Together as now, (forever as one).

They don't meet each other for centuries after that. Ironic twists of fate, missed chances, and revolutions got in their way, preventing them to meet again.

They witness wars and illness, the fall of monarchy with an aching feeling of uncompleteness, lives after lives, always searching for something that just doesn't seem there. Sometimes they have flashes, so tangible, almost like memories of things they've never lived, dreams as vivid as the present, but never enough. Never enough to make them remember, and never enough to make them meet.

When it happens again, streets are paved, streets have names and buildings start to blossom, cities start to grow. The world seems to keep expanding and lives too. It's the middle of the 19th century, life has a new kind of quality that Lexa enjoys.

It's a soft spring day, the sun is low in the sky, the day ending. It was a good day. Her career is starting to flourish and if she's honest with herself, it's easy to forget the unfamiliar feeling in her chest sometimes. She's a writer. She writes poetry and it's a challenge everyday. It's a challenge to go against society, to go against the code, to fight for the right to be heard. But Lexa has never been one to back down from a challenge. She's a fighter. She might even say she enjoys it sometimes, if it wasn't all so unfair.

But she's persistent and talented so it pays off. Today particularly, she had a meeting with a publishing house, and it went well. So Lexa feels light, she feels proud.

She walks hurriedly in the streets of the growing city, enjoying the warmth of the last rays of the sun, ready to take on the rest of her life. She's about to cross the street, the distant sound of horses making music in her ears when she spots a young blonde on the other side of the road. She's rather beautiful, she finds, at the arm of an older man with the softest eyes.

She's much too focused on the blue ones to notice anything else when they start walking toward each other, time seems to slow down. They keep walking until they cross paths, their shoulders brushing, bumping into each other, and Lexa feels a spark hit her.

She's frozen on the spot, back turned, standing on the other side of that fateful street, when she falls on her knees.

All at once, she's a princess, a lost child, a guard. She remembers three deaths and three lives and then three more. The ones of Clarke.

She feels like screaming, laughing, crying. She feels like running away, but this is all too much and she's weak, her knees hurt. She revels in the fact that she felt just know the warmth of Clarke against her and is too scared to turn around to see if the blonde remembers too. How ironic would it be if she didn't?

But Clarke is not there with her, and maybe she just went on with her day, oblivious to the mystical discovery Lexa just made. Then again, Lexa too, cannot bring herself to check if Clarke's still there beside her. She's terrified.

If only it was just because Clarke might not remember.

It's not long before people start to ask her if she's alright, kneeling there, silent tears leaving her eyes despite herself. She wants to ask them if they ever had so much pain inside of them that they couldn't breathe, but she just can't talk. So she just nods and gets back up, shaking, trying.

Slowly, because she doesn't know how else, she turns, fears gripping at her heart.

She was wrong to doubt life and fate, she finds, because Clarke is more beautiful than ever when she gives a small laugh from the other side of the street. Lexa doesn't know what to do, how to act. If she should run and kiss her, or wait, and watch her until the earth would die. The man besides Clarke just looks concerned, he's asking questions, doesn't understand, but Clarke pays him no mind. She just laughs and laughs with tears in her eyes, and , God, Lexa almost forgot how deep the blue of her eyes reaches for her soul.

So she walks and time stands still. Everything around them moves so fast but everything for them just slows. They don't register people passing by, they don't hear the voices, they don't see the faces, and Clarke waits patiently until Lexa reaches her, smile unwavering.

“Clarke, honey, talk to me?” The gentleman says beside her when Lexa can hear, turning to her, “Do you know her?” He asks again because he'd be blind if he hadn't notice who Clarke was looking at.

“Yeah, I do.”

It's all Lexa can do not to kiss her on the spot. But there are people around, so he just keeps waiting for Clarke to speak again, for that husky gentle voice to steal her heart again. “Lexa is.. She's an old friend.” It seems to put the man at ease a little because his shoulders relax a bit, and he looks upon Lexa expectantly.

But Lexa doesn't see him, and she's not sure she'll ever see anything else but the blue of Clarke's eyes.

