Chapter Text
The diner’s neon sign buzzed faintly, casting a soft glow onto the rain-slicked pavement. It was the kind of place that never truly closed, where the coffee was endless, and the patrons were as worn as the faux-leather seats. Clarke Griffin wiped her hands on her apron, watching the rain through the window. It was a slow night—too quiet, too still. She welcomed the sound of the bell over the door.
Lexa slipped inside, shoulders hunched under a weathered military jacket. Water dripped from the ends of her dark hair, pooling on the tile floor. She paused just inside, scanning the room with a soldier’s vigilance. Her sharp green eyes landed on the counter, and she approached it with measured steps, like every movement was a calculated effort.
Clarke couldn’t help but notice her. There was something commanding about her presence despite the worn boots and exhaustion etched into her face.
“Coffee?” Clarke asked, already reaching for the pot.
“Yeah,” Lexa said, her voice rough. “And whatever’s hot.”
Clarke nodded, pouring the coffee before disappearing into the kitchen to grab a bowl of soup and a slice of pie. When she returned, Lexa was sitting stiffly at the counter, hands wrapped tightly around the mug like it was the only warmth she’d known in days.
Lexa ate with mechanical efficiency, her eyes darting toward the window every so often. Clarke leaned against the counter, trying not to stare.
“So, you passing through?” Clarke asked casually.
Lexa hesitated. “Something like that.”
“Army?” Clarke guessed, noting the patches on Lexa’s jacket.
“Was,” Lexa replied curtly.
Clarke didn’t push. She’d seen enough people like Lexa to know when someone wasn’t ready to talk. Instead, she let the silence settle as Lexa finished her food. When she was done, Lexa pushed the plate away and reached into her jacket pocket. Clarke noticed the way her shoulders tensed just before she muttered, “Damn it.”
“Problem?” Clarke asked, though she already had a pretty good idea.
“I thought I had cash,” Lexa admitted, her voice low. “I don’t.” She glanced at Clarke, a mixture of frustration and resignation in her expression. “I’ll wash dishes or something to cover it.”
Clarke studied her for a moment, then shook her head. “Don’t worry about it.”
Lexa frowned. “I can’t just—”
“It’s fine,” Clarke interrupted. “I’ll cover it. Consider it on the house.”
The words didn’t sit well with Lexa. She opened her mouth to argue but stopped when she saw the look on Clarke’s face—kind but firm.
“Thanks,” Lexa muttered, though it sounded like it cost her something.
“You’re welcome,” Clarke replied, then added, “But if you’re serious about the dishwashing thing, we’re short-staffed.”
Lexa blinked. “You’re offering me a job?”
Clarke shrugged. “You need one, don’t you?”
Lexa leaned back, her gaze narrowing slightly. “You don’t even know me.”
Clarke smiled. “Maybe not, but I’ve got a good feeling. Besides, you can’t be worse than the last guy we hired.”
Lexa considered this for a moment, then nodded. “Alright. Deal.”
Clarke extended a hand, and Lexa shook it—a firm grip, calloused but steady.
“Welcome aboard,” Clarke said. “You can start tomorrow.”
As Lexa left, Clarke watched her disappear into the night, already wondering what kind of story had brought her to this place. Whatever it was, she had a feeling it wasn’t finished yet.
…
The sun was barely up when Lexa arrived at the diner. Clarke had just finished turning on the lights, the soft hum of fluorescents filling the empty space. She wasn’t expecting Lexa for another hour, but there she was, standing by the door in jeans and a plain black t-shirt. Without the military jacket and the haunted look in her eyes, she almost looked…ordinary. Almost.
“You’re early,” Clarke said, unlocking the door to let her in.
Lexa shrugged, stepping inside. “Didn’t have anywhere else to be.”
Clarke’s brow furrowed briefly, but she let it slide. “Alright, come on. Let me show you the ropes.”
The diner was quiet except for the faint hiss of the coffee machine as Clarke led Lexa through the basics. She explained where everything was—plates, silverware, the industrial coffee pots—and demonstrated how to use the register. Lexa listened intently, nodding at the right moments but offering little in the way of conversation.
“You ever work in a diner before?” Clarke asked as she handed Lexa an apron.
