless of gender, is
not an ingredient she wants added to this situation, so she speaks up before
Octavia can say something stupid.

Regardless. Well buy your next drink.

Dont worry about it.

She bites her tongue to compose herself. Again, she forces out, this time
to Lincoln. Sorry.

Neither Lexa nor Lincoln respond. In fact, Lincoln hasnt said a damn word.
Clarke grabs Octavias wrist again and pulls her away, bristling with
irritation and a hot prickling of embarrassment.

Okay, Octavia says, when theyre a safe distance away, What a bitch.
The guy was hot, though. Maybe I should flirt with him, that would piss her
off.

We just avoided a barfight, O, lets not give your brother a reason to start
another.

But when they return to the group, Bellamy looks on the edge of a fight
anyway. What were you doing with them? he asks, jaw tight.

Apologizing for you, Clarke replies with a shrug, slipping past him to slide
into a barstool. Shes dealt with combative Bellamy Blake before, nothing
she cant handle. A few minutes of simmering, and hell be fine.

Octavia, on the other hand, has already gotten over her irritation; shes
grinning like she just got off a roller coaster. Clarke Griffin here isnt quite
the diplomat she thought she was.

Whatever, Bellamy concedes. Nate and Adam are on their way, theyll be
here soon. Lets take care of the tabs. I want to get out of here.

Clarke cant say she doesnt feel the same.

She casts a glance back of her shoulder.

Lexa is still nursing the same drink, watching Clarke over the rim of the
glass with a barely concealed challenge in her eyes. You dont belong
here. And Clarke would take that challenge ninety-nine times out of a
hundred. But not tonight. She keeps her face even and holds Lexas glare a
little longer just to let her know that, then turns away.

Yeah, its time to go.

Aw, youre leaving?

Its Finn, just striding into earshot. When they nod and start pulling out cash
to settle their tabs, he offers, Cmon, just one more beer. Youve been the
highlight of my night. The last part he directs at Clarke, and it soothes a bit
of the burn that the conversation with Lexa left in her throat.

Just one, she says, begrudgingly.

Raven appears and starts settling out the tabs while Finn pours the final
drinks of the night. Octavia takes her beer and tries to hand the extra three
dollars to Raven, but the bartender pulls away. Dont worry about this last
one, its paid for.

Octavias brow knits in confusion.

I guess Linc accepted your apology, Raven says, nodding to the end of
the bar. Lincoln is leaning there, watching the scene across the room
intently; he inclines his head slightly when Octavia gives him an unsteady,
shy smile of thanks.

When she sees that, Clarke flushes with relief. Oh good, we

Not yours, Blondie. A full smirk now erupts over Ravens face; she bites
down on the tip of her tongue in an attempt to hold it back. He only paid
for hers. Sorry. You still owe me three bucks, thats our best draft.

Her friends erupt into drunk laughter around her. Clarke triesand failsto
look dignified as she slowly accepts the beer and at least the bartender has
the grace to bite back her amusement. Even Finn is laughing. Clarke ignores
them all as she sips her drink, until Bellamy steps forward to pay for it for
her.

She gives a noise of protest that he just rolls his eyes at. Dont give me
that, Princess, you know the rule.

Youre arguing a free drink rule? Finn asks.

Its not a rule, its his crazy tradition, Clarke clarifies. Every time we go
out, no matter where we arehe buys me a drink.

Octavia snorts. He should. He owes you.

Forever, Bellamy agrees.

Clarke is rolling her eyes again, shaking her head, so Jasper sits forward to
explain it to Finn. She saved his ass from getting kicked out of school back
when we were freshman. They hated each other, and she still saved him.

What did he do?

A hell of a party. Despite the events of that night, Bellamy sounds almost
wistful until he receives a sharp elbow to the ribs, courtesy Clarke.

Finn, however, is intrigued; no one else says anything more, so he waits

until Clarke finishes her drink and gains her attention.

Ill have to hear that story. How about next time you come back?

She sets her empty glass on the bar, eager to leave. Deal.

---

Nate and Adam await them outside by the time the group finishes their
beers; Bellamy throws a few extra dollars more than the required tip on the
bar, and leads his friends through the crowd of locals and out into the cool
night air. Eleven PM is still relatively early, but the last half hour bled them
of any desire to continue the party. They pile into the two cars, eyelids
heavy and limbs unwieldy, looking forward to the comfort of passing out in
their own beds.