“Yes, I'm Lexa, it's very nice to meet you.” She answers, extending her hand to him but her gaze never turning.

“Likewise. I'm Jake, Clarke's father. You don't look familiar, Clarke, honey, where did you say you know her from again?” It's not overly suspicious but Lexa hears the protectiveness. She forgives it.

“I didn't.” A pause, then, “It's a long story.. Can I tell you about it later? Can I catch up with Lexa?” It's Clarke that breaks eye contact first when she turns to her father, and he could never deny her anything, so he just smiles and hug her before biding them goodbye, knowing that he'll have a lot of questions later.

None of them dares to speak for long moments. They bathe in each other's sight, baffled to be even able to look at each other again. They don't know what to do for the simple fact that they want to do so much, and say so much, that it all gets stuck somewhere.

“I found you,” Clarke says eventually, just above a whisper, awe laced with relief.

“I have a room not far. Come with me.”

Clarke barely nods, and when Lexa starts walking she smiles, remembering another time Lexa asked her to her chambers. It's so wildly enchanting to be re-living that feeling that she almost doesn't believe it, as they climb the stairs of the small modest building up to the fifth floor, to a small but decent looking room.

Lexa enters first, leaving Clarke at the door. But Clarke is overwhelmed and she doesn't move, so she stays there, facing the hard piece of wood. She remembers a time when the positions had been reversed, when Lexa had been waiting with her back on her, facing the wooden door of a royal castle. She remembers the symbolic click the lock made, what it meant, so with a turn of her wirst, she makes the one in front her resonate in the silent room.

She smiles when she hears the footsteps of the brunette behind her, she soft breath so close to her hear, and a whisper so relieving she thinks she'll cry again.

“I missed you,”

So Clarke turns around and finally, finally, kisses Lexa. Their mouths find each other effortlessly, like they always belonged, like they're home.

The feeling is so utterly refreshing yet burning, it lights endless sparkles behind their eyelids.

They fall into a passionnate embrace, one they have waited for relentlessly, most of the time without knowing. They try to make their bodies collide, pull each other closer, closer, impossibly closer. They try to merge in the hope that they would never part again.

They touch what they can, they kiss each other more. Lexa's hands find their way to Clarke's face, she wants to remember Clarke with every part of her body. She traces her features with so much purpose, so much rage. Everyting they feel is raw and unprecedented, like they only now realize that this is real. Like they only now start to believe.

Clarke grabs the collar of Lexa's coat, pulls at it, doesn't know where she wants her hands to go next. She wants to plead but she doesn't even know what for. “Touch me,” she whispers against Lexa's open mouthed kisses.

Suddenly they burn, Clarke wants to consume Lexa. There's this wildfire inside her chest that's been burning for centuries. She needs to feel everything they couldn't feel before, she needs to remember all the ways Lexa loves her and Lexa just cannot wait to ignite the thousand fires she finds beneath the pale skin of Clarke's neck.

Just like a moment before, time seems to stop altogether when Lexa pulls back just an inch, just enough to look into her lover's eyes before pulling at the laces of Clarke's dress. There's no urgency in her movements but Clarke can feel the determination. She's shaking too, she notices, although it doesn't keep her hands from being steady and efficient. They never stop looking at each other with the same fierce wonder.

The only sound in the room next is the heavy breathing they seem to share and the soft thud of the dress hiting the wooden floor.

Clarke watches the turmoil in Lexa's eyes, and Lexa ponders on whether she wants to rip away the rest of their clothes, never waste a second more, but she realizes that despite her memories, despite her knowing Clarke's body, despite all the things she remembers how to do, she still has the privilege to discover Clarke all over again.

For another first time, she can slowly relearn every creases, trace new skin, unveil all the things Clarke will allow her to see.

So Lexa kisses Clarke again, slow release and silent revelations, pushes her backward until her knees touch the bed, and together, they fall.

Instantly, their legs tangle, their breaths mingle, their hearts collide. In reverant silence they undress each other, heartbeat fastening, hands trembling, and when it's over, they take it all in once again. Lexa takes the time to slowly kiss down Clarke's throat, and from here every bit of skin she can find.

