Chapter Text
Lexa hisses as, once again, her mobile buzzes. It is across the room, ringing obnoxiously on her granite countertop. She has been receiving nonstop calls for ‘surveys’ recently, but they only wanted her personal information and weren’t getting the ‘fuck off’ memo. Who does business calls at - she checks the oven clock - 7:20 pm on a Thursday night, anyway? No one worth her time.
She swirls wine around in her glass, the dark burgundy liquid sloshing against the edges. It had been ridiculously expensive, but she can afford it; and really, what else would she do with her nights if not drinking fancy alcohol, alone, on her couch?
She shifts, rising to pick up the blaring phone.
“Leave me the fuck alone, I’m not taking your survey. You have the audacity to call someone at this hour? It’s completely unprofessional. For the last time, stop calling this number.”
The line at the other end crackles and a thin voice emerges from the static.
“Umm, I guess I got the wrong number. I - I’m so sorry.”
Guilt floods through her: she literally just yelled at some random person.
“No, shit, I’m sorry. It’s been a long day,” Lexa laughs dryly, scrubbing a hand over her face. She senses, rather then hears, an empty chuckle on the other line.
“Yeah, tell me about it.”
Lexa has no idea what compels her to continue. She should hang up, let this poor person get on with their life. But maybe Lexa’s lonely, deep down. She had everything she's ever wanted; a spacious loft in the financial district of San Fransisco and is the young CEO for an up and coming company. She worked to be here, drinking fancy wine while watching the bay bridge twinkle outside a giant wall-sized window. But after Costia, she had never again opened up to people. But tonight, Lexa looked around her dimly lit apartment. So pristine. Devoid of emotion. It looked as if no one even lived her, let alone for over 6 months.
Maybe it was for these reasons, or a combination thereof, that Lexa doesn’t end the call. Instead, she speaks into the heavy silence on the other end: “So, what’s your name?”
A pause. For a moment, Lexa thinks that she hung up. The thought saddens her immensely until she receives a reply. “Clarke. And yourself, stranger?”
“Lexa,” then, as it hits her, “Am I keeping you from something? Didn’t you have to talk before you called this number instead?”
“Oh, no,” the girl, Clarke, hurriedly replies. “I didn’t. Well. The number was disconnected, I guess. I mean,” Lexa hears crackling on the other end of the line “It’s been years, so.” She gives a dry laugh.
“Why would you call a number after so much time?” As soon as the words leave her mouth, Lexa chastises her for the bluntness. Great, now you might've scared off the only person willing to talk to you.
Not that Lexa really cares. There’s a reason she has so completely detached herself form the world, ever since Costia. Maybe she gets lonely. Her coworkers, especially the younger interns, always greet her with enthusiastic smiles. She appreciates the sediment, even if her answering nod is not quite the same magnitude. At least they care enough to make an effort, even if she realizes it’s probably only because they want a raise.
She realizes the other girl has still not replied. Again, she worries that she has overstepped. Lexa has to remind herself that she doesn’t care, and it’s just some random person. She can’t develop any emotional attachment. That would be stupid.
“Well,” the voice is hesitant, and Lexa picks up on her unwillingness immediately. It’s a feeling she gets every day.
“No, no need to explain. I apologize for being blunt-”
“It’s the only number I have memorized.”
The honesty cuts Lexa off mid sentence. She takes a moment to register the words, weighing the meaning. She listens to the noise through Clarke’s end of the line. She swears she hears a horn honk, and the dull patter of rain. She looks outside briefly; her window is indeed covered in droplets.
“Are you outside?”
“No. I’m not.” It was a lie. Lexa realized that instantly, but didn’t question further.
Clarke must have a reason to be dishonest. It was not Lexa’s place to know. But sometime draws her in; something her about this strange girl, who is obviously calling from a public telephone, intrigues Lexa. The voice speaks again.
“From where do you hail, stranger?”
The joke draws a ghost of a smile to Lexa’s lips. She wonders if it looks like she’s grimacing instead - it had been a long time since she’s smiled.
“Bay Area, born and raised. You?”
“Moved around a lot. College and all.”
She subtly deflects the question, Lexa notes, but she doesn’t push. This girl has no right to tell her anything - hell, she should be thanking her for making the night a bit more entertaining. A small undeniable piece of her wants to keep talking and learn more. She hasn't felt this curious since - since Costia’s death.
