Table of Contents

heartsways - The Second Way: Choices

LOST GIRL - BO/LAUREN

“Ways To Tell You I’m Sorry” series

The Second Way: Choices

heartsways

Title: Ways To Tell You I’m Sorry - The Second Way: Choices

Author: heartsways

Rating: NC–17

Fandom: Lost Girl

Pairing: Bo/Lauren

Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for–profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.

Summary: Lauren wants to tell Bo she’s sorry, but what will it take for Bo to listen?

Author’s Note: Thanks for the awesome beta and advice. Truly appreciated.

The Second Way: Choices

heartsways

“No,” Dyson said firmly as Bo picked up the shot glass and threw another drink down her throat. It was her third, and he eyed her somewhat curiously. She slammed the glass back down onto the bar counter and gestured towards Trick, pointing into the empty vessel with a hardened and demanding finger. Dyson’s gaze caught Trick’s as the glass was refilled and the two exchanged a concerned, if questioning glance.

Bo had turned up at The Dell less than thirty minutes ago and had said very little. Not that she needed to; her expression spoke volumes and Trick hadn’t even attempted to draw her into conversation as it was clear that the Succubus had little to contribute. Instead, she had downed one drink after another and was, even now, reaching for her fourth shot of vodka with a grim look on her features.

Squinting up at Dyson, Bo paused, her fingers reaching for the glass but not quite grasping it. “Excuse me?” she said, her voice filled with genuine surprise. She blinked at him and he stared back, impassive except for the tiny smile curling around the corners of his mouth and the helpless shrug of his broad shoulders.

“I said no,” he repeated, heart sinking at the sulky pursing of Bo’s lips and the narrowing of her eyes. Leaning towards her, he glanced around the bar before taking a short breath and reminding himself that Bo knew nothing of his world. But it was a world she now occupied too, despite her protestations to the contrary, and he was honor–bound to guide her through the mores and morals – or lack of – of the Fae. Both Light and Dark. And right now, Bo’s foray into the world of the Dark Fae was a sure fire way to bring her to a very messy and very quick end, something Dyson wasn’t prepared to see just yet, let alone allow to happen without warning Bo off first. But, judging from the dark expression on her face, she was distinctly unamused at his efforts to help.

“You’re not going to help me,” she said blankly.

“It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s that I can’t.” he rumbled, as Trick sidled along behind the bar and shot another warning glance in his direction. “The Ash doesn’t allow it and yeah,” he nodded, as Bo opened her mouth to protest, “I know I don’t always follow his rules but this…this is different, Bo. Light Fae are expressly forbidden from becoming involved in the personal politics of The Morrigan.”

“Oh,” Bo’s eyes closed slowly and she let out a huff of dismissal. “Her.”

“She’s a lot more powerful and unpredictable than you think. Getting in her way is…” he paused, shaking his head. “It would be suicide. You’d be wise to avoid getting involved too,” Dyson straightened up and shoved his hands into his pockets apologetically. He’d railed against the edicts of The Ash before to his own detriment. Punishment, when given, was always a certain deterrent for the Light Fae. They might be Light, but they were still harsh with regards to members of the community deemed ‘traitors’. Living as a Light Fae came with its own social codes and those who didn’t conform were liable to incur a wrath that most humans could barely comprehend, let alone endure. And Dyson had experienced that first hand. He wasn’t eager to experience it again. Not even for Bo.

Swallowing her drink and grimacing, Bo held out her glass towards Trick, who reluctantly refilled it. Bo might be able to drink harder and longer than a lot of humans, but already her movements were sluggish and required a certain amount of concentration on her part.

“I’m already involved,” Bo shrugged, as though it didn’t matter at all that she was constantly walking the line of being the target of both Light and Dark Fae. She knew that they both wanted her; she also knew that she would never…could never choose between them. She stood alone in a dangerous world that was neither Light nor Dark, good nor bad. And it pulled her every which way, plunging her from clarity to confusion in one fell swoop. Perhaps that was why she was drinking tonight. That and the other, more hurtful confusion that sat low in her gut and reminded her that happiness was as elusive and mysterious as Dyson’s refusal to offer her help this time.

Dyson watched as she downed another shot and frowned. Time to leave. He hated to walk away from Bo, but knew that sometimes, a Fae had to exercise self–preservation in order to simply make it from one day to the next. And, despite his exterior demeanor, he fervently hoped that Bo would realize that one day, too.

“If you want my advice,” he said in a low tone, “get uninvolved. Fast.” His meaning was implicit as his eyes gleamed for a second, but Bo merely shrugged off his concerns and waved him away with her hand.

