Table of Contents

heartsways - Ways To Tell You I'm Sorry series

Disclaimer

The First Way: Ownership

The Second Way: Choices

The Third Way: Confessions

The Fourth Way: Decisions

The Fifth Way: Actions

The Sixth Way: Revelations

The Seventh Way: Honesty

The Eighth Way: Repercussions

The Ninth Way: Recriminations

The Tenth Way: Exposure

The Eleventh Way: Revenge

The Twelfth Way: Concession

The Thirteenth Way: Loyalties

The Fourteenth Way: Punishment

The Fifteenth Way: Resolution

LOST GIRL - BO/LAUREN

“Ways To Tell You I’m Sorry” series

heartsways

“Ways To Tell You I’m Sorry” series

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.

Compilation of stories:

The First Way: Ownership

The Second Way: Choices

The Third Way: Confessions

The Fourth Way: Decisions

The Fifth Way: Actions

The Sixth Way: Revelations

The Seventh Way: Honesty

The Eighth Way: Repercussions

The Ninth Way: Recriminations

The Tenth Way: Exposure

The Eleventh Way: Revenge

The Twelfth Way: Concession

The Thirteenth Way: Loyalties

The Fourteenth Way: Punishment

The Fifteenth Way: Answers

Title: Ways To Tell You I’m Sorry - The First Way: Ownership

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 to you for the idea in the first place and for the beta. You know who you are and I suck at html.

The First Way: Ownership

heartsways

The moment Bo stalked into the lab Lauren knew she was in trouble. And not the sort of trouble that Bo usually attracted and wrapped around herself with a mischievous light dancing in her eyes and a bottle of tequila in her hand. No, this was the sort of trouble that furrowed twin lines on Bo’s brow and brought her to an abrupt halt close to where Lauren was scribbling notes onto a medical chart. Too close, in fact, for Lauren to feel anything other than discomfort, gnawing at her back in a perpetual reminder of how she’d hurt the Succubus. She’d seen Bo like this before; wild–eyed and hasty. She’d looked rather like that on the night she’d left her house, throwing down The Ash’s necklace like a gauntlet of shame and betrayal.

So as Bo shifted agitatedly before her, boots scuffing on the pristine floor, Lauren took a breath and prepared herself for the worst.

“I need you to do something for me,” Bo said, her tone ticking over syllables with the sharpened edges of hurt.

“Bo…” Lauren began, but the Succubus held up a hand that halted apologies and even made Lauren flinch a little with its inferred ferocity.

“Save it,” Bo shook her head, gaze burning. “I need you to do something and you’re going to do it. That’s all. I don’t want to hear any more sorries from you.”

Dropping her hand, she allowed herself a luxurious sweep of Lauren’s body with eyes that were bright in anger. Lauren’s heart sank. She’d expected Bo to bear something of a grudge, but she hadn’t expected the other woman’s animosity to be so enduring. After the silence and unreturned phone calls, there had been a brief, accusatory conversation and then nothing. Not until now, anyway.

“You know what?” Bo said, chin jerking forwards, defiant and pointed in chagrin. “I don’t even want to be here!”

Lauren raised her eyebrows and half turned away, placing the clipboard and pen gently down onto the metal surface of the table by her side, moving with the quiet deliberation of someone who considers every action; every consequence. In fact, the only time she’d acted without thought had been the one night she and Bo had spent together.

Well, she reasoned with herself, she wouldn’t be making that mistake again. Judging from the way Bo was glaring at her right now, she wouldn’t have the opportunity anyway. Lauren sighed. Sometimes Bo acted like a child and sometimes she talked like one. When she did both at the same time, it proved difficult to remember that she was a grown woman. But her life experience – at least, her romantic one – had never progressed past the first date, so Lauren was trying to remind herself to cut Bo a bit of slack. But that was proving very difficult right now, and irritation flickered in Lauren’s eyes momentarily.

“And yet,” she turned back to face the Succubus with a resigned expression on her face, “here you are anyway. Careful, Bo, or I might start to think you can’t stay away from me.”

She knew as soon as the words fell from her lips that she’d said the wrong thing. That was the problem with Bo; she hated being told an irrefutable truth that didn’t fit into her world view. Especially a truth that they both knew would always bring them back towards one another, no matter how much she tried to deny it. They were like magnets, repelling and attracting and always unpredictable. Just when Lauren had almost given up hope that Bo would ever want her again, here she was, standing in front of her and literally vibrating with an undisguised and open hurt that Lauren just wanted to kiss away.

If only it was that easy. If only everything was that easy. If it had been, Lauren’s mouth would have been on Bo’s right now and her arms would have encircled the Succubus and made all the bad dissipate into the ether. But romantic notions, like Bo’s patience, were thin and unsubstantial. It was going to take a lot more than a few desperate kisses to assuage the curl of Bo’s mouth and the clenching of her fists down by her sides.

“I’m sorry, I – ”

“Stop saying that like it means something!” Bo growled, a muscle on her neck flickering angrily.

“It does!” Lauren insisted, holding out her hands in supplication. “I know you think I betrayed you but I didn’t! If you’d let me explain, you’d see that – ”

“Explain?” Bo’s eyebrows shot up and she let out a mirthless laugh, as brittle and hard as her voice. “Explain what, how you whored yourself out to please The Ash? Yeah, newsflash Lauren. You don’t need to explain that to me. I got it loud and clear.”

Despite the fact that Bo could quite possibly kill her where she stood, Lauren couldn’t help feeling a faint flare of annoyance in the pit of her stomach, crackling at the back of her neck and pursing her lips. Bo being hurt was one thing. Bo being wrong was another. Meting out justice was something she wholly supported, when appropriate. But Bo’s sense of injustice was skewed and quite off the mark and that, she found, irritated her enough to forget that she was physically inferior to the other woman.

“I think you should leave now,” she said in a halting tone. She tried to ignore the outrage that fled across Bo’s features and instead folded her arms almost imperiously across her chest. “Whatever it is you want from me, ask me another time. Maybe when you can keep a civil tongue in your head.” It wasn’t perhaps the wisest piece of advice she’d ever given, but it was all she could muster, given that Bo was clearly on an emotional rampage and wouldn’t be satisfied until both of them were feeling desperately unfulfilled and emotionally decimated.

Bo shook her head and gave another one of those disingenuous, icy laughs. “Maybe you’d rather I lie about how I’m feeling then?” she suggested. “You know, seeing as that’s how you operate,” she added with a resentful glare.

“Okay,” Lauren let out a long sigh and released her arms, shoving her hands into the pockets of her lab coat. Even she, in her unswerving belief that every problem had a solution, knew when to sideline a project for another day. She shrugged slightly and glanced down at the floor, admitting defeat. “Goodbye, Bo.”

She’d barely turned towards the doorway when hands gripped her shoulders, spinning her around and pressing her against the cold metal table that bumped mercilessly on her hips. She almost lost her footing and stumbled slightly, giving Bo further purchase on her stance and it was only when she was pushed up against one immovable object that she found another holding her in place. Bo’s body was flush on her own, the only thing separating them clothing and an almost palpable tension that slid down in between their breasts and stomachs, hot and heavy and fetid. Lauren could feel the other woman’s quickened breath on her cheek as Bo leaned in and fixed her with a blistering gaze. Hands trapped in the pockets of her lab coat, a vague sense of panic began to rise in Lauren’s chest and she blinked rapidly, feeling her heartbeat accelerate with the unknown.

“What do you want from me?” she gasped, more than a little fearful. “You won’t listen to anything I say, Bo.”

“Maybe because you haven’t said anything worth hearing,” Bo hissed, her fingers digging painfully into Lauren’s upper arms. Biting at her lip, Lauren caught sight of a glimmer of acknowledgement in Bo’s eyes – she knew that she was hurting her. And even though they’d implicitly agreed to ‘take it slow’, that hadn’t happened. It wasn’t happening now. Everything with Bo was instantaneous; that was how she lived her life. It was also how she ruined it. Because the simple truth was that when you cared about someone – when Bo cared about someone, she gave them implicit permission to hurt her.

And Lauren had.

As they stared at one another, Lauren could see Bo trying to figure her out. Trying to see behind the mask she wore so completely that it almost seemed a part of her now – her achievements within the Fae hierarchy paying homage to her inherent skills and wanton eagerness to take her place beside The Ash. But for all Bo understood about Lauren’s loyalty to her owner, she misunderstood a thousand times more than that. She leapt from conclusion to assumption and denied the truths that Lauren kept hidden lest anyone should really know her. And that, the doctor knew with a sinking heart, was what Bo was unable to see right now, no matter how hard she stared into wide brown eyes.

“Then let me explain,” Lauren insisted, moving in Bo’s vicelike grip and realizing that struggling against a Fae was fairly pointless. Leaning back against the table behind her, she dropped her gaze and let out another sigh. “Please, Bo.”

“Shut up,” Bo snapped, glowering and closing her eyes for a brief second. “Just…shut up, Lauren. I thought we had something, you know? I thought you were…” she stopped herself and shrugged as though the mere motion of her shoulders could dismiss the longing that burned acid in her throat. “I thought we had – ”

“We did!” Lauren looked up again, meeting Bo’s eyes, her gaze plaintive and insistent. “We still do, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.” She moved, bumped up against Bo’s pelvis and felt the electric shock of contact hit them both at the same time. She’d spent a lot of time pondering what exactly it was that they ‘had’. Eventually she’d given in to the conclusion that it was complicated and intangible, and that she might never know precisely what it was, just that it was there. All the time. Every time they were together.

“I’m not here because of that,” Bo answered, dragging her eyes from Lauren’s and shaking her a little, as though it could loosen the hold that the doctor seemed to have over her thoughts…her emotions.

“Then why are you here?” Lauren’s voice was soft, enquiring. It was the velvet sound that Bo had heard when they were in bed together, the audible caress that shivered up and down her spine and enticed her into kisses and more…so much more. Hearing it now, after all that had been sullied and tarnished, it excited her in ways she despised. Because she still craved it; still felt the need for Lauren’s hands on her skin and lips on her own. She wanted it to go away, but pressed up against the blonde, able to catch the faint scent of perfume that drifted towards her, Bo was aware that this sort of feeling wasn’t fleeting. It was so diametrically opposed to the sexual hunger she so often felt that she didn’t possess words to explain it – not to Lauren and most definitely not to herself.

But it was very, very frustrating.

Glancing up, she caught sight of Lauren’s mouth, half–open with a strange mixture of fear and desire. She noticed, with a thrill, the wavering haze of heated lust that was rising from pale skin and the pulse that jumped underneath it. Being a Succubus meant that nobody could hide their appetites from her, not when it came to sex. And Lauren had ceased trying a long time ago.

She pushed at the doctor again, shoving her back up against the table – this time, harder and with more vigor. Another gasp escaped Lauren’s mouth and she closed her eyes before opening them to look at Bo with a heavy–lidded gaze that was quite at odds with her forcible entrapment. Bo’s fingers dug in deeper to Lauren’s upper arms and an expression of faint pain slid briefly over those features that were usually so serene and controlled.

“You’re hurting me,” Lauren whispered, and discerned a slight easing of the grip on her flesh. But it wasn’t the physical pain that hurt. Not really.

“Yeah?” Bo leaned in so that her lips were almost touching Lauren’s, almost close enough to feed. “Now you know how it feels.”

Brown melted into a yearning expression that engulfed Bo in a heady wave of sorrow and regret. The backwash took her by surprise and she caught her breath, tugged by an overwhelming undercurrent of denied want towards lips that were, even now, opening up under her own. Crushing her mouth against Lauren’s, there was no resistance and no contemplative hesitation that the doctor had exercised so many times before. The groan that slid from Lauren’s mouth resonated and hummed on Bo’s and was the touch–paper ignited between them.

Without breaking the kiss, Bo’s hands scraped a line up to Lauren’s shoulders and grasped at the lapels of her lab coat. Dragging it down over Lauren’s body, Bo bunched it around delicate wrists and let out a satisfied murmur as the doctor found she was effectively restrained, arms trapped against her body and helpless to offer resistance. Eyes widening in realization, Lauren felt her head jerked back as Bo’s hands sunk deep into her hair and pulled without reserve, exposing her long, slender neck. Pin pricks of pain exploded across her scalp as handfuls of her long, blonde tresses were twisted around Bo’s strong fingers, but Lauren found that she didn’t really care.

Bo’s mouth was on her neck, teeth nipping in delighted torture at her skin and sure to leave marks. It was incredible; insatiable. It was wholly wrong and yet nothing had ever felt so passionately right. As she was thrust back over the table, Lauren let out a hiss of discomfort and looked up at Bo. The Succubus’ face was set in an undisguised expression of want that was beautiful and terrifying all at the same time, and Lauren knew that for all her medical reasoning and scientific curiosity, this was the true source of her attraction to Bo. She was incandescently beautiful, and never more so than when her power was worn on the outside, instead of tamed and controlled. It was thrilling, to see it this way. To know that she was the one who unleashed it.

So as Bo freed a hand from her hair and scraped it down over her torso, Lauren ignored the hard edge of the table against her back and the unrelenting hold on her hair; she dismissed the white cotton shackles on her wrists and instead focused on the body pushing on her own, a leather–clad thigh nudging between her own and opening her up to the vulnerability she’d always abjured.

Bo’s fingers scrabbled against the waistband of her pants and slid underneath it; Lauren felt a mouth at her neck again. A hot, damp line dragged up the skin there until she could feel Bo’s breath on her ear.

“This is why I’m here,” Bo whispered, her fingertips tracing invisible lines of desperate fire down over Lauren’s belly, down to where a molten heat was building, circling the doctor’s hips in an unmistakable sway of hunger. “I hate what you did to me,” Bo added, relishing the groan that was thick and deep in Lauren’s chest. “I hate you for doing it, too.” She thrust her fingers into Lauren and closed her eyes as her hand was enveloped in a sticky wetness that sent pleasure coursing through her veins.

“Do you?” Lauren’s voice was hoarse, silken tones replaced by the roughened nudity of her emotional and physical response to this wonderful creature, even now moving in and out of her without preamble. Bo’s teeth closed around her earlobe and tugged on it hard; Lauren felt a withering tremble begin in her thighs and willed herself to stand, to remain tall, to endure. But of all the challenges she’d faced since working with the Fae, this was surely the most trying. The most incredible. The most terrifying. Because as Bo drew her towards orgasm and pinned her against the table, Lauren was almost certain that she didn’t want to escape. Not now. Perhaps not ever. Even though she knew with every fiber of her being that she should. That this was wrong and not how intimacy should transpire between them – not how it had ever been before.

“Yes,” Bo’s voice was guttural with a force that seemed quite at odds with the way she was touching the other woman. “I hate you, Lauren,” she snarled, but her tone was marred with cracks of pain that spread icy tendrils into her chest. “I hate you,” she said again, shoving her fingers into the other woman as far as they would go. She knew that there were only moments…seconds left before they plunged into the abyss together and allowed herself a secretive look at the blonde. Lauren’s head lolled back on her neck, supported only by Bo’s hand buried deep in her hair; her mouth was open and a deep crimson flush crept up the length of her throat, puckered with the faint marks of Bo’s teeth. She was utterly undone; so broken open that Bo almost caught her breath at the mere sight of it. It was almost too much. Always never enough.

“God, I hate you,” Bo said, and felt the shameful prickle of tears behind her eyes as she thrust upwards once more, drawing out a long keening sound from Lauren’s throat as the blonde stiffened, silent lips open and gasping for breath.

For a moment, Bo could only hear her own heartbeat like a whirlwind in her ears, and the sight of Lauren, unkempt and disabused underneath her. Then the cold, impersonal walls of the lab came back into focus and reality, never more stark than now, began to seep into her line of vision.

Letting go of Lauren’s hair and tugging her hand from the doctor’s pants, Bo stumbled and took a step backwards to steady herself. What had she done? What might she do, given the chance? Her eyes met Lauren’s and she shook her head, clamping a hand over her mouth as the blonde frowned and moved towards her. But that only sent Bo reeling backwards once more and she blinked, shame darkening her gaze to almost black.

Lauren said her name, just once. Low and soft and inviting, with a timbre of forgiveness and impenetrable regret.

And now it really was too much.

Turning away from the disheveled mess she’d created, Bo spun on her heel and ran from the lab.

~ ~ ~

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.

