fragile | clexa

chapter twenty seven

_______________________________

Lexa woke up hours later and felt even worse. She was still exceptionally tired and exhausted, and there was something about her head that just didn't mix well with getting up and doing something productive like checking up on Clarke.

She turned in the bed and silently groaned, looking around the tent for Clarke. It was empty.

A short while later, Clarke came out the bathroom, a few mild red marks over her hands and face like she had just scrubbed off dried paint. Made sense, with the fresh additions to the painting there.

Lexa's mind was too dense to properly notice the enchanting and capitvating full colors, the fine and realistically worked image of herself or the sort of atmosphere the painting had, if that made sense. Her eyes merely managed to fly over a mix of blurred green.

Lexa also only noticed Clarke calling her name the second time she did. Her head turned a little too quickly as she attempted to sit up. "Yes. Yes, I'm here, do you need something?"

Clarke approached with a slight crease inbetween her brows. "Are you okay?"

"Of course, yes, very well. Just a bit of a headache," Lexa explained and her feet moved out of the bed on the floor to stand up. Clarke's hand made contact with her arm before she was fully standing, and it surprised Lexa enough to fall back down on the furs. Clarke wasn't a very bold touching person.

"I think you might be sick Lexa, you're all sweaty, your pupils are dilated, your eyes glassy and you're entirely too pale. You should be checked upon."

"No, no, Clarke, I'm fine, I promise. I need to take care of you. I'm not sick. I haven't been sick in years."

"Okay," Clarke said softly and pushed Lexa back into a lying position even gentler. She pressed the back of her hand against Lexa's forehead. "You're burning up."

"I'm not sick," Lexa repeated with a tiny bit of a slur. "I haven't been sick in years. I need to- I need to take care of you."

"Why don't we get a nice cool compress for you, do you think that sounds good?"

"I don't think I'm so sick."

"Okay. I'll be right back. You just stay lying right where you are."

Clarke took her cane and limped back into the bathroom, her leg hurting a little because she might've walked a bit too long that day. She grabbed towels, wet them with cold water and then was faced with the problem of carrying several heavy, wet towels back to Lexa while she still had to walk.

She decided to hang them around the cane, carry that one and try to walk without it for the few steps.

Clarke was glad Lexa was too far in a haze to notice her panting when she dropped to her knees next to Lexa on the floor. "Here we go," she said once she could breathe again. Her leg had probably not liked the trip to the bathroom very much, but Clarke tried to ignore the increased stinging pain. "I'm gonna wrap two around your legs, alright?"

"My what?"

"Your legs. The ones you walk with."

Lexa didn't argue, so Clarke lifted the blanket, put a dry towel underneath Lexa's calves that the damp ones wouldn't soak all furs, and wrapped the other two as planned. Then, she took a smaller cool towel and placed it on Lexa's forehead.

The brunette sighed at the contact. "I'm so hot," she murmured.

"I know. You're gonna be all fine, I promise. I think it's just a fever."

She got just a hum in response. Clarke grabbed her cane again, forced herself up and, even slower that time, went to the bathroom to grab a fresh glass of water. "Just stay hydrated," she managed once she was back, helped Lexa drink a few sips, and then limped to her side of the bed where she crashed down on with a sharp but quiet intake of breath.