She intends on committing every last detail of Carke to memory, from the silky feeling of her against her mouth, to the ragged breaths coming out of her each time she comes closer to where Clarke wants her. Lexa kisses her for so long, though, that she fails to notice the look of agony on the blonde's face, the small whimpers beginning to turn pleading.

“Lexa,” Clarke exhales, urging her on, “please.”

It's so very new for her to see Clarke like this, ready for abandon in the brunette's arms, with no real threat of being caught, no burden. With nothing preventing them from loving each other. It's only when she looks up that she notices the furrowed brows, the bitten lip, the quickening heaving of Clarke's chest, her hands gripping the bars of the headboard, the reddening in her cheeks.

“Impatience looks becoming on you, Clarke” Lexa whispers against Clarke's mouth with a grin, and without waiting for an answer, she kisses her way back down, smiling internally at how the tables have turned. She takes one last breath before kissing Clarke once, chastely, before closing her eyes, opening her mouth and gliding her tongue against her, relieved and burning.

Clarke's moan, she's sure, will alert neighbors, but she's too busy to care. Clarke's hips are rising, bucking, her whole body trembling. She tastes so heavenly Lexa doesn't think she'll ever be able to stop, she's sure she'll die from lack of oxygen, but she'll be damned if she ever take her mouth off Clarke.

It's all too intense for both of them, entrancing even, that each of them reaches out at the same time, and their hands tangle and link, needing the grounding reassurance that they're still living in this universe. That they're still sharing this moment. Both promising the other to never let go.

Lexa's other hand, when it's not keeping Clarke's hips steady, trails all over Clarke's body, feeling the softness. She's still in no rush to end this, she still wants to make it last. Her tongue is steady but slow, it's savoring. She sucks and pulls and tastes, scraping her nails against the skin of Clarke's hipbone with passion.

She feels Clarke's heels on her back, the muscles of her thighs shielding her on each side of her face. Lexa has never found a better place on earth than between Clarke's legs in four hundred years of existance.

She listens and Clarke is a mess of broken moans, broken pleas and broken breaths.

Clarke has never felt this good. Clarke has never lived this hard. She realizes she will never feel plain happiness quite like she's feeling now. She wonders if it's possible at all.

When she feels the sweet and not so familiar pull of release, she prays it last, transcend time and ages. She wants to remember this feeling forever, despite it not having happened yet.

She doesn't expect it to be so intense, she feels waves and waves of warmth and she shakes. She's like paralyzed with pleasure, with an unknown feeling pulling at her heart. In a second she's taken back to all the times she kissed Lexa, all the times she loved her, and yet they each didn't feel like this time around. It's like every time, Lexa is new.

It takes her a full minute to open her eyes, unaware of her surrounding, but when she does the first thing she sees is green. Half-drunk from ecstasy, she stares with wonder at Lexa, so different from the princess she met all this time ago, yet still so fiercely Lexa.

“I love you,” she whispers because she can, because she has to. “I love you so much,” she repeats, tears at the corners of her eyes.

Bathed in the small pink and fading light, they kiss and they cry. Clarke pushes off the bed, tries to pull Lexa closer, their naked bodies wrapping around each other until they're sitting, and any space left between them disappears. Arms closed behind backs and shoulders, trying to tear at each other's skin, trying to get inside.

“I thought I had lost you forever,” Lexa whispers, her voice strong but not unwavering. Clarke kisses her, tries to soothe the leftover pain.

“I thought I'd never see you again,” Clarke kisses her again. Kisses down her neck, gentle. Lexa drops her head on Clarke's shoulder and stares out the window.

“You know, I never thought it would happen another time. I didn't think I would get to touch you again, kiss you again.” a pause, then, “I have been missing you so much.”

“I've missed you too, Lexa,” Clarke whispers while she drops kisses on a naked shoulder. At that, Lexa pulls back and looks at the blonde with pain in her eyes.

“No, you haven't.”

