It Takes As Long As It Takes

Chapter Twenty

Notes:

I wrote a bonus scene for the last chapter that didn't quite fit with the flow of the chapter so I didn't include it. It can be read before or after this chapter, but might make more chronological sense if read before. You can find it on my tumblr page here ITALAIT Bonus Scene, Chapter 19.

Also, for those interested, here is a picture of Clarke's logo/Lexa's tattoo mentioned in the previous chapter:Clarke's logo/Lexa's tattoo

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Cold days came and gave way to colder nights. Life went on, as it always did, paying no heed to those who need it to stop, to pause, for just a minute, for wounds to heal. So Clarke had no choice but to go on with it, pouring herself into her work, her family, and her friends, trying the best she could to ignore the hollowness inside of her.

Perhaps it was a good thing though, that life kept going. Because it kept her busy. Especially after her incredibly successful gallery event. She received more commissions than she could do, and there was now a long waitlist for her art. She spent the days painting when she could, in the small room in her apartment that she converted into a studio to allow her the space she needed to focus. And when she could not find the inspiration, she went out with her friends, visiting them at home or in their places of work. She sometimes found herself painting in the deep of the night, when sleep was ever elusive to her no matter how much she chased it. And it was the pieces she created during those times that seemed to evoke the most emotional responses from her buyers, causing Kane to (jokingly, she hoped) suggest that she sleep during the day and do her work at night.

And it was this way of living, of busying herself with work and surrounding herself with friends, that saw her finally healing.

She thought that she had undergone some healing during the time she waited for Lexa at the café, but in reality, she had only been trying to heal around a wound with a knife still in it. And when Lexa came and pulled the knife out, the wound reopened easily, allowing all the heartache and pain and memories she had been holding in to pour out unabated. But now that the knife was finally out, she was able to slowly, but surely, and truly, heal.

The hardest thing about the healing process though, and realization of this surprised her, was getting used to not going to the café on Sundays anymore. The first several Sundays she had woken up with the same eagerness and hope that had been typical of her Sundays for so long, only to remember the situation as it was. She spent those mornings confined to her bed, with the covers pulled over her head.

After avoiding the café for several weeks, she was finally persuaded to go back with her friends. But only when she was with them. Never alone. They always sat indoors the times they stayed, which no one questioned since it was so cold then anyway. And as time went on, she was actually able to look at the table she had come to know so well without painful memories flooding her.

There were still bad nights, of course, nights when she still felt a deep emptiness in her heart, nights when she would end up dreaming of the moment in the rain when she last saw Lexa look at her with love in her eyes. Those nights, she awoke with a start, with fresh tears coating her cheeks, running her hand on the other side of the bed in her confusion, only to find it cold and empty, devoid of the one thing best able to comfort her after nightmares.

But those nights became fewer and farther in between.

Weeks came and weeks went. The darkness and coldness of deep winter mirrored her spirits, but as those days retreated, so did the blackness and frigidness in her spirit. Soon, the days became longer and the air became warmer. The heavy snow melted, and flowers started to bud. There was more sunlight and she spent more of her time outdoors.