In the front seat, Adam and Bellamy talk quietly about the barRaven, Finn,
the cheap booze, the angry regulars, the way Lincoln paid for Octavias final
drink. Clarke knows that last story is deliberate on Bellamys part: Adams
had a thing for Octavia since the first time she slept over on their couch her
freshman year. Even in her hazy state, Clarke rolls her eyes.

So should I brush up on my street fighting so I can go with you guys next

weekend? Adam asks.

Not worth it to go back. Bellamy raises his voice to extend the

conversation to the backseat. Well get you a fake ID or something, O, he
offers, trying to sound pragmatic despite his slurred words.

Octavia, eyes closed, makes a noise of agreement and lolls her head on to
Clarkes shoulder.

I know a guy, Murphy mumbles against the window.

Course you do. See, Murphy knows a guy. We wont need to go back to
that place.

---

Exactly one week later, the next Friday night, Clarke receives a text from
Octavia.
Octavia [6:49 PM]: Lets go back to that place.

blood rush in the hazy glow

firetestsgold
Chapter 2
Notes:
I wrote this chapter in a cold medicine-induced fugue state so forgive any
errors. Also, thank you for the wonderful feedback! Much appreciated.
Ch apter Text

Octavia [6:49 PM]: Lets go back to that place.

She heaves a defeated sigh.

Clarke [6:52]: What place

Octavias answer is almost instant.

O [6:52]: You know what place.

O [6:52]: The captains room.

She cant see her desk beneath the textbook, two notebooks, loose papers,
and pile of highlighted vocabulary cards scattered across it, though she
knows somewhere among the mess are two half-finished lap report write-
upsboth due on the same day because she had the bright idea to take
cardiorespiratory physiology and endocrinology back-to-back on Thursdays.

Its all work she needs to take care of this weekend or else surrender her life
plan of becoming a surgeon and resign herself to a life drinking in tiny dive
bars on the wrong side of town.

C [6:58]: I have so much to do though

Its a valiant try. But even the best argument is useless against Octavia
Blake.

O [7:00]: Clarke, come on. You have the whole weekend, and you dont
even need to drink a bunch tonight, just a few beers. You cant tell me you
dont want to see that hot bartender again

She looks from her phone to the stack of papers on her desk. Then the
phone. Then the papers. She thinks about her future a fair bit, then realizes
shes just delaying the inevitable answer.
C [7:04]: Fine
O [7:05]: You are the best, C. Griff. Dont tell Bell were going, hell kill me.
Ill text some people, be ready to go in an hour, pregame at your place
O [7:05]: make sure you look hot too

Clarke tries to be rueful as she pushes her chair away from her desk, but
deep down, she knows she needs this. A few hours holding a beer instead of
studying the biomechanics of a wrist and fingers holding a beer will do her
good. In accordance with Octavias last text, Clarke takes extra time on her
make-up. And with each minute she spends getting ready, her excitement
to go out grows.

Shell have to buy Octavia a drink for this.

---

No Bellamy means no car, which ends up for the better after Octavia does a
quick public transit search and finds that the city train has a station just a
few minutes from The Captains Roomit means everyone in the crew shes
rounded up can drink in Clarkes apartment before they leave.

The four shots Clarke takes kick in sometime during the half-hour train ride,
leaving her buzzing and pleasantly warm. Soon enough, she cant bite back
a smile at her friends. This week, Bellamy and Murphy have been replaced
by two of Octavias teammates, Monroe and Fox, who are always a good
time. The return of Monty and Jasper rounds out the group perfectly.

Theres a growing sense of anticipation between the six of them for the
hours aheada good pregame foretells a good night outas the train gets
farther from the city center and the suburbanites getting off work empty
out at each stop. By the time theyve reached the far west side of town,
theyre surrounded by empty orange seats and Clarkes feeling the full
effects of the alcohol, her confidence straddling arrogance.

She struts into the building at the head of the group this time, instinctively
scanning the room. Finn and Raven are both animated behind the bar. The
crowd is thinner than last weekend but the usual suspects are unchanged.
And in the back, where her gaze settles, she spots the same group
clustered around the pool table and stands a little taller.

She picks out Lexa immediately, even though the girl has her back to the
front door. Shes arched over the pool table, readying a shot. Clarkes bites
her lip, strangely disappointed. She had traded in her skirt for jeans, ditched
the jewelry, left her hair downshe is far more prepared for the atmosphere
of The Captains Room now than she had been last week.
And at the very least, she would have liked to frustrate Lexa with her
triumphant return.

Oh well. The way Finns face lights up when he spots her is a welcome new
attraction and she makes her way in that direction.

