Happy Halloween!
Thanks for the patience everyone. And many thanks to the wonderful whosophia for an amazing beta job! (Though, I changed and added things after her addition, so any errors are probably my own.) Check out her stories if you have time!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
It had only been three days, but Lexa already felt like she had been living a surreptitious life for months. Raven had bet her that she could not hide the tattoo from Clarke for the week before their two year anniversary, and Lexa had felt almost personally offended by her lack of faith. Which, she now realized, was really just a clearer grasp of reality.
She had planned out all her answers to questions Clarke might have, such as why she would be wearing a long sleeve shirt when it was ninety degrees outside (because increasing skin damage from the sun is a growing concern amongst the medical community, Clarke), but she had been unprepared for other things. Other . . . physical things.
She had never realized how much of a role physicality played in their lives until she had to limit it with Clarke. And this was aside from the obvious moments of intimacy in any relationship. In addition to trying her best to non-suspiciously decline Clarke's advances in the past few days with complaints of random maladies, she had had to avoid cuddling with her at night, and avoid hugging her in general, since her shoulder was still tender. Clarke had even drawn a bath for her as a surprise one night, likely with the hopes of sharing it with her, so she had to jump in and out of the bath before Clarke had a chance to join her. It made her feel immensely guilty. And more than that, she herself missed those things as well.
All in all, she was sure that Clarke was suspicious and possibly concerned about her abnormal behavior, but with only several more days to go before the reveal, Lexa could bear the guilt for a little while longer.
Except for one thing. The pain.
She had been told that the area would be tender for a few days, but with good care, it was supposed to start healing and become less painful to touch. She was not a doctor, but the area around the tattoo becoming redder and more tender did not seem like it was healing. She had done her best to care for it, but with each passing day, the redness around her tattoo seemed to grow. She just kept hoping it would be better by the time she was ready to show Clarke.
She had it all planned out. She had suggested that they go to a nice restaurant for their anniversary dinner, so that they would have a chance to dress up for the occasion. She had picked the perfect thing to wear: a simple, dark blue dress that fell to her knees. And, importantly, strapless, so that when she did the spin around that Clarke always made her do every time they got dressed up, it would become clearly visible. She even planned what she was going to say.
"This is how much I believe in you, Clarke. I would not put the work of any random artist who is not going to make it big on my body. Now I can say that I am the very first to have a Clarke Griffin original."
Cheesy, yes. But that was the best way she could think of to express how she felt.
It would not matter what she said though, if, instead of a beautiful, meaningful tattoo on her shoulder, all Clarke saw was a red, inflamed patch of skin.
But maybe it had gotten better. Lexa had cleaned it gently but thoroughly yesterday, and she was hopeful that the rash be healed.
She turned to look at her tattoo in the mirror again. Her skin seemed to have gotten even redder today. She touched it gingerly with one finger and immediately flinched from the pain.
She sighed.
Yeah. It was definitely not getting better.
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It was Sunday morning, and Clarke had woken up early without the aid of an alarm, as she had many Sunday mornings before. A difference today though, was that she was meeting Lexa for brunch. And the added excitement was not inducive to deep, restful sleep.
She had been thinking about what Lexa drunkenly told her that night. She mentioned her green dress. How did she know? Was she there?
Was she, like most people, just curious about how an ex was doing? Or did she somehow remember her promise to be there for Clarke during that moment?
Clarke pulled a pillow over her head and groaned. All these questions swirled around her head begging to be asked aloud.
She had already seen Lexa several times since the brunette's drunken night. The first was at a dinner with the group. When Lexa saw her, she shyly thanked Clarke for getting her home safely and then lamented her poor alcohol tolerance, with vows to never drink that much again. But she did not say anything more and Clarke was too nervous to ask. That was the last they spoke of that night.
Now she was going to see Lexa for the first time where it would be just the two of them, and she wanted to get some answers.
With that determination, she was able to gather the strength to get out of bed to get ready.
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Lexa looked up from the book she was reading to glance at the door again. No Clarke Griffin had arrived since the last time she checked. She looked at the clock on the wall and was surprised to see that it had only been a whole 30 seconds.