“No,” Lexa replied, tying it around her waist. “But I learn fast.”
Clarke raised an eyebrow. “Good, because the breakfast rush can get crazy. Just stick close to me, and you’ll be fine.”
…
For the next few hours, Lexa moved through the diner with a quiet efficiency that surprised Clarke. She wasn’t particularly warm with the customers, but she wasn’t rude either. Her movements were precise, her focus unshakable, and by the end of the shift, Clarke couldn’t help but feel impressed.
“You’re a natural,” Clarke said as the last customer left.
Lexa smirked faintly. “It’s not rocket science.”
“Don’t let the regulars hear you say that,” Clarke joked, wiping down the counter. “Some of them treat their coffee orders like an art form.”
Lexa chuckled softly, a sound that caught Clarke off guard. It was the first time she’d heard anything close to laughter from her.
As the day wound down, Lexa stayed behind to help Clarke clean up. Together, they wiped tables, swept the floor, and restocked supplies. Clarke found herself sneaking glances at Lexa, curious about the woman who had walked into the diner with nothing but a jacket and a guarded expression.
When the last chair was stacked, Clarke grabbed her coat. “Alright, that’s it for today.”
Lexa followed her outside, the cool evening air biting against their skin. Clarke turned to lock the door, then glanced at Lexa.
“So,” Clarke began, trying to sound casual, “where are you staying?”
Lexa hesitated, her jaw tightening. “Nowhere.”
Clarke frowned. “Nowhere as in…”
“As in nowhere,” Lexa said evenly. “I’ve been crashing in my truck when I can, but it’s not exactly reliable.”
Clarke stared at her, the pieces falling into place. The military jacket, the lack of cash, the early arrival. “You don’t have a home,” she said softly, more a statement than a question.
Lexa met her gaze, unflinching. “Not anymore.”
Clarke’s heart ached at the blunt honesty in Lexa’s tone. She wanted to press further, to ask how this had happened, but she knew better. Instead, she sighed. “Look, we’ve got a couch in the back of the diner. It’s not much, but it’s warm, and it’s better than your truck.”
Lexa’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t need charity.”
“It’s not charity,” Clarke said firmly. “It’s an offer. You’re helping me out by working here, so let me help you.”
Lexa hesitated, her pride warring with practicality. Finally, she nodded. “Alright. Just for now.”
“Just for now,” Clarke agreed with a small smile.
As they walked toward their respective vehicles, Clarke couldn’t shake the feeling that Lexa’s arrival was more than chance. Something told her this was the beginning of something neither of them could fully understand yet.
…
The diner was dark and quiet, the hum of the refrigeration units the only sound as Lexa settled onto the worn leather couch in the back room. Clarke had thrown her a blanket and a pillow before leaving for the night, and while it wasn’t luxurious, it was better than the cramped cab of her truck. Lexa stretched out, the ache in her shoulders and back easing as she sank into the cushions.
She let her eyes wander across the room. The walls were lined with shelves of canned goods and supplies, a functional, unadorned space. On a small table sat a framed picture. Lexa leaned forward to get a better look.
It was Clarke, younger but unmistakable, her blonde hair loose and wild. She stood between an older man and a woman with the same sharp blue eyes. Clarke was laughing, her face lit up with unguarded joy. Lexa stared at the image for a moment longer than she intended, then lay back down, pulling the blanket over her. The picture stayed with her as she drifted into an uneasy sleep.
…
The smell of fresh coffee roused her the next morning. Lexa opened her eyes to find Clarke standing nearby, holding a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in one hand and a mug in the other.
“Morning,” Clarke said, setting the plate on the table.
Lexa sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Morning,” she replied, her voice gravelly.
“I figured you could use some breakfast,” Clarke said, handing her the mug. “It’s not much, but it’s hot.”
“Thanks,” Lexa said, taking the coffee. She sipped it, savoring the warmth as she looked at Clarke. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“Maybe not,” Clarke said, sitting on the edge of the table, “but I wanted to. Besides, I didn’t think you’d complain about free food.”
Lexa smirked faintly. “Fair point.”
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment before Clarke spoke again. “So, how’d you sleep?”
“Better than I have in a while,” Lexa admitted. “That couch is surprisingly comfortable.”