“What’s your favorite animal?”
“A wolf,” Lexa replies. A simple question - since she was old enough to talk, that answer had never changed.
“Why?”
Now that, she hadn’t heard before. She pauses, humming softly. The rain batters her windowpane.
“They stand for what they believe in. They are powerful, but independent.”
“No, you’re wrong. Wolves are social animals, like people. They need it.”
Lexa is slightly taken back by the rebuttal. She’s not one to go down without a fight, or admit to what someone else says.
“Then maybe I’m a lone wolf,” she retorts back, tone brisk. It’s the voice she uses at work, to make sure no one questions her and leaves her alone. Clarke doesn’t get the memo, or ignores it.
“The lone wolves always die. They are weakest, without a support system.”
“Maybe they figure out how to survive on their own. Relying on others, love, is weakness.” Lexa realizes she is no longer talking about just wolves, and the conversation has escalated.
They talk, friendly banter. Lexa loses herself in the conversation. It’s easy, she doesn’t have to think much or worry about messing up. When Lexa looks up to check the time, she almost drops her phone in surprise. The clock blinks back at her - 12:43 am.
“Shit,” she curses, chastising herself. She has an important meeting tomorrow at 8:30 am, only a few hours away.
“Hey - Clarke, I’m sorry. I have work super early tomorrow..” she trails off, and hopes she’s not imagining the disappointment in the voice that replies.
“Oh, no worries! Uh.. It was nice talking to you?”
Neither of them knew where to go from here. Lexa had almost forgotten this was some random person calling from a payphone. Who even called from a payphone at this hour? She wondered where she lived, and assumed somewhere far away where it was still daytime. Definitely not somewhere in the city.
“I enjoyed our conversation. Maybe we can talk another time?”
“Of course, I’d love to!” the response sounds genuine and brings a rare smile to Lexa’s face. She is already looking forward to talking with Clarke again.
“Goodnight, Clarke.”
“Night, Lexa.”
She hangs up the phone. For a long time, Lexa remains standing in her kitchen.
Several hours and countless cups of coffee later, Lexa sits at her large desk and wants to bang her head on the table. She considers it, because who the hell would stop her? No one, because her office is alone at the top floor. She doesn’t mind the quiet, not usually. But today her thoughts keep drifting back to the girl on the phone, and she struggles to concentrate on the new prototype design.
The morning had been a whirlwind of activity. Once again, she questions why they have to start work so early. Really, Lexa adored her job, but couldn’t they make important meetings a bit later in the day? Then again, she’s an extremely young CEO for an aerospace engineering company - she never gets a break. No one ever said Lexa wasn’t ambitious. She knows, deep down, that she would never survive in a normal desk job. She needs more excitement than that.
A knock sounds on her door, and Lexa calls them in without peering through the frosted glass to check.
“Don’t you look fabulous today?”
Lexa looks up immediately, surprised for a moment, before her lip curve into a grin and she jumps from the swivel chair. She’d recognize that voice anywhere.
Anya stands in the doorway, smirk on her face and hip resting against the smooth glass. Her dignified posture breaks slightly when Lexa tackles her in a hug, knocking her back a step. She was Lexa’s much older sister, but the age difference between them had never hindered their friendship.
“Get off me, you ooff!” Anya laughs, ruffling Lexa’s hair.
She smells like sun and her skin is tanned. The uniform fabric is rough against Lexa’s cheek, and she realizes her sister must’ve come straight from the airport to see her. The last letter she had received came weeks ago. It hadn’t mentioned coming home. When they break apart, Lexa feels a flash of worry.
“What’s wrong, Eeyore?”
Of course her sister noticed the twinge of fear. Lexa scoffs at her childhood nickname, given by her family when she was young.
They had been watching Winnie the Pooh, all huddled on the threadbare couch. Her mother made delicious hot chocolate and they all slowly sipped the scalding liquid, eyes never leaving the screen. They laughed as Pooh and Piglet danced around, meeting up with friends. Lexa had been warm, nestled between her father and sister, despite the storm raging outside. When Eeyore the pessimistic donkey was introduced, Anya immediately turned to Lexa, her voice alight with mischief.