“When I want your advice,” she said, pushing the shot glass away from her on the bar counter, “I’ll ask for it.”

“Bo –” he began, but she pushed at him with a flat palm on his chest, shaking her head and rolling her eyes.

“I wanted your help, Dyson,” she said, a little too loudly, attracting several curious pairs of Fae eyes to where she sat. “I don’t want anything else from you. So if you’re not going to help me, then just…” she frowned and looked down at the bar. “Just go away.”

Looking behind the bar to where Trick’s eyes were fixed on Bo, bottle in his hand and a wary expression on his face, Dyson saw the imperceptible shake of the older Fae’s head. A tacit warning. Tonight was not the time to ally himself with Bo. That time would come, but it definitely wasn’t tonight. Drawing in a breath, Dyson let it out again slowly and nodded at Trick. Then he turned and walked away from Bo.

Crossing the floor of The Dell, Dyson spied Lauren and made his way towards her. He wasn’t sure exactly what had happened – he knew for sure that something had, but Bo had been light on details and heavy on resentful silence. Kenzi had told him that it was a bad idea to enquire further – of course, she’d used more words and some distinctly unsavory imagery – so he hadn’t. But it didn’t mean he wasn’t curious. Or even a little jealous. Whatever had happened was enough for Bo to retreat from the doctor, and from the Light Fae labs. And even though he was secretly pleased that Lauren’s association with Bo was severely diminished, he wasn’t petty enough to allow it to divert him from enticing Bo towards the Light.

Reaching Lauren, he noticed the dark circles under her eyes and the fervent gleam in her gaze as she looked around the bar. He could sense emotions sometimes; not in the same way that other Fae could, but his nose twitched as he breathed her in. She was disconcerted. Agitated. He didn’t trust that; he didn’t trust her. Her confidence alarmed him and her connection to The Ash made him wary. So as he stood in front of her, he squared himself in preparation for the prickly way she conducted all their conversations. Of all the people he worked with, Lauren was the most secretive, the most guarded. It heightened his senses and put him a little on edge.

“If you’re looking for Bo, she’s at the bar. But I wouldn’t, if I were you,” he said as she frowned up at him.

For a moment, it looked as though Lauren was going to admit defeat as she finally caught sight of Bo, knocking back yet another shot and shouting something falsely cheerful at Trick. But by the time her gaze returned to Dyson, she merely smiled, covering any cracks that he might exploit.

“Thankfully,” she said, rolling her eyes a little and bringing a glower to his features, “you’re not me. I’m sure medical science is eternally grateful for that fact.”

“Hm,” he leaned back on his heels for a second, wondering what on earth it was she had done to make Bo so disconsolate. Lauren was more inscrutable than ever, if that was actually possible. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he added, with something of a self–satisfied smirk.

“Your concern is touching,” Lauren smiled again, although her eyes were darkening to a hue that etched annoyance around them in faint lines. “But I can take care of myself, Dyson.”

Now he smiled, showing almost perfectly white teeth. “The Ash takes care of you, Lauren,” he said, seeing with pleasure how irritation flickered gold into her gaze. “Don’t get ideas above your station. People might get hurt.” He saw instantly how he’d hit a nerve as Lauren’s gaze moved past his shoulder towards Bo again, widening in regret and a sense of alarm. Bo had really rattled the doctor’s cage, and although he could understand why, he wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about that. Although, from the way that Lauren was gazing at Bo, it was fairly clear how she felt about it.

“Thank you,” she murmured, finally returning her gaze to fix on his face, the smile on her mouth at odds with the hard glint in her eyes. “It’s so good of you to take an interest in my welfare, but like you said, I’m under the protection of The Ash so anything you could possibly offer me would be rather…” she paused, her smile innocent, eyes cold, “…impotent.”

She didn’t wait for a reply. She didn’t need to. The muscle ticking high up in Dyson’s cheek told her all she needed to know.

* * * * *

“Are you drinking for fun or for a bet?” Lauren leaned in next to Bo and watched as the Succubus slammed yet another empty shot glass onto the bar top. She had thought long and hard about seeking Bo out. Ever since the episode in her lab, she had found that her mind invariably returned to the expression on Bo’s face as they had been pressed up against one another, breathlessly intimate and yet miles apart. There never used to be that distance between them – in fact, there had been a point where Lauren was sure Bo trusted her more than anyone else in her life. And she’d loved how that felt; the easy, flirtatious friendship that had sprung up between them and developed into something more than either woman could have anticipated. Certainly more than Lauren had planned, anyway. Her life had been set on a course that didn’t involve Bo, or having feelings for Bo. Didn’t involve having feelings for anyone, really. She’d learned to accept her lot and had even begun to take pleasure in it in some ways; the science of discovery she’d experienced working with the Fae had filled up some of the empty spaces inside. But she hadn’t bargained on finding someone who threatened to bring light to the darkest places in her heart. For someone who craved knowledge, Lauren had realized that comprehension didn’t always lead to clarity, especially not where her emotions were concerned.