She tried to find her place in the book but gave up quickly; there was just no use trying to read when she felt so distracted. She was twenty minutes early, which would mean a lot of reading the same paragraph over and over again without comprehending. So instead, she settled for placing one of her elbows on the table and resting her head on it, watching the door.
She did not know why she came so early. Well, maybe she did. Today was her first one-on-one non-date with Clarke. And she did not want to start it off running late.
So maybe, just maybe, that was why she woke up two hours earlier than necessary and took a longer shower than usual, and tried on maybe four different outfits before settling on the fashion statement outfit that was a pair of jeans and blouse. Because she did not want to be late for this non-date. With a friend.
So there she was. Waiting.
She and Clarke had been spending more time together in the past month, albeit generally in groups. And things had not been as awkward as she had feared. In fact, it had been generally quite pleasant. A relaxed Clarke Griffin, in her own elements with close friends, was funny and fun to be around. It had been so long since she had seen this Clarke. The last memories she had of her was during their last few months together, which did not reflect the Clarke she knew and lov... Just, the Clarke she knew.
Lexa found that she was slowly looking forward to, instead of dreading, the group gatherings if she knew Clarke was going to be there. And this gave her hope that perhaps there was a road towards a renewed friendship with the blonde. Less awkwardness in general would be good for everyone, and would make easier her transition back into this group of friends that had been so important to her.
She decided to work towards that goal by inviting Clarke to brunch, just the two of them. If they can make it through a non-date together, there should be no more concern for discomfort and their path to a platonic relationship should be clear. No one expected her to do that; least of all, Clarke. But the girl had accepted and that was why she was now waiting anxiously for her to show up.
It was not long before she saw familiar blonde hair entering the café, piercing blue eyes quickly scanning the room until they met hers, followed by bright teeth adorning an even brighter smile.
She started heading towards the table before Lexa even had a chance to wave.
"Hey!" Clarke said, enthusiastically. She grabbed the back of the empty chair but stopped herself. "Um, can I sit here?"
Clarke's rather unnecessary (but generally in character) question relieved some of the tension Lexa was feeling. She laughed and gestured for her to sit.
"Yes, of course. I got here a little early. Do you want a cup of coffee? The server will be back to get our food orders in a minute."
"Oh, no problem. I'll just go order from the counter. I've been here before. Their coffee is very good. Do you want another cup?"
"No . . . not yet. I have to pace myself."
Clarke grinned at Lexa's acknowledgement of her well-known coffee addiction before making her way to the counter.
Lexa watched the blonde drop her change in the Gryffindor jar, smiling at the predictability.
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Conversation flowed rather smoothly, somewhat to both their surprises. The topics were light and casual, due to efforts from both sides. Clarke even managed to ask about Costia, who she learned was almost done on her the research she was doing.
Clarke was somewhat reluctant to avoid disrupting this delicate bubble they were in, but her curiosity won out in the end. This was her chance to ask, and she had to do it for her sanity.
During a brief pause in their conversation, Clarke took the plunge.
"Hey Lexa," she began, hesitantly. "Can I ask you something?"
Lexa could sense a change in her tone.
"Um, yes, of course," she replied, cautiously.
Clarke fiddle with her empty cup. "That night, a while back, when I had my gallery opening . . . were you there?"
Lexa looked down at her cup and fell silent. She swirled the leftover coffee around, internally debating her answer. She wondered how Clarke knew.
Clarke could sense her question. "It's just, the other night, when I took you home . . . um, you mentioned the green dress I wore to the gallery opening."
Oh. Lexa wondered what else she might have mentioned in her inebriated state. She did not have a reply.
Apprehensive that she had somehow offended Lexa with her question and presumption, and fearful of hurting their newfound fragile friendship, Clarke rushed, "Oh, never mind that. Forget I asked. It's not important. I don't know what I was thinking." She could practically feel her heart pounding out of her chest.
Lexa let another moment of silence passed, before smiling resignedly to herself, and eventually looking up to meet Clarke's anxious face.
"Yes, I was."
It took Clarke a second to register the answer.
"Oh."
"Raven and Octavia told me about the event. And I . . . I wanted to see it myself, with my own eyes."
