Chapter Text
The sound of the shower running pulls Clarke from her dreams. Her heavy eyes peer over to the clock and she lets out a sigh. It’s entirely too early for her to be up. She stretches out in her bed and feels the other side still warm from the body that was previously there. Her Snowshoe, Horus, was perched above her on the headboard of the bed; having an ever watchful eye on his companion. She rubs her eyes as she yawns and looks up at the ceiling fan, reluctant to keep them open. The bedroom was dimly lit from the light that snuck in from the cracked door of the bathroom, Clarke observed as she turned on to her side to face the intruding gleam. It was only then that she noticed she was completely absent of clothing and a wicked smirk materialized on her face. Images of the night before danced around her mind of her drunken stupor and much needed physical release. A delightful sigh left her lips when she hears the sound of rushing water stop. The bathroom door opens moments later and Clarke smiles at Finn emerging from the steam filled room.
“Good morning, princess.” Finn gives her a smirk as he wraps his lower half in a towel. Clarke watches him with heavy eyes as he crawls into bed next to her to kiss her temple. A joyful sound lingers in her throat and she closes her eyes as soon as his lips press against her skin.
“It’ll be even better if you didn’t have to leave me for eight months.” Her voice was thick from sleep and filled with longing.
“Duty calls, Clarke.” Finn props himself up on one elbow and he looks down at her. He slowly brushes a strand of her blonde hair away from her face and tucks it behind her ear. “I’ll be back before you know it.” Finn quickly pecked her lips before getting up and leaving the room.
Horus leaps down onto the bed and they both watch him leave. Clarke can’t help the warm feeling in her chest when she thinks about Finn. They’ve been together for almost three years and when he got down on one knee a month ago, she could swear she would have died of happiness. The thought of him leaving her for a better part of a year makes Clarke feel slightly abandoned. Finn is a fighter pilot; or as Clarke calls him, Flyboy. He needed to catch a flight to a naval base to go underway in a few days time. The only thing that she could hold on to was the fact that when he comes back, they can finally be joined together as man and wife. A spring wedding Clarke thought happily.
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It has been hours since Clarke dropped Finn off at the airport and now it was her turn to get ready for work. The apartment she shared with Finn felt empty to her now and she could only hope she can stay busy to keep her mind occupied. When she steps into the bathroom to start the shower for herself, a flash of brown hair lingers in her peripherals. Clarke turns to see her reflection in the mirror and stares at the woman looking back at her. She does not see her deep blue eyes or her wavy blonde hair in her reflection, but of a woman with long flowing chestnut hair and piercing green eyes. For as long as she could remember, Clarke has seen this woman in every reflection. She’ll drink the woman in her cup of tea. See her passing by in the windows of the building Clarke walked along. The only time she saw her own image was in photographs.
Clarke never spoke of the woman in the mirror to anyone. She wasn’t crazy and Clarke was sure her mother would throw her into the white padded room if she mentioned seeing the woman every where she went. So she kept her a secret and what a lovely secret she was. With lush pink lips and wild dark hair, this woman was beautiful. Clarke ripped herself from the emerald gaze and went right back to the task at hand. She was going to be late if she kept pondering about the meaning of her situation. Stripping off her clothes, Clarke stepped inside the inviting warmth of the water raining down, but her thoughts betray her. Hard green eyes flood her mind again and she can’t help the feeling of longing filling her chest. Clarke looked at herself in the glass of the enclosed shower, meeting the other woman’s gaze. All she could do was smile because even though those eyes made her shudder, she saw something more there. Something that felt like home.
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“You have a new assignment, Griffin.” Clarke looked up from the Victorian painting she was restoring. She lets out a heavy sigh when she saw her boss walking towards her holding a curved sheathed sword.
“I’ll get right on it, Natalia, once I finish with this piece.” Clarke turned her attention back to the painting she was working on.
“That won’t do.” She placed the sword on the table, that was Clarke’s desk. “We just received a large donation to the museum and the donor wants this sword restored to its original glory before the month ends.”
Clarke perched her lips together as she turned towards the sword on her desk. With careful hands, she unsheathed the weapon and looked at the tarnished steel of the blade. Those green eyes peered at her through the blemish.