Clarke doesn't understand how she can say something like this when they've been waiting for each other for decades. And Lexa ins't sure she's strong enough to keep on talking, but she needs Clarke to understand the sorrow in her heart.

“You left. All three times I had the chance to love you, you died. You have no idea what it's like to live life without you around. You always leave.”

Clarke wants to answer, wants to deny but the words get stuck in her mouth and she can only listen. Lexa doesn't sound angry, though. She doesn't sound remorseful. Just sad.

“Missing you was the worst. Not knowing if I was ever going to see you again. And it's been years, and years. Decades. Lives. I felt lucky to die with you last time, lucky I didn't have to suffer through another life without you.”

Her voice cracks a little but she swallows, tries to keep the raging feelings at bay.

“I'm scared to love you, for it always means you'll die on me.”

Clarke kisses her hard and strong, this time, to stop her from saying anything else.

“I'm here, I'm here now.” And Lexa breaks at that. She doesn't say anything else and sobs quietly, forehead pressed to Clarke's, hands gripping at her shoulders to keep her from disappearing, to keep her here a little longer.

“I'm not going anywhere, I promise. I'm not leaving you this time.”

Clarke kisses her again to calm the tears, to calm the war inside Lexa. She knows it's true, she knows she always goes first. She does't know what it's like to endure the loneliness, the agonizing feeling of being cut in two.

So the blonde kisses away the ache, she kisses away the bitter aftertaste.

“I'm here.” She says again against her skin, “And I love you,” she adds, pushing Lexa on her back. The night is young, their love, too. Their love, she finds, never ages, only grows.

With Lexa on her back, watching her with unshed devotion, despite everything, she's reminded how strong all the losses made her. She searches her face and discovers in her eyes all the scars she left behind. She feels guilty they're here but they only make her more beautiful. It was all worth it, she tells herself, as she drops kisses on her cheeks. They're here now.

She intends on taking advantage of it, and kisses Lexa again, more forcefully. Everything intensifies. Lexa's hands are on her back, pressing into her skin, so Clarke slips her leg between hers. Their kisses deepen, it's all tongue and teeth. Lexa bites Clarke's bottom lip and draws out a moan. She's so different from the first time they ever made love. She's nothing like the shy princess she took to bed for the first time. Her body is more firm, defined. Angular.

She's stronger, but softer too. Her movements are more controlled when she bucks her hips into Clarke's leg, her breathing is calmer, despite being irregular. Her hands shake a little less. Clarke can't help but find it enticing. She still seems to lose her mind when Clarke slips two fingers inside her, though. She still lets out the same small whimpers.

But instead of desperately trying to make sense of what she's feeling, she knows what she wants. She wants to unravel underneath Clarke and let her consume her. She allows herself to get lost in the moment, almost like she's scared it'll never happen again. Almost like she wants to make the most of it.

Everything for her is uncertain, full of tainted memories.

When she comes, tears welling up inside her eyes, she tries to forget they're cursed.

She catches her breath and lets herself get pushed back into reality by the small kisses Clarke is leaving all over her face. They stay like this for long minutes, until Clarke lets herself fall on the matress. When Lexa looks at her, there's a strange look on her face. The silence is heavy and crushing. But Clarke's hand is still touching her, filling her heart with a glimmer of hope, nonetheless.

“We are the star-crossed lovers.” Lexa says, sheets pooling at her waist. Her eyes shine, a flicker of light reflecting on her. Yellow skin glows under tender hands that trace promises.

“It's a blessing.”

“It feels like a curse.”

“Look at this this way : Every time life chooses to take me away, life also decides to always put me back in your way. I will always find you. And that, for me, is a blessing.” Clarke looks into deep forest green. Her heart aches with the thought of leaving Lexa once again, but she doesn't show. She can't help but hate herself for being the catharsis of Lexa's pain.

“How?”

“Because I will always get to experience the discovery of your heart. Whether I do it knowingly, or without the memories, I will get to love you. I will get to touch you. For one night, for one week, for one year. And you will get to see me, you'll get to be there, in my arms and in my soul. Don't you see?”

