#awtr synopsis

Auld Lang Syne

Or well, parts of it.

By late December that year, Lexa was already not doing well. She'd long since lost her appetite and the holidays had taken a lot out of her. But she tried to be up for the turn of the New Year. Because she'd made it. Another trip around the sun.

In the last year she's refound the love of her life and somehow tricked the little troublemaker into marrying her. She'd made friends - actual real friends, ones who cared. She'd swam in the ocean and picked apples from a dozen different orchards and got felt up in the backseat of a car as though she was living some teenage cliche. She had naked breakfast in bed and didn't sleep alone and remembered what it felt like when someone who loved her kissed her forehead after braiding her hair. She had her first date and first kiss and found what it actually meant to live. She found her best friend. The kind of best friend she used to dream about finding all those days spent as a lonely child, wishing someone would just see her. The best friend who just so happened to be her first and last love as well. All rolled into one. All in one very, very good year.

She had a lot to celebrate.

Just, not a lot of energy left to do it.

So sipped her sparkling cider while Clarke got more rosy cheeked from her champagne, and enjoyed the tart taste of the bubbles on her tongue when they kissed at midnight. And while Abby and Kane and Gus and Raven and the few other Griffins who had overstayed their welcome from Christmas cheers-ed and hugged, Lexa sat bundled up on her dad's couch and sang a few quiet lines to her wife. Barely loud enough for anyone other than her to hear over the screen of other kissing couples packed into Times Square as they rang in a New Year.

Every year after that, NYE is a hard day for Clarke because after a few years, she starts to understand why Lexa had pushed herself to stay up and join in and be merry that night. Why she had pulled Clarke down to sit with her and effortlessly made herself the focus of Clarke's entire world in that moment. Why she had sung that exact song, and those exact lines to only her.

I hate you 💕

(Blame them for this not me I'm innocent)

You are a glutton for punishment

I like you 😈

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My Dearest,

Each letter I start feels so awkward in the beginning. As though the blank page itself were mocking me. All bumbling sentences and half-formed thoughts vying for my attention, because how does one get to the point when there's so many things between us left to say? A lifetime worth of words live on the point of this pen, all yearning and jumbled in their haste to be written first. Each one wanting nothing more than to jump right into the thick of it; into the thick of being part of a lifetime with you.

And yet here I sit, struggling with exactly where to start.

I suppose I could begin with the most mundane part of this idea: the actual point of this letter. Forcing myself to tackle the 'why' of the whole reason you picked this one in particular sounds like the smart move here... Assuming, of course, you didn't tear through them all the first second you got... *wifely sigh* If that is the case, don't feel too bad. Your lack of patience is, bafflingly, one of the many things I love so fiercely about you.

You're 30 today.

30!

My wife is 30. I love hearing how that sounds. The thought alone makes my heart skip a beat. (In a decidedly joyous way, I assure you, as it so often does whenever you wander yourself across my mind.) You're 30 now. An honest God adult in every measure, and truthfully that blows my mind because I still vividly remember seeing you for the first time when we were only children. It was drizzling and you'd crashed into me on the playground while running, and I—

Well, you've heard this story enough times before, but my point remains.

You're sleeping peacefully as I write this. Safe and warm in my bed. Tucked to me so tight I can barely hold the pen well enough to get these words out, and yet all I can envision when I look over and see the youth of your face is who you will be when this letter reaches you.

Know, in every version of 'you' my brain tirelessly cooks up, you are as beautiful then as you are right now. If not more so.

I envision that same smile, with those lips that sweeten my dreams, nestled in the crest of newly discovered laugh lines. I see the kindness of your eyes in every universe, my love. The way those same stubborn and fierce blues that take my breath away hold a depth of wisdom far beyond your (30!!) years. You told me once how you hated your beauty mark as a kid, but my goodness, the things I do to wrap my lips around it. Believe it or not, I secretly have impeccable aim. Stop laughing, I do. It's just too tempting. I can't even begin to resist. And your chin! Your wonderul chin, that was surely made to hold my thumb so perfectly each time I kiss you. I imagine it's somewhat sharper now. More refined. More dignified.