As Bo turned to face her with dark eyes and a sneer playing around the edges of her lips, Lauren’s smile faded slowly from her mouth. Dropping her gaze momentarily, she bit at her lower lip before blinking back up to meet Bo’s eyes. Those eyes had once stared at her with such longing that it quickened her heartbeat and glistened on her skin in the aftermath of their lovemaking. But now they were dull, glazed over with a cocktail of alcohol and bitterness. A long moment passed between them before Bo finally let out a mirthless breath of laughter and shook her head, turning back to the bar.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, gesturing towards Trick with an arm that hung listlessly over the wooden counter. He moved forwards, filling up her glass and placing a bottle of beer in front of Lauren with a quick, sympathetic smile.

Grabbing the bottle, Lauren lifted it to her lips and swigged. She hadn’t realized the depth and intensity of Bo’s feelings until they were open wounds before her eyes. And even if those wounds had begun to heal and fade to bruises by now, they still caused a deep hurt to furrow Bo’s brow as she turned to look at the doctor.

“I was worried about you,” Lauren confessed, looking intently at her beer bottle and picking at the sweating label. Taking a breath, she pushed at her hair and tucked it back behind an ear, where it promptly fell forwards again. “As your doctor, I’m concerned for your wellbeing, of course.” She attempted another tiny smile but received a searing glare for her pains. Okay. Clearly not the right time for humor. She inwardly chastised herself for thinking that it could be any other way now.

“Right,” Bo scoffed, sliding the shot glass towards her but not picking it up. “You’re not my doctor any more, Lauren. You’re a doctor. You’re in it for the science, remember? Gotta keep an eye on those facts and figures.” She paused for a moment and then smirked, leaning towards Lauren until the doctor could smell the alcohol on Bo’s breath and feel the heat of her skin, almost close enough to touch. “But this is one figure, Lauren, that you won’t be studying again.” Nodding firmly, Bo swayed backwards and let out a horribly brittle laugh. It pained Lauren to see her this way, steeped in cheap booze and disappointment.

Replacing her beer bottle onto the bar, Lauren reached out and gently laid her hand onto Bo’s arm. The other woman stiffened at the contact and stared down at the doctor’s hand, long fingers coolly clasping her wrist, curled with an insistent touch. Even through the increasing haze swimming around her head, Bo couldn’t help but shiver slightly. It made her long for moments that had been ruined by lies and betrayal; it made her hate herself for wanting them nonetheless. But most of all, it made her snatch her arm from Lauren’s grasp with angry refusal and an almost animal growl of dissent. Reaching for her glass again, Bo fixed Lauren with a heated gaze full of resentment.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” Lauren suggested, her voice low and quiet in concern.

“Of this conversation? Yeah,” Bo scoffed.

“Okay,” Lauren’s mouth tensed as she fought against the building irritation that stiffened the back of her neck. But she heaved a huge sigh and shook her head, blonde hair whispering over her leather jacket. “So…the lab, the other day. What was that?”

Bo colored slightly and shrugged, fingers sliding from the shot glass and splaying out on the counter top. Rolling her eyes, she feigned boredom. “That was just…” she pursed her lips as though caught in deep thought, before tilting her head onto one side and eyeing Lauren carefully. “That was payback,” she said finally.

“Ah,” Lauren looked down at her beer and avoided allowing Bo to see how it hurt to hear that. Even though she knew it wasn’t true and even though she knew that Bo was half–drunk and angry. It still hurt.

“Are you saying you didn’t enjoy it?” Bo’s tone was mocking as the corner of her mouth tugged upwards in a conceited smirk, daring Lauren to deny that she had.

“I’m saying, Bo,” Lauren leaned in and lowered her voice so that it was barely audible above the noise of the bar, but her eyes were intense as she almost dared the Succubus to meet her gaze. “That I don’t want to play games with you. I never did. What happened between us was something I wanted…that night, in the lab. I still do. So don’t insult me by pretending that you don’t want it too. And don’t insult yourself by thinking you can act like it never happened.”

