There were boxes piled everywhere when the distant sound of the door creaking open finally reached her. For an instant, Clarke hesitated. She'd been hoping she would be done before now. She had hoped they wouldn't have to do this. Of course today was the day that she came home early. The blonde only hesitate for a moment before redoubling her efforts. Resisting the urge to grind her teeth, Clarke pulled her hair back into a sloppy ponytail, then taped the last box closed. There were footsteps coming down the hall. That was one good thing about this old house, at least. There was no sneaking anywhere. The creaking floorboards stopped in the region of the doorway. One more, she froze, but she didn't turn to investigate just yet. She wasn't ready to face this. What use were words, anyway? The silence spoke volumes.

Clarke stacked the last of her books on top of the rest of the pile, before moving to the closet. She knew what her mother would expect. Pull each item off, fold it carefully, and keep the hangers in a separate box. For a long moment, Clarke stared at her wardrobe before removing massive chunks of it - hanger and all. She stuffed them unceremoniously into open boxes - barely taking care to fold the clothing in half, as not to tangle it more than she already had. One. Two. Three boxes were staked to the side of the closet. She heard the creak of boards, and the sound of weight descending on their bed. Still, Clarke didn't turn or speak. As far as she was concerned, she'd done plenty of talking this morning.

"You were supposed to be at work," the words, spoken behind her, sounded slightly defeated - so uncharacteristic. Clarke half glanced over her shoulder as the urge to offer comfort swept through her. Her jaw clenched and she turned away once more.

"Well, I'm not." Clarke offered blandly, willing only to state the obvious. She'd called in this morning, after yet another fight. It was her final year of college, and she didn't have time for this. Her classes were killing her, and she needed to focus on them if she was ever going to make it to graduation. She continued to move boxes over the door, before finally making a final sweep of their bedroom. She'd moved here half way through freshman year. It had seemed like a dream come true. Now, Clarke wished she'd just stayed in her dorm room like her mother suggested half a hundred times.

"I was going to come home and clean - surprise you …" An apology, she knew. Again, that part of her wanted to turn, to say something. She wanted to get past this as they always had in the past. But she was so tired of the up and down! "Clarke, look at me!" Finally, she turned fully. Her blue eyes narrowed on the girl who had perched herself on the edge of the bed they had shared for two and a half years. Lexa wasn't the one who apologized or felt remorse. She was decided in her actions, and she always stood behind them - even if they were a mistake. But she looked sorry now. No - she looked terrified. Everything inside of her was screaming at her to go to her - hug her, to kiss her and make this all go away. Just give her one more chance … but how many 'one more chances' did Lexa need? No. Clarke made up her mind and she was sticking with it.

"Nobody is stoping you from cleaning Alexis." With the one arm not currently holding a basket, Clarke gestured widely around their room. Honestly, it was nearly spotless right now. Just about everything Clarke owned was in boxes that had migrated to the hall and front room. Lexa was a girl of few possessions, and most of her dirty clothes had wound up in the dirty clothes hamper (or at least near it). Clarke had piled anything left in the corner in her efforts of packing. The other girl winced slightly at the use of her actual name. She hadn't been anything but "Lex" or "Lexa" almost since they met. Even when they were fighting, Clarke didn't use her full name. But something was different now, and they could both feel it.

"Where will you go?" The question was small, defeated, and it didn't sound like the girl she'd fallen in love with all those years ago. All Clarke could do was roll her eyes. What had she expected? Had she expected Lexa to apologize? Had she expected the girl to beg her to stay? That wasn't like her girlfriend - her ex girlfriend, and they both knew it. She'd known there would be no real fight. There would be no plea to fix it, or effort on her part. But a girl could dream. Who didn't want to be fought for?

"I'm going to stay with my old dorm mate for a few weeks, while I find a place." Clarke answered without hesitation. She'd kept in touch with the girl, even if they didn't go out very often these days. She regretted that now - all the times she'd turned her friends down for her girlfriend. Her predictably unpredictable girlfriend - there was never any rhyme or reason to her, except that Lexa always seemed to do the complete opposite of what Clarke wanted. She agreed when you didn't expect her to, and she fought it the rest of the way. It was exhausting to keep up with. She'd once called it exciting. It was spontaneous! But after this long, it was just draining. They'd worked for two and a half years, and it always seemed to be at her own expense. She always seemed to be the one struggling and giving things up to make it last. Well, she was done. There was nothing more to give. Clarke was just glad her friends were still willing to take her back - even if she'd been the worst friend in the world recently.

"How is Octavia doing?" Her blue eyes narrowed at the question. It was casual - too casual, and Clarke wasn't going to make smalltalk. She turned on her heel and began to move a stack of boxes into the main room - make it easier once Wells got here.

"Wells, Raven, and Wick are going to be here soon." Clarke called from the hall, completely ignoring the question. Once she got her things out of here, she wouldn't need to do this any more. Just a few more hours and she could be free. "I should be out of here within the hour." She concluded, though the words were more for herself than her former partner. She just needed to remember that. Just an hour - one hour. She could survive that long. She could hold back the tears until then.

Wells Jaha would be arriving with his father's truck. He lived half an hour away, but she'd known him practically since she was born. He'd been her best friend for as long, and he was the only one that never seemed to turn on her. He was the first to offer help when she told him what was going on. Raven, she hadn't known as long. They met in high school, when she'd moved after her father died. It was a long story, really. Raven had been on an exchange program in Europe, and Clarke had met Finn (Raven's boyfriend). Of course everything between them came crashing down when Raven came back, and Clarke realized he had a girlfriend. She and Finn had stayed decent friends, though they never did manage to become more than that. Raven and Finn had dated through the rest of high school only to break up just before graduation. Kyle Wick was Raven's new boyfriend. She didn't know much about him, beyond the fact that he apparently thought he was funnier than he really was.

It was a small relief when the three arrived. As they worked, Raven and her new boyfriend kept the conversation light enough with what turned out to be very bad puns. Wells didn't join in their attempt at humor. He kept shooting her deeply sympathetic looks - ones that Clarke avoided best she could. Within forty five minutes of their arrival, everything was in the truck, and ready to go. Lexa had finally emerged from the room. She was standing on the steps, arms folded across her chest, watching them with an unreadable expression.

Even being trapped in a car while Wells shot her pitiful, sidelong glances didn't seem that bad compared to the look Lexa was giving her. Clarke froze at the door of the truck. She had one foot in the cab, one hand was on top of the door, and the other was on the top of the truck. But she froze when she heard the screen door of the house close. Lexa stood there, arms folded over her chest. Her eyes were a stormy blue today - at least from this distance. Clarke knew there would be a little ring of golden brown around the iris, and odd flecks of color that seemed to come and go. She'd always loved Lexa's eyes, and it was tempting to stare at them now. Lexa was never an easy person to read - not even for Clarke. But she knew the girl wasn't as calm as she was letting on.

As much as she wanted to go back and run her fingers through those light brown curls, Clarke knew she couldn't. You could only give someone one more chance about a hundred times before it became redundant. It was better for her if she got out now. Her grades were suffering, and she had a degree to finish. If she just got through this year, it would all be easier. It would be better. She could move out of this town - move out of this state. She could go somewhere else and be free of all of the painful memories. She wouldn't have to miss her father when she visited home. She wouldn't have to see the places she'd once gone with Lexa. She wouldn't have to remember the life that used to make her happy. She could start over, and that life was starting now.

Lips hardening into a line, Clarke nodded her head once, before tucking herself into the cab of the truck, and closing the door. Wells already had the engine running. While he did give her one last pitying glance, she was grateful that, at the very least, he didn't say anything.