Chapter Text
The light outside had long since faded into inky darkness when Clarke awoke. The crick in her neck reminded her of the pullout she was sleeping on in Raven’s dingy apartment, though that feeling gave way to relief at being able to put aside her marriage for another night.
Although Clarke was in no way a morning person, she couldn’t help feel strangely alert after sleeping for so long. Groping around blindly for the lights, she switched them on as she wandered into Raven’s small kitchenette. Immediately, her eyes set upon the jar of instant coffee with a note taped haphazardly to it.
Clarke, here’s the coffee we all know you’ll desperately need. The mugs are in the cabinet left of the sink. I also left a spoon out for you. And don’t worry - it’s clean (mostly). Love, Raven.
Clarke was immediately grateful to have friends who knew her well enough to leave out coffee and a (mostly) clean spoon for her. Although she did feel fairly well rested, she made herself just one cup of coffee out of habit, carrying it gingerly to the living room and setting it down on the table in front of her. Sitting down on Raven’s couch, she sipped at her coffee and pondered everything that she had learned in the past day.
It was rough, of course, to have everything mixed up and jumbled in her life, but surprisingly Clarke felt that there were also so many good things in her life. She had wonderful friends, at least. Besides, Clarke thought I could always go back to med school and get my degree. I could still become a doctor. The thought brightened her mood instantly. When she was young she had always wanted to be a doctor, and despite her love of art, Clarke still wanted that for herself. Resolving to make a list of nearby med schools that she could apply to when she came back lifted her spirits immensely as Clarke took yet another sip of her coffee.
As she thought more and more about what her prospective dreams, she recalled the artwork that she had seen in the hospital. Although the prospect of her art hanging in public spaces struck a chord within her, she knew she wasn’t ready to be an artist, not as the person she was currently. She wondered what had changed in the past five years that had made Clarke into a person ready to forgo med school and a stable career for a life as an artist. As if in answer to her thoughts, the glint of her wedding ring caught her eye.
“Of course,” she whispered to herself. It made sense, now that she thought about it. After the death of her father, she had always been reluctant to put herself out there, to be open to exposure and criticism. But 2015 Clarke was in love. She was confident and happy with her life. 2015 Clarke had constructed her own life for herself, something which Clarke couldn’t help be jealous of as she on her friend’s couch in the middle of the night, staring out the window at nothing. (Well not quite nothing, but she supposed that someone pissing on the dumpster wasn’t much of a view).
As she was constantly surrounded by happy relationships, Clarke couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to her life to set her and Finn reeling away from their plan, from their future. She knew that he was going to propose to her; she had found the ring a few months ago (Years ago, she reminded herself), so she couldn’t fathom why they had drifted apart, not when they had been the golden couple who clearly adored each other.
In an instant, she was already on her phone, pulling up his contact information. Because it was so late, she didn’t call or text him, opting instead for a short email message that she hoped would give them a chance to reconnect. Finn being who he was, he had likely moved on already; he was, after all, a total catch. She wrote the email anyway, despite her usual sensibilities.
Hi Finn,
I know it’s been years since we dated, but I’d like to reconnect. I was recently in an accident and suffered some head trauma, so I no longer remember the past five years. The last I remember, we’re still together. I know it’s probably weird for us to talk after so long (I’ve been told you are no longer a fixture in my life), but I’d like to get some closure, if you don’t mind. I’m still trying to understand everything in my life right now, and you’d be a huge help with that.
Sincerely,
Clarke.
She reread the email twice, hoping she didn’t sound too clingy or like she wanted to get back together. She didn’t mention the marriage because she didn’t want to freak him out or make him any more disinclined to help her out. She didn’t even know if he knew that she was married, and thought it would be pretty horrible to mention it, especially considering how much he hated Bellamy back in the day. Taking a deep breath, she finally pressed send. Instead of stressing herself out over the contents of some stupid email, she turns the TV on mute and watches Masterchef, finding something oddly comforting in Gordon Ramsey telling people how shitty their food is.
She went through four episodes in quick succession until Raven finally woke up around five in the morning. Raven wordlessly fixed two cups of coffee, plopping down unceremoniously on the couch beside Clarke as she passed a second cup over to Clarke.Though she didn’t really need it to be awake, she appreciated the sentiment. Raven picked up the remote lightly, turning the volume back on, and Clarke’s ears were immediately assaulted by the sounds of Gordon Ramsey yelling at some poor chef.
They stayed like that for a while, finishing up that episode while lingering over early morning coffee. When they finished up, Raven stood slowly, her empty mug in one hand and her other reaching out for Clarke’s. She handed it to her silently.