Tell me, love. Does it hold another's thumb now?

It should. It deserves to be cherished.

I find myself so often in these quiet moments before sleep thinking of who you are - who you will be - at these stages of your life. And while I know in my heart I'll be right there with you when these times come, smiling and cheering you on along the way, for now, I am left woefully guessing.

I write this all to say: I hope you are happy. I hope you have a life filled with more love than you know what to do with. I hope it makes you feel even a tenth as timeless as your love made me feel. Being loved by you is a miraculous thing in that way.

It's funny, as I've written these letters, I already feel as though I've lived an entire lifetime with you. And even then, it's still not enough. In the earlier ones I worried so much, as I'm sure you remember (again, that's assuming you actually followed the directions for a change and didn't binge them all at once), but I find myself writing this one in particular entirely calm. Make no mistake, I still feel the urge to dote on you. To fuss at you as I do with questions of 'have you drank enough today? Eaten enough? Take a nap with me, dear. You never seem to get enough sleep.' I will always worry about these things no matter where we are in the universe. But understand, love, it's only because I wish to take care of you.

Not that you need it. You've never needed me to take care of you, but I'm so very grateful you let me try all the same.

You're gonna do great things, Griffin. I already know it, but for posterity's sake, I'll write it just to have one final 'told ya so' moment with you. I hope your life is so damn big now that you look back on the walls of this room that held our love in its sanctuary, and it impresses you how we managed to fit the both of us in here along with it. I hope with each dream you accomplish, it's replaced only by what great thing comes next for you. Because while the world is cold and terrifying and beats us down in so many ways, I know you, my darling girl. I know you're the one who can always best it.

I love you, Clarke. I've loved you since before I knew I could have you, and I'm going to love you long after I'm gone. I hope I made you know that in the time we had together, well enough to last this lifetime and into the next. I'll be here, love. Patiently waiting for you to crash into me again.

Wherever you are in this moment, know that I am so proud of the woman you've become. I want you to spend every last second of today celebrating the wonderful, stubborn, charming, passionate, fearless, tender person you are.

Don't ever let that fire inside of you die. I couldn't bear it. The world needs more people like you.

Lord knows I sure did.

Thank you for teaching me what selfless love is. Loving you made me a better person. And I'd like to think I played at least a little part in helping you become who you are too. So celebrate today. And every single day after. I mean it. You deserve it.

Until we meet again,

- Lexa

Of course they didn't know.

It was one of those things they couldn't have known. It's like the last time you tie the laces on your favorite old pair of shoes, or the last time your parents picks you up and carries you to bed. It was just one of those things you take for granted because it feels so much like home you never imagine it not being a part of your life, and it's only later that you realize that it was the last time.

Fuck, the amount of times Clarke wishes she would've known.

She would've taken more time.

Would've stretched the evening out longer.

Would've lived without those few extra hours of sleep. Because Lexa had been fading and every day was becoming a struggle, but she'd still pulled Clarke into her with that same hunger that seemed to light her up from the inside.

And Clarke remembers so clearly looking down at her wife as she'd sat silent and hopeful on the edge of their bed. Face washed in the glow of the late afternoon sun with a questioning in her eyes. That questioning look of "Do you still want this? Want me?" "Is it ok for me to ask for this, even though I'm not... not like I used to be?" The way her eyes looked so pale under the marbled purple of her eyelids, the grey pools of them pleading with her, as if saying, "I'm hurting, and I need you, baby. Make me forget a little while?"

And she had. Or at least tried to. Clarke wishes she'd taken a moment to ask. But she'd done everything she could think of to make Lexa feel whole. Like she was loved. Like she was a person again.