~ ~ ~

Title: Ways To Tell You I’m Sorry - The Third Way: Confessions

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. I’ve taken some major poetic license with the characters here. Or, you know, unpoetic license. Either way…

The Third Way: Confessions

heartsways

Lauren’s hands were shaking a little as she lined up vials of medicine on the shelf and then stood back, surveying her work with a critical eye. She hadn’t slept much the previous night and the concerns that haunted her dreams were now returning to palpitate her heart and usually steady hands. Glancing down at her them, her mouth formed a moue of discontent as she pressed her fingers into the palms of her hand – first one, then the other – in the hopes that the trembling she’d experienced would go away with a little pressure. After all, exerting pressure was something she’d become accustomed to. Something she was good at, in lots of ways. Learning how to do it without leaving any damage was the key; she winced as her short nails dug into her hand, trying to get at the muscle there. In medicine, much of her treatment lay in research and damage limitation rather than cure. And, for the most part, she was good at that, too. Only the other day she’d treated two cases of suspected infection among a family of wraiths and not only prevented it from speading, but had come up with a course of antibiotics that had restored them to health in almost record time. Minimal damage. Maximum limitation.

A wry smile tugged at her mouth as she turned from the shelf and made her way back across the lab floor. Creating an antibiotic for a creature who existed only in shadow and shade without any physiological form to speak of had been…well, she allowed herself a tiny congratulatory bob of her head, probably a major breakthrough in medical history. And she couldn’t tell a soul. No human could ever know of the work she did with the Fae, or celebrate her accomplishments. Her genius remained unspoken, unshared among her own kind. Although, her smile faded and she frowned, not that she knew anyone to tell anyway. What ties she’d had to the human world had been severed completely when she’d come under the protection of The Ash. In fact, Kenzi was one of the only humans Lauren ever spoke to of late, apart from the overly–friendly cashier in the grocery store and the woman on the telephone at her local Chinese delivery place.

But sometimes her determined loneliness and isolation from her own kind offered a source of protection that The Ash couldn’t give her. Because being set apart from humans meant that she never had to open her heart again to the vagaries of romantic entanglements. She’d had very few meaningful relationships in her life; her parents had died when she was at medical school and, after that, there had only been Claire. Romance was something Lauren had set to one side, effectively putting a pin in it until she got to the place she wanted to be. Medical school, residency, and finally accomplishment had all taken precedence. And by the time she removed that pin and allowed romance to be a possibility in her life, she found that her singular existence had become as much a second nature as her professional one. If being a good doctor was something that came easily to her, then so did being alone.

Perhaps that was why she’d become distant from people. Or perhaps it was her indenture to The Ash and the burden of keeping his secrets that made her wary. Either way, she’d drifted for so many years that she’d almost forgotten what a true emotional connection felt like; the sparks that exploded light at the back of her neck or the warm flood of feeling that accompanied eye contact. It was contained in the simple things, almost in the mundane. And her life had been anything and everything but mundane since she began working under the protection of the Light Fae.

Whichever way she viewed it – and, Lauren being Lauren had looked at it from almost every angle there was – she was alone. And recently, lonely. Because the worst thing about having that connection wasn’t the feeling of it or the surprise that it could, in fact, be felt at all. No; it was the absence of it once it had wormed its way into her heart. And in feeling the first tendrils of something uncommonly intense, Lauren grieved its loss.

She clasped her hands together and shook her head. The Ash had once told her that grief was a useless emotion and achieved nothing. He was right, of course. All grief did was put unnecessary and distracting burdens onto one’s shoulders and make life onerous and heavy. Lauren had discovered that for herself a long time ago and owed much to The Ash for his patience and consistency, for his cruelty and stricture in enabling her to be more than she ever thought possible, in saving her from a life less than ordinary. He was the father she’d never known and the teacher she couldn’t best, not even with all her medical knowledge. Small wonder, then, that she had willingly undertaken any and every task he set her with the sort of single–minded determination that characterised everything she’d ever done.

But he’d never bargained for Bo. Never expected that his faithful and servile doctor might look elsewhere for fulfillment, or even want it.

Looking down at her hands again, Lauren pursed her lips and sighed. Hiding anything from The Ash was an exercise in futility because he knew everything. After all this time, he could read her in ways that she’d never thought possible between one being and another. So even though he kept trying to push her back onto the path he’d chosen for her – the path that she had gratefully accepted and committed to, Lauren kept veering off course and wandering back towards Bo. And Bo kept moving towards her too. Or, at least, she had done until recently.

Lauren liked to see things with clarity and definition. She liked to understand how the world worked and how the Fae existed in their symbiotic and secretive relationship with humans. When she thought about Bo, she was only able to understand how they were pulled together in the unerring and intrinsic truth of how the world – the Fae world – was as unpredictable and unstable as it was unchanging and constant. Gravity, the mutual force by which bodies were attracted to one another also dictated the distance between them. And, like gravity, Lauren knew that she and Bo were pulled together time and again so that they were caught in an emotionally accelerated freefall that they were both powerless to resist. Even if she’d wanted to – and she didn’t – Lauren sometimes felt that in the forbidden lay inevitability, an inescapable move forwards to assuage the loneliness that had characterized both of their lives. In their ever–decreasing circles of association lay a maelstrom that filled Lauren with an expectant fear. For herself, and for the woman she was drawn to.

Love, like gravity, was an undeniable constant. Lauren had felt it before, of course, and had allowed it to keep her in her place and give her form and solidity. Without it, she had drifted and floundered over all the lost connections to the world around her until the only thing she could rely upon was her fealty to The Ash, his guiding force and the immutable facts of science. She’d almost forgotten that humans have the capacity to believe; to have faith – even in love. And lately, she’d begun to believe that she didn’t need to see things in order to know they existed; she only needed the faith to believe that they did so that she could feel them.

A laugh escaped her mouth as she lifted her gaze to the ceiling and marveled at herself. If her college teachers could only see her now, they would mock the serious, quiet student who was contemplating such ideals. Lauren had learned to focus on the authentic; the genuine certainties that were the lynch pin of her scientific life. Even under The Ash’s tutelage, she’d never been prone to flights of fancy, and yet here she was, standing in her lab and contemplating the true nature of love. If love was a gravitational force, then she was doomed to be caught in a spiral that would always, always bring her back to Bo. Tangible only by the disastrous effects it had wreaked on them both.

“Stupid,” she muttered to herself, taking cold comfort in the fact that her hands had stopped shaking, at least. Picking up her pen, she grabbed a stack of notes that she’d hastily scribbled after her last consultation and began going through them. Perhaps a return to the work she loved instead of the woman she might could give her some much–needed focus.

“Who’s stupid?”

Lauren whirled around to see Bo standing in the doorway to the lab, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot and looking anywhere but at the doctor.

“How long have you been there?” Lauren gasped, surprise widening her eyes and coloring her cheeks with a faint pink flush.

Folding her arms over her chest, Bo shrugged. “Not long.” Her eyes roamed the lab and a frown crinkled her brow. “Talking to yourself?” she mused, a tiny smile tugging the corner of her mouth upwards. “I guess you finally let working with the Fae drive you crazy, right?”

Turning away, Lauren shuffled the notes into a messy pile on the table and dropped her pen on top of them. Gravity. Like love, one only knew it was there after it had already taken hold.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” she said in a considered tone, gathering herself so that by the time she swung around to face Bo, there was already a polite smile spreading across her lips.

“I didn’t expect to be here,” Bo answered, flinging out her hands and wandering across the floor of the lab. She stopped short just a few feet away from Lauren and shrugged, looking almost shamefaced. It was curious, Lauren thought, to see Bo this way. She was tense, like a wary animal, wanting to come closer but not trusting the consequences if she did. It was all Lauren could do not to reach out to her. Instead, she folded her arms over her chest and waited until Bo drew a breath and shook her head, frowning.

“You said when I was ready to listen, you’d be waiting.”

“I did,” Lauren nodded.

“And…you said other stuff too,” Bo began hesitantly, then screwed up her features into an expression of confusion and blinked rapidly. “But I can’t really remember it because of the alcohol and the…you know.” She glanced at Lauren and rolled her eyes. “The whole insulting you thing.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Bo’s words had hurt. Lauren’s indentured existence had always been something she never needed to explain to other Fae. They’d always taken it for granted that she belonged to The Ash and she’d never questioned it, or them. It was simply the way that the Fae world turned, bent on an axis that most humans could never comprehend or condone. But to someone like Bo, the notion of one person belonging to another – particularly someone like Lauren, had shocked and appalled her. And lying with Bo in her bed, Lauren had felt the strength of the Succubus’ will in the freedom she had offered.

Her fingers fled to the necklace, touching the pendant with a harried touch, noticing how Bo’s eyes were drawn to it in critical judgment.

“Well,” Lauren finally said quietly, “who knew that alcohol would affect you the way it does most humans.” Her lips curved into a tight smile and she looked down at the ground. Better not to see the pity in Bo’s eyes. Better not to feel it sinking within her chest.

“I’m not usually a mean drunk,” Bo attempted a laugh but it echoed, hollow and empty in the stark lab. “Usually I just get…uh…” she lifted her shoulders in an unapologetic shrug and Lauren eventually looked up at her, their eyes meeting and holding for a long moment.

“Hungry?” Lauren suggested, and was relieved to see Bo give her a genuine smile in response.

“Yeah,” Bo ducked her head and shifted slightly, her booted feet sounding dreadfully loud in the quiet hum of the room. Her teeth bit at her lower lip and she straightened up, looking Lauren firmly in the eye and preparing herself for the worst. “I’m sorry about that…” she paused and a frown burrowed momentarily between her eyes. “That thing I said.”

“About being The Ash’s slave?” Lauren’s voice was almost haughty, even though her gaze flickered darkly with the mere verbalization.

“Lauren…”

“No, you’re right.” Lauren shook her head and turned away, busying herself with her stack of papers and picking at their edges with cold fingers. So Bo had come here to make herself feel better, not for any other reason. She made a mental note to send gravity a memo and tell it not to bother next time. Being the recipient of Bo’s pity was even worse than being the object of her anger and resentment. “I’m human, and you know how the Fae feel about that,” she added, swallowing hard. “You weren’t raised as Fae, so you couldn’t possibly understand how loyalty works.”

“Not when it means betraying someone you care about, no I don’t.” Bo’s tone was icy and closer than Lauren had expected, drifting over her shoulder with the heavy timbre of blame.

“Bo…I don’t want to argue about this again.” Lauren held up a hand as she turned to see a pair of dark, accusatory eyes fixed on her. “If that’s what you’re here for, then I’m not interested.”

For a moment it seemed as though the Succubus was going to protest, or at least attempt to instigate another disagreement. Her jaw jutted as she looked at the doctor, nostrils flaring in sudden anger. And then…then she clamped her lips together and stood back, chest rising and falling with increased emotion and breath. Lifting her chin, Bo nodded reluctantly and her shoulders dropped in supplication.

“Okay,” she said slowly. “Alright. I don’t want to argue either.”

Lauren’s eyebrows lifted questioningly, doubtfully, but she said nothing. The problem with wary animals was that if a hand of reconciliation was extended towards them, they were more than likely to rip off the arm attached to it if they felt threatened.

“So here I am. Ready to listen.” Bo gave a curt nod that implied confidence, although she looked ready to turn and run from the lab should Lauren say the wrong thing. It was an odd game of push and pull they were playing, Lauren thought to herself. Throwing emotions from one to the other like a burning coal, neither one of them wanting to hold on for too long lest they should be scarred for life.

But she knew that she would rather feel the heat of that emotion searing into her than the lonely cold seep into her bones, and she looked at Bo for a long moment before opening her mouth.

“You’re important, Bo. More than you know.” A faint smile played around her mouth as Bo softened at the implied confession. “Not just to me,” Lauren added with a complicit grin, which she quickly covered by dipping her head and shuffling her feet.

“The Dark Fae want you for reasons that you and I can’t possibly comprehend. But The Ash does, and I trust his word.” She saw how Bo stiffened at the mere mention of his name; how bringing his presence between them pushed them apart again and reminded each of them how betrayal can slide easily between bedsheets and lie with kisses.

“When I came to you that night, it wasn’t to sleep with you.” It didn’t really matter if Bo believed her or not. It only mattered that she say it, finally, and have Bo hear her. Because when she’d said she didn’t know what she was doing, Lauren had meant it. She’d allowed her emotions to overtake sense and caution in a way she’d never done since working for The Ash. It wasn’t his will that thrust her into Bo’s arms; it had been her own. A will she thought she had given over to someone else forever.

“Then why did you?” Bo asked, her voice bringing Lauren’s gaze to rest on her features, open and confused.

“How could I not?” Lauren asked, moving forwards so that she could almost touch the other woman. “I wanted to keep you safe. There are dangers out there that you know nothing about and I didn’t want you to have to face them. You’re not ready yet. We haven’t had enough time.”

Swallowing against the thickness rising in her throat, Lauren frowned and tried to shake it away, but it lodged, painful and insistent and tightened her chest. “The Dark Fae…if they can’t have you, then they’ll kill you. And I just…” There it was again, that tightness, halting her speech and trembling her lips so that she closed her eyes impatiently and shook her head. “I couldn’t let that happen. I don’t know how else to say this to you but you have to trust me, Bo.” Lauren wasn’t given to impassioned pleas but with her hands outstretched and tears pricking the back of her eyes, she knew that she sounded desperate. Perhaps she was.

“Trust you? After you lied to me?” Bo’s attempt at recrimination sounded feeble. As though she was tired of trying to fight it any more.

“I didn’t lie to you. God, Bo, don’t you get it? I lied to myself!” Lauren threw her hands into the air and looked heavenward. “I follow the will of The Ash, explicitly and without question. And you made me question everything, Bo. You made me want things I have no right to ask for; things that are forbidden to people like you and me.”

“People like you and me?” Bo echoed.

“I’m human. Property of The Ash,” Lauren intoned sadly, with a disconsolate expression creeping over her features. “I don’t have the right to make a choice, but with you – ”

“See,” Bo interrupted, taking a step closer to Lauren and peering into her face, “that’s what I don’t understand. You’re his…property? Lauren, have you listened to yourself? You don’t belong to anyone.”

Lauren knew that wasn’t true. It hadn’t been true before the night they’d spent together and it certainly wasn’t true now. All she had done was to shift her loyalties without even knowing it. The moment she’d pressed up against Bo and tasted her skin; the second that their eyes had met, free of the shackles of her necklace, Lauren had given herself over to a greater force. One that she had resisted for so long that accepting it now was almost a relief, not a sentence. If she was to remain a chattel for the rest of her life, then she had gladly invited that status. For better or worse.

“I work for the will of The Ash,” she said dully. It was her mantra. If she repeated it often enough, it might actually have some validity again.

“Not good enough,” Bo said tersely, reaching out and grabbing Lauren’s arm as she turned away. Blonde hair fell forward to cover a face that was strained and tight, unwilling to reveal more than was necessary. But the contact was enough for Lauren to shake her head and close her eyes momentarily, longing for the desire to indulge in disclosure to pass. It usually did. Always had.

“Lauren, look at me.”

“Please, Bo. Don’t ask any more questions. Don’t involve yourself in this.”

“Look at me!” Bo cried, shaking Lauren’s arm. “If you want me to trust you, you have to talk to me, Lauren. Otherwise this is pointless. You know that, right?”

Lauren nodded sadly. She’d always known it. Since the first moment, gravity had dictated their distance and closeness. Always shifting, always moving, but always set apart. Both of them walking the line between worlds; one who had chosen it and one who had been condemned to it.

“I had a sister,” Lauren said. The words sounded uncommon on her tongue and she knew it was because she hadn’t said them to anyone for years. Hadn’t ever needed to or wanted to.

“Had?” Bo echoed, eyebrows drawing together in uncertainty.

“Yes, younger than me.” Lauren twisted out of Bo’s grip and moved away, as though physical distance could incur some emotional distance from the memories that were, even now, sliding gilt–edged and painful into her brain. But she gulped for air before she could continue and swallowed down the pin–prick threat of tears that always accompanied thoughts of Claire. “We lived together when I was a doctor – a human doctor,” she qualified, folding her arms over her chest and glancing at Bo, listening carefully.

“One night Claire was attacked on her way home from work and ended up on my table. I didn’t know it then but she’d been attacked by a Fae, which was why she got so sick.” Lauren’s voice hitched over the details and she cleared her throat, wishing it was as easy to clear her mind of the sight of her sister, poisoned and dying before her very eyes. Eyes that were now deepening with shades of hurt. Regret. Resignation.

“I was a good doctor,” Lauren said, her tone bitter. “I did the whole research thing; tried for weeks to find a cure but Claire was fading fast and I was utterly helpless.”

“Lauren…” Bo moved forwards, her hand outstretched, but the doctor shifted away and shook her head, lips taut.

