It was too good to not use. I came upon it by accident, a small, ripped up picture of a raccoon with a caption about how the mammals washed their food in streams and creeks before enjoying the spoils of their victories. Honestly, I couldn’t care what it said underneath it. It could be talking about raccoon orgies for all I cared-Lexa didn’t know any different anyway. It was the picture that mattered. I didn’t know at the time how much of a good, and bad, idea this little prank would be until after the fact. I didn’t know how much I would learn about the commander until after the fact.
It took her off guard-- when I asked her if I could sketch her. Little did she know that I had filled book after book with sketches of the woman. She was never allowed to know this fact. She was just too perfect to not draw, but I had better plans and when I asked her, the look on her face was priceless. She nodded, a little bit of apprehension writing itself in darkened lines on her forehead as she scrunched her face up, lifting an eye brow towards me. “If you would like,” she responded softly, standing completely still.
“No, no,” I laughed, almost giving away my plans. Honestly, I’m normally a good secret keeper, but something about this plan was making it impossible. Biting my lip, I push her back gently, my hands planted against the shoulders of her shirt, almost tripping her against the battle armor scattered across the floor. “Lean back,” I tell her, pushing her left shoulder back and moving her right arm to cross her body. Licking my lips, I back up a little before I reposition her again, pretending the be checking the natural lighting of the area as I cock my head from side to side, grunting phrases like, “alright,” and, “right there.” Finally, she’s still and her lack of comfort is written across her face. One leg is lifted onto a small chair, slightly higher than her knee and making her flex against the grain of her fitted pants. The other foot is turned outwards against the dirt floor, causing her to sway a little if she doesn’t hold herself tight enough. With her right arm holding tight across her chest while her left arm pointed straight up, the young commander trembles as she held the position sternly, refusing to allow herself to move.
“Like this?” she asked multiple times during the process, receiving only a nod each time as I ran my pencil across the paper haphazardly, over-exaggerating each stroke of my pretend sketch, wondering if she would ever catch on. I changed my position multiple times, mocking her inability to move while I squatted around her legs and circled her like a vulture. Still, the solemn woman held her own, never flinching against my stare. Chewing on the eraser of my pencil, I smiled before exhaling, blowing a piece of my hair from my face-- specifically because she couldn’t.
“Here,” I said to her, pushing her brown locks across her face, making sure to tickle her small nose along the way. Still, nothing. She didn’t even breathe unnecessarily.
Damn, she’s good.
Continuing on with my faux sketch, I outlined what I told her was her eyes, really only dragging my pencil across the edges of the picture that I’d been holding for days-- waiting for the best time. Walking over to her foot planted on the ground, I crouched low, leaning my shoulder slightly against her leg to offset her balance. A hitch in her breathing gave away a slight struggle, but other than that-- nothing.
Really good.
After a few more ‘finishing touches’, I allowed her to relax, watching as her shoulders fell quickly and she allowed her disposition to fall with them for a brief moment. Regaining herself as soon as my eyes looked up from my sketch book, she straightened her back, leaning tall against the table behind her as her eyes met mine. “Are you finished Clarke?” she asked me, the sincerity in her voice almost too much for me to handle as I pulled my sketch book closer to my chest, biting my excitement back before I pulled the photo out, shoving it in front of her face.
“Look,” I laughed as her fingers took the tattered edges, the smile that I anticipated filing the space between her cheekbones never finding its way to her lips. “It’s you,” I added, my own smiling dropping as her tongue poked between her lips before disappearing behind a clenched jaw.
Taking the picture with her, the brunette disappeared into her quarters, retreating behind the thin sheet separating the bed which I had begun taking a liking to sleeping in instead of my own tent. The silence that met me as I lost sight of the young commander was deafening, screaming out more than words could.
I fucked up.
“Lexa?” I questioned softly, pulling back the red sheet that separated us. “I don’t know what I did?” She was still, her back against me, but still I could see the pillow pulled close to her chest. “Tell me and I’ll make it better.” I was basically begging the woman to forgive me-- not the first time-- not the last time.
“You can’t,” a mumble made its way through the air between us, breaking my heart as it shattered against me. “It goes deeper than you Clarke.”
Something about the way that she said my name-- it was different. It wasn’t the same as before. Instead of being as soft as her smile that rarely made its way out from behind the commander’s armor that she donned for protection... instead of being as compassionate as the words that she spoke only to me... instead of being as considerate as the way in which she loved me, each move delicate and controlled as if she was afraid of hurting me... instead of the Lexa that I knew, it sounded cold and broken.
