Hey Princess

You Scared Me

I WOULD RECOMMEND READING THE AUTHOR'S NOTE UNTIL THE END... JUST SAYING.

If you can't already tell, I'm using a season 1 Murphy because I need an asshole. And I'm making Clarke's mom super nice and cool because I'm also watching Person of Interest right now and with Paige Turco as Zoe I cannot possibly make her mean or bitchy in any way. Good job for you if you followed that last sentence! Also, good job if you're reading this and not skipping past it. If you're reading this, comment something (literally anything. I'm giving you free range) and I'll put it in the next chapter. This should be fun, happy reading!

Lexa POV

My eyes lazily flutter open, casually glancing around at my surroundings. I realize I'm in a completely new room, laying on a rather comfortable bed. The second thing I realize is that my head hurts like a bitch. I have no idea how I got here or why my head hurts, and I feel quite alarmed. However, before I can start the full panic mode, I hear someone from across the room.

"Lexa? Are you up? Or is this another false alarm and I'm just talking to myself... again," I hear a sweet, concerned voice call out. I try to respond to this mystery girl but my throat is dry and I can barely squeak out any noise at all. I manage to grunt a little, which I guess alerts the woman because immediately I hear her pad towards my general direction.

"Here, you must be thirsty," she says, handing me a glass of water. I squint past the light and notice it's Clarke. Maybe that's why I feel a calm state replace my previous alarm. At least that's the who part of my who, what, where, when, why thought process. I still cannot figure out where I am or how I got here, but I do recognize the burning ache of thirst in my throat so I grab the glass and drink greedily. I would like to think that I maintain some of my dwindling dignity while drinking, but the water dripping down my chin and seeping into my shirt disagrees. She smiles softly at the sight, but it makes me even more self-conscious. With my thirst quenched, and my chin mostly dried, I begin to ask my questions.

"Where am I?" I croak, displeased with the way my voice sounds right now.

"You're at my house. You were losing a lot of blood, but you refused to go to the hospital or even go to the nurse. My mom's a doctor and I have some minor medical training so this is the best I could do," she responds. She seems to be carefully choosing her words, but everything she says just produces more questions.

Is that why my head hurts? How did that even happen? Who do I have to pummel? What time is it? How long have I been out? How'd I get here? I really don't want the answer to that one. Who else knows I'm here? 

I decide to go with my first two questions.

"Yeah, as far as we can tell Murphy pushed you down the stairs while your back was turned. You cut open a big chunk of your forehead, that was the worst of it and also the cause of the massive headache you probably have right now. It might be hard for you to breathe for a little while as well, it seems like your chest was pretty bruised up too. Other than a few minor cuts and bruises here and there, it's nothing too bad. You're pretty lucky. Can't say the same about Murphy, you completely kicked his ass. He'll be out of school for a few days if we're lucky," she answers. I let the information sink in, and with it comes a few memories of the incident. My back throbs at the memory of the kick, but mostly my anger just flares while thinking about it. Still, one question is left unanswered, the one I'm dreading.

"And um, how did I get... you know, back here," I ask, cringing at the awkwardness of the question. 

"You were laying on the pavement when you collapsed in my... well you sort of collapsed in my arms I guess. So I um picked you up and carried you to Bellamy's car. It was a short walk, and nobody but Bellamy saw. He drove us to your house and helped me carry you in. After he left I brought you to the bed, and you've been out for an hour or two. The time kind of blurred together, it was pretty hectic. I thought I might have a comatose body on my bed, and that's no fun," she answers, joking slightly at the end. However, she can't hide the slightly pink tint her cheeks and ears take when retelling the story of carrying me. I can't blame her, if I wasn't so disoriented I would probably be blushing too.

Our eyes lock and I see something in them that grabs me and won't let go. My eyes trail over her face, and it's suddenly the most interesting thing that I've experienced today. She seems to be doing the same thing, but I cannot fathom that she can possibly be as entranced with me as I am with her. I feel myself begin to lean in, at an infinitesimally slow rate. I try to turn away but I can't. I try to pull back but I can't. It's like she's a magnet, drawing me closer and holding me there. I ache for contact but I also dread for the moment it comes.

Suddenly, the door opens and an older brunette woman walks through holding a first aid kit. I shake my head and Clarke's head immediately flips towards the door.

"Sorry it took me so long Clarke. We don't normally use this- Oh Lexa, you're awake, wonderful!" she exclaims rather cheerfully. 

"Hey Mom! Thanks, she just woke up a few minutes ago but I can see from the way she's wincing that she's got a killer headache," Clarke responds, equally as cheery. My eyebrows furrow a little bit. How did she know that? I try to guard myself a little better, mask my face and limit my movements so that I don't show any more signs of discomfort. 

"I just want to take a look again, change the dressings, and then you should be all set to go home. But, if you want, tonight's a lasagna night. And I make a mean lasagna, if I do say so myself," Clarke's mom says, letting the invitation hang in the air. I smile slightly at this woman's kindness. However, I know I can't stay for dinner. It's too far past my personal code to even pretend to accept this offer. However, I'm not rude.

"Sorry, my siblings are probably very worried about me. Not to mention I've already intruded upon a large portion of your evening. Maybe next time, Ms. Griffin."

"Next time it is. I'm holding you to that, and I have a great memory. Also, please, call me Abby," Clarke's mom responds. I smile and nod in response. She rechecks my head and even gives me some gauze and ice for the trip back.

"Let me at least offer you a ride home," Clarke offers. My only other option is walking so I nod, grab my backpack, and walk with her out to the car. As we climb in, I turn on my phone and check the notifications.

22 texts and 4 missed calls. 

The calls are all from Anya and the texts are mostly Aden, but a few from Anya and two from Indra. I send a quick text to Anya just with a brief overview of where I am, I'll give her details later.

"You scared me," I hear Clarke mumble from the driver's seat.

"What?" I ask, just sort of making sure she actually meant to say that.

"When I got there you were all bloodied up and then you just kind of passed out. You scared me," she repeats sincerely. She doesn't say it very loudly, but the underlying tone of her voice speaks volumes. 

"I can take care of myself, Princess," I respond coolly, not knowing how to respond to this confession.

"I just thought you should know," she mutters softly. Neither of us speak for the rest ride, the sound of the GPS filling the otherwise silent car. Finally, we pull up at my house and I see Anya open the door, with a face full of relief and anger. Tonight's going to be full of questions.

"Don't you have a parent who's worried about you? You didn't mention anything like that at my house," she asks upon seeing Anya.

I shake my head in response.

"A legal guardian then?" she asks, concerned.

"That'd be Anya," I say plainly.

"But-" she begins.

"Look Princess, you have your family and I have mine," I snap, silencing her. I grab my bag and walk away, leaving a stunned Clarke in my wake. As I approach Anya she slaps my arm, painfully hard, and pulls me into a rough hug before walking in with me trailing after her. Aden bounces over to me and begins the interrogation. I sigh and watch a still stunned Clarke drive away. This is going to be a long night.