So she kissed her and undressed her and smiled with wolfish intent as she guided them both up the bed. She nipped at her chin and ran her teeth along that fucking immaculate jaw, and cackled at Lexa's whines when she'd make her chase her lips for a proper kiss. She sucked marks to her bellybutton, hipbones, and thighs, and bathed in the surprised sound of Lexa's laughter when she smacked a palm to her ass.

She moaned when Lexa smeared some of her slick across the tender peaks of Clarke's nipples, and then dutifully sucked them clean. Tasting herself on Lexa's tongue always felt like a damn gift from heaven, but tasting her wife's come on those plump lips was somehow even better. They held hands and worked each other up. Begged for more fingers to feel more full. They teased and joked and hid smiles into the soft skin of each other's necks, and very much made each other forget for awhile.

It was that middle ground they always revelled in - not quite sensual, never just fucking. It was both playful and intense. Both sweat soaked climaxes and smiles so big their teeth clicked through their kissing. Because Clarke wasn't just making love to her wife, she was enjoying intimacy, closeness, and healing with her best friend.

Oh in the happy alt version Clarke's a bone marrow match 💁‍♀️

When she falls for Lexa and then finds out she's sick, she gets herself tested and she's a match. There's still a long road to go for Lexa's treatments and chemotherapy and then recovery, but they make it through. Together.

Lexa eventually goes to college and graduates with a masters degree in political science. Clarke switches her major from art to internal medicine and ultimately focuses on oncology. Because well, that's what saved her girlfriend's life. They eventually get married, but it's not until after their junior year of college. What with Lexa's dream career as a political strategist beginning to take shape and Clarke standing on the edge of heading on to medical school, they decide it's better to do it now than waiting around for some vague finish line in the distance.

They settle down on the east coast, close to the capital of course, for Lexa's work, but still only a mildly inconvenient car ride away from their parents and hometown. They eventually adopt a daughter and then twin boys a couple years after that, and when they add a dog to the mix they decide that's more than enough to make their little family whole.

See? Alternate happy ending

Challenge accepted?

They get married in late August, and Clarke lays her to rest at the very beginning of the following spring in March. Which was longer than any of the doctors had imagined possible, but Lexa seemed pretty determined to spend at least one Christmas and Valentine's day together 😔.

They go apple picking in the fall and carve pumpkins for the window display at the shop and take a week long road trip along the coast to see all the fiery range of foliage. They dress up as Peter Pan and an extremely appreciated sluttier version of Wendy for Halloween just to get tipsy on hard apple cider on the front porch while handing out candy to the neighborhood kids.

For Christmas they make new stockings together and watch White Christmas and Meet Me in St. Louis and every other classic holiday movie that is vaguely musical on repeat just so Clarke can make Lexa sing a long to every song. They exchange gifts and bake cookies that Lexa doesn't really have the appitite to eat, but that's alright. It's more just to make the memories together anyway. Clarke manages to talk Lexa into making a little pair of sapphic snow angels in the yard, aaaand then spends the rest of the evening warming a very shivery Lexa back up by the Griffin's home fire 🤦🏼‍♀️

For Valentine's Lexa employs Abby and Gus of all people to go to the store in the city for her to get bags of tiny chocolates and those little cards kids give each other in grade school. 365 little valentines to be exact, and yes she makes her father count them for her - twice -, and she writes loving notes and sweet words of devotion for her wife. She puts them in box along with a thick stack of letters wrapped in a satin bow, each labeled with a day or an age or a big life event written in her elegant script across the top of the envelope. And she makes Clarke sit with her on the bed because she doesn't have a lot of leftover strength by then, and she explains her thoughts with her gift.