“Come on, we’d better get going. I’m going to go get changed. Bathroom’s down the hall.” she paused for a second as she turned away. “Oh, I’ll leave a change of clothes out for you. Go ahead and take a shower.”
Clarke watched at Raven saunter away, pausing in the middle of the hall to adjust her prosthetic. After turning off the TV dutifully, Clarke followed into the bathroom, turning the water on to searing hot before stepping under the stream. The burning droplets hissed against her back, causing her muscles to relax at once, as if someone had zapped the stress from her shoulders. When she stepped out of the shower not fifteen minutes later, she felt infinitely better.
She dried herself off quickly with one of Raven’s towels and grabbed the fresh set of clothes from the bathroom counter, pulling them on carefully over herself so as not to rip her stitches. As a med student (no, former med student) she knew exactly how important that was. When she finished, she gave herself a quick once over in the mirror. It seemed as though the relaxation she felt had come through on her face. Despite her dark circles and uncharacteristically pale skin, Clarke actually looked fairly put together, all things considered. For all that had changed in the past few days (or, well, years), Clarke looked remarkably like herself. Her blue eyes shined back at her, reassuring Clarke that she could indeed make it through all of this, that it would get better. Satisfied with her appearance, Clarke marched out the bathroom door, steeling herself with the years of discipline that living with Abby had taught her.
Lounging across the couch, Raven sat, lazily throwing occasional expletives (in both Spanish and English) at the TV, where some spanish soap opera was playing. Her prosthetic leg was lying on the table in front of her, occasionally being used as an additional prop to wave about in anger. Clarke watched the screen for a minute, occasionally catching a word or two gleaned from her high-school Spanish class.
“Boo, whore!” Raven yells suddenly, startling Clarke.
“Uh, Raven? I’m finished,” Clarke quietly replies.
“Oh, sorry, yeah.” Raven fished around for a second before producing her prosthetic and holding it up in the air so it was fully visible to Clarke. “I’m gonna need an extra minute.”
“Take your time.”
She waited patiently as Raven finished attaching her prosthetic, though it ended up being more than a couple minutes simply because Raven would get distracted somewhere in the middle and return to using her leg as a prop to yell at the screen.
“Okay, done.” Raven sighed. “Come on, let’s go. I’m taking you to your house.”
“The one up in Connecticut?” Clarke queried.
“Yeah, that one. Now get your cute butt in the car before I have to drag you. It’s a bit of a drive.”
Clarke did as she was told, making her way down to the car fairly quickly, considering her operation and all. As she slid into the passenger seat, Raven passed her a cd case marked in red sharpie with “Ultimate Road Trip Car Mix 1.”
“I know you don’t remember, but we made these when we were both, uh..” Raven paused, and Clarke thought this was the first time that she’d seen Raven be awkward, “ … suffering together through some shit. We basically took some time to ourselves and got to know each other. These were kind of the result of that.”
Clarke nodded slowly, putting the disk into Raven’s cd player. The first song blasted loudly through the speakers, starting with a familiar guitar opening that Clarke couldn’t help but sing along to. A smile plastered itself to her face, and by the time the lyrics came in, she’s singing along loudly and poorly to the song, with Raven singing alongside her.
“He seemed impressed by the way you came in….”
They spent the rest of the car ride like that, singing along to the songs they both knew by heart. Some of them were clearly Clarke’s picks, namely some of the slower classical ones. Some were clearly Raven’s, namely the ones solely in Spanish. But most were an amalgam of the two of them. Some of them were songs that she couldn’t remember, presumably having come out after her accident, but Raven would give her a core dump on the artists and songs every time she couldn’t sing along.
As Clarke was putting the third one in, Raven swallowed loudly and took a deep breath.
“Look, Clarke, I know it’s hard for you. I understand that. I don’t know what you’re going through right now, but the rest of us all care about you, okay? We all need you too. I know that it isn’t the best situation for you, but I believe in you, Clarke. You’ve been through some tough shit in the past five years, but you got through all of that, and you can get through this. So when people bring all this shit up that you can’t remember, you have to know that you’ve been through that stuff before. All that stuff you can’t remember, it’s all in the past. I just want you to know that you’re going to get through this. You’re gonna be just fine.”
The whole time she was speaking, Raven never lifted her eyes from the road. For a moment silence filled the cabin of the car, Raven’s words hanging between them awkwardly. Then, instantly, Clarke sighed softly, the air changing in accordance.
“Thank you, Raven. I know we just met, but I feel like I can trust you. So far, you’ve been so good to me. I can’t thank you enough,” Clarke could feel the tears beginning to well up in her eyes. For once, she felt that someone cared about her, for one since she awoke in that cold white hospital, she felt like someone was looking out for her without pity or fear. Raven didn’t pity; she just understood. In an instant moment of clarity, Clarke understood why her and Raven were such good friends.