Oh, you have no idea how much better my night just got, he calls at her
approach, clearing a half-dozen abandoned glasses to free up the seats in
front of him. Clarke returns the sentiment with a sly smile.

So that means Im drinking for free, right?

I dont know if I want to risk Ravens wrath when it comes to giving out
free drinks He teases.

Im probably worth it.

Maybe well just keep it between us then, he relents with a laugh.

Once theres a drink in her hand, poured heavy to compensate for the
fading effects of her pregame shots, Clarke relaxes. She introduces the new
additions to the group, Monroe and Fox, two of Octavias teammates, and
slips into easy conversation with Finn as the group settles into the evening.
With Raven holding down the majority of the crowd, Finns free to work in
front of Clarke, entertaining her with anecdotes about the more colorful
regulars.

And Gus, there. He points out a burly man standing like a bored sentry in
the back of the bar. He once shrugged off a taser, right in the back alley
here. Just kept standing when it shocked him.

Who the hell tasered him? Clarke asks.

Raven. Finn laughs. It was a bet. He got a free weekend of drinking for
it.

I find it hard to believe Raven made that bet.

Eh. She was new here.

Laughing, Clarke tries to imagine Raven facing off with and tasering the
man Finn pointed out. Her eyes rest on Gus for only a few seconds, before
sliding to the figure at his left: Lexa.

Shes finished her pool game and now stands in a conversation with a few
friends, open and available for Clarke to study. She looks so slight in the
smoky back section of the bar, surrounded by men who tower over her and
women who look like they could match those men in a fight. Clarke wonders
how she didnt spot Lexa in the first place last week. Then again, though, at
first glance she may look woefully out of place, but just a few minutes of
observation shows that she seems to glide through the crowd with blas
confidence, the best of all of them. They laugh when she laughs, they scowl
the instant she darkens. She doesnt just fit, she thrives.

Are you thinking about trying to make friends again? Finn asks,
recapturing Clarkes attention. Theres a smirk on his facehe hasnt
forgotten last weekends diplomatic disaster any more than she hasand
she lets herself get lost in the curve of that smile in order to forget about
Lexa.

Maybe Im planning an attack, she warns.

He hands her a new drink. Well, see if this makes you any more peaceful
first.

Vodka never does.

Good to know.

At long last, Raven disengages from bantering with a few guys down the bar
and ventures over, shouldering into Finn with a nod at Clarke and her
friends. Shes tucking a decent tip into her back pocket.

Whats up, guys? And wheres your tall handsome friend?

Jasper exaggerates clearing his throat. Im right here, he says, leaning

onto the bar and giving a flirtatious raise of his eyebrows. At your service.

Monroe groans, Clarke boos, and Jasper drops the faade in laughter. He
and Monty exchange high-fives.

Raven, however, just winks at him, smirking a little. And Im glad for it,
handsome. Better than the usuals we get in here. But Im talking about the
other one. Dark-haired. Whiskey drinker. Uh, angry.

Bellamy, Clarke clarifies.

Yeah, Bellamy. He want a job here? He doesnt have to know what hes
doing. She pats Finns chest. Since Finn here is leaving me, I just need
some new mancandy for the female tippers.
Clarke looks to Finn in surprise; he has focused all his attention on slicing
limes at the perfect angle. Youre leaving?

He nods without looking up. My moms sick, back east. Im moving back to
help my sister take care of her. Nothing too bad, I just need to be out
there.

Oh. She thought shed at least get a few fun, easy dates out of this.
Nothing too complicated. Im sorry.

Its fine, itll be fine. But, uh, tonights my last shift. Her disappointment
must be visible on her face because when he glances at her, Finn smiles
and makes her an offer. Stick around, after Im done? We can talk.

Sure.

She can do more than that; at the very least, he can have her number.
Perhaps a simple night out can still be salvaged.

The conversation lulls, with Jasper trying to convince Fox to play

wingwoman, so Clarke pulls out her phone to busy herself. Theres a text
from Bellamy on the screen.

Bellamy [8:41 PM]: Sooo, everyone headed out without me, huh?
Clarke [8:53 PM]: We figured you and Murphy wanted a date night
B [8:55 PM]: He stood me up
C [8:56 PM]: Well, I guess now you can study for that huge test Octavia said
you have
B [8:57 PM]: thx for reminding me. Three weeks into the semester and 20%
of my grade. bullshit
C [8:57 PM]: Bummmmer
B [9:00 PM]: Where you at?

Clarke considers telling him, and then she envisions the vein bursting in his
forehead when he finds out where his sister is.