For a second, she saw the glistening in Bo’s eyes, a momentary comprehension and longing that had been absent ever since Lauren had insinuated herself into Bo’s bed. It spoke of a deep–seated desire that the doctor knew the Succubus held close to her heart – a need to love and be loved. To allow trust to imprison her in a way that her solitary life never had.

Bo had been abandoned by too many people in too many ways to not want that. And patience, ever Lauren’s companion, had been pushed aside in favor of a loyalty that the doctor was now unsure about. Fealty had always dictated her choices; emotions never had. At least, not until she’d found Bo. She saw herself reflected in widening orbs of deep brown, almost fading to black in the muted light of the bar before Bo jerked upright and sucked in a breath, turning away.

“I can’t…” Bo began, her features crumpling into confusion as she tried to find the right words that were woefully elusive in her increasingly fogged brain. “I don’t know if I can…”

“I know,” Lauren said.

“No, Lauren. You don’t.” Bo’s voice was firm, assertive. She sucked in a long breath and shook her head slowly, alcohol making her suddenly pensive and morose. “You don’t know anything,” she added quietly.

“Bo, I’m sorry,” Lauren murmured, drawing the Succubus’ gaze to her face once more. This time there was no smiling, only the solemn truth. “I did it to protect you. To keep you safe.”

“And who’s going to keep me safe from you, Lauren?” Bo was suddenly angry again as the sense memory of their lovemaking flooded her brain with an unrelenting and visceral image.

“I’m not your enemy, Bo,” the doctor glanced around the bar before leaning in again and placing her hand onto Bo’s wrist. This time the other woman didn’t move away. “But there are people who are,” she said slowly. “People who won’t stop, not ever, until they control you. The more visible you become, the more dangerous it is for you. You don’t know what The Morrigan is capable of, Bo, but I do. I’ve seen it before. And if you get in her way, she won’t hesitate to put you down.”

Lauren caught her breath, as though verbalizing the mere thought was almost too much for her to bear. It wasn’t the most eloquent of declarations; in fact, as far as it went, it hardly touched on the dread that crept around her heart with chilled fingers. But the thought of losing Bo forever, like she’d lost before was anathema to her. And if she had to lose herself again – her newfound identity, to ensure that didn’t happen, then she realized that perhaps that was her destiny. Her fate.

“Why are you telling me this?” Bo frowned, shaking her head as though the movement could dislodge the hazy confusion spinning around her brain.

“Because I know you’ve been asking for help. It’s why you came to see me. It’s why Dyson said no, isn’t it?”

Bo’s eyes widened. “How did you…?”

“You’re not the only one with contacts among the Fae,” Lauren said with a grim smile, which disappeared as her grip on Bo’s wrist tightened in the same way that the chill around her heart did. “Please, Bo. Don’t pursue this. You may not have chosen to live by Fae laws, but you can and will be tried by them if The Morrigan wishes it.”

“I’m not afraid of her,” Bo said, her lip curling as she finally grabbed her glass and raised it to her lips, pouring the liquid down her throat and swallowing with a faint grimace.

“You should be,” Lauren said. “The Light and the Dark may live in opposition, but when it comes to transgressions, there is no reasoning with them. The Fae you’re looking for is an Elemental, one of The Morrigan’s most trusted soldiers. Bo, you can’t win this. You can’t get the information you need without The Morrigan’s permission. If you take on an Elemental, you’ll be in the direct line of fire for any repercussions.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Bo grunted, shaking Lauren’s hand from her wrist and shrugging her shoulders.

“She frowned at Lauren and tried to ignore the pallid complexion of the doctor, or the way that her eyes were widening in anticipated fear, “I have to find out more about my parents. My real ones. And this…this Elemental?” She looked quizzically at Lauren, who nodded in silent response. “Well, this Elemental knows more than anyone else. My contacts have told me that at least.”

“Bo,” Lauren began, but the Succubus waved her hand in the air to quiet any protestations she might have had. She’d seen that look on Bo’s face before; the determined set of her jaw and the tightness around her mouth that brooked no dissent. Bo was headstrong and ignorant of the manner in which the Fae political world worked – when it worked, that was. It was what made her so brave, and also what made her foolish. The Dark Fae were fiercely protective of what they knew, especially when it came to Bo, and weren’t going to give up information without dire consequences. Particularly when any involvement with Bo’s history had been expressly forbidden throughout the county. The Ash had been clear: anyone found to be liaising between Light and Dark on Bo’s behalf would suffer. And the fear he exacted and instilled in his people was matched only by the deleterious manner in which it manifested itself. For all the damage humans could do to one another, there were a thousand more ways in which Fae could be hurt by their own.