She kisses her, because she has to. She has to make her see. That they're here, now. Despite the odds, despite logic. They remember that the story starts somewhere, somehow, again and again.

“What am I supposed to see?”

Clarke climbs on top of Lexa once again, straddling her. It's such a sight to see, that Lexa almost forgets everything.

“I'm in everything you do. You may not realize it, but I'm in every word that leaves your lips, every breath that's born inside your lungs. I'm created within you and travel inside of you to finally die on your lips. I'm in every choice you make. I'm your reason, I'm your impulse. I'm everything that you are, and you're everything that I am. You're my strength, every ounce of bravery that I have shown in every lifetime. We are the star-crossed lovers. We are in every truths that this world holds. And there is one truth that belongs to us, and us only.”

“What is it?” Tears are streaming on reddened cheeks. Voice trembles, breaths are ragged, throats closing. The feelings inside her chest are mixed up, confused, and giant.

“Death is not the end.”

“Promise me. Come back to me.”

“I do, I will, always.” She kisses her hard, and doesn't stop until morning comes. There is no time to loose. Clarke's words, however true, don't erase the fear of loss.

They kiss and kiss and love for the remainder of the night. It's all passionate declarations but for a long moment there, none of them talk anymore. There is no more time to waste on words. They show each other and Clarke tries to erase the bad taste in her mouth, the iron melancholy of letting Lexa down. Of having to tend to wounds she created. It's not her fault, right? She didn't decide to die. She didn't choose this either, did she?

She wonders why Lexa can't see that they're lucky. How beautiful it is that they can love each other through time. So all the loss, all the longing, it's all worth isn't it? It has to be.

-

When the softening light of day emerges from behind the buildings, and neither of them have slept yet, Clarke surprises herself with thoughts of a peaceful life with Lexa, where no king, no army and no war will get them apart from each other. This is it, this time. She's sure.

“I'm scared,” Lexa whispers in the quiet of the room, “I'm scared to close my eyes, I'm scared you won't be there when I wake up.”

Clarke's heart breaks another time, and she vows to herself to never hurt Lexa that way again.

“I'm sorry,” she says back. “Will you forgive me for making you feel this way?”

“It's not your fault,”

“But it is, you said it.”

“No, it's not. I don't understand this thing that's happening. I don't understand why it chose us, why it's so cruel, but so beautiful at the same time. I can't make sense of it, but you were right. Earlier. What you said is true. You always found me.”

“I did, didn't I?”

“Yeah..” she pauses, “Maybe someday, you and I can have the life we want.”

The ghost of a smile passes upon Clarke's face, and she whispers a small “I hope so.” before closing her eyes.

“Go to sleep, now. I promise I'll be there when you wake up.”

Lexa smiles despite herself, and can't help but pull Clarke closer, their foreheads touching, their legs tangled, and their hearts synchronized. She falls asleep smiling. Wonders if maybe, maybe Clarke's right. With Clarke's breathing on her neck, her arms around her, she wonders if maybe all of this is a blessing.

-

When she wakes up a few hours later, she's tired and her whole body is aching but it's such a sweet relief to remember the reason, that she can't bring herself to care. She's overwhelmed when she finds a blonde mess next to her, her promise unbroken.

There's no threat looming over them, and Lexa wants to believe.

She gets dressed slowly, enjoys the late morning sun through the window. She decides to go outside, buy the newspaper, something to eat for both of them. Start to enjoy this new peaceful life that she'll rediscover with Clarke. Everything's so different, she finds, from her previous lives. Everything's so beautiful and light.

She's striken to realize that this time around, she can learn to love Clarke in peace.

She smiles with glee at all the new matieral she has, to write new things. All the things she whises to say to Clarke, about Clarke, for Clarke. Clarke, Clarke.

Everything is about her now, isn't it?

It's surprising yet unsurprising how easily she gets drawn back into the blonde.

So she gets a piece of paper to inform Clarke of her whereabouts, and kisses the sleeping beauty on her bed.

