Chapter Text
She was too young for burnout. Something different was going on.
Lexa moved slowly around the kitchen. It was early afternoon and all of the chefs were working on prep. There were enough of them to handle all of the work. She was just there to oversee everything. She set a pot of water on the stove for Indra who she knew was working on sauces.
At just thirty-three years old, Executive Chef Alexandria “The Commander” Woods owned six restaurants. She had a collection of six Michelin stars across four of her restaurants in the four cities that awarded them. She had two books out and had appeared in more magazines and television spots than she could recall. It wasn’t burnout. If anything, she had finally made it and was coming alive. She had award winning food in her place in New York. She set the bar for service standards at her restaurant down in Miami. She was a household name in San Francisco. Her spot in LA popped up on most celebrity favorites lists. Her Las Vegas location was a not-to-be-missed destination on any foodie guide about Sin City.
The Portland, Maine restaurant wasn’t about any of that.
Considering it was drastically the smallest city she had put a flag in so far, there was an immense amount of pressure on Houm, her most recent establishment in her hometown of Portland, Maine. Lexa was very public about it and took all of the press and hype in stride. After spending two months traveling around Italy to cook and eat and figure out what to do for her sixth location, it finally occurred to her that what she needed was to get back to her roots.
In the kitchen and on the map.
Authentic Italian cooking had always been her calling. She spent time in France and she spent time in Spain. She cooked and ate her way through Japan and China. Brazil. Argentina. Portugal. Russia. Morocco. Nothing spoke to her like Italian food. Right out of culinary school, she made a plan to back pack through Europe and eat and drink and cook and learn, but she never made it out of Italy. It was too perfect.
“A watched pot never boils, Commander,” Indra sighed. Lexa shook her head and blinked a few times to clear her daze. She’d been staring at the pot of water on the stove completely lost in thought. She forgot to turn the burner on.
“Wise words,” Lexa half smiled at her Head Chef. Indra half smiled back.
Indra worked under Lexa in her very first restaurant in New York over ten years ago. They were both from Maine, but didn’t cross paths until they were in culinary school in New York. Indra was incredibly talented, but she didn’t want to be an executive chef. She wanted to cook great food and maintain a solid kitchen. She didn’t have the drive Lexa had to lead the whole staff. She didn’t have the creativity Lexa had to design a full menu to match a visual dining concept and build a bar menu to pair with it. She couldn’t get people to blindly follow her like Lexa could. She didn’t have the money to do the whole thing at twenty-two years old like Lexa did, either.
But she moved on with Lexa to each new place. Each new city. Each new kitchen. They barely even had to speak now they worked so well together. New York was a given, Lexa had to open her first place there. Miami was hot at the time and was easy to open up shortly after the instant success in New York. LA was a no brainer and Vegas was an obvious move to add to Lexa’s roster. San Francisco was a lot of work. Lexa took years to perfect the plan before opening it. There were a lot of setbacks on that one. Indra opened each location as Head Chef just below Lexa as Executive.
Lexa didn’t ask Indra to come to Portland. It was a small city full of food and it had a good scene to be sure, but in the wake of all of Lexa’s prestige, it didn’t carry the same weight as the other five restaurants. It was more of a passion project, which the press never let her forget, but she didn’t treat it with any less seriousness of purpose. She walked Indra through the proposal one night over drinks to get some feedback and ideas and Indra’s first response was ‘when do we leave?’.
Houm was a huge success. They were two hometown girls returning after a decade of success and the city ate it up. Lexa’s Authentic Italian training made for top notch cuisine. She and Indra assembled a team that worked flawlessly together. Lexa barely even cooked anymore. She didn’t really do anything. The place ran itself. It was that September afternoon while she stared down into the cold pot of water that Lexa realized what the feeling was.
It was time for something new.
“You okay, Commander?” Indra asked with more sincerity as she chopped herbs to prep a sauce.
“I think it’s time.” Lexa folded her arms across her chest. Her pristine white chef’s coat hadn’t had a spill on it in weeks. She hadn’t had to check Indra’s sauces in months. Indra was too good. Everything was predictable and perfect. They had a solid spectacular rating since the day they opened. Even the front of house staff was amazing. She had Food and Wine Magazine coming in a few weeks to do a feature on her and the new place. Everything was going too smoothly.