C [9:03 PM]: party hopping over on Hawthorne. Nothing fun going on so its
more like wandering
B [9:05 PM]: Well, were putting something together tomorrow night. You
better be there

She thinks about the massive pile of work she has already abandoned once
this weekend.

C [9:09 PM]: Wouldnt miss it.

B [9:12 PM]: Take care of O for me, will you?
At this, Clarke rolls her eyes to her right to groan at Octavia about her
brother. There must be some secret near-death experience in her childhood
that neither of the Blakes will speak about. But Octavias gonenowhere in
the vicinity. Clarke realizes she doesnt know how long Octavias chair has
been empty, either. Shes always had a preternatural talent for
disappearing at frat parties, of course, but why even bother dragging
everyone back here if she wasnt going to drink with them?

Monty, wheres O?

Monty points. Then Clarke understands.

Octavias in one corner of the bar, wrapped in the guy from last week,
Lincoln; her back is pressed against the wall, her hands fisted in his t-shirt,
her lips glued to his. But despite the way he towers over her, its very clear
that she is the one leading the kiss.

After a half-second of shock, Clarke nearly starts laughing, all alarm gone.

C [9:04 PM]: Shes fine

It shows a wonderful amount of restraint. Without waiting for a response,

Clarke shoves her phone back into her purse and whips around to face the
bar, where Raven waits with the expectant gaze of a veteran bartender.
Clarke needs one, because if Octavias having fun, she might as well, too.

Alright, time for a stronger drink. Whatre you best at making?

Knew youd come around, Griffin.

Its clear Raven doesnt get much opportunity to showcase her drink-
making skillsthis crowd isnt the type to appreciate anything more
complicated than a jack and cokeso she overcompensates by crafting a
labor-intensive mojito with scientific precision and artistic flair.

Once Clarke takes a sip and gives Raven an appreciative nod, she moves
onto to the next round of drinks, pouring red and blue alcohol into shot
glasses too quickly for anyone to read the labels on the bottles.

I call it Hydrazine, Raven says proudly, topping the purple shots off with
dashes of vodka. When shes met with blank stares, her grin turns to a
grimace. Cmon, seriously? I cant believe I have to explain this every time.
Hydrazine is rocket fuel. Red absinthe, blue curacao, a little high-proof
vodka floated on top for the burn. If we were up at one of your fancy college
bars, Id even light it on fire for you.
Shrugging, Clarke throws back the shot. She nearly chokesRaven might as
well have set it on fire, the way it burns her throat going down.

Oh my god, she gasps out, giving the bartender a look of betrayal and
disgust. All Raven can do is laugh.

Averages to around a hundred and forty proof, baby. Dont worry, once you
have a few, you get used to them.

Hydrazine, huh? Monty pulls his wallet from his pocket, fishes out a
twenty, and throws it on the bar. What other drinks do you have thatll
blow people up? Its more than enough to pay for another round of shots,
but he waves her off when she offers him the change.

Raven pockets the big tip, grinning. See, you appreciate me, Monty. You
guys need to stick around.

Engineers, right? Monty says; he high-fives her over the bar.

Monty draws Raven into conversation about senior project topics, which
Clarke follows for about forty-five seconds before their mutual geekiness
loses her and she casts around for something else to do. As theyve been
doing all night, her eyes alight on the back of the barexcept this time, she
finds the area around the pool table surprisingly empty. She looks around.
She cant find Lexa anywhere. Invigorated by this, she downs the shot
Monty paid for and grabs Jasper and Monroe.

Cmon, were playing pool!

Hold on

She already has a cue in her hands. You two against me, she says,
resisting the urge to twirl it. She probably still has the advantage, and
Jasper knows it, but Monroe is a new victim.

Youre on, she replies, college-athlete competitiveness surging. Cmon,

Jasper.

They lose the first game. Monroe writes it off as being distractedby what,
she cant say. As the second game draws to a close, she realizes what
Jasper already knew and by that point, Clarke is just screwing around,
setting up trick shots and laughing as she tells them, At least youre sober
enough to not bet me.

She jumps the cue ball over another and laughs as it sends her final shot
into the corner pocket, sealing the game. Its a talent she discovered in high
school and if she could milk it for money, she would, but mostly its good for
party tricks.

And impressing bartenders, she realizes, when she looks up and sees Finn
applauding. This time she does twirl the pool cue with a cocky smile.

Finn has set three beers on the table nearest them, enticing them over. You
know they basically own that pool table, right? Lexas been a part of this
bar longer than I have.

Clarke rolls her eyes, so hard that maybe the room tilts a little under her
feet. Or maybe its the alcohol. Nonetheless, Id like to see her try to take it
back.