“Thirteenth century Mongolian sword.” Natalia spoke before Clarke could question. “It’s presumed that Genghis Khan himself used it.” Clarke heard the sound of Natalia’s heels echo away from her.
Clarke squeezed the bridge of her nose as she felt the twinge of pain that was caused by her emerging headache. It wasn’t that she didn’t like her job; Clarke loved it. Restoring artwork brought something out of her that made her feel like she was actually doing something good. Sure, it wasn’t like going to fight off terrorists like Finn was doing or working at a soup kitchen, but Clarke felt like art brought people together and restoring these extraordinary pieces back to life was like preserving history.
She slid the sword back into its sheath and placed it in front of her. Who on earth would pay to have something like this? Clarke thought. Why would anyone want a piece of something that has such a terrible reputation? She shook her head and let out a long sigh. What ever the case was, Clarke just hoped this piece of history wouldn't be staying in her museum.
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“How about Limpet Shell?” Clarke passed around a color palette to her mother. She sat in her mother’s living room later that evening with two of her friends, Raven and Octavia.
“That looks a lot like mint.” Abby took the palette, examining the color. “Are you sure you like this one?”
“You might be color blind, Abby.” Raven teased. “That’s definitely more blueish/green than mint.”
“Well, if you’re going to have that one,” Octavia shifted to get a better look of the color Clarke suggested, “you might want to consider a beach wedding.”
“That doesn’t sound very much like a spring wedding.” Clarke’s shoulders slumped. “I was thinking more of a rustic setting.”
A chuckle escaped Raven.
“Leave it to Clarke to go all hipster on us and go trudging in the woods.”
Clarke laughed at the thought of her friends and family complaining about the bugs and dirt they’ll be battling. She took delight in these moments where she got to spend time with the people closest to her. Sometimes months would go by until they were all together like this; drinking wine while either making plans to get together again or exchanging the latest gossip at their respective careers.
They were truly a diverse bunch when it came to their career choice; her mother was a cardiologist and a damn good one at that. Octavia just landed a job at Polaris, a major privatized military contracting company that was becoming more renown by each passing year. The girl always had a battling spirit about her ever since her and her brother, Bellamy, were left to their own devices when their mother abandoned them. Clarke has known Octavia since they were kids and her parents all but adopted the Blake siblings when things got hard for them.
Clarke looked over at Raven and peered at her prosthetic leg. She remembers how before her accident, Raven worked along side of Finn. She worked on repairing the fighter jets on the carrier they were assigned. That all changed for her one weekend when their group of friends traveled down south for a beach getaway. Everything seemed perfect. Blue crisp skies, the heat seeping into their skin as they drank tropical drinks on the white sandy beach. Everything seemed normal that day as Raven and Bellamy decided to go paddle boarding while Clarke and Octavia sun bathed. Blood curdling screams and flashes of blood and torn flesh was all Clarke could allow herself to remember. She doesn’t want to think about how Finn dashed to aid Bellamy carrying Raven out of the reddening clear water and how her leg was gone.
Clarke blinked away the thought of red and torn flesh that raced behind her eyelids and shook away the chills that crawled up and threatened to engulf her. She scanned the room and observed Abby and Raven looking through a wedding catalog. She watched Octavia leave her side to answer her ringing cellphone. Clarke turned her attention back to her mother and Raven as they looked through different bridesmaid dresses.
“Would you feel comfortable wearing a long or short dress, Rave?” Clarke already knew the answer.
“If we’re going to be in some dirty ass woods, I don’t want to be bothered hiking up my dress all the time. Sign me up for the cute short dress.” Raven leaned back on her hands and stretched out her legs in front of her, crossing them at her ankles. “If you’re worried about the leg…” she smiled brightly, “…don’t. I’ll still look fabulous.”
“A bridesmaid isn’t suppose to pull attention from the bride,” Octavia sat down next to Clarke heavily, “That’s the Maid of Honor’s job.” Even though Octavia had a cheeky smile, Clarke knew her teasing tone was covering up her frustration.
“Bad phone call?” Abby didn’t miss a beat. It was her motherly intuition to know if one of her girls were on edge.
Octavia let out a long sigh and crossed her arms. “It’s Indra again. She’s stressing me out about this quarter’s quota.” she lowered her head, shaking it slowly. “It’s like she’s out to get me. Her and her boss.”