It wasn’t burnout at all. Lexa was bored.
“Is that so?” Indra set her knife down and folded her arms across her chest to mirror Lexa.
“Yes,” Lexa sighed and turned the burner on. The familiar clicking of the igniter and hiss of the gas soothed her. “I’m ready to start work on the next place.”
“Thoughts?” Indra looked Lexa up and down. It hadn’t gone unnoticed that Lexa was growing distant and a little stale. Indra was surprised it took her this long to come to the conclusion that it was time for the next thing.
“Just that so far,” Lexa shrugged and reached for the salt.
"I like it,” Indra nodded in confirmation. “I’m in.”
“No more girls,” Lexa sighed. “No girls when I’m working on a new place.”
“I know the rule,” Indra shook her head and held back a grin. “Not that there will be an issue anyway. You’ve been going home alone for a while now,” Indra shrugged. Lexa gaped at her and Indra’s lips gave way to a smirk.
“Maybe this little dry spell was what I needed to push me into deciding it’s time,” Lexa salted the water and gave it a stir.
“If that’s what you need to tell yourself,” Indra chuckled.
“I’m going to take a walk and check in on everyone. You’ve got your lists?” Lexa asked. Indra gave her a knowing smile. She didn’t need to ask and they both knew it. She didn’t even really need to be there but she had nothing else to do. “Let me know if you need anything,” Lexa sighed and started her walk through. They opened at four on weekdays and spent the days prepping. They hosted a brunch on Saturdays and Sundays with a break in service before dinner.
Her schedule didn’t lend itself to a social life. Indra was the closest friend she had, and she wasn’t even certain they were necessarily friends. Soldiers who had survived the same war, maybe. Close and loyal for certain, but she was never really sure if Indra actually liked her. No one knew her better than Indra, save maybe Anya, her cousin. Everyone she knew worked for her and kept a healthy barrier of respect up that prevented them from truly becoming friends.
It made dating difficult and making friends at her age even harder. She was D list famous in a very small town and everyone knew who she was. They were either fake nice to her because they wanted to get close to the famous part of her, or they were afraid of her and got out of the way. She knew all of the chefs in town and they knew her, respected her and looked up to her, so going out wasn’t easy either. She took advantage of her status to get pretty, young women into bed with her, but they didn’t stay the night. She always called them a cab.
She was just passing time, and suddenly starting to feel it.
“Roan, be careful with that lamb, we don’t have a lot of it and I’m not getting any more in until Tuesday,” Lexa said sternly as she passed behind Roan prepping lamb chops.
“Heard, Chef,” He nodded curtly.
“Where are you with beef and poultry?” Lexa stood up a little straighter.
“Poultry done, starting beef after this set,” Roan nodded down at his knives and chops. Lexa flicked her eyes to the clock on the wall dramatically and he followed her gaze. It was already one.
“Cutting it a little close, aren’t we?” She said sternly.
“It’ll be done, Chef,” Roan sighed.
He had been screwing up a lot lately and she was riding him extra hard. He was a good chef, he just had a lot to learn. He was cocky and smirky and hunky and had the hots for Anya and none of it was sitting well with Lexa. She was on him constantly and he was not doing well under the pressure.
“I’ll be back at two to check your progress. If I’m not happy, I’ll work alongside you and make sure it gets done,” she warned, turned on her heel and headed for the dining room.
“You’ll be happy, Chef!” he called after her as she walked away.
“Hey Commander!” Lincoln shot her a warm smile from behind the bar. He was in a t-shirt and dress pants with his suspenders hanging low from his waist. A pressed white shirt and black bowtie waited on a hanger on one of the high backed bar stools.
“Hi,” she sighed and leaned her elbows on the bar.
“You alright?” Lincoln raised a brow at her.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she waved a hand to dismiss it. He didn’t look convinced. “You need anything from me? Are you all set up here?” Lexa glanced behind the bar. He was prepping his garnishes and doing inventory.
“Not a thing, Chef,” Lincoln flashed a pearly white smile at her. He was so efficient that she didn’t need to even think about him anymore. She was just looking for something to do. Lincoln managed the bar staff and inventory and worked with Lexa on the menu. He rolled his fall cocktails out the week before and they were an instant smash. The fall menu was perfect. Everything was perfect and efficient and absolutely fine without her. Indra communicated with the front of house since she was the leader of the kitchen. Lexa just sat back and made sure the whole operation was up to her standards.