“Then not long after that, we got a patient who wasn’t…human,” Lauren’s words were heavy, considered. She remembered the moment when she’d realized that her world and vast medical knowledge was, in fact, very small. How even then, she’d felt a rush of exhilaration and fear at her discovery. At the walls that came crumbling down around everything she’d learned in medical school.

“They were Fae?”

“Yes. Dark Fae.” Lauren shrugged and shoved her hands into the pockets of her lab coat. “I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was on the way to figuring it out. And that was when I met The Morrigan,” she added. “Apparently my research into my sister’s condition, combined with attempting to treat a member of the Fae community attracted some attention. So by the time the Fae patient disappeared from the hospital, I was already marked as dead. All my notes and research on their physiology and unique biological makeup were a threat to them, so that night I was attacked by some…” she trailed off and shook her head. It was easier to talk in facts; to focus on the events, rather than the terror that had accompanied them.

“The Morrigan sent her best soldiers,” she finished, without explanation, but the lines around her eyes told Bo all she needed to know. A human could offer little defense against most Fae who indulged in mayhem and destruction. But the ones who were ordered to kill on behalf of their leader were the worst of all; unstoppable and intent on fulfilling their mission with a perverse sense of completion and joy. Bo shuddered involuntarily as Lauren pressed her lips together in a firm line and sighed.

“What happened?” Bo asked in a small voice.

Lauren slid one hand from the pocket of her coat and reached up to finger the necklace she wore. It was a moment before she opened her mouth again and she curled her fingers around the twist of silver before looking at Bo.

“The Ash happened. He’d heard about my research too,” she explained. “He saved me – the Light Fae saved me. Humans aren’t meant to know about the Fae, but I was so close to understanding who they are, Bo. Everything I’d ever done before paled in comparison.” There was an impassioned tone to her voice that brought a glimmer of light to her eyes for a moment, until it died and she frowned it away, dropping her hand from the necklace and pushing at her hair.

“I became a doctor to save people and all of a sudden there was this…this being, offering me the opportunity to do what most doctors can only dream of,” she continued. “The Ash chose me, Bo. He offered me his protection from the Dark Fae if I would align myself with the Light. He built this lab and put me in it,” she waved her hand around the room and paused for a moment, her gaze falling over everything he had created for her.

Bo folded her arms over her chest. The Ash was no better than The Morrigan in her eyes. They might be on opposite sides, but she had seen no reason to trust either of them, or their motives. Cruelty came easier to Fae conduct than it did to humans, despite all evidence to the contrary. And The Ash was no exception to that rule.

“But there was a price, right?” she viewed Lauren through a narrowed gaze and watched as the doctor hesitated, then nodded.

“I was offered a bargain. My life for my sister’s. The Ash knew how to cure her and time was running out. If I joined his world and left the human one, he guaranteed her recovery and protection.” Lauren’s eyes gleamed as she recalled his offer, made in a manner that spoke of trade and commerce, not life and death. She had been suitably horrified at the time, but knew as soon as The Ash presented her with the bargain that she would accept it.

“And the one caveat he had was that I never see her again, or speak to her, or have any contact with her.” Now Lauren’s eyes glistened with unshed tears quelled by justification for so long that she felt if she were to give way to them now, she might never stop crying. “He uh…” she swallowed and clenched her teeth together angrily; angry at her own failings and humanity. Angry at the choices she’d made that had left her in this solitary place. That they weren’t choices at all.

“That bastard!” Bo could contain herself no longer. Her eyes flashed as she gazed at Lauren, broken and open in front of her. And The Ash had done that. He’d shattered the only thing that connected Lauren to the human world and taken it away from her. She knew how that felt, to be suddenly lost and alone.

“No,” Lauren held up a hand to stop any potential tirade. “Bo, he made good on his promise. He saved me and he saved my sister. Somewhere in the world, I know Claire is alive and well and safe. How could I possibly not want that?”

“Then let’s find her, Lauren!” Bo grabbed the other woman’s wrist and tugged at her arm. The fervor in her voice spoke of her own desperate need to find family; of the inherent biological pull towards one’s own kind and birthright. “Kenzi and I can start looking for her! The Ash doesn’t have to know – we can find her and you can see her again!”

Lauren’s fingers covered Bo’s, pressing down with a light insistence. The sad smile that curved her lips was beautifully painful and flooded her eyes with exquisite despair. It was a moment before she could bring herself to speak. A moment before she could let go of the hurt that carved out all the empty spaces inside and made them hollow and dead. Like before, her fingers sought comfort in the simple motion of touch and release, in the sensation of strength through contact.

“I can’t, Bo.” Her voice was hoarse and crept over her denial like dead leaves skittering on cold ground. She looked at Bo with sympathy, almost. Such an innocent in the ways of the Fae; still applying human law to a world that was alien and uncommonly cruel. Uncommonly wonderful, too. The juxtaposition of that was what made her work possible. Necessary.

“But, Lauren, come on. You have to – ”

“She thinks I’m dead.”

Bo recoiled, gasping and tearing her hand from Lauren’s arm. The doctor offered her a small smile of indulgence but it failed to reach the inherent sadness that shadowed brown eyes. Failed to assuage the aching that had begun in Lauren’s chest. She’d thrown herself so far into the world of the Fae that she’d almost forgotten the night when she said goodbye. Not only to her human associations, but also to her sister. She had crept into the hospital room and sat by the bed, holding Claire’s hand until it was time to go. Then she had risen and turned away from the only thing keeping her in the world, and never looked back.

Not until now.

“He made her think that, right?” Bo’s voice was terse, the hand that had been clutching Lauren now balled into a fist by her side.

“It was as The Ash willed it,” was Lauren’s response, echoing with false faith.

“It’s disgusting,” Bo retorted, chin jutting out in defiance.

Lauren turned on her, gripping her shoulders and shaking the Succubus a little. The lines of her face were hard–edged and taut as she looked into Bo’s eyes and shook her head.

“She was the only thing holding me to the human world, Bo,” she began sternly. “You have to understand, I would have done anything….anything to keep her alive. And she’s still alive today because of The Ash. Because of what he did for me. For a human. Claire is in the world because of him, and nothing will ever repay that favor.” Her tone thickened and she watched as Bo nodded slowly, dumbly. Passion had been fleeting in Lauren’s life; inconsistent and allied to things of unimportance. But as she talked about her sister, she felt the surge in her chest: fear, loathing, love. All the things she felt for Bo.

“I do what’s necessary to protect those I care about. I lost my sister. I don’t want to lose anyone else. Do you understand, Bo?” Lauren’s hands drifted away from Bo’s shoulders and she gazed at the Succubus for a long moment before moving back, across the floor to where her stack of notes was waiting. A return to arms, so to speak. She reached out for them, grateful for their consistency. Because this was her world now. Anything else existed only in memory.

“You can question The Ash’s motives and Fae laws,” she threw over her shoulder towards Bo. “But don’t question my loyalty. Or what I might have to do to prove it.” Glancing backwards, she allowed herself a brief, indulgent look at the other woman before returning to her notes. It might not have been the explanation Bo required; it probably wasn’t what she wanted, either. But it was all she had to relinquish without ripping open every hidden part of her until there was nothing left to give. There was so little that remained, anyway. Who could possibly want such meager offerings?

A hand on her shoulder made her turn. Bo stood behind her, face painted with colors of sorrow and empathy. But there was no pity in her gaze, only a tacit emotion that made Lauren’s heart swell and beat just a little bit faster.

“I’m sorry,” Bo said softly. “I do want to trust you, Lauren.”

“Then leave the Elemental alone,” Lauren nodded with stern assertion. “Please, Bo. For me.”

It was a request that Bo had heard before. One that had been made in the secretive warm intimacies of a bed that they had shared. One that she had ignored, barely recognizing the implications until now, until this very minute. As Lauren’s lips parted slightly with unspoken words and all the things she couldn’t say, Bo nodded. What else was she to do? The choices that were already made were self–evident and glaringly obvious. Sacrifice was always hard, especially when love’s labors were lost and found like this. But in the moment she inclined her head, Bo knew that this was a sacrifice worth making – just as Lauren had known all those years ago.

“Okay,” she said, seeing relief flood the doctor’s features and stream into her own chest. “Okay.”

~ ~ ~

Title: Ways To Tell You I’m Sorry - The Fourth Way: Decisions

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. For some reason LJ cut was being a complete and uncooperative bitch today. Sorry about that.

The Fourth Way: Decisions

heartsways

Kenzi stood as squarely in the doorway to her and Bo’s home as her small frame would allow. Lifting her chin, she narrowed her eyes and looked carefully at Lauren, hovering on the doorstep. The doctor had turned up at midnight, gently knocking on the door for almost a minute before she leaned forwards, discerning sounds inside the house that indicated nobody would hear her polite taps on the doorframe. In fact, it had taken some vigorous pounding with her fist before the noise was curtailed somewhat and Kenzi had pulled open the door.

And now here they were, facing one another down with the disturbing sounds of shouts and screams echoing from the lounge. Kenzi’s proclivities for violent video games hadn’t lessened despite the visceral and real–life violence she encountered almost every day. If anything, her involvement in the tribal Fae world had only served to give her a taste for battle. Catching a glimpse of the brightly colored images flitting across the huge television screen on the wall, Lauren demurred somewhat. She wasn’t exactly sure that evil robot hookers fell under the Fae’s jurisdiction. Or, indeed, under anyone’s on planet Earth.

“So, are you going to let me in?” Her gaze flickered back to where Kenzi was staring at her with undisguised suspicion.

“What’s with the late night visit?” Kenzi looked Lauren up and down with the a hard gaze that could cut diamonds. Lesser people than the doctor would have withered under it in an instant. “Or is this a house call? Come to save a life? Nobody’s sick here.”

“I’m here to see Bo,” Lauren sighed. Of all the people in Bo’s life, Kenzi was the most protective, the most territorial. She was also the most loyal, something which had not escaped Lauren’s attention. It somehow made it easier to encourage Bo to take a leap of faith, knowing that Kenzi would be there to catch her should she fall.

Kenzi’s eyebrows lifted underneath the hat that was pulled firmly down over her brow. “Oh, really?” she intoned. “But does Bo want to see you?”

Patience, usually Lauren’s faithful companion, deserted her and left her alone and irritated on the doorstep. Heaving another sigh, she lifted her hands in a silent plea. “Come on, Kenzi.”

If the diminutive barrier to the house was going to reply, she was cut short by the appearance of another figure behind her. Bo frowned, her eyes moving from the back of Kenzi’s head to where Lauren stood, statuesque and beautiful in that overt way she had. Bo couldn’t help the faint smile that spread across her lips. She and Lauren had reached something of a detente, if nothing else. There had been a few awkward phone calls and a couple of less awkward consultations after the doctor had revealed more about herself than Bo suspected she’d wanted to. But the icy stand–off between them had melted a little, if not thawed completely. And Bo found that she was actually pleased that Lauren was standing outside her house in the middle of the night.

All of which brought her to the natural question that sprung into her head: why was Lauren standing outside her house in the middle of the night?

“Lauren?” she said, as Kenzi stood back a little and fixed her with a warning glare. “What’s…has something happened? Are you okay?” Panic edged into her tone as her voice rose and she pushed forwards, placing a hand onto Kenzi’s shoulder, effectively shoving her aside.

“Oh…no,” Lauren held up her hand to elicit calm. “Everything’s fine. I just…I wanted to see you. Talk to you.” Her eyes moved briefly towards Kenzi and she shook her head, a little embarrassed. It was one thing to be openly needy with Bo, but quite another to do it in front of the glowering thief who was, even now, judging her for it.

“So why are you standing outside?” Bo stepped back, ushering Lauren into the house and closing the door behind her.

“Your bodyguard,” Lauren glanced at Kenzi, who rolled her eyes and let out a puff of dismissive air from her lips, “was reluctant to let me in.”

Bo let out a little laugh and threw her arm around Kenzi’s shoulders, tugging her towards the lounge as they walked through the house. “Aw, she’s just over–protective,” she explained, pulling her friend against her. “It’s okay, Kenzi. Lauren’s allowed to visit. It’s fine.”

Reaching the couch, Kenzi extricated herself from Bo’s embrace and threw herself onto it, reaching for the controls to her video game with a backwards glance at the other two women. She didn’t understand them. She wasn’t sure she wanted to. All she knew was that Bo and Lauren were together, then they weren’t, and now it looked like they were again. Especially if the way they were smiling at one another was any indication.

“You know, just once I’d like to be informed of what the frickin’ hell is going on with you two,” she said, squinting at the television screen and pursing her lips as she realized she was going to have to start the game all over again. Letting out a sigh, she tilted her head onto one side and shrugged. “I mean, I only live here,” she said lightly, although her tone was offended and brought a faint flush to Bo’s face. “I’m only supposed to be your best friend.”

Bo looked at Lauren, the two exchanging a glance of resigned and silent apology. If they were unable to explain their difficult and uncertain relationship to themselves, then how on earth could they even begin to explain it to Kenzi? But Bo reached out, putting her hand onto Kenzi’s shoulder in what she hoped was a comforting gesture and offered a placatory smile.

“Sorry,” she said gently. Kenzi shrugged, but seemed somewhat satisfied with the apology.

“I need to talk to you,” Lauren said, leaning towards Bo and lowering her voice to a solemn, grave tone.

“Okay,” Bo nodded. “Here, or…or is this private?” She was aware that Lauren hated appearing vulnerable in front of anyone – everyone, in fact. Privacy was something she held dearly, clutched against her like a shield; the defensive weapon she used to keep herself safe. And from the expression drawing lines on her face right now, it was clear that whatever she had to say was for Bo’s ears only.

“Uh, let’s go upstairs,” Bo suggested. Lauren nodded in gratitude and they turned towards the staircase to make their way up to Bo’s room.

“I know what that means!” a voice called at them from the couch. Kenzi’s head appeared up over the back of it and she stared at them pointedly. “You two,” she twirled her fingers around in the air and tilted her head to one side. “Going upstairs to…talk? Horizontally, right? Clothing optional.”

“Oh God…” Lauren whispered and rolled her eyes. She could tolerate a lot of things, but Kenzi’s ability to strip things down to their most offensive and horribly naked truths was really quite disconcerting. And irritating, as until this very moment, she’d hadn’t actually contemplated having sex with Bo tonight. In fact, she’d wondered if she would ever have sex with Bo again. Those thoughts were the ones that drifted into her troubled head often – usually in the silence of her bed, where the tantalizing thoughts of Bo’s limbs against her taunted and teased her. Sometimes the memory of how the Succubus’ sighs and moans had brought her such intense pleasure made her wonder if she could carry on without experiencing them again.

“If you two are going to get your Fae on, I’m outta here,” Kenzi shouted at them as Bo gently pushed Lauren towards the staircase. As they disappeared, she let out a sigh and slumped back down onto the couch. The prospect of shooting robot hookers while Bo and Lauren made sweet, sweet love was less than appealing. And it wasn’t as though she hadn’t sat downstairs before while Bo had ventured into sexual exploits that would make the aforementioned hookers blush; it was really more to do with the fact that Lauren had been different. Bo had said so. When it came to sex, Kenzi understood that it was a biological imperative for Bo. But when it came to emotions, the Succubus had entered new territory and that was something Kenzi worried over. If Lauren was still different from Bo’s other conquests, then her friend might be in for a world of trouble when it came to a romantic entanglement with the doctor.

Perhaps she should stay, just in case something happened and Bo needed her. Lauren had proven patchy at best when it came to reliability, even if she had saved their lives on several occasions. But she wore her own emotions too closely to her chest and Kenzi didn’t trust that; couldn’t rely on Lauren not to hurt Bo again or use her for personal gain with The Ash. The world of the Fae was complicated enough without getting romantically attached to someone in the thick of it.

Kenzi lightly fingered the controls to her video game and pursed her lips thoughtfully. Still, happiness was so rare in both the human and Fae worlds that maybe everyone just had to grab on to what little they could and hang on for dear life.Yeah, she decided, throwing the controls to one side and reaching for her jacket. Robot hookers could conquer the world tonight. Trick’s bar would still be open and what with that whole ‘free drinks for life’ offer still on, time was wasting.

* * * * *

“I’m sorry it’s late,” Lauren said apologetically as she entered Bo’s room and turned around, looking for a place to sit. The only free space was the bed and she moved towards it reluctantly, hoping against hope that it wouldn’t look like she was expecting anything. She’d learned that expectations were a luxury she couldn’t really afford – not with Bo. Not with anyone. She’d tempered her wants and needs so that now her life stretched out in a straight line ahead of her, perpendicular to everything that other humans experienced. But she wasn’t like other humans, and the line she followed as a ward of The Ash was set out; certain in its own design. A design that had been created for her by powers beyond her ken and absolutely beyond her control.