Raven lets loose a bark of laughter from farther up the bar. Please tell me
when the dance-off is going to start! God knows we could use some
entertainment.

Unperturbed, Clarke uses all her drunk eloquence to persuade her friends
into a third game that starts as well as the last two did. In fact, the first time
she scuffs a shot, its on purpose: as Finn had hinted at, the regulars have
started returning to their posts around the pool table. She can feel their
eyes on her and her friends. More importantly, she can see Lexa seated
nearby, face emotionless as she observes.

So Clarke takes her time. She beats Jasper and Monroe handily, without
flash, but she takes her sweet time about doing it.

When theyre done, Clarke would play another five games if she could, but
sobriety looms. She hands the pool cue off to someone behind her and
leads her friends back to the bar; theyre feeling light, bobbing to the music
as they walk, laughing.

Alright, Raven, Clarke says, grinning when they return.

Whats up next, blondie?

Vodka soda. And hell, she feels good, so: And the six? The six or so,
around the pool table she points them out unnecessarily. Ill pay for
their next round.

Even Lexa? Raven smirks.

Especially Lexa.
Ill let them know. When she pulls away, she mutters something that
sounds suspiciously like college girls.
Clarke toys with a cherry stem, knotting it and unknotting it with her tongue
as she waits for her friends to regroup. Another useless, party-trick talent
that speaks to the time shes spent in bars. After a few minutes, Raven
captures her attention when she walks past with a tray of drinks bound for
the back of the bar. She watches Lexa take one, watches Raven say
something to her.

Watches Lexas gaze flick over to Clarke and Clarke realizes shes holding
her breath.

(She lets it out, frowning a little at herself.)

Beyond the glance, Lexa gives no other acknowledgement when she gets
her drink; naturally, neither does the rest of the group. They step back from
the bar with their drinks and return to their game and Lexa even sets the
drink aside without tasting it.

Its infuriating in an odd way; they accepted an olive branch and then were
too proud to use it. Its the first little wrinkle in her otherwise smooth night.
But, whatever. She has more important things to entertain herself with than
gaining the approval of a girl she hardly knows. Fox has returned from her
foray to the jukebox, promising a series of good songs. A quick search for
Octavia reveals her to be in the same place, with the same guy.

And Montys doing card tricks now, bouncing between patrons and trying to
earn a laugh, with Jasper following as his narrator. Clarke knows she should
probably reign them in but shes laughing too, light-headed, happy, floating.

She watches a couple whispering together in one of the three booths along
the opposite wall. Then her gaze follows a man who stumbles by, somehow
miraculously avoiding spilling any of his beer. She does a scan for her
friends, makes sure theyre okay, then amuses herself again with the crowd.
The time passes unnoticed this way.

But in the end, all her people watching always draws her back to the same
spot, the same girl with the same drink that has at this point maybe had
one or two sips taken out of it. Clarke has finished three whole vodka sodas
by now.

Isnt that a rude thing to do? Not drink something someone buys for you?

Admittedly, she cant remember the specifics of that piece of social

etiquette but shes pretty sure its rude. At least, it is in her book.

Its all Bellamys fault, really, if he hadnt started a fight with Octavias
current toy, Lexa wouldnt be so
She still wont drink it. Stupid proud local.

Should she go over and say something?

Shes really not sure if the first words out of her mouth would be flirting or
fighting. The vodka in her system as left her on a dangerous knife-edge
between the two whenever she finds herself looking over at the girl.

Something else enters her consciousness, her field of vision. Long, shiny
dark hair, sharp cheekbonesOctavia. Octavias back. Clarke furrows her
brow and focuses hard to bring herself back to the present and away from
her resentment.

Heyyy, O, she says, corners of her mouth twitching. How is your first
taste of oxygen in over two hours?

So damn good, Octavia says, still a little breathless, as she relieves Clarke
of her beer and takes a long drink. She hands back the empty glass,
ignoring Clarkes blurry-eyed glare.

Dinit even have the dignity to get drunk with us. Jasper swing into the
group, catching himself on Montys shoulder. He waves a finger at Octavia.
Im disappointed, Blake.

Fox grins. She had bigger things on her mind.

Much bigger, as far as I could tell, Octavia says with a wink at her
teammate. Her kiss-swollen lips spread into a smirk when her friends groan
in unison.

Raven! Octavias sober! Jasper calls, still offended and trying to drown out
that conversation before it can progress any further. Raven appears
automatically.

Whatre we going to do about it, then?