“Excellent,” Lexa sighed again.
“Are you sure you’re alright, Lexa?” He asked, this time more sincere. He was one of the few who got away with addressing her by her name. It was also the cue that he was asking Lexa the woman if she was alright, not Lexa the chef. Lincoln wasn’t really a friend either, but he was getting pretty close to it.
“Just got a lot on my mind,” Lexa shrugged. “Nothing bad.”
“Well,” Lincoln dragged the word out as he poured her a glass of soda water with a lemon and a lime and slid it across the bar at her. “Half-baked therapy is what we bartenders are known for if you need to let it out.” He dramatically dropped a straw and a cherry into her drink and grinned at her. She cracked a smile at him. “There she is.”
“Thanks,” Lexa tipped the glass at him and walked back through the bustling kitchen to her office.
*****
Across town, Dr. Clarke Griffin stood on the top floor of Ark Memorial Hospital staring out the window. She could see most of downtown Portland from there and out over the water. There were two cruise ships docked. Canadians pouring in for fall foliage. It was a little too early. Just the tips of the trees were starting to turn yellow. The autumn sky had arrived with all of its perfectly blue glory.
“Dr. Griffin?” She jumped. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been standing there.
“Yeah?” She turned around to find two of her interns, Monroe and Miller, standing patiently behind her.
“The Chief wants to see you,” Miller smiled at her. She sighed, stole one last glance out the window and strolled to the elevator. Monroe and Miller fell in behind her. She glanced at her watch. Only a few more hours to go. She’d been at the hospital for three days now and was looking forward to leaving her shift. It had been so slow, which was a good thing, in a way, but it gave her too much time to think.
“Big plans?” Miller asked after a few moments of silence between them.
“Me?” Clarke glanced at him.
“You keep checking your watch,” he nodded at her wrist. “Got a hot date?” He gave her a goofy grin.
“Not even kind of,” Clarke chuckled. Miller had no idea how loaded a question it was. Clarke had been keeping to herself for far too long. Her most recent ex burned her badly. She threw herself into work to forget about him and realized a few weeks ago that it had been over a year since he made her look like a colossal fool. She hadn’t even thought about dating since. There was the visiting orthopedic surgeon from DC that Clarke fell into a purely physical routine with last Christmas. She was older, she was established and she was really good in bed. Clarke spent a few forgettable nights with a blonde banker she met at the bar. The woman was as boring in bed as her conversations about finance. Other than that, she worked overtime, slept a lot and passed time with her girlfriends.
“Too bad,” Miller shrugged with a playful smirk.
“Just tired. Looking forward to sleeping in my own bed. Been a long shift,” She sighed and stretched her neck just thinking of the crappy few hours of almost-sleep she’d gotten in the on call room that morning. The doors opened with a soft ding and the three of them poured into the busy first floor of the hospital. Miller and Monroe turned left towards the nurse’s station and Clarke turned right towards the chief’s office. She nodded hello to a few doctors and nurses as she made the long walk. His door was open when she got there. He was sitting behind a large solid wood desk with his glasses on doing paperwork.
“Dr. Griffin! Just who I wanted to see!” Ark Memorial’s Chief of Surgery, Dr. Thelonious Jaha, had a stoic smile, broad shoulders and a voice for politics.
“Chief,” Clarke nodded at him and dropped with familiarity into one of the chairs across from him.
“How are you doing today, Dr. Griffin?” His smile was too wide. He wanted something.
“Just fine, Chief,” Clarke sat up a little straighter. She had a feeling she knew what it was.
“I’m not sure if you heard, but Dr. Jackson’s grandmother passed away this morning and he had to catch a flight out of town,” Jaha began slowly.
“I knew she was sick, but I didn’t know she passed. I’m sorry to hear that,” Clarke’s eyebrows knit together. Dr. Jackson was one of her mentors and one of the best trauma surgeons they had. She’d been working under him for three years hoping to take that title from him eventually. “He told me about it, but I didn’t realize she was so bad.”