Taking a deep breath, I licked my lips as I stepped inside, allowing the sheet to cascade behind me. “Then allow me to help,” I asked her, placing a hand on her right arm. Her shoulder twitched against me, causing me to sigh softly, my heart dropping a little more.
But after the silence, just as I was about to turn away and accept defeat, the commander shifted, pushing her body away from the edge of the bed and giving me just enough room to lay down behind her... and that was enough invitation for me.
Laying down as softly as I could so as to not disturb her, I wrapped an arm around her body, holding tight at the soft skin of her forearms that poked through just above her wrists. My fingers traced circles around her wrists as my breathing lined up with hers, the sound of her heartbeat echoing through my fingertips and into my bloodstream.
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled my apology for the first time into her hair, taking in her soft scent as it filled my nostrils. She always smelled soft-- always smelled like home.
“It’s not your fault, Clarke,” she said it again... my name exiting her mouth in a more distant tone that I’ve been used to. It had been months since she had talked to me like another warrior... but now, as my name rolled from her tongue, I sounded more like a stranger than anything else. “It’s just... nothing.”
She closed up against me, pulling the pillow tighter against her chest before exhaling deeply, allowing my words to fill the cavity that she created when she inhaled again. “Please tell me.”
“Grounder children are given their paint when they learn to fight,” she begins, still holding closely to the pillow in her arms. I tighten my grip around her, tugging her body into mine as she spoke, allowing every word to sink in. Closing my eyes, I listened as her voice carried me through the conversation. “And when I began training, the other children made fun of me for mine. It was hard. I was chosen by the spirit at two years of age and everyone knew who I was. By the time the other children were beginning to fight, I had already been training for three years.”
Lexa exhaled slowly again, turning within the circle of my arms to face me, the pillow becoming wedged between our bodies. Her eyes remained down as she continued to speak. “The older ones used to call me raccoon eyes and invite me to play with them because we were learning similar things.” She nods during the pause, her eyes lifting to meet mine.
“That’s not too bad,” I attempted to comfort, stroking lines down her back as I watched her green eyes flick back and forth between mine. “I mean, the name sort of sucks but at least...”
“No Clarke, you don’t understand,” she cuts me off before I can continue, pushing away from my body, creating a distance that I only craved to destroy. “They would leave me there... in the woods... alone. Gustus would find me under a tree or crouching next to a log and would have to carry me home, repeating the words ‘Be Strong’ to me.” The catch in her words reminded me only of how bad I fucked up as a single tear made its way from her eyes, racing a streak down the side of her head and falling gently onto the sheets below before she sucked back the air required to make it stop. “’Be strong Heda,’” He would repeat over and over again as he wiped the dirt from my cheeks.”
Sighing against her stare, I lifted a hand to her cheek, kissing her forehead as her eyes dropped. “I’m sorry, Lexa,” I said to her, my lips still tracing marks on her skin.
“A raccoon is not a good commander,” she mumbles into my chest, pulling her body closer to me. “They do not know the art of war.”
After thinking for a moment, I pulled away from the young commander, looking her square in the eyes before I sat up, pulling the picture from where she had left it behind her body. “Do you see this?” I asked her, my thumb pointing to the text under the picture. She nods, sitting up in the bed as well, the pillow still gripped tight to her body. “It says that raccoons are very smart and wash their food to avoid infection. They think with their heads.” She snorts a small laugh before I continue. “No, listen to me. Where their natural reaction is to just eat the food when they are hungry, they know better. They think with their heads, not with their hearts.”
She smiled softly, only a little at first before it grew to cover her face. Leaning in, the woman kissed my lips gently, whispering to me as her hand found the back of my head. “They think with their heads, not their stomachs...”
Laughing with her forehead on mine, I nodded into the woman’s grasp, kissing her lips once more. “So maybe you’re not a raccoon,” I mumble, her lips still grazing mine as I speak.
She smiled at me, the grin filling her face for the first time since I entered her tent. Shoving me away gently, she snorted a small laugh before adding a small “silence your words,” and taking the raccoon picture in her hands. Her fingers traced the edges of the photo as her elbows backed their way into her chest, pulling the picture closer to her heart. “I like it.”
So maybe I fucked up...
But at least I learned something about Lexa...
And Lexa learned that raccoons aren’t that bad.