She explains that she knows the next year will probably get pretty dark at times. But that even on the bad days, when everything feels hopeless, and ugly, and bitter, Clarke will still always deserve to enjoy the small things in life. To take at least one moment each day and allow herself to enjoy the little things that make living just a little bit sweeter. And she explains that while maybe the letters feel a tiny bit morbid ("I really went back and forth on these. I didn't want it to feel like I was talking to you from beyond the grave 🤨" as Lexa puts it very seriously), they're meant to be little reminders that no matter what happens, Lexa is right there with her every step of the way. She says her favorite thing in the world has always been books (yes yes besides Clarke of course 😏🙄 "I can't believe I agreed to marry you. You're so full of yourself") because she believes something magical happens in the process of putting words on pages. That she believes when you take the time to put down your thoughts and your feelings onto paper, you leave a little piece of your soul scattered among the words. And now she knows Clarke will have these pieces of her, along with all her support and all of her love. And that on the big days of Clarke's future... like her graduation, or getting her dream job... getting remarried, maybe one day having kids... That should Clarke ever need or want to hear how proud she is of her, everything Lexa feels for her is just an envelope away.

Well their first date would happen after Clarke blows Lexa off.

After a few weeks of her bumming around the bakery daily to read and get a head start on studying for the upcoming semester of grad school (which Lexa has begrudgingly yet graciously been helping her with since, somehow, she seems to have a working knowledge on just about any damn topic Clarke can think of). And so it was an admittedly shit head move when Clarke had been out having lunch with a couple old friends from high school and saw Lexa stop at the same spot. When Lexa had paused when she saw her and took step toward the group to smile and wave. When Clarke had immediately looked away and pretended like she didn't know her, like she hadn't seen her standing there at all. Like she hadn't seen and didn't die a little inside when that lopsided smile broke and shuttered behind a cool look of realization.

Basically when, instead of acting like a decent 23 year old woman with some damn manners, Clarke had acted like it was grade school, middle school, and high school all over again.

And so, she has some making up to do. Because when she slinks back into Gus's the next day, it is to zero fanfare. No warmness or exasperated smile at the sound of the tinkling bell marking her arrival. No usual coffee order already waiting for her. Certainly no free muffin waiting on a well-loved dish that she'd grown quite fond of as of late.

It's all steely eyes and clenched jaw. Lexa barely sparing a glance up from whatever newest book she was reading that day. Just silence soaked in disdain, only broken by the sound of a pointedly flipped page.

And that really fuckin sucks.

So Clarke does what Clarke does best. She turns on the charm. The smooth words and playful banter and the patented Griffin Grin, and and and... and not one single bit of it works.

Shit.

It takes her a bit figure out what to do because honestly she doesn't know if she's ever felt more miserable in her life. Not having her days filled with that humming and those terrible jokes and that voice that is entirely more lovely than it had any right to be. Which weird, because this is Lexa— intimidating, sweet, dorky, brilliant, nerdy, gorgeous Lexa. The one she kind of wants to be around all the time now and hates herself for her knee jerk reaction over.

And so she does the only other thing she can really think of to do.

Make an absolute ass out of herself.

Humble herself at Lexa's doorstep and hope at some point she'll edge the door open and welcome her back in.

And by humble herself, I mean post her ass up outside the bakery every waking hour she gets. Making sad puppy eyes through the window, forehead pressed sorrowfully against the glass. Painting a fancy new chalk sandwich board for the shop and adding more and more ridiculous things onto "the daily specials" in the hope just to make Lexa laugh (while not potentially getting maimed by Gus himself 😬)

It takes a minute but eventually Lexa just gets kinda fed up with it one day and goes outside with every intention to tell her to just go home. But somewhere in her tirade Clarke snaps back too, until they're both glaring at each other on the front curb of Gus's shop. Well... glaring as Clarke backs Lexa up against the display.

More accurately, glaring as Clarke backs Lexa up against the display window, all while telling Lexa that she's sorry and that she's more than proven that she's sorry. That she'll invite every damn friend she ever had in high school there right now just so they can witness her say how much she likes spending time with Lexa, and misses her, and how she's been miserable since the last time they talked because she can't really remember the last time she was as happy as she's been sitting in that cramped little bookstore, listening to Lexa teach her the most random things about the world in between bouts of singing to herself while she stocks.

It honestly is a blessing when Lexa shuts her up with a kiss. Just a little one. Hesitant barely more than a brush of her lips.