“Momma! Dad! Look, he’s grumpy just like Lexa!” she exclaimed in a squeaky 8 year old voice. Lexa gave her the harshest glare she could, sticking her chin out. Her parents boomed with laughter for the rest of the movie, and to this day, none of them have let the nickname go.
“Why are you home, Anya? You didn’t mention it in your letters-“
She breaks her younger sister off, laughing. It’s like she’s 5 again, and desperate to prove herself; Lexa feels strongly inadequate with her sister. She’s the only person who makes her feel this way.
“Nothing to worry about. Apparently even the military thinks I don’t take enough time off. I decided to come home and see the family.”
She was right; the last time Anya had come home was for Christmas. It felt like a lifetime ago. The entire family drove to SFO to drop her off. When they hugged goodbye in the airport terminal, Lexa had clung on tight, never wanting to let go. If her eyes were misty, Anya hadn’t mentioned it.
“How’s it going, hot-shot? I hear your companies doing great things,” Anya remarks, spinning around in Lexa’s swivel chair. It felt like they were teenagers again, attempting to do homework in their father’s office. He had a rickety old swivel chair that should probably have come with a caution label, but the two of them used to fight over it every day after school.
Lexa adores her parents, but they are nothing like her. Both extroverts, party animals, always joking about something. They used to say they picked up the wrong child in the hospital, because no way grouchy Lexa could be their baby. Both of her parents came from humble backgrounds, but Lexa always had a support system and people who loved her. Her mother was a kindergarten teacher - a brilliant woman, she could've been anything she set her mind to, but she only wanted to teach kids. For the millionth time, Lexa wonders how hardworking teachers got paid so little. She knew her mom did as much work, or more, as she did.
Her father is a lawyer, but not the rich kind. He only takes cases for people who could not afford a lawyer, and therefore is paid significantly less. Lexa is proud of both her parents, and she couldn't have asked for better role models. She always knew money was an issue, and that drove her to become as successful as she could. All the money that doesn’t go towards her food and rent is given to her family.
Anya had been like a mentor growing up, especially with things she couldn't tell her parents. She vividly remembers the time Roddy kissed her behind the shed in his backyard, and how wrong it felt when he held her hand. That night, Anya and Lexa threw all their combined blankets on the floor and pretended it was under the stars. She read her a book on space until Lexa fell asleep. Anya had comforted a scared, teenage Lexa when she got scared of the way she felt around Costia. Her sister was the first person she came to when Costia kissed her in the locker room in 11th grade, and everything seemed to slot into place.
She was also the first person Lexa ran to after Costia -
She couldn't let herself think about that.
Pushing the thoughts out of her mind, Lexa looks back to Anya. Her sister quirks an eyebrow at her, knowing something is on her mind.
“Company’s going well. We have a new mechanic, Raven. She’s actually more of an intern, currently finishing up graduate school at Cal. You’d like her, I think. How’s the military treating you?”
Anya laughs, and Lexa had almost forgotten how much she missed it.
“Everything’s good. It’s rough, being stationed far away.”
Lexa knows exactly how she feels. When she went away to MIT for graduate school, on a practically full ride, she had hated being so far. But she needed a change - she had grown up in the bay area and went to college at Berkeley so she could live at home. And so you could stay with Costia, a small part of her whispers. But the city she called home had became claustrophobic. Lexa knew she needed a change of scenery away from her memories, but deep down, she knew she could never stray far from her parents. Neither could Anya, and Lexa knew it took a toll on her to be away so long. What could she say, the Heda’s were a family oriented bunch.
“Hey, wanna grab something to eat?” Lexa asks, gesturing towards the door. “My treat.”
“I thought you’d never ask,” she replies, abandoning the chair and walking to the elevator.
Lexa sighs, grabbing her coat and keys before racing after her sister. She can afford to take the rest of the day off.
In the excitement of Anya’s arrival, and the subsequent dinner at their parents house, Lexa had forgotten the mysterious phone call from the night before. Now, as she waits for the apartment elevator, she remembers Clarke’s upbeat voice. It’s Friday night, and Lexa doubts she will hear from the girl, tonight or ever again. Still, she had appreciated the talk. She doesn’t have many friends. Not anymore.
The phone doesn’t ring that night, though Lexa stays up waiting longer than she wants to admit.