“I know, Clarke, I know.” For once, Clarke believed it.
They finished the drive in relative silence so that when they finally got out of the car, the neighbourhood noise was like a front row ticket to a rock concert in their sensitive ears. As they climbed out of the small car and made their way up the steps to the small brick house, Clarke couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. For once, she would be able to get away from it all, to be disconnected from the hectic mess that her life had become overnight.
She climbed the porch steps tentatively, running her finger along the painted wood, which was still in near perfect condition. As Raven plucked a key from underneath a potted plant on the porch and fiddled with it, Clarke took in the rest of the house. It wasn’t too large, but it wasn’t too small either, with two stories clearly accented across the skyline. Though it wasn’t the epitome of modern, it was still relatively new, though with a more traditional architecture.
The inside, too, was fairly traditional in style, Clarke noticed when Raven eventually opened the door (though not without some pointed expletives). Some of her father’s favourite chairs were accented in the living room, with classical hardwood furniture populating much of the first floor. Clarke could feel her heart skip a beat as she recognized some of the chairs from her childhood mixed in with the Blakes’ well worn furniture.
It made her sad in a way, to see the whole house in front of her, the remnants of a life well lived, of a life well worn, while knowing that this would come to a quick end. She couldn’t help but feel that this was partially her fault.
“Do you want me to stay here with you?” Raven’s voice echoed throughout the front hall.
“That’s fine, Raven. I really need some alone time.” She really did, and at least knew that this was part of the truth. It was oddly refreshing to be able to say something honestly without hurting anyone around her.
As Raven led her around the house, she barely listened. The house was pretty standard, with a kitchen, two bedrooms, and two baths. It wasn’t too different from her childhood home, in fact, and Clarke couldn’t help wondering if that was part of the reason that they had picked it. Even as she thought that, she felt that it was strange that she had so easily slipped into referring to the two of them as a unit.
“Okay, so you’re all good here?” Raven’s voice startled her from her thoughts.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”
“Good. Don’t forget to call us every couple of days. It’s always reassuring to know that your best friend isn’t dead.”
“Will do” Raven’s car pulled quickly out of the driveway, as her screeching tires broke the silence of the suburban neighborhood. As she watched the car scream wildly down the streets outside her house, Clarke couldn’t help but also feel a little sad. Although she needed some time to think things through, she hadn’t gotten this far yet, hadn’t contemplated what she would do when she was all alone.
Though of course she was happy to be far away from the Blake siblings, she still felt isolated without them. Afterall, it had now been nearly a third of her life that she had known the two of them, so it did, of course, feel wrong, somehow, to be at odds with both of them at once. To make things worse, she knew that Octavia was looking out for Bellamy, and she knew that Octavia was just trying to be a good sister, but she still could not help but feel a little betrayed that her best friend had chosen to attack her for something that wasn’t even her fault.
It wasn’t as though she wasn’t thankful to still be alive, because she was, of course, so happy that she at least didn’t die, but she was, after all, married to Bellamy. It wasn’t as though she hated him, per say, but she didn’t exactly like him either, and she would be lying if she said the thought of sleeping with Bellamy didn’t give her at least some butterflies. To make things worse, she could actually see their dynamic now, how the vicious arguing could give way to passionate sex, how the easy familiarity could translate to cuddling on the couch, how the witty banter could be interpreted as flirting. It was scary to be so intimate with someone, and yet barely know them.
With all these thoughts swirling around in her mind, she did the one thing that had always served to calm her down; she painted. At first it was just angry lines and dashes, filling the canvas with pollock-esque splatters and random variations. But as she calmed down more and more, it slowly translated into an actual image. She began to cluster colors together unintentionally, laying out a scene in blues and greens. As she focused more on what she was actually painting, she shaped the green earth and the blue see, creating some sort of amalgam of Earthy abstraction.
By the time she was finished, she was starving, even though she and Raven had completely pigged out at a gas station for lunch only a few hours before. Clarke had never been one to cook much, but she was able to get by with heating up some frozen pizzas, without even thinking to look at the expiration date. (Sue her, but she was just too tired to care, okay? )
After cleaning up the plates from the living room, where she had watched almost an entire season of Masterchef, Clarke quickly headed upstairs to grab some things from her closet. Although she had already seen the master bedroom, she couldn’t bear to sleep there tonight because she knew it would only remind her of all the things that she had been through. Instead she kept her eyes focused on the closet, pulling out crinkled linens for the second bedroom. It took her moments to dress the bed and fall back onto the cozy sheets beneath her and promptly pass out.