“I'll see you later, my love.” But the blonde is in the deepest and most satisfying sleep so she doesn't wake up, and that's okay because they have their someday.

When she makes her way downstairs, she smiles. When she crosses her street to the park, she smiles. She smiles all the way to the bookstore, where she picks up a book of poems she thinks Clarke might like. She'll read her some when she wakes up or maybe tonight before they fall asleep.

She stops to pick-up some flowers from the kid who sells them, in front of the bakery. He smiles at her knowingly and they chat for a few moments.

Fate. Isn't that the worst word ever?

Lexa never really understood the logic behind it all. If fate wanted them to reunite, then why did fate made Lexa enter the bakery at this precise moment in time? Lexa never really got the answer.

Because a few minutes before, and she could have had the life she deserves. If she hadn't picked up the book for Clarke, or talked with the flower boy. But she did, it's this moment, and when she walks in the bakery, the lady's smile when she greets her turn into a scream of horror. She turns around to understand, and there are two men with knives and bags. She knows nothing good will come out of this. Nothing good ever came out of any choices she made. (She knows it's not true but the proof has yet to be shown so honestly, she has a hard time believing otherwise.)

Really, it all could have turned out fine but it's Lexa, and she's a soldier before she's anything else, she's a priness and she's a thief. She's never been one to answer to submission. So when one of them presses a knife to her throat to keep her from running, she snaps.

She's grateful for her memories, for all her years of thieving and fighting wars. She escapes the deathly grip the man has on her, she tries to fight, she does good, but her dress is smothering and her body is out of shape. She remembers the moves but it's like her body isnt' willing to comply.

It really goes down to nothing. A misstep. Just a second of nothingness and the blade makes its way through. It's cold and steely. She feels it in more ways than one, and for a moment she wants to laugh at the irony.

She doesn't though, because blood is making its way up her throat, she feels it in her lungs, she's choking. She falls to her knees, looks at her body. The knife is gone, there's only blood and the slightest tingle in her stomach.

When she falls face first on the floor, she thinks of Clarke expecting her. She wonders if she's awake. She wonders if she would have liked the flowers, if lilies are still her favorite. She smiles when she remembers why she has this knowledge. For the rest of the world, Clarke and Lexa met hours ago, but for them, it's been forever already.

In her last breaths, she whispers, “May we meet again,” and closes her eyes to let the darkness take her.

When she closes her eyes for the last time, Lexa doesn't sigh in relief to be the first to go. She's mad and angry to leave Clarke behind. She'd rather be the one to live and suffer. But it doesn't happen this way this time, and she makes a vow in her head.

In her last moment, she lets the curse embrace her. She accepts it. She understands. Clarke was right, and with her last thoughts, she promises to find Clarke next time. She vows herself to try until they make it work. She vow to find Clarke and make themselves forget all those terrible hours of emptiness.

She smiles, and then she's gone.

-

When Clarke wakes up, it's shielded by ignorance.

She's beaming, stretching, and when she turns there's a piece of paper where Lexa was laying just hours before.

She reaches for it, smile still intact.

Clarke,

I'll be back before you know I'm gone.

Wait for me.

Love,
Lexa.

She hums in contentment, and gets up. Doesn't bother dressing, guessing Lexa will make quick work of underssing her again when she gets back. She goes around the room, observe the environment in which Lexa exists. She tries to get a sense of what her life is. There are bookshelves, a small desk. She finds jewelry, it looks expensive but not outrageous. She grazes it with her fingers and wonders if it has touched Lexa's skin in the same way she has. It's beautiful, just like Lexa. One of them is a golden necklace, and it's connected by an infinite sign. In the middle of it is a green stone. Clarke is sure Lexa looks mesmerizing with it around her neck.

She finds books. Some of them even have Lexa's name on the cover and she's amazed by her words. She opens them and go across the pages, quickly. Sometimes she stops to read a poem. Engrossed in a world that knew Lexa before she did. She reads pages and pages, sitting on the floor of the empty room, sheet pooled at the waist.