Clarke leaned back in her chair, trying to calm all the different emotions she was experiencing, from fear of losing Lexa again to relief and excitement (maybe?) that Lexa's confirmation provided.
Lexa continued, "Clarke, even after everything we have been through, I still want the best for you. We will always be friends. And your success makes me happy."
Friends. Right. "I wished I knew you were there." Thinking back on that night, maybe she did know.
Lexa shook her head gently. "It was not the right time. I was not ready." She took a sip of her coffee. "Plus, I did not want to take attention away from your big night. It was yours."
Clarke nodded in understanding. She could only manage a soft "Yeah."
"But Clarke," Lexa started.
"Yeah?"
Lexa smiled. "I was so proud of you that night. What I had always known about you . . . well, it came true."
Lexa was there, and she was proud of her. Those words made Clarke feel better than all the acclaim she had gotten from art critics for her work. Yet, there was a tinge of bittersweetness hanging above those words. This was not the situation Clarke had envisioned them to be in when Lexa said these words to her.
"Thank you for coming, Lexa. It means a lot."
"I always keep my promises, Clarke."
Clarke caught the smile before it disappeared behind a raised coffee cup.
"And I see you still have a Clarke Griffin original."
Lexa's smile briefly froze as she realized what that meant before she caught Clarke's teasing wink, followed by her lighthearted laugh. Lexa shook her head and joined in laughing the tension away.
Now that the issue was addressed, their conversations turned back to casual topics. And underneath that cloud of awkwardness between two former lovers trying to redefine their relationship, there was a natural ease, a natural spark, to their interaction.
And slowly, but inevitably, that cloud began to lift.
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It was the day of the anniversary, and nothing was going the way, Lexa planned.
Lexa rolled over slightly to look down at her shoulder. Instead of receding as she had hoped, the redness around the tattoo had spread down her back and arm. She also now had a fair amount of swelling, which made it quite painful to move her right arm. The tattoo was almost lost in the redness and swelling. Oh, and the pus seeping through parts of her skin did not help either.
She was going to have to really rethink the showing-off-the-amazing-meaningful-tattoo-while spinning-around-in-a-stunning-gown portion of her plan now.
She would get to worrying about that after she figured out what she was going to do about her burning fever.
Lexa tried to sit up in bed, but the movement made her lightheaded so she slumped back down into the bed.
Clarke was away at work. She had pretended to be asleep when Clarke left that morning, so Clarke would not see her like that. She had mostly stayed in bed all day, alternating between throwing all the blankets off her body during her feverish flashes and scrambling to get under the covers when her chills came.
She looked at the clock and saw that it was five o'clock. Clarke was going to be home any second now. Just as she thought that, she heard the front door open.
"Lexa?"
The bedroom door opened. "Hey, Lexa?" A concerned Clarke peeked through the door.
Lexa felt the bed moving as Clarke sat down. "Babe, are you okay?"
Lexa had the covers pulled all around her, covering her body. She nodded, unable to lie outright. "Happy anniversary, Clarke," she said, hoarsely.
She felt Clarke's soft hand on her face, gently pushing away the matted hair on her forehead, wet from her fever.
"Oh my gosh, Lexa, you're burning up. What's going on?"
Lexa tried to think of something, anything, to say that could salvage this disaster of an anniversary surprise. But her mind was heavy and foggy and she was tired and dehydrated. This one week of keeping such a secret from Clarke had drained her mentally more than she thought. And whatever was going on with her tattoo had drained her physically.
She felt Clarke gently move the blanket off her face to get a better look at her. Lexa saw the worry on Clarke's face. She knew she must look like a mess. A far cry from how she wanted Clarke to see her on their anniversary.
"Hi," she croaked through her dry throat. "I wanted to surprise you. For our anniversary."
She pushed off the bed to sit up against the headboard, and winced immediately when she tried to put weight on her right arm. Clarke quickly moved to help her.
"Surprise me how?"
"You are always so thoughtful and you get me such great gifts, Clarke. The painting, the hot air balloon ride. I just wanted to do something special for you this year."
Clarke looked at her expectantly, curiosity mixing with the concern on her face. Lexa tried to think of more to explain, but decided it was probably easiest to just show her. She turned around and pulled her shirt off her right shoulder.