But lines sometimes became blurry and hard to follow, none more so than now, as Bo stood in front of her with concern and interest flitting across her face in broad swathes of color.

“I want to help you,” she continued, twisting her fingers together in her lap. “The information you need about your parents…I want to try and help you get it.” Lauren almost gasped at her own audacity. She’d thought long and hard about the potential dangers of even talking about Bo’s search for her parentage, but her heart always threw up the same solution and she was finding it increasingly difficult to ignore.

“What?” Bo frowned, clearly confused. What little she knew about Fae politics was enough to tell her that Lauren had little to no sway with the Dark Elders. She’d said as much herself.

“I want to help you get the information you need,” Lauren repeated. “I think I can find a way of getting it without you being involved.”

“You’re going to go to the Dark Fae and ask them?” Bo said incredulously. “Seriously, Lauren, come on.” She moved towards the other woman, sitting on the bed beside her and shaking her head. For a Light Fae, it was dangerous. For a human like Lauren, inextricably bound to The Ash, it was suicide.

“No,” Lauren shook her head and attempted a placatory smile. “There are protocols…procedures. They’re not easy to carry out and The Morrigan won’t like it, but I think I might be able to – “ She was lying, but Bo didn’t need to know that. Just like she didn’t need to know that if Lauren were to dare question the Dark, the consequences would be dire.

“Lauren, no!” Bo’s hand darted out and covered Lauren’s. She rubbed at the cold fingers beneath her own and wondered, not for the first time, if all the people she cared about were doomed in some way; destined to get close to her only to leave again. The thought panicked her, especially as she saw herself reflected in pools of earnest brown that were unwaveringly fixed on her face. She had no family of her own – not yet, so the people she chose to trust had become her surrogates. She didn’t want to lose them, not now. Perhaps not ever. And she might not trust Lauren completely, but what little faith she did have in the doctor she intended to keep close until it gained strength and longevity. That alone was enough to flutter fears around her heart on dark, frightened wings.

“You can’t go running off to the Dark Fae. It’s too dangerous. And you don’t need to do it to tell me that you’re sorry,” Bo told the doctor, seeing the truth in her suggestion echo into Lauren’s gaze. “I know you’re sorry.”

Lauren’s gaze dropped now, down to her lap where their hands were still clasped together, fingers intertwined. Absent–mindedly, she rubbed her thumb over Bo’s knuckles and bit at her lower lip. She didn’t want to do it to validate her apologies. The reasons why she wanted to help Bo were indistinct, whirling somewhere around inside her and touching lightly on her heart and brain all at the same time. Sometimes sense won; sometimes emotion did. But the impetus always drove her closer to Bo and manifested itself in an almost desperate need to make her happy, keep her safe.

The sound of her own name reached her ears and a finger crooked under her chin, lifting her head so that she met Bo’s eyes. “I do know you’re sorry,” the Succubus said softly. “You don’t need to prove it to me, okay? And even if you did, putting yourself in the hands of the Dark Fae is crazy. You’re human, Lauren, and no matter how much I think of humans, the Fae…well, they don’t.” Bo drew her lips into a tight line and shrugged slightly.

Despite the aspirations she might have had, or even the false notions of standing with The Ash, Lauren knew only too well the limitations of her kind. She wasn’t like them. She wasn’t like Bo. And for all her protestations about being separate and alone, Bo at least had something in common with the Fae and could garner their respect. Lauren barely registered attention. She was dismissed, discounted, unsolicited. The Ash might rely on her council, but he was singular among the Fae. Most of them – and especially The Morrigan – sneered at her as though she were a pet they kept around through grace rather than need.

And Bo?

Well, Bo’s romantic notions didn’t belong to either world. If they had, then she would understand that anything between them was forbidden and repulsive to most Fae. Humans were for fun and food, not for love. And no matter how hard Lauren tried to insinuate herself within the Fae world, she would always bear the burden of her humanity. Woefully inadequate and shamefully subservient.

She shrugged helplessly at Bo. “I just thought…I don’t know,” she let out a sad laugh. “I thought I could help.”

“Hm,” Bo smiled ruefully in agreement. “You think too much.” The finger that had been underneath Lauren’s chin slid down the line of the doctor’s jaw. Soon it was replaced by a palm that cupped a pale cheek and a thumb that stroked Lauren’s cheekbone. The easy intimacy that Bo could always feel was tentative, almost fearful. This time, there were too many questions unanswered and too few trusts confirmed. They echoed in the shadows of Bo’s gaze and Lauren blinked as though she could dismiss them through sheer will power alone.

But the things she wanted and the things she had were indistinct and ambiguous, more diametrically opposed than uniform and combined. She drew in a breath, feeling it hitch unevenly in her chest. For a person whose life had been ordered by routine, Lauren knew that any and every time she was with Bo her notions of control were as unreliable as her actions. If she were to relinquish restraint and give way to the hope in her chest, then how could she ever hope to regain it again? And yet, it threatened to drive her to near madness with the imperative to indulge it time and again.

Bo’s eyes gleamed in the muted yellow light of her bedroom. Forgiveness had never come easily to her; she’d spent the last ten years unable to forgive herself and it still rankled, was still tender and bruised. What Lauren had done wasn’t forgotten easily, but Bo knew it was borne out of something intangible and undeniable, just as it was now. The pressure of her hand increased on Lauren’s face, fingers sliding to curl around the long, slender neck of the doctor, drawing her in towards Bo’s eager lips. As the distance between them decreased, Bo heard a faint sigh escape Lauren’s mouth as her eyelids fluttered and then closed, hiding the sorrowful expression that lay behind them.

“No…” Lauren murmured in the seconds before their lips touched. “No…Bo, stop. Stop.” She placed a hand on the other woman’s shoulder and pushed her backwards, frowning at the confusion that spread across Bo’s features and the vague sense of offended surprise that followed it.

“Um…what?” Bo wasn’t used to people saying no, and it lifted her tone as she leaned back slightly. With most dissenters, her Succubus abilities soon convinced them otherwise. But she was determined not to use them with Lauren. It wouldn’t be fair. It wouldn’t be right. Most of all, it wouldn’t be true. And there had already been too many lies swirling in and around them like predators just waiting for the right moment to swoop in and make falsehood a reality.

“What’s…what’s wrong? Don’t you want to?” Bo dropped her hand and drew it back towards herself but Lauren caught it and held between them.

“Of course I do,” she let out a soft laugh and shook her head at the absurdity of not wanting this amazing creature sitting beside her. Of not really understanding what ‘want’ meant until she’d been with Bo. But in the distance traveled, it seemed that they’d taken a wrong turn somewhere and this felt too soon, too much after recent events. Too easy, as well. If they indulged in the longing that flared between them then what might happen? The straight line Lauren always followed was broken, fragmented and disappearing into an uncertain horizon. Decisions always came with consequences; Lauren knew that better than anyone. Being with Bo threw judgment awry and took decisions away without considered contemplation. In as much as she wanted Bo, Lauren also wanted to assuage the fear that ran on the heels of her longing, always attendant and threatening.

“Bo, you and I…” Lauren began, then dipped her head and looked at their hands again. How easily they fit together in strength and delicacy. Taking a breath, she fortified herself and lifted her head.

“It’s not safe,” she finally said. “Look at what happened to Lou Anne. Fae and humans aren’t meant to be together. It’s forbidden.”

“I don’t care what they think,” Bo scoffed, tossing her hair defiantly.

“But I do,” Lauren protested. “And the more this keeps happening, the more it’s going to mean to everyone involved.”

“Come on, Lauren. I don’t belong to the Light or the Dark. You think they’re really going to care if I have sex with a human?”

For a moment, Lauren simply stared at the incredulous expression broadening Bo’s features. Of course. Sex. Bo’s sustinence and nourishment. After how she’d hurt the Succubus; after how they’d reached a fragile friendship once more, sex was the only certainty between them. Perhaps she’d been right after all: having expectations only meant living in a holding period of hope before they were dashed in front of her and she was left alone again.

A low laugh escaped her lips, tinged with bitterness and acceptance. “I wasn’t talking about the Fae,” she said quietly. “I was talking about me.”

Flushing crimson with the admission, she tore her hands from Bo’s and got up off the bed, taking a few steps across the bedroom floor. What was that adage? In case of emergency, move to a safe distance? Lauren was beginning to wonder if there was any distance that was ‘safe’ when it came to Bo. She agitatedly wrung her hands together and shook her head. This had to stop; confessions weren’t really her forte. She lived within the rigid lines of the life she had chosen. The way she felt about Bo threw her entirely and utterly out of her element and was, even now, lying low and tremulous in her stomach. She let out another laugh and rolled her eyes. Nothing was more ridiculous or pitiful than a renouncement of everything she’d worked so hard to achieve.

But it made the decision–making process much easier and the consequences more bearable. Lauren knew, in that moment, what it was she had to do.

Turning, she offered Bo a bright smile that never reached her eyes and straightened, standing tall for what felt like the first time in a long while.

“I should go,” she said, inclining her head towards the Succubus.

Bo leapt up from the bed and moved across the room in two short paces. “Don’t go,” she said, grasping Lauren’s wrist.

Lauren’s lips curved in appeasement, but she shook her head. “Bo…”

“Stay.” Bo’s breath quickened and she moved in closer to Lauren, so near to her that the doctor felt the heat of Bo’s skin and breath tickling at her cheek. “Stay with me, Lauren. Please.”

In the moments between thought and action there lay a nebulous swathe of uncertainty. Lauren had always avoided it, preferring to make decisions based on logic and science. But uncertainty had always characterized her relationship with Bo and she had learned to navigate it with caution and reserve lest it should overwhelm her completely. Tonight, in this moment, she felt no such caution. Once before she had put someone else’s welfare ahead of her own – breathed life into Claire’s existence and enabled her to thrive. It had been an action engendered by the truest form of love that one being could have for another and sacrifice came easily. Too easily. Too foolishly.

So as Bo lifted a hand and trailed her fingers through Lauren’s hair, clarity came quickly, suddenly. Lauren breathed out, letting go of all the qualms that restrained her and leaned forwards, pressing her lips against Bo’s. Arms slid around one another and bodies met as their kiss deepened. The empty spaces became filled with flesh and bone, with sounds that emerged from hungry mouths and thickened throats. It was instantaneous, electric. It was necessary.

Pulling back, Bo’s eyes burned hot and bright as she looked at Lauren, her gaze roaming over the doctor’s face with a heightened, dazed expression. She smiled, and saw it returned in the graceful curve of Lauren’s mouth. And this time, it flooded brown eyes with a strange joy that glistened in their depths.

It was with an odd sense of relief that Lauren allowed Bo to unbutton her shirt, every inch of material that parted to reveal skin underneath replaced with a trail of kisses down her chest. Shucking off her jacket where it fell onto the floor behind her, Lauren reached for Bo and tugged at the tank top the Succubus was wearing. Her blunt nails scraped insistent lines of desire up Bo’s back as the top was removed, eliciting a moan that thrilled all the way down Lauren’s spine. By the time the tank top was thrown to the floor, Lauren felt fingers scrabbling at her pants, harried with a need matched only with her own sense of barely restrained urgency. Clothes were as easily removed as the notion of guilt that tugged at Lauren’s mind, and by the time they were naked, clutching at one another and stumbling towards the bed, there was only a wanton submission to this; an acceptance of what could be and a blatant disregard of what would be.

Falling onto the bed, both women became entangled in one another, limbs curling around limbs and lips straining to reach lips. As her mouth moved to drag a wet line of heat along Lauren’s jaw, Bo heard the doctor let out a long wavering breath close to her ear. She loved it when Lauren started to unravel this way. It was a rare, beautiful thing, to see her come undone like this. Pushing herself upwards, Bo looked down at the woman beneath her and gloried in what she saw. Lauren’s eyes were closed, two tiny lines on her brow as she lay back, exposed and raw. Her mouth was open, lips blushed and swollen with kisses. A pulse beat wildly in her neck and Bo resisted the urge to capture it with her tongue and taste the heat of it. Lauren’s breath was uneven, her chest rising and falling as she sucked in air and let it out with a tiny moan. Bo couldn’t help but stare. It was intoxicating. Everything about Lauren was intoxicating and in these moments of utter intimacy, the Succubus felt quite punch drunk, as though she’d already fed and taken her fill.

Lauren opened her eyes. “What?” she asked, enquiry furrowing further into her brow than desire had done. “Bo, what is it?”

Shaking her head helplessly, Bo let out a self–conscious laugh and shrugged. “You,” she leant down and placed a gentle kiss on Lauren’s mouth. “Just you.”

The expression that passed over Lauren’s features was in turn diffident and unassumingly flattered. She lifted a hand and tucked a stray strand of dark hair behind Bo’s ear, tracing the contours of the Succubus’ cheek with a single finger. If there was a way to capture this moment in some sort of suspended animation, then Lauren might even stay here forever. As it was, she knew that they had this night together. One night in which to be everything to one another before daylight came and brought with it the stark realities of their different worlds. So, for one night, she could almost forget the vagaries of outside and allow herself to believe in this. In their two bodies, intertwined in this bed. It tempted her with a future that didn’t exist and a past that could be erased with the simplicity of an embrace.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Lauren whispered, eyes wide and regretful.

“I know,” Bo answered. And she did. She knew it now more than ever. For someone who’d always used sex as a means to an end, there was a constant element of disguise and fakery in her intimacy. But lying in bed with Lauren like this, she felt stripped of pretense. She no longer needed to conceal her true nature or taste regret in the aftermath of lovemaking. The freedom offered to her in the simplicity of union evoked a newer hunger deep within her, one that could only be sated by the fingers that were stroking lines of sensation down her arm, bringing awakening and prescience with every caress.

Shifting again, Lauren rolled Bo onto her back and leaned up over her. Strands of blonde hair fell onto Bo’s skin, whispering over it and eliciting a shiver from the Succubus. Lauren smiled, feeling Bo’s arms slide around her and clasp her close as though the contact of their skin wasn’t nearly enough. As she moved up and over the other woman, Lauren felt her necklace slide around her neck, the amulet on it dropping against Bo’s flesh. She’d worn it with an assumed sense of pride on the day that The Ash had given it to her. To her, it represented her loyalty and his grace. Her servitude and his magnanimity. The end of her life and the beginning of another – the sacrifice she’d made to ensure that happened.

But tonight she frowned at its weight, at the heavy chain it put around her heart and the restrictions it placed on her. She didn’t belong to it any more than it belonged to her now. Not in this bed. Not tonight.

Pushing herself up, she knelt between Bo’s legs and shoved at her hair, reaching around behind her neck.

“What’s wrong?” Bo struggled up onto her elbows and looked up at the other woman’s lithe body, glorious and naked in lines of impossible perfection.

Unclasping the necklace, Lauren removed it and held it up between them, the twisted silver catching the half–light and gleaming with retribution. As her eyes met Bo’s, she saw her hand tremble, causing the amulet to sway from side to side in the air.

“What are you doing?” Bo questioned. “I thought you had to wear – ”

“Not here,” Lauren interjected, voice grave with the mere action of removal. A faint smile tugged at her mouth as she dropped the necklace and amulet onto the bedside table and turned back to the woman beneath her. Sacrifice, when justified, was always the right decision. And removing her chains had barely been a decision at all tonight.

“I don’t belong to him here. Not tonight,” she said, sliding down Bo’s body and pressing her lips against the Succubus’ neck, nipping at the skin there. Bo’s nails raked her back and she arched into them with a groan as her mouth moved to the other woman’s, tongue pushing past lips with increasing possession and longing. If this night was all they could have, then she intended to have it as a free woman and give herself to a newer affiliation without the trappings of slavery. And as she dragged a hand down the length of Bo’s body, Lauren’s loneliness dissipated into the ether around them as though it had never existed at all.

* * * * *

Bo had been sleeping for forty–five minutes before Lauren shifted and inched out of the lazy embrace that had followed their lovemaking. She was dizzy and a little disoriented, but Bo had been careful not to feed too heavily and taken only as much as Lauren was prepared to give. It had been a perfect experiment in symbiosis, she thought, as she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up, lifting a hand to her head and suppressing the groan that sprung to her throat. They had been aligned in body and in spirit. A grin spread over her lips for a brief second and she shook her head, rolling her eyes at the sort of language that she’d only ever seen in trashy romantic novels. But perhaps pulp fiction had a purpose in engendering hope in humans and encouraging them to strive for something so few people truly experienced. She wouldn’t have changed a thing, should she be able to do it again.Which I won’t, she told herself as she padded around the bedroom on silent feet, picking up pieces of her clothing and sliding them on. Every now and then, she glanced at Bo as the Succubus murmured something in her sleep and rolled over, burying her face into the pillow underneath it. By the time she was dressed, the room was silent again except for the regulated sound of Bo’s breathing.