Clarke laughed softly. “I know, right? It’s been here forever. I think it’s technically an antique.”
Lexa’s lips twitched in amusement, but the moment passed quickly. Her gaze drifted to the picture on the table, and Clarke followed her eyes.
“That’s my family,” Clarke said, her tone softening. “My parents and me. My dad opened this diner years ago. I kind of grew up here.”
Lexa nodded, her expression thoughtful. “You seem close.”
“We were,” Clarke said, her voice tinged with sadness. “My dad passed away a few years ago. My mom moved away not long after. It’s just me now, keeping the place running.”
“I’m sorry,” Lexa said, her voice low but sincere.
Clarke shrugged. “It’s life. We all lose people, right?”
Lexa’s jaw tightened at the words, and Clarke noticed the flicker of pain in her eyes. “Yeah,” Lexa said after a moment, “we do.”
The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was heavy with unspoken truths. Clarke didn’t push, and Lexa didn’t offer more. Instead, Clarke gestured toward the plate.
“You should eat before it gets cold,” she said.
Lexa nodded and picked up the fork. As she ate, Clarke leaned back, watching her with a mix of curiosity and quiet concern. She didn’t know much about Lexa, but she could tell that the woman sitting in front of her carried more weight than she let on. And though she couldn’t explain why, Clarke felt a pull—a need to help shoulder that weight, even if only a little.
When Lexa finished, she stood and stretched, the stiffness of the night fading from her limbs. “Thanks,” she said, setting the empty plate on the table.
“Don’t mention it,” Clarke replied with a smile. “Ready for another day?”
Lexa nodded. “Yeah. Let’s get to it.”
As they stepped into the main diner, the morning sun streaming through the windows, Clarke found herself wondering what it would take to get Lexa to open up. For now, though, she was content to let the walls stay up. There was time.
…
The morning had started like any other. The sun barely peeking over the horizon, the familiar jingle of the bell above the diner door, and the steady hum of the coffee machine. Clarke had already made the first pot of coffee and was wiping down the counter when Lexa arrived, as punctual as always, her military jacket a little more worn than the last time Clarke saw it.
“Morning,” Clarke greeted, offering her a smile, though Lexa’s return was more of a grunt than anything remotely resembling enthusiasm.
“Morning,” Lexa muttered, dropping her bag on the counter and pulling her hair back into a messy ponytail. She was silent for a moment, clearly still waking up, before she gave a small nod. “I’ll take the usual.”
Clarke grinned, already moving to fill the coffee pot. “Coming right up.”
They fell into the rhythm of their usual day—Lexa wiping down tables and prepping the counter while Clarke handled the register and orders. It was quiet for the first few hours, just the sound of the occasional clink of dishes and the steady drip of coffee being poured. Everything was calm until the door chimed, signaling the arrival of a customer.
He was an older man, dressed in a suit that looked a little too expensive for the diner. His eyes scanned the room as he made his way to the counter, his gaze stopping on Lexa as she finished wiping down a table.
“Excuse me,” he barked, his voice already sharp. “I ordered a coffee a few minutes ago, and I’m still waiting.”
Clarke watched as Lexa straightened, a small frown pulling at her lips. She didn’t seem surprised. If anything, she looked like she had dealt with people like this before.
“Sorry, sir,” Lexa said, her tone flat but polite. “I’ll get that right to you.”
The man huffed, crossing his arms as he glared at her. “It’s about time. You’d think someone who’s been working here for so long would know how to get an order right.”
Clarke felt a familiar pang of irritation flare up, but she kept her cool, slipping over to the counter as the man continued to scold Lexa.
“Is there a problem here?” Clarke asked, her voice firm but friendly, offering a look to Lexa that said she had this under control.
The man turned to her, his eyes narrowing. “Your employee doesn’t seem to understand that I ordered coffee over ten minutes ago.”
Clarke glanced at Lexa, who was now visibly holding back her frustration, and then back at the customer. “I’m sorry for the delay, sir. Let me go ahead and make sure you get your coffee right away.”
Before the customer could protest further, Clarke was already grabbing the coffee pot, filling a fresh cup, and placing it in front of him. “There we go. One coffee, just for you.”