Lexa leaves her loft early Saturday morning, stopping only to get coffee at a new cafe. The streets of San Francisco are always busy, even this early on a weekend, and she navigates her sleek black Lexus through the congested streets. The car was a gift to herself after she was promoted to CEO, but she uses it so rarely that it wasn’t really worth the price. She Skyped Anya the day she bought the car, and her sister had persuaded her to name it. Lexa, frankly, thought it was absurd to name a hunk of metal, but she eventually caved in. She called it - him - Dante.
Living in the financial district has it’s perks; she can literally walk to work everyday. Lexa knows she doesn’t want to stay in her loft forever, because while proximity to Ark Industries is nice, she wants to live somewhere closer to nature.
Lexa drives until she reaches the Presidio, a beautiful park and ex-military base. She jogs a few blocks to the entrance and continues onto one of the numerous dirt trails.
Lexa ran track all through high school. It was where she met Costia, a girl with ‘big hair and an even bigger personality’, as her mother liked to joke. It wasn’t that far off the mark. Costia was almost always smiling, and though she constantly goofed off in class, she was brilliant and the teachers let is slide. Costia always smelled faintly of bubblegum and cinnamon; an interested combination, but she made it work.
She could make anything work.
Costia was the Grounders’ star hurdle jumper, while Lexa ran long distance. Fate (or in reality, their coach, Indra) forced them together when they were elected co-captains of the team. They were competitive, with different ideas of how to run the team. It lead to fights, and more.
For a long time after Costia passed, Lexa had stopped running. She missed it; the independence, only her and the trail. Feeling her muscles loosen after several pounding miles, stretching her legs further. But more than anything, she missed Costia next to her, matching stride for stride. Every time she jogged, Lexa longed to hear Costia’s sassy “Lex, lets go get pizza” or “I’m bored, are we done?”. It hurt too much to continue, even though Lexa knew her girlfriend - ex-girlfriend - would have wanted her to keep going. Now that time has passed, Lexa starts long distance again. She started short, jogging around the block, but quickly moves to more challenging runs.
Lexa is soothed by the steady thump of sneakers and her rhythmic breathing. Her legs burn with extension, after a while, but she enjoys the light pain. A constant reminder that she’s alive. The brisk, late summer air reminds her of the coming good weather - autumn is always the most beautiful in the city. She can see her breath in the air, but her constant movement keeps her warm. Her thoughts stray to Clarke once again, but she pushes them away.
You’re might never get to talk to her again, get over it.
Lexa spots the animal before anything else. Even from 20 feet away, as Lexa bursts from the trees, she notes it’s size and skids to a stop.
Is that a wolf…?
It’s huge, paws larger than Lexa’s hands, and towers over the park bench beside it. Lionlike and completely regal, it’s anything but a common stray. It has a thick reddish coat with a golden-brown mane around it’s neck. Eyes the color of whisky peer out from a black face mask, watching Lexa with unnerving intelligence.
Her heart starts beating when she confirms it’s a dog, yet she questions why it’s out here alone. As Lexa walks past, giving the dog a wide berth just in case, she spots a figure beside it. A girl with braided blonde hair stretches out on the park bench, fingers tangled in the dog’s thick fur. Lexa frowns softly. Usually the kind of homeless people Lexa sees are older males with scruffy beards, tugging shopping carts filled with cans. Sometimes she sees someone muttering to themselves, or making sudden outbursts and gestures. Those were the ones she had been warned against. But this girl on the bench, her golden hair streaming over her back, looks so out of place that Lexa almost stops. Most homeless tend to stay near the city, yet here she is, in the middle of the forest.
Maybe she’s lost? Or trying to go camping?
Beside her is a large backpack but nothing more. She couldn’t be a stopped jogger - she looks far too comfortable for that. Lexa notes the smudges of dirt over her and the ragged shape her clothes are in. Her heart sinks in something akin to pity, but she brushes the thought away. She doesn’t have time to emphasize with every person she sees. Lexa wonders how the sleeping homeless girl acquired such an animal, but she doesn’t question why no one messes with her. The dog looks ferocious enough to put off any intruders. For some reason, it pains her to leave the girl alone on the bench. Her face is young; Lexa guesses she’s around 18, at most 20. A teenage runaway? College dropout? There is no way to know for sure, but Lexa catches herself looking back several times as she walks away.