Moving towards the bed, Lauren picked up her necklace from the table beside it and stared down at the silver in her palm. With a rueful expression, she replaced it around her neck and tucked it beneath her shirt where it nestled against her skin as though it had never been removed at all. But it felt cold to the touch and she couldn’t repress the shiver that it brought to her bones, an almost ominous acceptance of the decision that had been made long before she unclasped it.

As she straightened and tugged at the hem of her shirt before pulling her jacket around her slender body, Lauren looked down at Bo. Her gaze traveled the length of the other woman, half hidden beneath the red cotton sheets that had been pulled hastily over them as a night chill crept into the room. She drank Bo in, consumed every curve, every inch of exposed skin and flesh. Her hand reached out to touch tousled hair before she caught herself and snatched it back with a hardening of her mouth and a resignation that she’d felt before, years ago.

“Goodbye, Bo,” she breathed, so quietly that it dissipated into the still air almost immediately. Then she turned on her heel and walked from the room without so much as a backward glance.

~ ~ ~

Title: Ways To Tell You I’m Sorry - The Fifth Way: Actions

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. I had to split this into two parts because LJ is determined to thwart my attempts a presentable LJ cut. It’s LJ’s way of saying “Write less!” – I know this…

The Fifth Way: Actions

heartsways

The Glass Factory was cold. Winter had brought with it icy blasts of wind that buffeted homes and tried to creep past doors and windows to the warmth inside. But there was no such warmth in The Glass Factory. A frigid wind whistled through the structure, the temperature plummeting so that even within its depths there was no escape from the inherent bitterness that chilled every wall and the criss–crossed iron skeleton inside.

Most people had enough sense to stay indoors when the weather was like this. And almost everyone possessed the wherewithal to avoid places like the abandoned factory on the outskirts of town. But there was one figure who paced up and down inside the huge interior that had once housed a thriving industry, now long gone and forgotten. Every few paces, she would lift her gloved hands to her mouth and breath a puff of hot air onto the material as though that could assuage the creeping cold that was shivering up and down her body.

Lauren stamped her feet on the floor and tugged her padded jacket more firmly around her. Shoving her fleece–covered fingers into the pockets of her coat, she turned around, glancing towards the gaping hole that served as a doorway. There wasn’t much protection against the elements here, and even less in the way of actual structure. The legacy of the Glass Factory was a broken one, in disarray and a crumbling tribute to what had once been a steady source of income for the town. But economic demand had died and left this shell of a building for the Fae to claim as neutral territory, which they had done with alacrity. In their societal conflicts, this had become something of a no–man’s land for all Fae. A place where loyalties faded and became secondary to the almost sacred impartiality of the location. In a world led by tradition and ancient law, The Glass Factory was a modern counterpart to the way in which the Fae had adapted to their surroundings.

Breathing out a cloud of ice–whitened air, Lauren wondered if she had also adapted to her surroundings. If she had changed, not to rail against the world in which she lived, but so that she could survive it. Perhaps her evolution, like the Fae’s, had been forcibly engendered by the constantly changing environment around her. And, she mused with a wry smile, the changes that had taken place in her, too. They were what had brought her to this desolate place and kept her standing in the cold for so long. Just when she thought it was a lost cause, she was reminded of the reasons for being here and her feet stayed their instinctive urge to leave. Fear and duty were powerful masters and she had given herself over to them for many years without question, without reserve.

But then Bo came along, and with her, an overwhelming emotion that Lauren almost dared not give a name lest it escaped her as it had done in the past. The last few days had seen her plagued with phone calls from the Succubus, to which Lauren had given vague responses claiming work commitments and time–consuming research as a means to distance herself from Bo. But it wouldn’t last. She knew that she would find herself drawn to Bo again soon enough. It was ever thus, she thought ruefully, a grim smile across her mouth. But putting Bo’s happiness before her own – before everything – had only served to remind her that while hatred was a compelling motivator, love prevailed above all.

Surely that was the only reason to justify any of this?

A sound along the far wall caught her attention and she froze for a second, eyes straining to peer into the shadows that lay there. She hadn’t brought any weapons – even if she had, she was sure that she lacked the ferocity to actually use them. Physical violence wasn’t something that had ever been demanded of her and she had detached herself from the more visceral rivalry of the Fae with an almost grateful isolation. But as she squinted across the dirt floor of the abandoned factory, she found herself wishing she’d brought something, at least. Preferably something larger and blunter than her fist, curled tightly in the pocket of her coat.

“Hello?” she called out, then winced. Drawing attention to herself might not be the smartest thing to do at this point. But her voice echoed in the cold interior for a few seconds before a cold gust snatched it away and whistled a reply up among the rafters. Her gaze snapped upwards as the wind rattled at the roof angrily and she caught her breath. “This was such a bad idea,” she muttered.

“You’re right,” a voice said close to her and she whirled around, gasping loudly.

The figure standing behind her appeared blurred for a split second before she focused on it and he assumed solid form. He was just as she remembered him, even down to the faintly amused smirk as he looked at her. Willing her heart to resume to a more manageable pace, Lauren sucked in a freezing breath and let it out again slowly in a white cloud.

“Did I surprise you?” he asked, knowing full well that he had.

Lauren pressed her lips together and gave him a cold stare. “Wasn’t that your intention?” she said grimly. “Honestly, Sagi. Don’t you ever change?”

Sagi shrugged nonchalantly, folding his arms over his expansive chest. He was a handsome man, dark–skinned and exotic with piercing blue eyes. His large stature belied his ability to appear and disappear at will without so much as a sound, and he used it to great advantage. He always had. Lauren had met him at a council meeting between the Light and Dark Fae and, despite being on opposing standpoints when it came to Fae matters, they had struck up a conversation about medical ones. Sagi was a doctor, too, and his experience and knowledge of Fae physiology had both astounded and impressed Lauren. Her presence at a council meeting had also mystified and intrigued Sagi, as a human presence among those respected members of the Fae clans was hitherto unknown.

But Sagi was also Fae, and as such had always had a rather superior attitude towards her work. He never missed an opportunity to patronize her if he could – which was often. Lauren had learned to tolerate the way that Fae spoke to her, but she never stopped wishing that they wouldn’t. Besides, she had reasoned with herself, Sagi was a Kitsune, and they pretty much existed to torment humans for their own amusement and benefit. Sagi was no different. And even though he was well–versed in medical matters, his true nature led him to be as cunning and treacherous as any of the other Dark Fae that she’d learned to avoid.

“What surprises me, Doctor Lewis,” Sagi said in a playful tone, “is that you expect me to. What on earth is the point of invisibility if one never exercises the right to use it?”

Lauren gathered herself a little and threw him a quick glare before shaking her head. “Just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should, Sagi.”

“Ah,” he countered, with a roll of his blue eyes, “such advice to come from an enslaved human.” He smiled widely at her, but his eyes remained as cold as the winter sky outside as he spread his arms wide. “You humans always think you know better. But, Doctor Lewis…I would have thought that you of all people might have a different view of the Fae.”

“I know that the Fae are capable of acts of great charity,” she responded diplomatically, with a slight incline of her head. It wouldn’t do to alienate Sagi, not after she’d gone to so much trouble to get him here in the first place. Getting a message to him had been relatively easy, but enticing him into meeting her had taken several days of strenuous persuasion on her behalf, as well as promises that she despised herself for making. But he had finally agreed, and now that he was here, Lauren was damned if she was going to let him go without getting what she needed.

“We’re all bound by our own laws and I meant no offense,” she told him, and he nodded sagely. He even seemed satisfied with her efforts to appease him and a thin smile appeared on his lips once more as he folded his arms over his chest again.

“So why bring me here to neutral ground?” Sagi asked, glancing around the disused factory with a critical eye. “Your messages were cryptic, to say the least. Don’t tell me your indenture to the Light Fae no longer suits you?” His eyes gleamed with anticipatory pleasure; if he were to bring Lauren over to the Dark Fae he was sure that The Morrigan would heap him with rewards. The doctor might only be a human – his lips curled with distaste – but she was an excellent and impressive doctor with medical skills that would benefit the Dark Fae in numerous ways. Ways that he could exploit for his own gain and surely rise through the ranks at a much faster pace than he had done over the last fifty years.

Lauren let out a soft laugh and shook her head. “I’m sorry, Sagi,” she said. “I’m not ready to leave the Light Fae yet. You know as well as I do that my bond to The Ash is breakable only by – ”

“Death,” Sagi finished for her. “Yes.”

A small silence followed as he watched her carefully. This wasn’t the same human he’d encountered at the Fae Council meeting. He could read humans well and in her he saw turmoil; a shading underneath the eyes and a troubled sheen to her eyes. She was probably able to hide it from most people, but he wasn’t most people. His abilities meant that he was able to see the things that other Fae couldn’t; strip away the layers of lies that made deception possible. Deception was his weapon to wield and he could espy it in others – especially humans – almost immediately. Lauren Lewis had always been a stalwart of capability and forthright speaking, but in her now he saw the strain that a disingenuous facade could instill.

He drew in a short breath. Interesting.

“I need your help,” Lauren said, glancing up at him before her gaze dropped to the ground.

Sagi nodded. “That’s what your message said.”

Looking back up at him, Lauren smiled: a plea, an entreaty. “I’m trying to get some information from a Dark Fae. Information that would be of great interest to a…” she faltered, wondering just to describe Bo in relation to herself. A lover? A friend? Something more?

“A friend and ally,” she decided upon a description that would incriminate her the least, but flushed anyway with the thought of the Succubus.

Sagi’s eyes narrowed as he gazed back at her. “Information?” he echoed. “Useful information?”

“To my friend, yes. This doesn’t concern the Light Fae.” Lauren saw that his interest was piqued and hoped it would be enough to gain his help. If nothing else, Kitsune were intensely curious creatures, which often worked to their advantage as in the Fae world knowledge was most definitely power.

“You want me to glean information from the Dark Fae to give to you and your…friend.” Sagi’s inference caused another blush to spread across Lauren’s cheeks and she turned away slightly, looking out across the dirt floor of the factory. If he saw her weakness, saw the cracks in her fortitude that Bo had caused, then he would have no other choice than to use it for his own gain. It was in his nature, after all. And she was meaningless to him; a novelty. He had tolerated her requests thus far because it suited him to do so. As soon as he grew tired of this game, he would turn on her; she was as sure of that as she was of his capacity to help her.

She turned to face him again and looked into his eyes. This was not a time to feel fear or shame. It was a time to put aside her sense of loyalty and prove herself – if not to Bo, then to her own overwhelming feelings of the sheer need to do so.

“Sagi, there is an Elemental who’s a favorite of The Morrigan. He knows information about the parentage of a Succubus who is neither Light nor Dark. I need to know what he knows. And I need you to find that out for me.” She heard her voice almost cracking over the desperate plea in it, and drew in a breath, blinking rapidly.

“Ah…the Succubus.” Sagi looked uncommonly pleased with himself and his teeth gleamed white amidst his face. He nodded thoughtfully and reached up a hand to scratch at his chin.

“She’s only looking for her heritage, Sagi,” Lauren persisted. “She’s had no formal Fae upbringing, no clan to guide her or help her. Surely you can understand her need to know where she’s from?”

“I’ve heard of the Succubus foundling,” Sagi said slowly. “She’s somewhat of a thorn in the side of the Fae, both Light and Dark, no?”

That was one way of putting it, Lauren thought. Bo was headstrong and about as subtle as a brick to the head when it came to navigating through Fae society. But what she lacked in political finesse, she more than made up for with her true heart and her ability to endear herself to humans and Fae alike. Even if she had the faintest idea of just how troublesome her mere existence was to the Fae, she still refused to compromise herself. Her love for humanity was widely reviled and most Fae couldn’t comprehend why she would cling to and want to protect a species that were, for the most part, a mere source of food and sustinence. But Lauren found it to be one of the facets of Bo’s complex personality that she loved the most, because Bo loved quite without reserve or judgment. And that was a rare commodity – for a human and for a Fae.

“She’s special, if that’s what you mean,” Lauren answered the Kitsune and saw how his eyebrows rose in response. Letting out a self–conscious laugh, she scuffed her boot in the dirt floor underneath it. “She was given to humans who raised her as one of their own. All she wants is to find out why.”

“Hm.” Sagi’s hand moved up to stroke at his chin again and his mouth turned downwards in quiet contemplation. “Why can’t you enlist the help of The Ash in this matter?”

“Bo refused to join the Light Fae. She’s uh…she’s not his favorite person these days,” Lauren admitted with an almost apologetic smile.

“So he doesn’t know you’re here? Well now, isn’t that fascinating? She must be special for you to go against the bonds that hold you in your place, Doctor Lewis. I’m certain that isn’t wise.” Despite himself, Sagi found that he was experiencing something akin to concern for the doctor. He didn’t value her species whatsoever, all told, but he did find her medical acumen intriguing and, on occasion, the object of some envy. But this sort of insubordination was almost unheard of, particularly as those who defied the Fae elders usually disappeared.

“Are you going to help me or not?” Lauren asked bluntly, eager to divert his unwanted attentions to her motives. Sagi didn’t need to know more about her than was necessary. Nobody did. That was the way she lived; the way she preferred to live.

Sagi smiled gently and tilted his head onto one side, blinking as he pondered the possibilities. “I find myself titillated by your request,” he finally said. “But what recompense am I offered for finding out this information you require?”

“Research,” Lauren answered quickly. “You know the research I’ve carried out on the Fae and you know how good it is, too. I can give you notes and formulas for treating a large number of diseases and infections.” His eyes gleamed and she knew that she’d baited the hook well. Now if he’d only swallow it…

“Doctor Lewis,” Sagi began in a tone that carried reverence and respect, “I can’t say that I’m opposed to extending my own practice among the Dark Fae. Your medical knowledge is quite impressive…for a human. But what you’re asking is dangerous for us both should we be discovered. I know the Elemental of whom you speak and he is, as humans say, a nasty piece of work. You may be under the protection of The Ash but that won’t guarantee that The Morrigan won’t take great offense to having someone meddle in her affairs. If she’s chosen not to make this knowledge public, then there’s obviously good reason for that.”

“There’s good reason for me asking, too,” Lauren countered. “And Sagi, what I’m offering you amounts to years of research and development. You know as well as I do that the Dark Fae don’t have half the resources I’ve got in my lab.” She straightened up, a glimmer of pride shining in her eyes. If there was one thing she was certain of, it was that very few people in the world had the drive, ambition and insatiable curiosity for medical advancements that she did. Her few dealings with the Dark Fae, along with the scant information The Ash had given her, had proven that. So when it came to convincing Sagi to carry out her plan, she was optimistic that his personal ambition would outweigh any loyalties to the Dark that he might have.

“Very well,” Sagi said after a moment’s thought. “I will accept your offer. Plus a future favor, should I need it.”

“A favor?” Lauren said, her voice rising over the mere suggestion. “I have no sway with the Light. I’m just a human, remember? I follow the will of The Ash, not the other way around.”

Sagi laughed, a low, rumbling sound that seemed to echo ominously in the cavernous factory. “Oh, my dear child,” he said in a tone that was silken and overly indulgent, “if this Succubus is as special as you and The Ash seem to think she is, then it may not be the Light that I need a favor from. And I’m sure you have some sway with her, yes?”

The expression that entered Lauren’s eyes gave him the answer he wanted and he nodded curtly. “I’ll be in touch, Doctor Lewis.”

“Wait – how will you…I mean, how are you going to get the – ”

He held up a hand, one finger effectively silencing Lauren’s concerned questions and smiled again, baring his teeth in an atavistic grin. “You know what my kind are capable of,” he told her. “I have my ways.”

A clattering sound in the distance turned Lauren’s head and she stared at the gaping doorway, fear widening her eyes and tensing her body. Seeing nothing, she breathed a faint sigh of relief and turned back to Sagi…but he had already gone, leaving her completely alone in the factory with only the wind swirling around the space he had once occupied.

Nodding to herself, Lauren tugged her coat more firmly around her body and drew in a long breath. Her plan was in action.