She heard Clarke gasp, and then felt a tender touch on her shoulder. She pulled away involuntarily from the pain.
"Lexa . . . what is this?"
Lexa turned her head to look at Clarke, but kept her back facing her. "I know this year has not gone as well as you would have liked, but I love you and I believe in you. I wanted to get you something that expressed my support."
Clarke finally looked away from the tattoo to meet her gaze. Lexa could clearly see the light glisten off the blue in her eyes. She turned her body around to face Clarke fully.
"But, I am not sure what happened. The tattoo . . . I do not think it is healing like it is supposed to. Maybe I did something wrong? I did everything the tattoo artist said. I tried to keep it clean, but I guess . . . I guess I did a bad job. I'm so sorry, Clarke. I wanted this to be a surprise. This was supposed to be a perfect day."
Clarke reached both her hands out to cup Lexa's face and she so easily leaned into the cool touch. Clarke leaned in to kiss her gently.
"I don't think you have any idea how much I love you."
Lexa felt Clarke's forehead rest against her own. She could feel Clarke's emotions well up inside her, almost transferring to her where they connect.
Maybe the gift did not turn out so bad after all.
They stayed like that for what felt like forever. Finally, Clarke opened her eyes and pulled back.
"We should go now."
Lexa, dazed and even more lightheaded now, asked, "Go where?"
"To the hospital. You need antibiotics, Lexa. Your skin is very, very infected."
"Oh."
Clarke looked at her as if she could hardly believe that that realization just dawned on Lexa. Clarke shook her head. "You're kind of a mess, you know that?"
"Your mess," Lexa grumbled, matter-of-factly. "This is what you signed up for, Clarke. I hope you realize that."
"I wouldn't have it any other way." Clarke chuckled and quickly pecked her girlfriend's cheeks before offering both hands to help her up.
And so it was, that the anniversary perfect night Lexa envisioned, a night of beautiful dresses and romantic dinners and grand gestures, of flirtatious banter and seductive touches and passionate kisses, became in reality, a long, sleepless night in the crowded local emergency room.
And Lexa, lying there on a tiny, uncomfortable ER bed, with a warm Clarke stealthily squeezed in next to her, with loud beeping noises all around and a large IV dripping medicine into her arm, would not have changed any of it for the world.
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Beep beep.
Clarke heard the text notification from her phone, but could not reach for it because her hands were covered in paint at the moment. She expected it to be a text from Lexa confirming the time of the movie they had planned. She could not help but smile as she thought about seeing Lexa later that night.
After their discussion in the café, she and Lexa had, somehow, managed to have somewhat regular meet-ups. Sometimes that included other members of the group, but more often than not, it was just the two of them. Their conversation moved beyond casual topics, and Clarke found herself talking to Lexa whenever she lacked inspiration for her art. Lexa was even telling Clarke about this sequel novel she was working on. Lexa seemed to be getting more and more comfortable around her, and Clarke suddenly felt her days becoming brighter and warmer. And the blonde knew that had nothing to be with the coming of Spring.
She finished up her work for the day, and after cleaning her hands, she picked up her phone. She had a missed call and several text messages from Kane.
She quickly scanned the texts and gathered that it was about an art collector who was interested in her work. He had given her number out to the art collector.
She was in the process of changing into her outfit to meet Lexa when she got the call.
"Hello?"
"Hi," a distinctly familiar voice sounded from her phone's speaker. "Is this Clarke Griffin?"
"Um, yes, this is she." She waited, hoping the other person would introduce herself.
"I got your number from Kane. I told him I was interested in your art work."
"Oh yeah, of course! He told me to expect your call. What can I do for you? Would you like me to set up a showing?"
There was a brief pause before the other person continued.
"I must confess, I only told him that to be able to get in touch with you. I . . . I don't really want to talk to you about your art."
"Oh." Clarke was confused. "Okay . . . um . . . who are you then?"
Another pause.
"This is Costia, Clarke. There's something I think I should tell you."
Notes:
You can find me on my tumblr (OForion4). Check tag ITALAIT for things related to the story (updates, sneak peeks, images, quotes, etc).