Hydrazine, my dear.

Hydrawhat? Octavia asks.

Raven, looking particularly mischievous, takes Clarkes empty beer glass

and mixes more than a double shot of her purple signature and hands it to
Octavia and Clarke wants to warn her, but her lips are too numb to form
anything except a soft giggle.
Octavia throws the shot back and somehow manages to keep a straight
face when she does itthough her fist clenches hard for several seconds.
She puts the empty glass down on the bar with a casual shrug.

Damn, Octavia. First you get Lincoln, now youre downing my signature
shot like youve done it all your life. Are you sure youre not from this
neighborhood? Youre a champ.

Stoking her pride is one way to encourage another round of shots; stoking
competition between teammates and friends is another. Soon enough, the
entire group is ordering more Hydrazine shots even as the clock ticks past
midnight.

But by the time Octavias first wave of intoxication hits, the night dips
downward. Monroes tapping out: Some guy just grabbed my ass and Im
about to kick his for it. And Monty has reached the point where hes
starting to hit on girls with equal frequency as Jasper, and Clarke knows
even now that when they hit that point, its time to retreat. It takes some
effort to corral them all, but even Octavias willing to head for the door once
she realizes the room is spinning around her. Eventually, theyre all leaning
on each other in the cold night air. Home.

---

The rhythmic clacking of the train over the tracks and the back-and-forth
rocking of the car is dangerous at this point in the evening, as evidenced by
the way her friends splay out on the benches around the empty car. They
passed out almost the minute the train started moving.

Clarke fights to stay awake, only because she knows that if she doesnt, this
group will miss their stop and sleep the night away as the train does circuits
around the city.

Octavia is the only other person not laying across multiple chairs. Instead,
shes nestled into Clarkes shoulder, eyes shut, in one of her rare displays of
drunken affection.

Clarrrrrke, she mumbles. I always wanted a big sister.

And Clarke always wanted a younger sister but another sibling is the last
thing Octavia Blake needs. She shrugs her shoulder in lazy response and
Octavias head bobs, earning a groan.

You dick.

Thats more like it.

I really. Octavia takes a heavy breath. Ilike Lincoln. Hes nice.

Is he? Clarke murmurs back. I didnt see you talking.

She catches a few syllables of some slurred obscenities, and then, more
clearly: Well we did. Hes very nice, Clarke.

Mm. Good, she replies. Octavias voice is too dreamy to justify mentioning
what had happened between Bellamy and Lincoln before.

Very nice, she repeats.

Maybe we can go back sometime and you cantalk some more.

Dont need to, she whispers through a smirk, Got his number.

Wha? Clarke furrows her brow.

Were hanging out tomorrow night.

Bells party

At Bells party. Because let me tell you something, Clarke Griffin, my

brother does not control me. I do what I want. How I want. Or when.
Whatever.

Clarke shushes her, patting her knee to placate her, because Octavia
adores the drama of an inspirational speech and has the tendency to launch
into them whenever possible. Clarke has heard the one about independence
a few too many times. Octavia falls quiet after a moment, her body
relaxing. Then:

You miiiiight need to help me out, though. Ooohinvite the hot bartender!

Thats when she jolts awake. Finn. They had left before his shift ended, she
hadnt stayed to talk to him, she hadnt gotten his number so that they
could continue whatever was happening between them after his final night
at the bar. She lets the taste of guilt and regret sit on her tongue for a
moment, then swallows it.

Oh well. She cant win them all.

---

Her alarm clock reads 7:04.

In the evening, unfortunately. Unfortunate because shes still in grey sweats
and mismatched socks and there is still a hangover clinging to the base of
her skull. The kind of lingering hangover that makes good days drag and
tedious work next to impossible.

Still, shes soldiered through thirty pages of reading and definitions since
she woke up at noon, so thats something to celebrate.

In the kitchen below her room, her roommates are clattering around,
blasting music; she can hear the clinking of shot glasses in the lulls
between songs. Shes discovered that Harper and Bree always have
something to do on a Saturday night, regardless of how much schoolwork
theyor shemight have.

Thats what she gets for living with business majors.

Shes readying for an evening in with a few Advil and her advance organic
chemistry textbook when Harpers voice floats up the stairs.

Claaaarrke, she sing-songs. What are you wearing to the party? Its
Hawaiian themed!

Nothing! she calls back, trying to find she had been reading in the
textbook.

Bree lets out a wolf whistle.

Groaning, Clarke raises her voice again. I meant, Im staying home! Call
me if you need a ride later. They wont. They never do.

Come on, Alpha Eps are always fun!