* * * * *

“Okay, you have got to start returning my phone calls or I’m going to think there’s something wrong with me. And if there’s something wrong with me then I definitely need to see a doctor. So here I am.” Bo’s playful tone announced her arrival in the lab as she strode purposefully across the floor. Almost before she had the opportunity to turn around, Lauren found herself enveloped in a swathe of Bo, standing close to her and staring at her with bright eyes. Despite herself, Lauren smiled. Those eyes gleamed with possibilities that had no business entering her lab, and certainly no business being in her head after she’d tried so hard to dispel them.

“Bo,” she breathed in greeting. “I was going to uh…I meant to call you but…my phone was switched off,” she decided on an excuse that seemed profitable and was relieved to see Bo roll her eyes and stand back a little, satisfaction creeping a grin over her face.

“I was starting to think you were avoiding me,” the Succubus said with a laugh that was intentionally dismissive and almost certainly nervous. “You know, after you crept out of my house in the middle of the night.”

Lauren turned away and leaned over the table in front of her, moving slides and samples away from the microscope in a busy manner. “I told you…official business. You know how it is; when The Ash calls…” It was easier to let Bo believe that it was her fealty to The Ash that had kept her at bay, rather than her loyalty to the Succubus. Bo didn’t need to know about Sagi or the deal that she’d brokered. Bo didn’t need to know that every time they were together, all they were doing was moving further apart. What was that saying? What Bo didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her? It had never seemed more appropriate than right now. The last thing she wanted was to hurt Bo, and if that meant she herself had to suffer the pain of ignominy, then so be it.

“Yeah, yeah,” Bo waved her hand in the air and pursed her lips, aggrieved. “I just…” she reached out and laid a hand on Lauren’s shoulder. “I wanted to see you, that’s all.”

Lauren turned again and gave Bo an indulgent smile. Leaving her had been hard. Saying goodbye, almost impossible. But Lauren had told herself that she and Bo had been saying goodbye ever since they’d met – they still were. Every touch, every kiss, every conversation was a prelude to the farewell that she’d convinced herself was inevitable. There was no future for a human and a Fae. No possible context in which to place their relationship or communion. It was abhorrent to most of Bo’s kind, and unimaginable to her own. And yet, she still felt the painful spike of emotion that drew her to the Succubus, no more so than when Bo was near her. Like magnets, she thought. Constantly repelling and attracting. Perhaps it was better to enjoy this for what it was or to see herself as a pleasurable distraction than place hope in an untenable position. If she were to do that, then hope would only turn to hurt in the end.

“So, do you want to check me out?” Bo said, moving towards one of the examination tables and hopping up onto its surface, swinging her legs over the side.

“Do I want to…?”

“Check me out!” Bo repeated, a lazy grin crawling across her face. She spread her arms wide and shrugged. “You are still keeping tabs on my abilities, right?”

Suppressing the urge to laugh, Lauren walked to the table and stood in front of Bo, meeting dark eyes with her own and shaking her head a little. “I think you mean check up. And yes, I’m still monitoring your progress. I keep routine track of all my patients.”

“Ah, so I’m just another one of your patients, am I?” Bo was clearly in a playful mood and winked at Lauren, who frowned good–naturedly in response. “And here I was thinking that you saved your bedside manner just for me.”

Reaching out, she took Lauren’s hands in her own and stroked the back of them with her thumbs. “You do, right? I mean, you can tell me,” she murmured. “You know, doctor patient confidentiality.”

Drawing a sharp breath, Lauren looked down towards the ground. So this would be a long goodbye. A very long one.

“That’s really only pertinent for medical matters,” she said, sliding her hands from Bo’s grasp and shoving them into the pockets of her lab coat.

“This is a medical matter!” Bo insisted, assuming an expression of serious concern. “I have this…this thing.”

Despite herself, Lauren laughed. “Care to be more specific?” She took a step closer to Bo and watched as the Succubus gazed at her from underneath hooded eyes. Cunning, wonderfully tempting eyes that spoke of more promise than Lauren had thought possible. Certainly more than she’d suspected were probable between them.

“It’s a sort of pain,” Bo continued, her voice dipping to a tone that shivered up and down Lauren’s spine. “Kind of an ache, really.”

“And is it localized or just everywhere?” Lauren dared not meet Bo’s eyes for fear of what she might see there. Instead, she reached for her stethoscope and plugged it into her ears, lifting the diaphragm with practiced fingers.

“Hm,” Bo pretended to think carefully for a moment, her features becoming crinkled in contemplation. Then she lifted her hand and pointed to her throat, a single fingertip trailing down it to where her black vest plunged between her breasts. Further down, her finger paused just over her breastbone and she tapped gently. “It’s just about here,” she murmured, as Lauren leaned forwards and pressed the cold diaphragm against her skin, making her gasp a little.

“Or maybe it’s a little…lower,” the Succubus lifted a hand and caught some strands of blonde, rubbing them gently between her finger and thumb.

“Sssh,” Lauren frowned, eyes darting towards Bo’s face then back to the stethoscope. “I’m trying to listen.”

Tiring of the game, Bo grabbed the diaphragm and removed it from her chest, eliciting yet another glower of recrimination from the doctor, who pulled the instrument from her ears and stood back with a thoughtful expression on her face.

“Well,” Lauren looped it around her neck and glanced at Bo. “You appear to have a slightly elevated heartbeat, which could signify nothing. Have you been experiencing any dizziness? Palpitations?” Her questions were innocent enough, but she sensed rather than saw the sly grin on Bo’s face before a pair of arms grabbed her waist and tugged her against the Succubus’ body.

“Now you come to mention it…” Bo breathed, low and husked as she pressed her lips to the hollow at the base of Lauren’s throat. The tip of her tongue dipped into it and evoked a wonderfully harsh exhalation from the doctor. But a pair of hands on her shoulders eased her away from Lauren’s skin and brought an expression of disappointed surprise to the Succubus’ face.

Flushing red, Lauren cleared her throat and stepped back. Just when she’d told herself that being physical with Bo was off the menu, her body traitorously betrayed her once again. Want coursed through her veins, hot and seductive like the sensation of Bo’s tongue on her. In her. She shivered, remembering how her body had arched towards Bo’s mouth as the Succubus had taken her fill; how every sensation seemed to begin and end between Bo’s lips and the broad strokes of a tongue on her wanton, lust–soaked flesh. If she’d been the sort of person who indulged in impropriety in the workplace, Bo would have been half–naked and moaning on the examination table right now.

But Lauren had learned both restraint and patience. A fact that she inwardly cursed herself for as she turned a heavy gaze onto the other woman.

“You,” she pointed an accusatory finger at Bo, “are a terrible patient.”

Bo shrugged dismissively and eyed Lauren. “I try,” she smiled innocently.

Rolling her eyes, Lauren let out a soft laugh and almost forgot who they were. Almost, but not quite. As she looked at Bo, coquettishly leaning back on the examination table with a hungry look edging into her eyes, Lauren was suddenly aware of reality rushing in to fill her chest with a cold dread. It didn’t matter what they did now, or what they said; ultimately their fate was in the hands of powers older and stronger than they were. Even if she didn’t know the precise manner of those powers, Lauren had seen their effects before. They were consuming, devastating and always final. Her decision to become embroiled in the midst of them might have been hers to make, but the outcome would be out of her hands.

It’s worth it, she told herself as she clenched her jaw and stood up straight. She’s worth it. Pushing at her hair, she proffered another smile to Bo and let out a short huff; another laugh, another grin to hide how she felt. She was so accustomed to doing it by now that it almost happened inadvertently.

“Seriously though,” Bo was saying, and Lauren blinked back to the present. “You’re okay? I mean, you haven’t been avoiding me or anything, have you?”

“No, of course not,” Lauren answered quickly. Too quickly. How easily the lies sprang to her lips; much more easily than the things she desperately wanted to say. Biting at her lip, she steadied herself and shook her head, swallowing hard. “It’s been busy. As much as you’d like to think so, you’re not my only patient.”

Bo’s eyebrows rose at the faint reprimand and she shoved herself off the examination table, planting her booted feet firmly on the floor. “All work and no play, Lauren,” she sashayed towards the doctor, “makes Bo a sad girl.” Reaching the object of her desires, she leaned back on her heels, folding her arms over her chest in an almost challenging gesture.

“Hm,” Lauren responded absent–mindedly, casting a gaze over Bo’s features then reaching out to press her fingertips just underneath the Succubus’ ears. Her eyes narrowed as she examined the other woman, head tilting onto one side as she trusted her medical acumen rather than the dismissive expression that slid into Bo’s eyes. There was a fervency that burned in the dark gaze fixated on her own; a heat that spoke of hunger rather than lust. Although, Lauren equivocated, when it came to Bo, they were quite often the same thing.

And then it struck her: Bo wasn’t here because she missed her. She was here because she was hungry. Starving, even, if her symptoms were to be believed. Disappointment spread like ice through her chest, effectively stilling any warm notions Lauren might have had about Bo’s intentions. Whether she knew it or not, the Succubus had been brought here by hunger and the nature she railed against. And nothing more, Lauren told herself.

“When did you last feed?” she asked Bo, dropping her hands and reaching for her stethoscope again.

Bo’s head jerked back on her neck and she blinked at Lauren, nonplussed. “Uh…hello? You were there, you should know.”

Lauren demurred and blushed a little, shaking her head. “But it wasn’t…I mean, you didn’t…” she waved her hand around between them wordlessly.

“Well, I did a little bit,” Bo muttered, as they both let out a self–conscious laugh and avoided one another’s eyes. The passage of energy between them had been unexpected and instinctive. It had been given freely, and taken without the insatiable greed that usually accompanied it. For both women, it had signified a trust that had been sadly lacking between them for too long. A trust that was fragile and barely formed, but there nonetheless. Feeling Bo take her very essence had touched Lauren in many ways – she’d experienced it as a doctor, as a medical practitioner who had seen the most incredible mystical events unfold before her eyes. But she’d also experienced it as a woman, as a lover, putting herself so completely into Bo’s hands that her own audacity was well nigh terrifying.

She wouldn’t ever forget how that felt. The first time. Perhaps the only time.

“Bo, you’re hungry,” Lauren remarked, snapping out of her reverie and bringing the stethoscope up towards Bo’s chest once more. But the Succubus slapped it away with her hand and let out an impatient sigh.

“I’m fine, Lauren,” she snapped, relenting slightly when she saw the widening of the doctor’s eyes and the silent offense that shaded them.

Lauren’s head dropped to her chest as she looped the stethoscope around and shoved it into one the large pockets of her lab coat. She didn’t have the energy to nourish Bo in the way she really needed. Not in the way that Dyson had, and even he had suffered the effects of the Succubus’ kiss. Most Succubi were able to temper their needs and establish a feeding habit that strengthened them, but they fed from many people. She wasn’t sure how she felt about Bo doing that.

A wry smile tugged at her mouth and she puffed out her cheeks, sighing. Yes she was. She knew exactly how she felt about Bo feeding from other people. She hated the idea. She had absolutely no right to hate it, but the revelation that she did quite shocked her. But then, since Bo had come into her life, she’d discovered many things about her feelings that she’d thought were long buried and stagnant. It was the thin line that she walked between desire and denial, always threatened by the temptation to leap in one direction or another and allow herself to be consumed by it.

“I’m…uh…I’m sorry,” Bo reached forwards and linked her fingers through Lauren’s, tugging on the doctor’s arm until a blonde head lifted and their eyes met. “I didn’t mean to – ”

“I know,” Lauren interjected, the lightness in her tone resonating with the sinking of her stomach. “But you’re a Succubus, Bo. You’re still working on being stable and that means you need a healthy sex life. Never mind the amount of energy you need to heal.”

“Define healthy,” Bo demanded, lifting her chin, almost a challenge.

Tugging her fingers from Bo’s grasp, Lauren drew in a breath and turned away. Her hands reached for the comfort of her clipboard and pen in an assumed attention to detail. Scribbling a few notes on the paper below her, she shrugged as though this didn’t matter. As though this was a formality and Bo was just another patient. But the pen wobbled as she pressed it against the page and she wondered, not for the first time, if she was insane to even contemplate having feelings for a Fae, let alone acting on them.

“As…as often as you think you need it,” she said, almost carelessly.

“How often do you think you need it?” Bo’s voice was at her back once more, too close, too intrusive, too intimate in tone and insinuation. It was a long moment before Lauren finally placed the clipboard and pen carefully back down onto the table and slowly turned to face Bo.

“Succubi aren’t meant to be monogamous,” she told the other woman. “By their very nature, they need more energy than one person can possibly provide, even if their partner happens to be Fae. It’s just…it’s just your nature, Bo. It’s the way you are.”

Bo frowned, lines appearing around her eyes and on her brow. “No. I don’t care about that.”

“Care or not, your biological makeup demands it.”

“So you’re telling me to sleep with other people? Feed from other people?” Bo’s tone was appalled, hushed even in the quiet of the lab. This wasn’t quite what she’d anticipated. She’d lived with humans for so long that she’d adopted their inherent need to believe in one person who was able to give her everything she needed. Over the last ten years, she’d been in turn frustrated and heartbroken over the reality that for her, a relationship – a true, proper and fulfilling relationship – had become a dream that was constantly beyond her reach. Lauren was the only human she’d ever slept with more than once, a circumstance that had become a beacon of hope to shed light on her troubled past and offer a glimpse of something that looked more like a future every day.

Lauren pressed her lips together and fought against her instincts to deny Bo’s assertion. But the truth of the matter was that she alone could never be enough for a Succubus. She was only human, after all. It was time she begun to accept that along with her foibles and weaknesses. Try as she might, she would never be enough for Bo. Not in the way that the Succubus needed, anyway. Fae fed from humans – that was the irrefutable and biological truth that ran doggedly through her head whenever she dared think about anything other than physical release. And if she couldn’t even offer Bo that, then what use was she at all? She almost understood Sagi’s indifference towards her and his superior nature towards her kind. Fae needed sustinence from humans, not love. Love was a lofty ambition that people like her didn’t get to experience – not with humans, and absolutely not with Fae. In the middle ground between being a doctor and being a woman, Lauren knew she had to make a choice sooner or later.

She decided it would be sooner, and turned to Bo with a determined look in her eyes; the sort of look that she adopted with all her Fae patients. Being a good doctor and caring for the needs of her patients meant being detached. Cold, even. No wonder Sagi was so good at his profession – the only needs he really cared about with any shred of emotion were his own. Anything else was handled with a clinical isolation that she’d always thought she possessed. Straightening slightly, Lauren attempted to feel that way now and almost managed it. Almost.

“I’m telling you that your needs as a Fae are greater than a human can sustain. Don’t you think there’s a reason why Fae and humans aren’t meant to be together?” she posited as Bo’s jaw hardened in rebuke.

“Is this your way of telling me you don’t…that you don’t want to see where this goes?” Bo’s eyes were wide, afraid of the answer she might receive. Terrified of what it might mean.

“It’s my way of helping you understand that whatever happens between us, I care about you,” Lauren said quietly. “And that I have your best interests at heart.” That, at least, was a truth she could share.

“I care about you too, you know,” Bo answered gravely, peering into Lauren’s eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

It was a strange and unusual feeling that flooded through Lauren’s chest. A warming portent that was quickly followed by an icy harbinger of knowing and feeling. To be hurt, she would have to first allow it to happen; she would need to let someone in so they could roam around the wastelands and bring life to what was barren and cold. It was a leap of faith that Lauren barely believed in, let alone considered hers to claim. She looked Bo in the eye and smiled again, a comforting gesture that was reflected on the lips of the other woman almost immediately.

“You won’t,” she said.

~ ~ ~

Title: Ways To Tell You I’m Sorry - The Sixth Way: Revelations

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 Sixth Way: Revelations

heartsways

Lauren lifted the beer bottle to her lips and took a long, thankful swig, glancing around at the other customers in the bar with critical, thoughtful eyes. They looked just like everyone else. Just like any other disparate group of men and women, even though they weren’t. Her gaze fell on a few faces that she recognized as patients, and more than a few that she knew were Dark Fae. They all came here, to Trick’s bar. And, for the most part, they managed to socialize without enmity. It was a strange place that Trick had created; a sanctuary for Light and Dark alike. Some sort of no–Fae’s–land where loyalties and grudges could be put aside, at least for a few hours.

