fragile | clexa

chapter twenty eight

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Lexa wasn't feeling better after she woke up the evening. It had gone dark outside and quite cold too, for late spring.

The wind was rushing past the tent canvas and the guards had fastened the flap for the fifth time that hour, but it didn't hold back the stormy foretelling of bad weather. It smelled of rain even though the dark clouds hanging deep over TonDC hadn't let the water pour yet, but Lexa didn't take much notice of anything.

Her hearing was dull, like everything going on was muffled, or reached her brain with a delay that the Heda inside of her did not like the least. Being a warrior, and then of such class, required absolute attention all the time, including every single sense working a hundred percent.

Lexa wasn't sure they worked half of their capacity that moment.

She couldn't find herself care further, or even elaborate on the thought of possible danger that was usually rooted so very deep in her, because her head was throbbing and stinging with so much pain it was a rare occurance even for Lexa. Lexa, who had laid half-dead on battle fields stitching herself up. Lexa, who had lived through tortures of Nia without so much as a scream. Lexa, who had felt all kinds of blades in her body over the course of her life.

That woman was now lying between sweat-soaked furs, completely knocked out and so drained of everything that she could do no more than very slowly close her heavy eyelids and reach for somethi-

The teddy bear.

Lexa's eyes went back open and she rolled over like a bag of stones. She forced her sight to stay clear, clear to search for her teddy bear.

And shit, Clarke. Clarke was there too. Where was Lexa's head?

Green eyes flickered tiredly yet very quickly towards the other woman, curled up on the bed and luckily with no one and nothing there that shouldn't be.

Clarke was sleeping and seemed rather content, if Lexa could judge properly. No danger.

Clarke was okay.

The breath Lexa hadn't known she'd been holding passed her lips, and her mind blurred again with the need for her teddy bear. Where was it? Had guards found it and taken it away?

No, that couldn't be, right? Her teddy bear needed to be there.

"Clarke," she found herself whispering. "Clarke," another time, but she didn't register that one.

Her hands were frantically rushing to search around the bed, but the one thing she needed wasn't there, wasn't anywhere she could reach. "Clarke. My bear."

But Clarke was sleeping, and the teddy wasn't there.

"Clarke," a choked call, because Lexa was too far gone to think about the fact that Clarke needed the sleep and actually was not there in the least to look after Lexa's teddy bear.

-

Clarke woke to a soft sob of her name. She needed very little time to figure herself out because with the ruthless cold in the tent hitting her, waking up wasn't a hard process.

The sob had come from Lexa, Clarke realized, and it utterly unsettled her.

She turned her head, and as soon as her eyes caught Lexa, the serious and panic-like fear concerning Lexa crying vanished and was replaced with worry.

There seemed to be no exact, present danger.

Lexa was placed deep in her furs and pillows, tucked in but in a messier way Clarke remembered to have left it, and everything around look damp from sweat.