She grimaces and loses her place in the textbook for good; Alpha Epsilon is
Bellamys fraternity, and she had promised him last night shed be there.
Hell show up at her doorstep, in a pineapple print shirt and grass skirt, if
she isnt.

Fine. But Im not dressing up!

Come drink!

---

The slight buzz she gets in her apartment eases her hangover, until she
crams into the fraternity house with Bree and Harper at her side: the heat,
the sweat, the pounding music, and the scent of alcohol has turned the air
so viscous it weighs down upon her and makes her lungs work to inhale,
and she has to fight to squeeze between the bodies packed against each
other in darkness.

It takes a few minutes before makes it through the throng of people and
spills into the back yard, into the cool air, but the headache is there for
good. She lost her roommates somewhere inside, but also mysteriously
gained a red cup of something, which will probably be dumped discreetly
into the bushes soon.

Griffin!

Bellamy, in all his glory: hes not wearing a grass skirt, just a pair of board
shorts and a hell of a straw hat, and about eight or nine multicolored leis
covering his bare chest. John Murphy, Nate, and Adam flank him, ever loyal
roommates. They throw their arms wide to welcome Clarke in. Nathan
hands Clarke a cup that she actually trusts, so she tosses the old one aside.

What do you think of the party? Bellamy asks, gesturing around it. Its
not quite the lecture hall bash of freshman year

Thank god.

I remember that, Adam says wistfully. At least, I remember the

aftermath.

Murphy laughs. I remember up somebody got the porn on the projector.

After that is black.

You all still owe me for that, she says, taking a sip of the sickeningly
sweet drink Nate gave her.

I know, I know, Princess. Bellamy takes one of the leis around his neck
and drapes it over her head. Here you go.

She warns him before he can do anything. I swear, if you make some joke
about getting leid

He looks on the verge of it, but bites the comment back solemnly and hands
her a beer. And here is the traditional free drink. The new, mature, senior
Bellamy. Its nice.

Damn, Clarke. You need to get leid, apparently, Murphy says. Ever loyal.
As she walks away, she can hear them laughing and high-fiving behind her.
Any other night she would have been laughing too, drunk on terribly-mixed
pia coladas by now, but something about tonight isnt clicking.

She trudges up a staircase that leads to the second-floor deck, and looks
down over the party. Only bits and pieces of it are visible, lit by tiki torches
scattered throughout the yard. She spots Octavia on the fringe of a crowd
around a beer pong game and watches her raise her cup up and cheer.
Then Octavia turns to the guy standing beside her: Lincoln.

Clarke laughs out loud. Octavia actually did it, and Lincoln actually showed
up to a college party with a girl he met in a bar. He even dressed for it,
wearing an obnoxious blue and white Hawaiian print shirt. Hes smiling as
he talks to her.

Maybe Clarke had misjudged him.

The cheap party alcohol burns in her throat as she finishes her drink.
Another half hour, maybe, and she can head home. Shell go back
downstairs, greet Lincoln and Octavia, finishing her required appearances,
and make it back to her unfinished lab report before 11:30.

Or maybe

If Lincoln is here, she reasons, maybe she can be there. Its like a switch. Its
even, right?

God, even now she can tell its drunk logic.

It still doesnt stop her.

---

Basking in the freedom of anonymity, she lets out a contented sigh once
shes in her seat with her hand around a cold, simple rum and coke. She
discarded the lei somewhere on the train ride over, and with it, her
headache.

The atmosphere of The Captains Room is surprisingly muted compared to

her previous two tripsthere are empty chairs all around her. Maybe she
and her friends were the source of the noise, then. She grimaces at the
thought, however inane it might be, and takes another long sip.

She's trying to read the labels that line the bottles on the single shelf
behind the bar when a cool voice breaks the quiet around her.
"You're back."

Somehow, she knows who it is before she turns; she fixes an even mask on
her face before she glances over to see Lexa two seats away. Her hair is
tied back in a braid tonight, exposing bare shoulders beneath a black
tanktop. The girl hands over a twenty to Raven and waits for her change,
watching Clarke all the while.

"I'm back," Clarke agrees when Lexa offers nothing more than a glare. "I
don't really know how I keep ending up here, though." Its not the company.

"Neither do !." Lexa gives Raven a nod when she gets her change and the
drink Clarke always sees her with. She glides past Clarke with the barest of
sideways glances. "But if you're trying to get to the Starbucks, it's three
blocks down, on First."

"Perfect, she fires at Lexas back, you can grab me a soy vanilla latte
when you go."