Humans weren’t welcome here, but she knew that nobody would question her presence in the bar. It was widely accepted that she was under the protection of The Ash; she was important to him and that kept most naysayers at bay. But because of that, many patrons also avoided her. She wasn’t like them and that she was alone at the bar only served to emphasize that fact. Lauren had learnt long ago to shrug off the sidelong looks that she received here as a human. Her sense of self wasn’t found in approving glances or false friendships – the Fae who worked for her in the labs respected her and that was enough. They had found that she was a hard taskmaster but in a way, her stoicism and unswerving devotion to her work had created a mutually beneficial working relationship and there were times when she was convinced that they didn’t see her as a human at all.

There were times when she barely saw herself that way, either.

So she was able to hold her head up high and live in the Fae world without being part of it. She came to Trick’s bar to remind herself of that. Somehow it seemed important to know that she was set apart – to understand and feel that she was, too. Complacency had never really been a large part of her life, not even when it came to her work – which was her life, to all intents and purposes.

Work couldn’t really replace what was lost, though, she mused, replacing the bottle onto the bar. And it couldn’t heal all wounds, either. Which was ironic, if she thought about it.

She lifted her beer again and tried very hard not to.

“Drinking alone?” Trick sidled up behind the bar and leaned over it, elbows resting gently on the glossy wooden counter. He fixed her with a quizzical smile that she knew was a prelude to something far less innocent than his verbal questioning.

“Just drinking,” she nodded graciously, giving him a tight smile. “I don’t have much choice about the being alone part.”

“Welcome to my world,” he said with a chuckle. Lauren couldn’t help the genuine smile that pulled at her lips and swigged at her beer again. There was something about Trick that was endearing and charming in all the right ways. It quite distracted most people from the power he possessed and could wield if he wanted to. Thankfully, she wasn’t most people and was only too aware of his position among the Fae. There was very little that Trick didn’t know, or could know if he so desired. Setting her beer down again, she swallowed and shifted slightly against the bar. He was looking at her like he wanted to know something and that made her a little nervous.

“I’m waiting for Bo,” she told him, before he asked, which she knew he would. “She’s off her feeding pattern and I’m hoping to convince her to re–establish it. As her doctor,” she added, a caveat she was clinging to lately.

“Ah,” he nodded, wiping at the bar top with a rag that Lauren could have sworn bore Celtic symbols along the edges. He swished it over the wooden bar before glancing up at her again, almost absent–mindedly.

“I know what you’re doing, by the way,” he said innocently.

“I’m sorry,” Lauren gaped, feigning confusion. “You know – ”

“What you’re doing. Yes.”

“Um…drinking?” Lauren lifted her beer bottle and tilted it to one side, gesturing at it with her eyes and a hopeful smile of distraction.

Trick smiled indulgently and shook his head, leaning further over the bar and lowering his voice to a near whisper. “She won’t thank you for it, Lauren.”

She had spent much of her adult life hiding from people – or at the very least, hiding her true self from people. Her seriousness was often the flag she waved in front of their eyes along with her dedication to work so that they couldn’t see the turmoil beneath the surface. Claire had once said that her still waters ran deep and underneath them was a huge sucking whirlpool. It had been a joke at the time, but Lauren had often wondered if that was what her life was to be – a calm exterior that imprisoned a maelstrom of emotion, never quite allowing it to break over her in a thunderous storm of feeling. She’d become adept at the disguise, sometimes so much so that she even half–believed it herself. It was easy to indulge in the mask she wore when everyone else around her seemed to accept it as fact.

Only, Trick didn’t. He probably never had. He knew why she worked for The Ash; he knew the circumstances in which she had made her choices and the sadness that shaded his gaze often prickled at Lauren’s conscience. Because anyone who could see her internal struggles and losses must have experienced them too. Masters of disguise always recognized their own kind.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She gave him a tight–lipped smile and finished her beer, setting the empty bottle down on the counter with a faint thud.

Trick nodded. “Of course you don’t.” He shrugged, wiping at the bar top again. “But she’s not like other Fae, is she?”

Letting out a sigh of submission, Lauren’s mask slipped for a second, revealing a look of wonderment that flickered across her features at the thought of Bo. “No,” she said, looking down at her hands, joined together on the bar. “She’s not like anyone else at all.”

Trick let out a noise of agreement and reached for her empty bottle, tossing it away underneath the bar where it fell into the bin with a jarring clang.

“You will be careful, won’t you?” he urged, the corners of his mouth turning down. A request. A command, even.

Lauren considered his words with a faint laugh. It was alarming, really, how much this little man could get to the heart of the matter without really trying. And wasn’t that the issue, after all? The heart, and its matters? Pushing at her hair, she looked him in the eye and nodded slowly.

“It’s what she wants,” she told him, her voice low, resonating with the emotion she tried so hard to keep at bay. “It’s what she needs.”

“She can take care of herself,” Trick said lightly, before his eyes widened and he looked at her almost regretfully. “I was talking about you, Lauren. Be careful. I think you’re not like anyone else at all, either.”

Her mouth opened to respond in surprise but Trick leaned back, standing up straight behind the bar and throwing open his arms towards approaching customers, a bright smile replacing the grave expression he had directed towards her only seconds before. But as he moved down the bar, he glanced back at her, worry etching lines briefly around his eyes.

She was still smiling when a hand crept over her shoulder and she turned to see Bo standing behind her.

“Hey!” she said, a little too brightly, before her eyes fell onto the figure behind the Succubus. “Oh,” her smile dropped. “Hi Kenzi.”

“Hey Doc,” Kenzie shrugged non–committally, although her gaze flickered between Bo and Lauren with gimlet eyes.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you tonight,” Lauren spoke to Kenzi, although she looked firmly at Bo, who shifted slightly and gave her a weak grin of appeasement.

“Well I thought I’d tag along and hey, look, now it’s turned into a threesome,” Kenzi began, then stopped herself and frowned. “Although, you know…not a threesome threesome. Because that would just be – ”

“Awkward and wrong,” Bo grimaced, grabbing Kenzi’s arm and shoving her towards the bar, shooting an apologetic glance at Lauren as she did so. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to spend time with Kenzi – the girl was her best friend and confidant, after all. But she’d been experiencing an overwhelming desire to have Lauren all to herself of late, especially over the last few days. Combined with her growing hunger, it was a heady mixture of need and want that surged a faint irritation into her chest as she moved closer to the doctor.

“So how are you?” she said in a low voice, standing next to Lauren and enjoying how the other woman swallowed briefly and took a short breath. The most wonderful thing about being a Succubus was that she seemed to exude an aura that put its recipients into a state of disarray. And Bo enjoyed nothing more than seeing the collected doctor a little frayed around the edges. She smiled slowly and watched as Lauren let out a little laugh, shaking her head. Yeah; Lauren felt it too: this frisson between them. Always. It was somehow comforting.

“I’m fine. But you’re not, are you?” Lauren’s eyes crinkled around the edges as she gazed at Bo. She knew the Succubus well enough by now to diagnose her, and by all accounts, the fevered gleam in Bo’s eyes indicated that she was ready to feed. Long past ready.

Bo tossed her head dismissively and let out a horribly false blurt of laughter. “I don’t know what you mean,” she scoffed. “I’m in great shape, I mean, look at me!” She swept a hand up and down her body and Lauren took in the tight clothing, accentuating every curve. If that was all it took to sustain Bo’s Succubus nature, then she’d be fighting fit all day, every day. But the consequences of Bo not feeding were all too present in the gleam that filled eyes raking hungrily up and down her own figure. It wouldn’t be long before Bo was unable to control herself and feeding became a necessity, not a choice.

So much for all the work they’d done together to help Bo control her desires.

“Bo.” Lauren’s voice held a faint reprimand that was colored with genuine concern and the Succubus demurred somewhat, rolling her eyes and avoiding Lauren’s gaze.

“I’m just hungry. It’ll pass.”

“No, it won’t.” Lauren frowned and put her hand on Bo’s arm, squeezing gently. “Bo, you need to feed.” She didn’t have to explain what that entailed. Both women were more than aware of what neither of them were saying: the consequences of having to sustain the inherent desires that were rocketing around Bo’s body.

Shaking off Lauren’s grasp, Bo turned and leaned back against the bar looking almost petulant. “Just when I want to be with you, you’re trying to push me into the arms of someone else,” she commented in a hurt tone. “Anyone else, in fact.”

“I’m really not,” Lauren smiled gently. “I’m being realistic about the fact that you’re a Succubus and I’m…well, I’m not.”

“Yeah,” Bo leaned in and was gratified to see the glimmer of want that flickered in Lauren’s deep brown eyes. “But some of us like that kind of thing.” Lifting a hand, she trailed her fingers through Lauren’s long hair and their eyes met in tacit understanding. In spite of what her medical research had proven and the stark facts that she clung to, the doctor in Lauren stepped aside to allow the woman to take precedence. And the woman in her wanted Bo so much that she almost forgot everything else that surrounded them, letting it fade into the background until they were just two people alone in the world who had found one another.

“Drinks!” Kenzi elbowed her way between them, holding out glasses of something that looked suspiciously strong and casting a bemused look between them both. “What?” she asked, as Bo shot her a glare that was terrifyingly dark.

“What?” Kenzi insisted. “It’s not like this is a date or anything, is it?” She looked at Lauren, who lifted her eyes heavenward and shook her head.

“Not even remotely,” she muttered under her breath. Taking a sip of the drink that Kenzi had thrust at them, she winced at the taste and swallowed with difficulty before putting the glass down onto the bar. “That’s disgusting,” she commented dryly.

“Not after you’ve had three or four,” Kenzi offered brightly, but Lauren glowered at her and shoved the glass Kenzi’s way.

“Help yourself,” she said, as her cellphone trilled in her pocket. Grabbing it and flipping it open, she stared at the message on the screen for a few long seconds, a visible pallor draining her cheeks. Snapping it shut, she let out a sigh and turned to Bo. Reality, like her own humanity, always crept in between them sooner or later.

“I have to go,” she said softly, trying to ignore the expression of disappointment that flooded the Succubus’ features. “It’s – ”

“Official business,” Bo intoned in a voice that was vaguely envious of the demands on Lauren’s time that didn’t relate directly to her. “Can’t you stay? Just for a little while?”

“I really can’t,” Lauren said, ignoring the judgmental look that Kenzi was giving her and instead reaching forwards and putting her hand onto Bo’s shoulder. “How about I come by your place afterwards? Okay?”

“Hey hey hey,” Kenzi pushed in between them again and shook her head. “So Bo has to give up painting the town Fae to wait in for you? Nuh uh,” she shook her head. “That’s harsh. Right, Bo?”

She glanced over her shoulder to see the Succubus staring at Lauren with a smile of expectant pleasure on her face that brought a sigh rushing from Kenzi’s chest. “O–kay…” she murmured to herself. “Wrong, Kenzi.”

“I won’t be long,” Lauren persisted. “I promise.” Her heart thudded against her ribcage as she realized that these days, her promises meant very little. She promised she wouldn’t hurt Bo. She’d promised herself that Bo wouldn’t hurt her. In the greater scheme of things, her lofty ideals were discounted in light of the realities that pulled her every which way. She felt fractured, broken into pieces by her loyalties and her emotions, which seemed determined to set against one another in an internal battle of wills. Life had become complex in the most wonderful ways, but also the most trying and as she smiled at Bo, Lauren knew that it wouldn’t be long before a victor would emerge. After that, there would only be the carnage of the battlefield to survey and grieve over. Still, she told herself, triage had always been one of her talents; if she couldn’t heal the wounds completely, then perhaps she could apply a salve to them to make the suffering a little easier.

“Hm.” Bo pretended to think about the offer Lauren presented; she even screwed up her face dubiously as she looked at the doctor.

“I won’t be long,” Lauren repeated in a gentler tone.

“Okay,” Bo nodded curtly, ignoring the sigh that rushed critically from Kenzi’s mouth and instead focusing on Lauren’s grateful smile. “Don’t be.”

* * * * *

Slowing the car to a stop and switching off the lights, Lauren sat back in the driver’s seat and let out a sigh of consternation. Things were moving faster than she’d anticipated, which meant that her time with Bo was running out. Of course, she had expected this all along and had even prepared for it in part, but the reality of it, sitting stark and cold in her chest just like the air outside, was a little more shocking than she realized. She’d only ever become involved in Fae politics at The Ash’s behest. Doing it voluntarily felt like stepping off the edge of a cliff and hoping that the fall would only bruise a little. The Morrigan had little time for humans and their curiosity. She had even less time for a human aligned to the Light and less than that for Bo. She hated that Bo, with all her strength and power, wouldn’t align herself to the Dark. Her response had been to get rid of the problem by killing it – a solution she often employed. The Morrigan hated problems that threatened her control, and Bo had flitted between Light and Dark so often that she was fast becoming visible.

Being seen wasn’t what Lauren had in mind for Bo. She needed to be hidden away; protected and cherished until she reached her potential and could sufficiently stave off the enemies that were mounting up against her. Bo asked too many unanswerable questions about her parentage; too many questions that made her known among those who could hurt her. Sometimes it was all Lauren could do to swallow the panic that rose in her throat when she considered just how dangerous life was – could be – for Bo should she continue to overturn stones that were set and solid in the rigors of the Fae political world. They clung to tradition and due process as though it could excuse their antagonistic relationship. But The Morrigan had a way of working the system that always, always bent in her favor. When she came up against something – or someone – that didn’t, she exacted horrific consequences.

A tapping on the passenger window made her jump and she whirled around to see Sagi standing calmly outside the car. He smiled at her and gestured to the door politely before opening it and sliding inside. Lauren frowned at the interior light, momentarily bathing them with a hard yellow glow that flashed over his dark skin, lighting it in bright tones. Then they were plunged into darkness again with only the gleam of his eyes signifying his presence beside her.

“I have news,” he said slowly in a measured tone. “And may I just add that the Elemental you directed me to is a wholly unpleasant being.”

“He’s one of The Morrigan’s favorites,” Lauren intoned. “What do you expect?”

Brushing at the gray suit he wore, Sagi considered her rhetorical question and let out a faint chuckle. “I expect some common courtesy,” he answered. “And a little respect.”

For a Fae who had a compulsion to deceive others, Sagi was very proud, Lauren thought. From what she knew about him, Sagi considered himself above the machinations of most of the Dark Fae and rarely got involved in their political wrangles. He claimed to be a man of science and if he held anything sacred, then it was his insatiable curiosity about the workings of Fae physiology. But the manner in which he conducted his experiments and discoveries were shrouded in the lies he would tell and manipulations that he justified with his findings. Becoming involved in her little plan was beneath him; that was only too clear from the look of distaste that pulled at his lips. But the promise of her life’s work with the Fae was too much even for him to refuse.

Perhaps pride was overrated, she thought, waiting for him to speak.

“His name is Agni,” Sagi began. “He takes care of some of the more distasteful aspects of The Morrigan’s business. You would be wise to avoid this line of questioning, child. There is nothing Agni hates more than feeling threatened.”

“I’m not threatening him,” Lauren interjected quickly. “I just want to know what he knows.”

“Yes,” Sagi nodded gravely. “But a threatened Salamander is likely to act without thought. And if he were to discover that I was in collusion with you, then the consequences would be dire. For us both,” he added.

Self–protection, Lauren thought to herself. It was Sagi’s nature to ensure that his own needs were met before anyone else’s, no matter what he’d promised. It was highly likely that if he felt his position within the Dark was becoming unstable, then he would offer her up as recompense for any snares he might find himself trapped in. The Fae’s war of attrition was ever thus: protect one’s own interests no matter who got hurt along the way. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled slightly and she tried to ignore the burgeoning fear tugging at her chest.

“So you couldn’t get the information,” she urged, hoping that her voice wasn’t as unsteady as her heart, clattering inside her ribcage.

Sagi turned to look at her and smiled, baring his teeth in a combination of self–satisfaction and complacency. “No, Doctor Lewis. I got the information you require. You underestimate me.”

“Never,” Lauren said, with a deferential bob of her head. “That’s why I contacted you in the first place. So what does Agni know?”

“Ah,” Sagi lifted his chin and let out a soft laugh. “So eager. This Succubus must be very important to you.”

Glad of the darkness of the car so that Sagi wouldn’t see her blushes, Lauren turned away from him and gazed out of the window to the barren wastes of the dead industrial area where they’d met. Everywhere she looked, she could only see the withering effects of the encroaching cold that seemed to emanate from the very heart of her. No matter how hard she tried, the frost crept in, turning her flesh and the ground outside to stone. “The information is important to her, Sagi. She’d never be able to get it on her own.”

“Your humanity is charming,” Sagi remarked, brushing at the lapel of his suit again before holding his hands out in front of him and inspecting them carefully. “Misguided, but charming nonetheless. Agni told me a story about two Dark elders from opposing clans who had a child borne out of defiance and daring. You know, for an Elemental, he possessed quite a descriptive narrative.”