“Apparently she had a rapid decline. He called about an hour ago saying he was getting on the next flight. Unfortunately, he was going to be covering the ER when you left today. I have Wells coming in tomorrow, but I’m going to need you to stay on until he can get in here,” Jaha said firmly. It didn’t go unnoticed that he was telling her, not asking her. He had a knack for that.
“Sir, I’ve been on fifty-five hours straight already,” Clarke tried to keep her voice calm.
“I know. I’d appreciate it if you tried to get some sleep today. I’m more concerned about tonight,” Jaha gave her a curt smile.
“Alright,” Clarke sighed, knowing she wasn’t going to change his mind. “Is there anything else?” She asked as she lifted herself out of her chair.
“No thank you, Dr. Griffin,” Jaha gave her a closed lip smile. “You’ve got permission to use one of your interns overtime to stay the evening to help you out.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Clarke muttered and strolled out of his office.
Rather than head straight for a nap, she breezed through the café and got herself a cup of tea before heading back up to the top floor to her window. She liked watching the little city go by. It was so different from San Francisco where she grew up. Everything was so colorful. The blues of the water and the sky still took her breath away after six years. She let out another sigh and pulled her cellphone out of the pocket of her lab coat.
“Yeah?” Octavia, one of her best friends and roommates shouted into the phone. Clarke could hear the telltale sounds of the kitchen in the background. The loud of hum of grills and appliances. Dishes clinking.
“Hey, O, It’s me,” Clarke said loudly into the phone.
“Whaddup, Girl?” Octavia asked, balancing the phone on her shoulder as she used two spatulas to pull a sloppy Rueben off the grill and slice it in half.
“Did we have plans tonight?” Clarke winced, ashamed she couldn’t remember.
“Nah,” Octavia replied cooly. She slipped the Rueben onto a plate and spun around to the fryers to pull up a basket of onion rings. “Raven’s getting back from Seattle, I’m working. Figured you two assholes would just sit here and drink.” Octavia plated the onion rings and slapped her hand down on a bell above the line. “Harper! Order up!”
“Alright, great. Turns out I have to stay on an extra day, so I won’t be home until tomorrow night,” Clarke grumbled.
“What the fuck! I’m starting to forget what you look like!” Clarke could hear Octavia’s smile through the phone.
“I know, I know. Duty calls,” Clarke yawned and sipped her tea.
“Alright, Doc,” Octavia shouted over the noise. “It’s lunchtime, so I gotta go.”
"I’ll see you tomorrow!” Clarke replied. “Tell Raven I’m sorry but I’ll catch up with her tomorrow night.”
"You bet. Take it easy!” Octavia hung up. Clark dropped her phone back into her pocket and chuckled at her friend’s antics.
Octavia was the owner of Blake’s Bar on the east end at the bottom of Munjoy Hill. It was a complete dive, but the food was amazing. Octavia could really cook. She kept a small staff and the food had a cult following in town. The bar wasn’t in the best neighborhood, but in Portland, Maine, even the seedier neighborhoods weren’t really that bad. Octavia, Raven and Clarke lived in the apartment above the bar and got a steal on it through the landlord who had an impossible time getting anyone to rent the space above the party pub.
Clarke worked insane hours and was only home a few days a week. When she was, she was dead to the world and slept through anything going on at the bar when she wasn’t downstairs partaking in the fun. Raven traveled a lot. She was a software engineer for a tech company that made digital security systems. They were based out of Seattle, but let Raven work wherever she wanted. She had to show up for meetings and product rollouts every few weeks. She was awake for days at a time, and the noise of the bar never bothered her. Octavia ate, slept and breathed the restaurant, so living above it gave her constant access to it.
They all went to undergrad in Boston together. Octavia dropped out after the first semester claiming that it wasn’t for her and she didn’t fit in and moved back home to Portland. Raven and Clarke stayed friends with her and visited often given Portland’s proximity. When it came time for Clarke to go to med school, she ended up in Maine. Raven had no family ties and no geographical ties to her job, so she went too and they got the group back together. Octavia opened Blake’s shortly after and the three moved in. They’d been there for eight years now.