But Bo knew nothing of this. She was an innocent when it came to the politics of the Fae world, trapped between Light and Dark. She had no protection on which to rely and no strong arm to restrain her, no laws to govern her. Her dogmatic independence was one of the things Lauren admired about her, but also one of the most terrifying.

“I don’t care about Fae law,” Bo said, with a grandiose sweep of her hand. She leaned back on the bar and surveyed Lauren carefully. For all her smiles and quiet control, there was something of a haunted look about the doctor, as though she was fearful of saying too much. Or of saying anything. And now, as Bo’s eyes met twin pools of brown, Lauren’s features were struggling around an expression of difficult disclosure. She let out a couple of short sighs and began to speak, then stopped herself, leaning back and shoving at her hair. Bo caught sight of the necklace that Lauren wore all the time and glowered at it. Her mother – her human mother – had always said that everyone had a cross to bear. And Lauren’s was a twist of silver that hung on a chain around her neck.

Tonight it seemed as though it was heavier than normal.

“I need to know who I am,” Bo said, aware that the alcohol she’d consumed was loosening her lips far more than would have preferred. Especially with Lauren. She frowned at herself and shook her head, trying to clear it and failing miserably. “Don’t you understand? I need to know where I came from and your stupid laws mean that nobody will help me!” She flung her hands up into the air and let out a bitter laugh. The very people who had given her a biological identity were now the same ones who refused to give her a personal one. It was more than a little ironic, to say the least.

Lauren shifted slightly, glancing around the bar once more. It was conceivable that The Ash would have his spies in here, as he did almost everywhere else. She also knew that her association with Bo hadn’t gone unnoticed – and not solely by The Ash. In the corner of her eye, she saw Trick lingering behind the bar, his gaze flickering towards them both as he went about his business. Nothing got by Trick; when it came to the Fae, he was one of the oldest and most powerful. Only she wasn’t supposed to know that and, as Trick caught her staring at him, she almost flushed as he offered her a knowing glance and a warning twist of his mouth. He had made his choices. Perhaps it was time to make hers, too.

“They’re not my laws, Bo,” she found herself saying, as Trick moved further along the bar away from them as though nothing had transpired between them at all.

“Huh?” Bo lifted her head from where it was sinking ungracefully toward the bar. She squinted up at Lauren and blinked slowly before pointing at the necklace, stabbing her finger towards the pendant nestled against the doctor’s chest. “You’re his slave, right? His laws are your laws. So why don’t you be a good little slave and run off back to your lab?”

It came out much meaner than she’d really intended, and she couldn’t help but notice how Lauren visibly flinched and dropped her gaze to the floor, where it stayed for a long moment. But Bo’s guilt was as fleeting as her sobriety had been and she drew in a defensive breath as Lauren’s gaze rose to meet her own, steady and once more curbed of the almost wild–eyed pleas that had darkened it.

“They’re Fae laws, Bo. Not human. And when you stop being angry with me and you’re ready to listen, you might want to remember that,” Lauren said, her tone thick with emotion that she could barely disguise. Her lips twitched in irritation at her inability to exercise jurisdiction over her demeanor. She simply wasn’t accustomed to flailing so ridiculously in this way; in fact, she’d chosen the path she was on precisely because it removed all of these tortorous possibilities from her life. The only thing that had been a constant in her life was her work and she clung to it, sometimes desperately so because it was reliable and unchanging when everything else had been caught in a state of flux.

And then Bo had moved to town and all of Lauren’s fastidious habits had been quite dissembled and thrown around her in complete chaos. Looking at her now, Lauren teetered on the brink of a precipice that she had wished would never tempt her; that she had previously watched other people plunge into and pitied them for their lack of self control.

But falling had never been so intrinsically wonderful and alarmingly easy as it was right now. Shockingly so, Lauren thought to herself with a sharp intake of breath. If Bo could choose humans, then perhaps so could she – choose herself instead of the dogged loyalties her work for The Ash had perpetuated in her life. Because, in the end, everyone lived or died by the choices they made and the allies they clung to in the silent pitch of the night. And Lauren had spent so many nights alone that she wasn’t sure she’d ever had the luxury of choice before.

But she did now.

“I don’t know what that means,” Bo muttered, rubbing at her face with a weary hand.

“Go home,” Lauren urged, biting at her lower lip as Bo viewed her with a narrowed gaze. “Sleep on it. I want to help you, Bo. But you have to let me.”

She took a final, lingering and indulgent look at the Succubus before glancing over to where Trick was leaning at the other end of the bar. He lifted his chin in acknowledgement and she gave him a tight smile before turning and walking away.

continued in

The Third Way: Confessions