Several days have passed before Lexa gets another call. She has stopped waiting for it at night, though it leaves her with bitter disappointment. Lexa doesn’t understand how she could feel upset over someone she talked to once. When the phone rings, Lexa flips it over immediately. Unknown number. She doesn’t hesitate before accepting the call, heart in her throat;
“Hello?”
“Hey - Lexa?”
“Yeah. Clarke. It’s me,” she let’s out a small laugh, secretly pleased to hear from her. “It’s been a while. How've you been?”
“You know, stuff,” Lexa assumes she’s making a vague hand gesture, and smiles at the thought. She has no idea what Clarke even looks like.
“Descriptive.”
“Just been a long week. It'll get easier, it always does,” the girl pauses. Lexa waits, wondering if she will say something more. She does. “What do you do for fun, Lexa?”
The question shocks her for a moment, and she struggles to think of what to say. She really, sadly, doesn’t remember doing anything that fun. Not in a long time.
“I go running, sometimes. When I have time outside of work.”
Clarke laughs, “I’m impressed with anyone who runs for fun. I was always more of a swimmer, growing up.”
“What about you, what do you do in your free time?”
“Oh, I like art. painting, drawing, you name it.”
Costia had played the violin. The memory sneaks past her. Lexa is unable to stop it.
A lazy sunday afternoon, both of them in the stuffy dorm room they shared. They were probably only sophomores or freshmen, but it was hard to say; they had moved into an apartment on campus together junior year. Lexa was sprawled out over the floor, physics notes haphazardly spread around her. She couldn't concentrate, not while costia played such beautiful music, eyes closed and smiling softly. She stood in front of the window, gazing out over Berkeley. Her hands were a blur. Lexa loved watching her hands. Costia opened her eyes, catching Lexa staring, and danced closer. When she were young, Cos had been a ballerina, and her graceful movements never let Lexa forget it. It was incredible to watch. She continued dance all throughout middle school, but stopped when track took over. The girl stopped right in front of Lexa. She wore a pale blue dress (periwinkle, she called it) that accentuated the deep bronze of her skin.
"You’re beautiful,” Lexa mused, staring up at the Costia, whose face was encompassed by the setting sun.
“Don’t I know it,” she winked before resuming the ballad.
Lexa has never missed anything more than the sound of Costia’s violin.
The sudden memory hit her like a brick, leaving her breathless, and she swallows thickly.
“Lexa? you ok?” Clarke pipes up, concern evident in her tone.
“Yeah, yeah,” she replies. “I’m fine.”
“I dont believe you.”
Lexa is shocked by the forwardness. She isn't necessarily offended, the other girl speaks hurriedly: “Sorry, that was overstepping lines, you don't have to say anything.”
“I lost someone, once,” Lexa thinks both Clarke and herself are surprised by the honesty. It takes Clarke a second to respond. Lexa curses herself at this display of weakness, but Clarke's anonymity makes it a bit easier.
“I’m sorry to hear that, it must’ve been really hard.”
Lexa feels herself nodding, before remembering Clarke can’t see her. She is being foolish by dwelling on the past, but Clarke is gentle, and Lexa has not spoken to someone about Costia since the funeral. It was strange.
“Yeah. It is," Her voice sounds wavery. It has been several years, now. Costia never finished undergrad - Lexa was already in the workforce. And yet it seems so much longer than that, as if decades had past since she last glimpsed her wide smile.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
The question startles Lexa. She hadn't considered it. Maybe one day, to someone, but not tonight.
“Not really.”
“That’s ok,” she says, then pauses before continuing. “Thank you for telling me. That was very brave.”
Lexa feels anything but brave.
“You are good at that, Clarke. Conversing with people.”
“Yeah, well. I went to med school; you need to do a lot of talking to be a doctor.”
Lexa wonders why she’s surprised to hear this. The girl had never mentioned being a doctor before, and she sounds so young.
“Where do you practice?”
“Oh no, I'm not - I'm not currently working. It’s a long story.”
Lexa picks up on the fact Clarke isn't willing to share. She lets the conversation head in simpler directions.
