heda | clexa

thirteen

The satisfaction coming from making Lexa blush so hard vanishes in a split second and Clarke inhales sharply.

Her mind inevitably goes back to last night, and she bows her head low before she says, "You can wrap it."

"Are you sure?"

"Fuck, Lexa, can you stop asking and just get it over with?"

Lexa doesn't reply, but she unwraps the bandage and starts her next task quietly. She looks as serious as ever, a little tenser, the softest frown imprinted between her brows. Clarke watches her subtly through the mirror, the way her eyes move attentively, the soft rise and fall of her shoulders. 

There's a ridiculous little thought passing her mind for a second that she'd like to turn around and brush over that frown, to ease it, to let Lexa know that it's a warm, sunny spring morning and there's nothing to worry about.

Of course, despite it being a warm, sunny spring morning, there is plenty to worry about, and so the thought of easing Lexa's tension fades quickly, leaving nothing but a pink flush on her cheeks. 

Clarke isn't sure what makes her ask it in the end, what allows her tongue to be so loose, why the prospect of asking Lexa feels safer than the prospect of asking Luna. "Last night," she starts and Lexa's eyes snap up to meet hers in the mirror.

Clarke can see the exact moment Lexa stops breathing, the exact moment her shoulders stop rising. It's hard to notice, Lexa is so good at hiding these little tells and the mirror is dirty, but Clarke sees and hesitates before she asks, "What happened?"

Lexa's eyes go back to working on the bandage, and her shoulders sink and rise once more. "What do you want to know?"

"Was Luna there?"

"Yes. I asked her for help."

So Clarke's memory is not playing tricks on her.

"Did she kill them?"

"Does it matter?"

"It does to me," Clarke says tensely. 

"No, then. You killed them."

"Why haven't they executed me yet? You said murdering men wasn't legal. I killed three."

"Who knows if you really did? Who knows it wasn't me, or Luna, or the women who watched? Nobody does. And even the enforcements are overwhelmed by a dozen or two women all desperately claiming they killed three men. They concluded it must've been a killer associated with the devil who possessed us."

"Seriously?"

"Yes."

"What? Why? Who had that crazy idea?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does."

"No, it does not."

Clarke frowns and lets the subject drop. She lets the subject drop, but that is not to say she's letting last night drop. There are too many questions, too few memories, too many potential scenarios she wasn't in control of. 

Once again, she didn't have the courage to ask last night, too swayed by the idea of just laying on a soft couch next to Lexa forevermore, the only thing to worry about how many cookies she could eat before being full, too scared of what could have happened. 

"What did they do to me?"

"They drugged you and took advantage of you in a way they shouldn't have."

"I know that, but what did they do? Did they rape me? Could I be pregnant, or-"