The man grumbled something under his breath, but after a moment, he took the cup, muttering a brief “Thanks” before turning and retreating to a booth.
Clarke turned to Lexa, her brow raised with a knowing grin. “Some people really don’t have any patience, huh?”
Lexa let out a quiet sigh, the tension in her shoulders finally easing as the customer disappeared into the corner. “I’ve dealt with worse.”
Clarke chuckled. “I’m sure you have. Still, you handled it like a pro.”
Lexa gave her a sidelong glance, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Thanks. Didn’t know you had my back.”
“Well,” Clarke said, her tone teasing, “if you’d stop scaring off customers with that ‘don’t talk to me’ face of yours, maybe I wouldn’t have to step in.”
Lexa rolled her eyes, but the flicker of amusement in her gaze was undeniable. “Maybe I like my ‘don’t talk to me’ face.”
Clarke leaned in a little, lowering her voice. “It’s a pretty good one, I’ll admit. But don’t worry, I won’t steal it from you.”
The rest of the day passed smoothly, though there were moments where Clarke could see the weight on Lexa’s shoulders. She was still a bit guarded, always ready for the next challenge. Clarke noticed the way Lexa’s eyes would flicker when a loud noise or sudden movement caught her off guard, and how she still seemed to retreat inward when things got too chaotic.
Clarke wanted to ask about it. She wanted to understand what was behind the toughness Lexa wore like armor. But she didn’t push. She knew it wasn’t the right time.
…
As the evening began to wind down, Clarke started to clear off the last of the tables. The usual crowd had thinned out, leaving only a couple of quiet patrons scattered around the diner. Lexa was already cleaning the counter, her movements quick but mechanical. She didn’t look up as Clarke approached, but Clarke could tell she was wrapping up for the night.
“You staying long?” Clarke asked, trying to keep her tone casual.
Lexa gave a small shrug, not meeting her eyes. “I’ll be fine. Just need to grab my things.”
Clarke hesitated. “Where are you staying tonight?”
Lexa paused mid-motion, glancing at Clarke for a brief second before returning to her task. “In my car. It’s not a big deal.”
Clarke froze, the words landing harder than she expected. She studied Lexa for a moment, noticing the way her jaw tightened, like she was bracing herself for rejection.
“That’s not okay,” Clarke said firmly, her voice steady. “You can’t keep doing that.”
Lexa looked at her, her expression unreadable. “It’s fine. I’m used to it.”
“No,” Clarke said, shaking her head. “You’re not staying in your car. You can stay on the couch.”
Lexa opened her mouth to protest, but Clarke held up a hand to stop her. “I’m serious. You’ve got to be exhausted, and I won’t let you sleep in a car. Not after all that you’ve done today.”
Lexa was silent for a moment, her gaze softening as she looked at Clarke. Finally, she nodded, though it was clear she wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea.
“Alright,” Lexa said quietly. “But just for tonight.”
Clarke grinned. “Good. I’m getting tired of hearing your ‘I’ll sleep in my car’ excuse anyway.”
Lexa snorted, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re too proud for your own good,” Clarke teased, nudging her playfully.
As they wrapped up the last of the cleanup, Clarke looked at Lexa, her smile warm. “How about some dinner? We’ve got all this food, and it’s not like we have anywhere else to be.”
Lexa’s eyes flickered with surprise, but then she shrugged, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “I suppose I could stay for a little more. But don’t think this means you’ve won me over yet.”
Clarke laughed, setting two plates of diner food down on the counter. “I don’t need to win you over, Lexa. But I think you’ll enjoy the food either way.”
They sat down together, the quiet chatter of the diner around them as they ate their late-night meal. For the first time in a while, Lexa allowed herself to relax. And for Clarke, it felt like the beginning of something new—a friendship, maybe more—but whatever it was, she was ready for it.
"To a good day," Clarke said, raising her cup of coffee.
Lexa clinked her mug against Clarke’s, her lips curving into a real smile. "To surviving it."
…
Clarke left the diner shortly after their late-night meal, her footsteps echoing through the empty space as she headed for the door. The sound of her voice and laughter still lingered in the air, a warm memory that Lexa could hold onto, if only for a little while.