She reads so much that she doesn't realize how long it's been since Lexa's gone. There's a gut wrenching feeling at the pit of her stomach and she's scared. She's scared of going outside and risking missing Lexa, she's scared of going outside and finding out something she doesn't want to.

She goes anyway because she knows something's wrong the minute she realises it's been hours.

Once she's outside, her heart stops because there's commotion in the streets near the building and it can't mean anything good. It doens't mean anything good, right?

With careful steps, she goes to the center of attention.

When she gets there, there are white sheets on the floor covering something but they're tainted, just like the lives she has lived. She feels sick and everything's red. She tries to go to one of them, she wants to check, she wants to laugh because it's not Lexa and how stupid could she be for thinking it is, right? It's not possible. But is it?

“Miss, you can't approach the scene,” a man in uniform tells Clarke, his arm raising gently in front of her, indeed preventing her to get through.

“But I have to see.. I have to know why Lexa's late..” she talks but she doesn't speak. Her words are empy and elsewhere, her mind, too. It's reeling, her eyes focused on the white sheet, and lord, is it her or does it look like the shape of Lexa's nose? She wouldn't be able to recognize it, she reasons. It's absurd, the idea that Lexa would be under there. Simply unbelievable.

“What did you say?” A lady a few feet over asks, making her way towards her.

So Clarke repeats, “Lexa didn't come back, but it's absurd right? It would be absurd, for sure..” and then she finalle looks at the woman. “Right?”

It's so pleading that she almost pities herself, but she doesn't have time for that.

“Did you know her?” And really, the fact that she uses past tense when forming that sentense is indicating enough to Clarke but she will accept no other truth than the one where Lexa's alive.

“I've known her forever..”, Clarke says because it's the only thing she remembers now. But as she looks at this woman she notices so many details that are nothing good. How she looks like Lexa, how she knows her and she's here. How her eyes are red and swollen and her voice is raspy and hoarse, like she's sick. Maybe she is?

Clare is stalling. She's stalling because she doesn't want the answer. Not anymore. She doesn't want to know. Please.

But the woman looks at her with a sadness that she doesn't recognize, then looks over at the lying body underneath the sheet. Tears start to fall again and it's all clear.

“No..” Clarke says, and her stomach is tied up, her throat is so small it's hard to make way for the oxygen. How is she supposed to have oxygen anyway when Lexa isn't there to provide it? How is she supposed to breathe now, survive?

“No, no, no, no,” she repeats, louder, louder, so much louder than the last time in hopes that it will change something. But the woman is still crying and she's trying to says something but Clarke's done listening, does't even know if she has the ability anymore, she wants to run to Lexa, she wants to see for herself.

She tries to run past the officer, wants to throw herself at her. He's quick to catch her, tells her to stay in place, and the lady beside her just wraps her arms around Clarke from behind and holds her there, in place, while Clarke continues to scream and shout at the universe to defy her again. This is a sad moment in history and everyone notices. Even the officer's hard looks are broken. Everyone's eyes are on Clarke, but she feels like no one sees her. She feels like no one will notice her, and like no one's look will make her feel alive like the green of Lexa's eyes.

“PLEASE,” she asks, but she doesn't know why exactly.

Suddenly, there's not enough air in her lungs, there's not enough of everything, and she suffocates. Everthing's blury until it's black, and the last thing she sees before she passes out is the bouquet of lilies beside Lexa.

-

It's dark when she comes to, and she's back on Lexa's bed. For a fleeting moment, she thinks it's been a sick dream, a torturous piece of her imagination, that Lexa will be there soon. But she's fully clothed and it's dark.

She lets the fantasy fade and escape her inside the tears that fall from her eyes. When they open she sees that woman. She looks somber and worn down.

“I'm Anya.” It's firm but soft nonetheless.

“Why did you bring me back here?”

“I didn't know where else to take you after you fainted,” she pauses. Her eyes find the floor. She's grieving, just like Clarke, “I'm sorry.”

“How did you know Lexa?” Her name feels bitter on her tongue. It feels wrong to say it into the void.

“I'm her sister.”