Clarke took one last long look at the view. She liked watching the red and yellow ferry boats making their journeys to and from the Casco Bay Islands. There was a sailing regatta going on. Probably kids. She knew they did that on Saturdays. There were two great big freight ships down by the train station. She took a last swig of her tea before tossing the paper cup and heading for the on call room to crash.
“Good night, Dr. Griffin!” Miller called after her with a grin. “Better rest up for that date!”
“It’s with you, sucker! You’re in the ER with me tonight!” She made a goofy face at him before letting the door fall shut.
*****
“Hey, Kid,” Anya’s voice came through the phone. Lexa sat in her office chair with her eyes closed.
“You’re not that much older than me,” Lexa snapped with rehearsed intonation.
“Just enough,” Anya said back with the same sense of practice. “How are you doing? I haven’t seen you in a while.”
“I’m alright,” Lexa shrugged.
“Yeah? That’s very convincing. What’s going on?” Anya deadpanned.
“Your new boyfriend Roan is working my last nerve,” Lexa muttered. She reached a hand up to massage the headache brewing in her forehead at just the thought of him.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Anya snapped. She sounded exactly like she did when they were teenagers.
“He’s trying to be,” Lexa snapped back.
“So what if he is?” Anya smirked. Lexa could hear it in her voice.
“You’ll be out of luck if I kill him before he gets the chance,” Lexa rolled her eyes. Anya laughed.
“When’s your next day off? Aden’s dying to see you and I wouldn’t hate a look at your face either,” Anya asked with a much warmer note in her voice.
“Monday,” Lexa sighed.
“Alright. Monday it is. Come over for dinner. I’ll cook,” Anya replied.
“Sounds good,” Lexa reached for a pen and jotted it on her desk calendar. “Shoot me a text that day and let me know what I can bring.”
“Jesus, just yourself! Would you relax for five seconds?” Anya huffed.
“You know I don’t know how to do that,” Lexa let out a little smile.
“Yeah, it’s annoying,” Anya laughed. “Take care of yourself. I’ll talk to you, Lex. See you Monday.”
“Thanks, you too,” Lexa smiled genuinely as she hung up.
She and Anya had been raised like sisters even though they were actually cousins. Their fathers were brothers. Lexa’s parents both worked constantly. Her father was the CEO of a finance company he built from the bottom up. Her mother was the fourth generation owner of one of Maine’s largest and oldest paper manufacturing companies. They were always traveling, always in meetings and although very loving, mostly absent.
She spent a lot of her childhood at Anya’s. They were both only children. Most people that met them assumed they were sisters. No one rode Lexa harder than Anya. No one called her on her bullshit and no one pushed her to be great the way Anya did. On the reverse, no one took care of Anya or watched out for Anya or protected Anya quite like Lexa.
They were tough teenagers. They were only two years apart with just one school grade between them and they raised hell on the small town. Lexa grew up with a lot of money and used it to have a lot of fun. She was impossible to control. From a very young age, she was forced to be independent. Her parents were always away for work and she refused to let their beachfront property go to waste, no matter the season. They were party animals and known for it, but when they were eighteen and twenty, the party came to a screeching halt.
Anya got pregnant. She wasn’t sure who the father was, and all three of the possible choices fled the second they found out. She kept the baby and her son Aden, now sixteen, became her whole world. Lexa was in the delivery room holding Anya’s hand when she missed the call from her father’s assistant about the accident. Her nephew came into her life the same day her parents left it.
She had been a very serious person ever since.
Saturday night dinner service was in full swing and all of the staff was hustling in the kitchen. Indra kept strict rules about no talking unless absolutely necessary. Lexa sauntered up to Indra at the grill where she was turning a few steaks.
“How’s it going?” Lexa asked.
“Everything is perfect as usual, Chef,” Indra replied calmly. Lexa shot a glance over at Roan as he plated salads.
“How’s this asshole doing tonight?” Lexa asked quietly. Indra cracked a smile.
“He’s alright,” Indra shrugged. “I’m not in love with the way he trimmed this meat, but I’m making do.” Lexa didn’t reply, just marched straight up to Roan.
“It’s my understanding that Indra doesn’t like the proteins you worked today,” Lexa said sternly.
“This is the first I’m hearing about it,” Roan didn’t look at her. He kept his eyes on the salads he was plating.
“Did you ask her to check them before you cut them all?” Lexa asked, leaning into his space more.