On beautiful mornings like today, Lexa prefers to walk to work. She knows which routes to take and which to avoid. The city was tricky like that; one street would be posh and filled with hip, new-age coffee shops, and one block the other direction could stink of rotting trash. What could she say, the city was diverse.
As she rounds a corner, only a few streets from work, a flash of reddish fun makes her stop in her tracks. She recognizes it immediately - it’s the dog from the presidio park bench. Only this time the blonde owner is awake, and sitting beside the same hip, new cafe Lexa went to on Saturday morning. She has an array of art supplies and canvases spread out along the wall of the cafe. It was called Blake Bakery. Last time she was in, a goofy guy had attempted to flirt with her. she remembered him - Jasper, but his name tag was on backwards. She assumed he was a high school senior, or college freshman - she hoped, with that kind of humor, that he wasn't any older.
As Lexa walks closer, she sees a freckled young man walk up to the girl. He holds out a large steaming cup of what Lexa can only assume is coffee.
“Here you go, Princess.”
She smiles back at him, eyes like the summer sky. She is beautiful, even more so awake. Lexa is curious about the easy friendship between them.
People pass by her, sitting along the street. They spare no second glance, scrolling through their phones. Looking anywhere but the girl. Lexa understands this; in any other situation, she would do the same. But Lexa is intrigued by this ‘Princess’.
Her interest only increases when she see’s the painting on a large canvas. Clarke hovers over it, adding minute details. Overall, it is spectacular. Lexa never considered herself an art person, but she knows a good artist when she sees one. This girl puts many museums exhibits to shame.
Lexa pauses on the sidewalk, earning a huff of annoyance from those walking behind her. She pays them no mind, choosing to watch the blonde girl. She is extremely talented, wielding the brush like a weapon. Her objects seem to spring to life from the page. The girl holds no sign that the homeless of San Fransisco usually have. She does not beg for money. The same giant dog stands beside her as the paints. Lexa is suddenly pissed off at people.
How can they walk by something so beautiful without looking up?
Some drop coins beside her, not passing a glance to the drawings. They have good intentions, Lexa realizes, but it’s not what the girl wants. No, she wants a true business. She doesn’t want money out of pity; she will only accept if she works for it. Lexa can’t help but admire her.
Lexa realizes, dimly, that she has a meeting in 2 minutes. She pushes the thought away.
I can stay just a bit longer.
The girl has enchanted her. Lexa doesn’t want to leave, but at last she does. She tears her eyes from the girl who bites her bottom lip as she smears shadows into the side of a gnarled pine tree. She doesn't turn around, but the dog watches her depart with solemn eyes.
Lexa walks the same route home that evening. Her shadow is long, and she watches it dance beside her as she walks along a wall. She convinces herself she is not hoping to see a flash of blonde hair.
She considers telling Clarke about her, this mysterious, breathtaking girl. The phone doesn’t ring that night. Lexa sleeps fitfully.
The days past, late summer blending into fall. Lexa notices that when Clarke calls, her mood is miraculously better. She has formed a strange friendship with the girl, one of the first times she's opened up since Costia. It’s a strange feeling, coming home from work in the evening and having someone to talk to. She decides that she likes it.
After a particularly long and grueling day at work, Lexa lies on her couch, listening to Clarke talk. It's oddly relaxing, listening to her speak; her voice rises and falls, like music.
“Anyway,” Clarke continues. “How’s life going? Wait - what do you even do for a living?”
“I work for a physics company,” she replies, skimming on the details. She has to remind herself that as much as Clarke intrigues her, she knows little to nothing about her identity. The anonymous factor is exciting, and Lexa knows it pulls her in.
She has always been a thrill seeker, but after Costia, her ways had changed. Lexa had gone with Costia to all her parties, climbed onto roofs. Once they trespassed on someones land just to make out among the bushes. The rough leaves scraped both their arms, but adrenaline coursed through their veins; it was blissful freedom and youth.
But after her death, she resorted to hours of studying, spending all her free time in the library. Avoiding the apartment as much as possible was her goal - only returning to sleep. She had waited until the current lease was over before immediately switching to the dorms. She didn't have enough money to get an apartment by herself and didn't know anyone else enough to have a roommate.
The rest of her education was a blur - she left Berkeley and her family as soon as she could get away. She hasn't walked through the campus since graduation.