“Well, that's something new,” Clarke mutters to herself. She knew that people they were connected to could reappear. But being related seemed unlikely. Then again maybe not that much. She wonders if Anya remembers anything about falling from a horse or an ancient castle in the middle of nowhere. If she remembers that she had been Lexa's sister before. She doesn't dare ask, for she's scared of the answer.

“How do you know her?” Anya asks suspiciously. It's only fair.

“I.. I don't.. It's a long story.”

“Well, I guess I have time now.”

Clarke contemplates telling her everything right there on the spot just to get her story out but she doesn't feel remotely good about voicing out loud this tragedy.

“You woudn't understand.”

And with that, she gets up to leave. When she's almost at the door, Anya catches her arm. She doesn't turn around.

“I know the kind of company Lexa liked to enjoy. I don't even want to question the nature of your encounters with her but I can see that you cared about her a great deal.” Silence, “She was my sister and I loved her.. I share your grief, so I won't pretend I know what you're feeling but Lexa was special. If you want to come to the funeral, you're welcome. I will be here packing up her stuff if you want any informations.”

Clarke pauses, hesitates, then, nods her head once and leaves.

She doesn't blink at all until she arrives home because if she does, she's afraid she'll never be willing to open her eyes again.

-

Once inside the warmth of her father's arms, repremanding her for being gone so long, for not telling him where she was, she crumbles. She falls apart shamelessly, doesn't have the strenth to carry herself anymore. Is that what it feels like? Is that the feeling Lexa had to go through twice?

Clarke, devastated, still finds it in herself to be bewildered by Lexa. Lexa, who is the strongest person she's ever met, Lexa who survived something she doesn't see herself ever getting through. Lexa who never gave up on her, who protected her. Lexa who's every bit as perfect as she remembered her to be.

Lexa who's not here anymore.

She cries in her fathert's arms for hours until she can't anymore and closes her eyes to a dreamless sleep.

-

She goes to the funeral. She meets up with Anya two days later, cheeks hollow and dark eyes. She doesn't speak, and lets Anya tell her about how Lexa died, and where the funeral will take place. She doesn't have the strength to cry. She just holds up the façade and attends.

There are a lot people, all solemn faces and sad smiles. She knows none of them except Anya. She feels foreign in the crowd, but she knows that deep down, their truth exist only for them.

It's a beautiful ceremony and before she goes back, she leaves three white lilies on top of the casket.

-

Anya gave her a key to the room and told her she could go there anytime. The room, apprently, was owned by Lexa's father.

She goes there more often than not. She breathes in the scent in the pillow and sometimes allows herself to crumble in the silence of the room.

She considers ending her life in hopes to see Lexa again faster but she decides against it. She knows that Lexa never did something like that. She knows that Lexa would want her to live. That she wants her be the woman Lexa believes she can be. She knows all the things Lexa never had the time to tell her.

It's written in her heart and she knows she has to keep on living.

So she does, and it's the hardest thing she's ever done.

She never knew life could be a prison.

-

Lexa died by accident, she was at the wrong place at the wrong time and Clarke can't help but find it extremely ironic, extremely unfair because for once, they were both at the right place at the right time. She can't possibly understand how it could've happened so fast, how things could just turn on them this way, and she spends a lifetime trying to make sense of what happens.

She feels her faith shatter a little, and she, too, starts to feel like it's a curse.

She gets all the books from Lexa's place, the necklace and some of her clothes, closes the appartment door and never goes back.

She plasters a smile on her face most days, marries a good man and lives her life like she's whole.

The only thing keeping her alive is the mere chance of getting Lexa back eventually, but that faith evaporates a little bit each days, and she goes through the motions like she will never be the same.

-

The only thing she does that's connected to Lexa is burry the necklace somewhere in the deep forest, hours away from the city. She marks every tree, every rock, tries to commit everything to memory, and leaves without a second look.

When she finally dies, she doesn't know if she's relieved or scared.

Either way, in every lifetime, one of them gets hurt, and a silent voice inside her heart wishes the cycle would end.

It doesn't.