Lexa stayed behind, cleaning up the last of the dishes, her movements slower now. She hadn’t realized how tired she was until the quiet settled over the diner, the hum of the fridge the only sound left. When the last plate was washed and dried, she made her way to the couch.
She didn’t need a bed. She hadn’t needed one for a long time. The couch was fine—small, uncomfortable, but it would do for the night. She lay back, pulling the worn blanket over herself, her thoughts still lingering on the evening. Clarke’s kindness, her insistence that Lexa stay on the couch, it felt... different. And for the first time in a long time, it felt almost like home.
But sleep didn’t come easily.
Her body was exhausted, but her mind was wired. The memories crept in slowly at first, like a shadow at the edge of her thoughts. The war. The months spent in the deserts of Iraq, the constant noise of gunfire and explosions that never quite faded from her ears. The faces of soldiers she had once called family, the blood, the fear. She shut her eyes, trying to push the memories away. But they were too strong, too insistent.
…
The flashback hit her like a sledgehammer.
It was the middle of the night. The sound of gunfire had been close—too close. She remembered the staccato bursts of rifles, the crack of sniper fire, and the sharp, jarring explosions that followed. She could feel the heat of the desert on her skin, the weight of her gear pulling at her, her heart pounding in her chest.
“Cover me!” she had shouted, her voice barely cutting through the chaos.
Her team had been on a mission, a routine operation. At least that’s what it had been supposed to be. But they’d walked straight into an ambush.
Her team had scrambled for cover, the sound of bullets zipping past her, too close, too fast. She remembered crawling to a broken wall, just ahead of one of the other soldiers—Sergeant Miller, a man who had been with her through thick and thin. They had fought together in countless missions, and he had always had her back.
But that night, it was different.
“Lexa, move!” Miller had yelled, his voice strained as he fired back at the enemy.
She had looked over her shoulder at him, nodding, and then... it had all happened so fast.
A sniper’s bullet, a single shot, and then Miller’s scream—the one she would never forget. The loud thud as he hit the ground.
Time had slowed.
Lexa had turned back, diving towards him, but the blood was already pooling beneath him, his body still and unmoving. She could hear him gasping for breath, but it was faint, distant, like it wasn’t real.
“Hang on, Miller,” she’d said, her voice shaking, but she already knew it was too late.
She had tried to apply pressure to the wound, but there was nothing she could do. The blood was everywhere, soaking her hands, the ground beneath them. Her heart had pounded, her mind screaming at her to do something, anything, but her body had been frozen, paralyzed with the truth. She had lost him.
The sounds of the firefight had faded in the background as she cradled him, uselessly begging him to stay awake, even though she knew it was pointless. The seconds stretched into what felt like hours, and the world had narrowed down to just the two of them. But Miller never responded.
He was gone.
“Damn it...” Lexa whispered to herself, the words lost in the night, swallowed by the chaos.
It was the first time she had truly felt the weight of the war. It wasn’t just about the mission anymore. It was personal. The losses, the faces she couldn’t save, the soldiers who would never make it back.
And then, as quickly as it had started, the nightmare ended.
…
Lexa’s breath hitched as she woke up, her body drenched in sweat. The nightmare clung to her, the echoes of that night in Iraq still fresh in her mind. She gasped for air, her chest tight, her heart pounding in her ears as she tried to shake the remnants of the dream.
The couch was cold, too still, and the familiar surroundings of the diner didn’t bring her any comfort. She sat up, her hands trembling as she wiped her face, trying to ground herself in the present.
But the memories wouldn’t go away. They never did. She had thought they had faded, buried deep enough to stay hidden in the recesses of her mind, but they always found their way back, especially when the silence crept in.
Her breath steadied, but the weight of it all remained. She could still see Miller’s face in her mind, still feel the blood on her hands. The screams. The guilt.
And then, like always, she pushed it all aside, forced herself to move, to ignore it.
Lexa stood up, wiping her face one last time. She stepped toward the small kitchen area, trying to calm her racing heart. The diner was quiet now—still and empty. The only sound was the faint hum of the fridge.
She rubbed her face again, trying to push away the remnants of the nightmare. She had to stay strong. She had no choice.
But for the first time since she’d arrived, Lexa felt the weight of the silence around her, the emptiness that followed her everywhere.
…