Clarke doesn’t mention what she did for a living, and Lexa didn’t push it. The girl had secrets she wanted to keep hidden. Lexa understood and respected that.
“So, anything interesting happen lately?”
“My sister came home from the military earlier this month, and she’s still here.”
“That’s exciting! For how long?”
Lexa pauses, because Anya had been so vague about it. “I’m not entirely sure, but it can’t be that long.”
“Are you close to your sister?”
“Extremely. Anya was almost like a mentor to me, growing up.”
“What’s she like?”
Lexa's lip twitches in amusement. There were really no words to explain Anya. She was full of life but also solum; she was childish yet wise beyond her years.
“Anya’s very brave. She loves helping people. She doesn’t bullshit - she tells you exactly how she feels and what she wants to say.”
She can almost feel Clarke’s smile through the phone.
“What’s your favorite memory with her?”
It comes to her instantly, her mind seeking it out. “This one time we went sledding.”
When Lexa was younger, her family always went up to Lake Tahoe in the winter to visit Uncle Gustus. Gustus was a solitary man, but the few memories she has of him were bright. He always let her sit on his shoulders when she got tired during hikes. She has not seen him in many years, but they send letters once in a while.
He never married, and when she once asked him, he said that love was not equal for everyone. Her father, across the room, had glared at his brother and told him not to speak of such things.
(It was not until many, many years later that Lexa found out her uncle was gay. He loved a tall, brave man with all his heart - but Xander was stabbed because he loved Gustus. He never recovered. Some days, Lexa thinks she will never move on from Costia. she knows she doesn’t deserve to.)
Lexa pushes those thoughts to the side, instead relaying the story to Clarke.
It was winter and they were staying Gustus’s cabin. The home was small, but cozy, and both Lexa and Anya curled together in sleeping bags near the fireplace. Everyone was asleep. Lexa woke up to Anya’s voice, low but persistent in her ear.
“Come on, Lexa! Let’s go on an adventure."
She flipped over, eyes wide, but heart beating in excitement. A part of her considered the rules and what her parents would say if they found out. But Anya was counting on her. She wanted her sister to think she was old enough to hang out with her, and not regret asking her to come. It was all Lexa wanted; to be best friends with her big 6th grade sister. She must’ve been only 6 at the time, baby fat still clinging to her short body. Anya towered over her, all gangly limbs and gap tooth grins. Lexa nodded silently at her sister and slipped out of the sleeping bag. They quietly grabbed boots and jackets, slipping them on over pajamas. Anya whirled and hissed as Lexa accidentally smacked an arm into the wall, emitting a dull thud.
“Control yourself, soldier. You’ll give away our position!”
It was a familiar game, one they slipped into without thinking. Ever since they were young Anya had been enthralled with anything about wars, and Lexa was willing to go along with whatever game her sister wanted. Anya was always the strong, brave commander; Lexa was her faithful second. They always beat the bad guys.
“Sorry, Commander!” she squeaked softly. Anya rolled her eyes dramatically, and her heart sunk. Maybe her sister wouldn’t want to go with her anymore. However, to her relief, Anya only tiptoed to the door, flashing a thumbs up as she slipped outside. Lexa grabbed a flashlight and followed seconds later. The night was beautiful, not a cloud to be seen, and the snow glinted beneath a crescent moon. Anya tromped forward, head high, aiming towards the tool shed. Lexa trailed behind to cover up their steps in the snow, just in case. It was freezing and Lexa shivered, but didn’t complain. Her fingers were tinged blue and she stuffed them into her jacket pocket - as long as her sister was ok, she would manage. Anya turned suddenly, eyes gleaming beneath her giant hat.
“How about we go sledding!” It was not a question, because she knew Lexa would never say no. Anya grabbed a wooden toboggan from the shed and proceeded to drag it up a nearby hill. It took them forever, because the snow is deep in places, and once Lexa sunk all the way down to her waist. She didn’t cry, though the cold seeps through all her layers. When they finally reach the top, Lexa is exhausted. Anya, on the other hand, looks ecstatic. The moon is directly above them and illuminates her face. her sister motions for Lexa, who comes instantly.
“Soldier, there’s some trouble at home base,” she relays seriously.
Lexa nods, keeping her own voice low when she replies. “I understand. We need to get there fast!”