Clarke watches as Octavia slumps back on the couch. Everyone in that room understands why Octavia is putting herself through this rather than looking for another job. She always wanted to feel like she belonged some where and the armed forces always made her feel at home. After Bellamy joined the military, it was only a matter of time before Octavia followed him. The only thing that surprised this little family of theirs was that Octavia chose the private sector.
Before the atmosphere changed completely, Octavia reassured the other women in the room after taking a big gulp of her wine and continued to tease about the fact that she’s the Maid of Honor. As the room began to once again fill with laughter and chatter of whats next and what else needed to be planned, Clarke couldn’t help but feel the swell in her chest. She was happy. With her job, her friends, her life and with Finn. But as much as she thought about what she has now, Clarke couldn’t help but feel that something was on its way. That feeling dug deep into her heart, hibernating and waiting for the spring sun to melt away the icy powder that covered its mystery. The feeling excited her, but it was that feeling that frightened her the most.
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“So I walked through to the haze.”
Her brows furrowed as she examined the hilt of the sword. She was certain there was gold timing there but the inevitable erosion and time claimed the weapon. Why couldn’t it be a mirror from Marie Antoinette or a painting by Raphael? she thought as she pinched the bridge of her nose where she felt a slight throbbing peaking up.
“Now I see you lying there…”
Clarke handled the sword carefully with white gloves and light, but sturdy hands. She kept darting a glance at the green eyed woman in the near perfect blade that quickly back to the handle as if she was getting caught staring. That same feeling she felt days before crept up again. It was the feeling of something coming. She felt like Horus when he sensed something. Might it be something interesting he picked up with his ears turning to catch the frequency or how the fur on his neck would stand up on it ends when Finn got close to him.
“Leave the horror here…”
Clarke didn’t noticed the tall lanky figure appearing in her peripheral. It was only when someone took out one ear bud, removing her from her musical escape, did Clarke fully turn to the people who interrupted her. Pulling the other out, she froze when she saw the woman standing next to her supervisor.
“Clarke Griffin,” Natalia stood up straighter than normal as if someone shoved a 2x4 up her read end. Her name sounded muffled, distant and alien to her. Clarke stared with unblinking eyes at the other woman. Her heart felt as if it were fighting a battle between excitement and pure fear.
The slender, lean figure.
She thought she was hallucinating. That she was possibly still asleep and dreaming or perhaps having a nightmare. She felt her hand tightening around the hilt of the sword, as if getting a hold of something solid to keep her tethered to reality. Or maybe she was getting ready to strike.
Dark, chestnut waves flowing over straight shoulders.
No. She is going crazy. Clarke knew now more than ever. Maybe she needed a sit down with Marcus again. Maybe all she needed was another therapy session with her step-father to clean up all the cobwebs in her mind. Or maybe she was too stressed with her wedding planing or with her job and she should consider taking a floating holiday she’s been saving up.
Fiery yet cold emerald eyes stared back at her. The intensity made her shiver, made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.
“Clarke?” the annoyed voice of Natalia chimed in, pulling her for the hypnotic presence of the other woman. She shook her head, finally blinking and letting go of the breath she didn’t know she was holding in and collected herself.
“I-I’m sorry?” her voice was noticeably shaken. Clarke’s eyes darted between the two women in front of her, only doing so to avoid staring. Her heart was running a marathon in her chest. It felt as if at any moment it’ll just leap out of her to get away from the impending danger.
“I said,” Natalia straightened her blouse and stuck out a hand towards the woman to her right. “I’d like to introduce you to the buyer of the Mongolian piece.”
Without missing a beat, the woman stuck out her hand, her slender fingers straight and secure. Clarke wanted to run. Everything inside of her screamed for her to flee but her feet were rooted to the floor. She looked at the outstretched hand and reached out to grab it with her own, noticing that she was shaking. This is it. This is real. She’s real. Clarke didn’t expect such a warm and soft hand to wrap around her own. It wasn’t firm, but it wasn’t weak. The woman held her hand as if she was delicate, as if she was floating away and wanted to keep Clarke on the ground.
Then she spoke, her voice cool and soft but it sounded thunderous as it reached Clarke’s ears.
“Hello.” She paused, eyes fixed on her. “I’m Lexa Woods.”