“No, Chef,” He sighed and lifted his plates into the window.
“Do you want to let me know why that is?” Lexa asked, her voice even but firm.
“I did them the way you showed me, Chef. I didn’t think I needed to bother her with that this afternoon,” Roan replied, his eyes still on the food. Lexa grabbed him by the front of his white jacket. He turned to face her, startled.
“Apparently not,” She growled at him. “So we have a Saturday dinner service in progress with a bunch of shitty proteins that you can thank your lucky stars Indra is talented enough to work with. The doors of this building have my name on them, not yours. When a shitty plate hits the table, it has my name on it, not yours. So you’re going to do things my way, and not yours.” She tightened her grip on the fistful of chef’s coat. She wasn’t yelling. She was calm and direct and it was somehow so much worse. “So put down that knife and get your ass out of the way. I’m going to take over your station for the evening and you’re going to be my bitch until I decide I’m ready to have you back on this line, do you understand me?”
“Yes, Chef,” Roan nodded nervously. He moved to set his chef’s knife on the counter, but missed and it toppled to the floor. The clatter sounded louder than it should have in the tense kitchen. Lexa huffed and rolled her eyes.
“First order of business, get over to dish and wash that knife and bring me a stack of cold plates from the fridge. You’re getting low and these have been out too long,” Lexa gestured to the plates at the salad station. Roan just stared at her. “Do you need me to fucking say it again?” She snapped.
“No, Chef. Sorry, Commander!” He jumped out of her way.
“Sorry doesn’t get me those plates any faster!” Lexa called over her shoulder and slid calmly into his station. She rolled up the sleeves of her jacket and ignored the satisfied and terrified looks coming off of the rest of the staff. She plated the salads with ease and checked her inventory of ingredients.
“Roan!” She shouted without turning away from the plates she worked on. “I’m going to need more goat cheese when you get a second!”
“Sure thing, Chef. Here are your plates and the knife you asked for!” Roan hurried up behind her with a stack of plates in both hands and a chef’s knife wedged in one hand sticking out haphazzardly. Lexa turned around to ask him for something else and the knife caught her across the forearm.
“Shit!” She yelped. Lexa jumped back and glared at him. A hot line of blood immediately appeared against her skin. They both looked down at it and then at each other. She glared daggers at him. He froze. Indra looked up from the grill across the kitchen.
“You cool over there, Commander?” Indra leaned back to see what was going on. Lexa never had outbursts like that. She sounded startled and hurt.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Lexa cried. She grabbed a towel from the counter and pressed it over her bleeding arm. “Why the fuck would you carry a knife like that? Where was my warning? Behind me, sharp, maybe?! Are you fucking new, asshole? Is this your first fucking day?!” Lexa shouted. There was already blood seeping through the towel.
“I’m sorry, Chef,” Roan stuttered.
“Chef,” Indra warned from down the line. No one was sure if she was trying to calm Lexa down or suggest Roan handle his business.
“Get out,” Lexa nodded towards the back door. He was still frozen where he stood.
“That’s an order, chef!” Indra called calmly from the grill. All of the cooks tried to appear busy, but they were all sneaking glances out the corners of their eyes. Lexa hadn’t lost it on someone in ages. Roan looked for something to say, but couldn’t find it. “Emori! You’re on salads! Commander, you okay?” Indra gave Lexa a stern look.
“I’m fine!” Lexa snapped over her shoulder and stormed to her office. She let the door fall closed behind her and dropped into her desk chair.
With the sounds of the kitchen muffled, she yanked open a drawer and pulled out a first aid kit. She’d cut and burned herself a million times. It came with the territory. She had skipped stiches more than once, but after careful examination and deliberation, this one looked like she was going to need quit a few of them. She wrapped it up as best she could, grabbed a clean towel to be safe and stomped out of the office.
“Indra!” Lexa called down the line. All heads turned up to her. “I’m going to get some stitches. House is yours until I get back.”
“Heard, Chef. Good luck,” Indra nodded. “Heads down, everyone! Focus! No talking!” Indra barked. Lexa kicked the back door open and walked right past Roan who was complaining into his cell phone out back by the dumpsters. She climbed into her car and awkwardly made the short drive across town to the hospital with one hand.