Anya motioned at the sled, as if she just noticed it. “Quick! Here’s a tank. Lets go.”
Lexa hopped on in front, and her sister squeezed her arms tightly around her. She felt Anya push off and they inched forward towards the edge of the hill. Lexa’s heart beat quickly in both fear and excitement, but Anya leaned over and soothingly whispered.
“Be brave.”
Lexa could be brave, for Anya. She steeled her heart and looked forward determinedly. The wind whistled past her face as they gathered speed, but her sister’s arms never left her. She felt safe, smiling and squinting her eyes against the sting of chill night air. The moon was a pearly blur above their heads; two dark figures, sliding together over the snow. In that moment, Lexa felt like they were the only two people awake in the entire world. Nothing could stop them.
Lexa feels herself open up, slowly, to Clarke over the phone. It feels good, to tell someone her stories.
“That sounds amazing,” Clarke says when she has finished.
“Are you close to your family?” she questions in return, curious about the girls’ mysterious past.
If Lexa wasn't attuned to it, she would have missed the small pause before Clarke speaks, and the uncharacteristic hollowness to her voice.
“We used to be.”
She doesn’t push Clarke further.
Once again, they lose track of time. When they finally hang up, Lexa is filled with an unexplainable feeling. She falls asleep with a smile on her face.
Autumn is settling in, and with it, a particular cold season.
It’s usually warmer than this, Lexa grumbles, pulling her scarf over her chin. For god’s sake, I live in California.
Lexa decides to take a shortcut through the park that day. Now that she’s halfway across the large expanse of grass, she realizes two important things. One, her “shortcut” is longer than the usual route to work, and two, the lack of buildings creates a ferocious wind. Her boots crunch on the icy grass and she pulls her coat tighter, grateful for it’s fur lining.
Lexa nearly stumbled when she see’s the girl, the artist, curled against the base of a tree. A thin layer of frost covers her, and Lexa watches as she shivers; lightly at first, but quickly escalating. Even from this distance, Lexa can see her teeth are chattering and the pale blue tint to her cheeks. For a moment she can’t breathe, merely gaping like a fish.
Lexa has never considered herself one to make decisions with her heart. She prides herself on being pragmatic. But lexa doesn’t think twice before jogging quickly over to the girl. Her heart thrums with fear. She doesn’t know anything about first aid or CPR, not really; she had taken a standard CPR course before becoming a lifeguard, but that was years ago. When lexa was at UC Berkeley, she took many intro courses with a boy on the pre-med track. They weren't ever close friends, but they sat together and did projects with each other. Lexa can't remember his name - Nico? Nyko? He had been covered in tattoos and had a very laid-back persona, but Lexa could see right through it. He constantly talked about medical factoids; so often that Lexa sometimes wanted to throw her textbook at him. But now, when some words of doctor wisdom would be helpful, she remembers nothing he ever said.
As she approaches, the dog looks up from beside her. He had curled his large, furry frame around his owner; Lexa realizes he was trying to keep her warm. She approaches slowly, arms extended in a gesture she hoped would convey peace. The dog just watches her, as if he realizes she is trying to help. He stands, shaking ice from his fur, and lets out a deep bark. The girl stirs immediately.
“Atticus.. What? Whats going on..?”
The voice is strangely familiar. She brushes the thought off, because there is no way she could’ve met her before. She is striking, and Lexa would definitely remember her face. She moves her arms slowly, sluggishly, and her speech is slurred as if drunk. Lexa knows that can’t be a good sign. She crouches down in front of her, lifting a hand to the girls face. Her cheek is soft, but cold. Her hand seeks a pulse point, and she is relieved when she finds it, beating steadily, on her wrist.
“Hey, hey,” Lexa says as the girl lets out a distressed whine.
She’s really out of it, she needs some help.
Lexa helps her to her feet, but she stumbles.
“Do you have anyone I can call?”
She shakes her head. Lexa decides, in that instant, that she will get her the help she needs, even if she must pay for it herself. She holds the girl up and coaxes her to step forward. The blonde reaches a trembling hand, pointing to her backpack. It still lies next to the tree, and Lexa swings it over her shoulder.
She tries not to think about how the girl’s hair smells sweet, like flowers. They make slow progress, but Lexa only lives a block away.