And in that moment, she is so glad she didn't bother to bite the immature
comment back, because the look on Lexa's face when she turns around will
be a source of pride for the rest of the nightnarrowed green eyes and one
raised eyebrow, pursed lips, all reading that Clarke took her by surprise.
Broke through the ice, for a moment.

Lexa doesnt say anything else, just warns Clarke back with her gaze, then
turns with a slight huff and strides to her usual post.

When she's gone, Clarke finishes her drink and crunches down on the
leftover ice cubes, simmering with irritation as the victory fades. Counting
bills at the cash register, Raven watches her for a moment.

"Hey, relax. Don't engage with her. You're already on thin ice around here
just because you're not from here, so you're better off ignoring them."

Clarke snorts and sends a quick, appraising glance at Lexa. "Yeah, I imagine
her bark is worse than her bite."

"Uh." Raven steps closer to Clarke and drops her voice. "No. I'm serious,
don't engage her. You're not going to negotiate peace talks here. She's lived
in this neighborhood all her life and her family owns the boxing gym two
blocks over. If you start anything with her, shes got a sweet left hook. And
that would suck for me, because you're one of the only people who gives
decent tips here."

Clarke stares at her.

"I don't think you can drink alcohol with your jaw wired shut, I mean."

"Thanks, Raven."

"You're welcome. Beer or another drink?"

She delays for a moment, returning to her attempts to read the bottle labels
as she considers Raven's advice. Then: "Hey, Lexa!"

"That is the exact opposite of what I just told you," Raven mutters,
exasperated.

Clarke pays her no attention and turns invitingly in Lexa's direction,

watching the girl pull up from a pool shot; irritation is etched in every line of
her body. Her friends look between their leader and this blonde interloper
with surprise and something resembling curiosity. Lexa, on the other hand,
holds her pool cue the way one might hold a weapon.

It rolls off Clarke's back like water. "What're you drinking?"

Lexa glances to her glass. "...Negroni."

"Perfect, never had one. Raven?"

Raven wears a petulant glare. "Dont know what youre trying to prove,
Griffin." Nonetheless, she mixes the drink. Clarke doesnt look over again,
but out of the corner of her eye she can see Lexa watching her. Truthfully,
Clarke isn't sure what she's trying to prove. She's not even sure what she's
doing. But it's immensely satisfying to challenge a girl who seems so
untouchable.

And then she puts her lips on the glass Raven hands her (after a quick toast
across the bar to Lexa, still watching) and just barely tastes the drink before
shes pulling it away from her lips. It tastes like its straight out of the
godfather, bitter and smoky and made for people who take themselves way
too seriously. The dark brown drink nearly splashes out of the glass when
she sets it back on the bar.

Theres a wide smirk on Lexas face. The hell is wrong with you? Clarke
demands, but she cant hold back a laugh either.

Lexa just raises her own glass back to Clarke and drinks it down. Its more a
mockery, a challenge back, than Clarke would like, but still. Cold and
dangerous as she may be, shes a pretty girl in a bar and the sight of her
lips twisting up instead of down is incredibly welcome. And the light in her
eyes before she turns back to her pool game makes the drink more than
worth it.

Casanova, Raven says with a snort.

Clarke ignores her. She spitefully nurses her drink for the next few minutes,
scrolling absentmindedly through her phone as Raven moves on to other
customers"Ones that actually take my advice."

Just as shes getting bored, and worse, just as the Negroni might actually be
starting to taste good, a text from Monty appears at the top of the screen.

Monty [11:37 PM]: Wasssup?

It's followed closely by a picture of Monty, Jasper, Nate, and four

unidentified girls, wearing coconut bras. At least the three boys are too.

Clarke [11:40 PM]: please dont bother those poor girls

Monty [11:42 PM]: they love us
Monty [11:49 PM]: is your night going okay, loner?

She finishes her drink, the last sip far smoother than the first, before
answering.

C [11:54 PM]: It's great.

And she means it.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

ke comment and subscribe!

twitter@SofiaRojasOne7
ordered from 10-1
Those Ice Fingers Up and Down My Spine - Dreamsaremywords
You See The Smile On My Mouth - Heartshapedcandy
Blood Rush In The Hazy Glow - Firetestsgold
Somwhere I Have Never Travelled - Unicyclehippo
The Three Truths - Transientpermanence
Everything You Are - Awriterofthings
Shining A Light Into Darkness - alittlesoulcarryingacorpse
She - AfoolIam
Lover In Low Light - Chrmdpoet
This Heart Fossilized and Silent - Chrmdpoet