Dropping his hands onto his lap, he watched as Lauren’s gaze turned to meet his own and his ever–present smile faded a little. She looked shocked.

“She’s…she’s Dark?” Lauren whispered. She hadn’t expected this. Dark Fae were allowed to choose their allegiance in the same way that Light–born Fae were, but few of them ever crossed that line. The Dark allowed their patrons to indulge in Fae activities in a way that The Ash would never condone. And even if the boundaries of good and evil weren’t as clear cut as most of them liked to think they were, being fully Dark indicated a preternatural disposition that individual will could rarely deny.

“Entirely,” Sagi confirmed with a nod of his head. “Her parents belonged to clans that were quite at odds with one another, if Agni is to be believed. I suppose that even among the Dark, harmony isn’t always easy to find.”

“Belonged?” Lauren echoed, eyes widening in acknowledgement of Sagi’s inference. “Were they…were they sent away?”

Sagi laughed, a silken, indulgent sound and tilted his head onto one side. The predisposition of humans to always hope for the best was really quite amusing. They were such unwittingly hopeful creatures, constantly believing in the inherent good they thought existed in every living thing. They had no understanding – could have none – of the questionable and fragile society in which he lived. Fae law and tradition had existed long before humans were Neanderthals, walking the earth barely upright and sentient. When they were dragging their knuckles along the ground, the Fae had already established order until the pestilence of humanity had overrun the earth and forced them to retreat. But they still clung to their traditions and even if humans allowed integration to blight their society, the Fae most certainly did not.

“Dark clans are fiercely protective of their own,” he said, enunciating his words slowly as though talking to an ignorant child. “Some of the oldest ones prefer not to mix their blood. So no, they weren’t sent away. They got rid of the child as best they could so that The Morrigan couldn’t find her. Having her live with humans was the safest way to ensure that no Fae would ever go looking for her.” The look of undisguised revulsion on his face sent a chill down Lauren’s back and she shifted slightly in her seat.

“Does The Morrigan know all of this?” she asked in a voice no more than a whisper.

Shrugging, Sagi’s mouth turned downwards in quiet contemplation. “Who knows what The Morrigan does or doesn’t know?” he asked. “The Succubus’ parents refused to tell her where they had sent the child.”

“But…the Elemental…Agni. He knew?”

“No,” Sagi shook his head. “He only knew that the child had gone. Not where. And the parents were less than forthcoming with information.”

“They’re dead, aren’t they?” Lauren asked, knowing full well what the answer would be and letting it droop her shoulders a little.

“You know as well as I do that The Morrigan doesn’t take too kindly to not getting what she wants.” It was the only explanation that Sagi could offer and he shrugged again. “If she knew you had asked me to get this information, she wouldn’t take too kindly to that, either.”

“She must know who Bo is, then. She must know what she is. That she’s Dark.” Lauren’s statements came in short bursts as they exploded into her brain: fear, panic, realization. It wasn’t the confirmation of Bo’s Dark parentage that was worrying, it was more that, as such, The Morrigan would never give up until Bo reclaimed her birthright and took her place within the Dark court.

That’s not going to happen, she told herself. Not if I can help it.

“It’s not for me to assume what The Morrigan knows,” Sagi waved his hand in the air dismissively. “Whatever plans she might have for the Succubus are hers and hers alone.”

Silence fell between them for a moment as Lauren pondered the terrifying possibilities of what The Morrigans ‘plans’ might mean for Bo. Of what they might mean for them all, should Bo allow the Dark to demand allegiance. Fae heritage was something they held close to their hearts; it compounded who they were and consolidated how they lived. Bo might not want to choose a side, but if she had been borne from the Dark, then there was a part of her that belonged there despite her protestations.

“And now,” Sagi broke Lauren’s reverie, “I gave you the information you requested. Do you have my reward?”

It wasn’t the information she’d wanted though, Lauren thought with a sinking heart. Her aspirations for Bo had been thwarted, horribly so. Bo’s links to the Dark Fae had been strengthened, not severed. Disappointment buried into her gut and began to take hold, edging dissatisfaction into her gaze as she turned to look at Sagi.

“Here’s a flash drive with all my notes on it,” she told him, seeing a flicker of pleasure burn briefly in his eyes. She dug into her pocket and brought out the drive, pressing it into his outstretched palm. It was innocuously small for all that it held; everything she’d ever worked on that pertained to the Fae. Her hand moved away from it with a reluctant, sorrowful motion. Sagi’s fingers curled around it as though it were the Holy Grail itself, which in essence it was to Lauren. Everything she’d ever done – her whole life’s work – was contained on that drive and here she was, giving it up without so much as a second thought. She knew what she was relinquishing, but she also knew what she had to gain. She’d just hoped that it might be something more tangible; something more optimistic.

“The Morrigan must never know of this,” she told Sagi, a note of tentative fear entering her voice. “But thank you, Sagi, for your help.”

Sagi held up the flash drive with a flourish and looked at it carefully. “You would give up all of this for her,” he stated calmly.

“Yes.” Lauren’s answer was immediate, quite without reservation. The truth of the matter was that she would have given up her research a hundred times over if it allowed her to help Bo. If it allowed her to assuage the injustices that she saw as unfathomable and quite at odds with the ancient nobility the Fae claimed to uphold. If Bo had a right to know who her parents were, then Lauren had the same right to sacrifice what she held dear to make that happen.

“Interesting,” Sagi commented, with the sort of distracted fascination with which he viewed most humans. Nodding briefly to Lauren, he opened the car door and got out, leaning back in to fix Lauren with a cold gaze. “And my future favor? You haven’t forgotten about that?”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Lauren sighed. He nodded again and closed the door with a faint thud, leaving her alone in the darkness once more as the interior light faded.

Bo was Dark. By birth and heritage. And whether The Morrigan knew that or not, Bo would be a target for the Dark until she chose her alliance. A free Fae was almost unheard of in their society; nobody broke Fae laws without having to suffer the consequences. Self–determination only went so far, after all, until it was considered foolish and was dealt with quickly. Lauren had seen it happen before and although she tried to hope that for Bo it would be different, she knew otherwise.

Gunning the engine of her car, Lauren pressed her lips together in a firm line and tugged at the seatbelt. There was nothing to be gained by telling Bo about her parentage – nothing but a further connection to the Dark that worried and unsettled her. But Bo had a right to know. And Lauren had an imperative to justify that right.

Telling Bo was her own personal sacrifice to make – one that the Succubus wouldn’t thank her for. But the most unerring truths were always the ones that came with ramifications; the hard truths that were accompanied by regret and apology. Letting out a sigh that seemed to come from every part of her, Lauren released the brake and drove away with a heavy heart.

~ ~ ~

Title: Ways To Tell You I’m Sorry – The Seventh Way: Honesty

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 has some news for Bo, both good and bad…

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

The Seventh Way: Honesty

heartsways

“Gotta tell ya, Doc, you’re looking kinda frazzled.” Standing back from the door, Kenzi cast a cursory glance over Lauren and watched as the doctor walked past her and into the shambolic house where she and Bo lived. As the door swung shut, Kenzi turned to view Lauren with a more intense gaze, narrowing her eyes and taking in the somewhat ruffled demeanor of the doctor. Being involved with a human wasn’t what she would have chosen for Bo, especially if the Succubus’ recent moods had been anything to go by. And being involved with Bo seemed to be taking its toll on the doctor, too, judging from her current countenance of frowning impatience. Ever since Lauren had wandered back into Bo’s life, the Succubus had been increasingly temperamental and most of that, Kenzi thought, was due to the fact that Bo hadn’t fed for days.

Of course, the rest of Bo’s mood swings were probably to do with Lauren herself and the messed up sort of relationship they were trying to have. Kenzi didn’t trust the doctor as far as she could throw her – a thought which had actually occurred to her on more than one occasion in their recent past. And if Kenzi had been able to match some of her thoughts with actions, Lauren might have found herself sliding down a wall in great pain until she got a clue and steered clear of Bo. Someone who worked as closely with The Ash as Lauren did wasn’t to be relied upon or confided in.

Kenzi didn’t know much about Fae politics – and really, why would she ever want to? – but didn’t much like what little she had gleaned from being around them. Their notion of honor was flawed and seemed to have no form or fairness, in her eyes. When it came to honor among thieves, Kenzi liked to think that she wrote the rule book. Whatever book the Fae used was redundant in her eyes because it appeared that they did what they liked and followed none of the basic tenets that she considered acceptable or appropriate. And they did it all under the name of “Fae law” – or, at least, that was the excuse they used to carry out all sorts of heinous acts. Kenzi used to think that humans were the cruelest creatures on the planet, but lately, she’d begun to think otherwise.

Looking at Lauren now, Kenzi folded her arms over her chest and pursed her lips dubiously. She wasn’t sure Lauren even had a rule book, Fae or otherwise. That alone was reason enough for the distrust that inhibited her view of the doctor, even if Bo seemed to be moving in the opposite direction with regards to Lauren. But then, that was Bo, always running headlong into things without looking at the ground beneath her feet to see if it was solid or crumbling under every stride. Sometimes it was all Kenzi could do to hang on tight and try to enjoy the ride. Or scream loudly enough when she wanted to get off.

“You know, you and Bo getting all Fae’d up together might not be good for your health,” she commented dryly as Lauren frowned at her.

“And that’s your business…why?” the doctor countered, brusque and defensive. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Kenzi – in fact, Lauren rather admired her unswerving loyalty to Bo, particularly as the runaway had professed no previous allegiance to anyone else in her life. No; she was simply finding it more than difficult to live her life in the open when it came to matters of a more personal nature. Bo had explained once that there were no secrets between Kenzi and herself, that they were more sisters than friends and shared their personal lives accordingly. But secrets had characterized Lauren’s life since becoming part of the Fae world and to have the ones she held most dear fractured open and displayed in front of her was alarming, to say the least.

“It’s Bo’s business, which makes it mine,” Kenzi said adroitly. Tilting her head onto one side, she shrugged slightly as though that explanation was the only one Lauren needed. Her stance made it clear that it was the only one Lauren was going to get.

“Look, Kenzi, I don’t want to hurt Bo, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“But you are, Doc,” Kenzi rolled her eyes and wondered if everyone who worked for the Fae was inherently stupid when it came to relationships. “She’s…testy,” she added thoughtfully. “Y’know, hungry.” She looked pointedly at Lauren and lifted her eyebrows in an almost vaudevillian manner to accentuate her meaning.

“I encouraged her to feed – ”

“And you think the longer she’s involved with you that’s actually going to happen?” Kenzi let out a noise of dismissal and pressed her lips together in a firm line. “C’mon, Lauren. She might be a Succubus but she’s all human inside. You don’t have to have a hotline to the Fae to see that.”

That was the thing about Kenzi, Lauren thought to herself. She saw everything – all the things that most people didn’t and most of the things other people couldn’t. When it came to Bo, Kenzi was fiercely protective and had drawn her lines in the sand with candor. Bo might be ignorant of her nature’s needs, but Kenzi certainly wasn’t. And neither am I, Lauren mentally added.

“I know you don’t believe me,” Lauren took a step closer to Kenzi and saw the glimmer of disbelief in the girl’s eyes. “But I do have Bo’s best interests at heart and I’m trying my best to get her to act on that. I need you to help me help her, okay? And if you don’t want to do it for me, then do it for her.”

It wasn’t the most eloquent of pleas, nor was it close to being remotely close to how Lauren really felt about Bo. But it was all she was prepared to give – all she felt that she could give. Trust was so tenuous, so fragile that to not give voice to it now seemed disingenuous in the extreme. She turned from Kenzi lest the girl should see the emotion in her face, pulling at her features and betraying her efforts to remain stoic. Shuffling her feet, she clasped and unclasped her hands, clearing her throat.

“Is she here?” she asked, gaze wandering towards the staircase.

“Dyson wanted her help on a case,” Kenzi stated casually. “She said you should wait for her.” Bo had, in fact, literally ordered Kenzi home to wait for Lauren in her place. She’d failed to see the displeasure on Kenzi’s face or the apprehension with which the girl viewed being left alone with the doctor. But then, Kenzi thought, gazing blankly at Lauren, there was plenty Bo didn’t see. If ignorance was bliss, then Bo ought to be the happiest person on the planet.

Lauren smiled politely, despite her eagerness to see Bo and despite the fact that Bo had essentially left her alone with Kenzi: the girl who had once called her ‘cold and frigid’ and who was, even now, viewing her with something that looked like fascinated distaste. But if she appeared somewhat frosty, then it was only because sometimes, it felt like she’d been waiting for Bo forever. Although, a few more hours didn’t really seem like too much in the greater scheme of things. A scheme of things that was quite beyond her control or manipulation, she reminded herself, with a pang of concern. And time, no longer interminably on her side, was beginning to run out.

“So…I’ll just uh…wait upstairs?” Lauren suggested, seeing an expression of relief flood Kenzi’s features and feeling half offended by it. Whatever happened between her and Bo, it was clear that there would be no love lost when it came to Kenzi.

Moving towards the staircase, Lauren found that she was almost thankful for that – Bo would need Kenzi’s strength if this played out the way she expected it to. If her secrets came to light, which they always did in the end. There was no hiding from what she’d done and, ultimately, she was already preparing herself for the inevitable penance that she would have to pay. Betrayal was a word that the Fae liked to throw around without truly considering its meaning. But it was also a word that they acted upon, swiftly and without remorse. It was only a matter of time before her dealings with the Dark were uncovered.

She’d known that from the beginning.

Her foot was on the first step when the sound of her name made her turn and look back at Kenzi.

“You’re right, by the way,” Kenzi said, shrugging a little.

Lauren nodded, relief flooding her features. “Good, because Bo needs to – ”

“Nah,” Kenzi waved her hand in the air. “I didn’t mean about that. I meant about you. I don’t believe you.” Her expression was resolute; her assessment implicit.

“Oh.”

Yes; Lauren thought as she trudged up the stairs towards Bo’s room. The hardest truths were always the ones that hurt the most.

* * * * *

By the time Bo entered her bedroom, it was late and the room was dark and quiet. She stood still for a moment, allowing her eyes to adjust to the gloom. The boards at the window only offered a few errant beams of yellow streetlight to enter the room but they had faded to barely anything by the time they reached the floor and offered little in the way of illumination. Squinting towards the bed, her eyes sought the figure lying there and she took a few hesitant steps forward.

Kenzi’s warninghs had been explicit – Lauren was to be avoided. In fact, Kenzi had been pretty explicit about a lot of things when it came to the subject of Lauren, including a disgruntled monologue on the various pitfalls of getting into bed with the Light Fae – both literally and metaphorically. Only, Bo thought with a vague smile, Kenzi had used words of a far more colorful nature. She knew that her friend meant well, but standing by the side of the bed, Bo could only hear the regular breathing of the woman in it. Everything else faded away: the traffic, Kenzi’s cautionary diatribe, even the sounds of her own brain, usually so full of questions and arguments.

Bo’s eyes slid over the silhouette of Lauren’s body, just listening. It all seemed so…normal. And that wasn’t a word that had been in her vocabulary for at least the last ten years. All she’d ever wanted was to come home to someone else – someone who was in her bed and her heart. Someone who wanted to stay there. It was a simple longing that she’d cultivated growing up among humans. And the further away it moved, the more she wanted it. Craved it. So much that sometimes, it was all she could think about.

Undressing quickly, Bo shivered slightly in the night air before pulling back the covers and sliding under them. By the time her arms crept around Lauren, the other woman stirred with a tiny noise of surprise, opening her eyes and half–turning in the bed.

“Oh…hey,” she said sleepily, reaching up to rub at her eyes. “I must have fallen asleep. I was waiting…” Frowning, she blinked at Bo’s face, pushed close to her own and almost allowed herself to drift back into the dreamlike world where she and Bo would stay like this forever. But with sleep floating ever further away from her as she began to wake up, Lauren drew in a breath and recognized reality seeping into her peripheral vision.

“Did Dyson get what he needed from you?” she asked. It was an innocent enough question, but even saying his name reminded Lauren of the facts of her existence and she demurred slightly as Bo grinned.

“He wanted to use my contacts with the Dark Fae. I guess being in the middle counts for something, right?” Her smile faded as she moved closer to Lauren’s body, fingers grasping at the shirt the doctor wore. “You still have clothes on.”

“I wasn’t planning on spending the night,” Lauren said, shifting away from Bo as much as she was able with the Succubus’ arms wrapped tightly around her. It was somewhat of an impossible task and for a second, she proffered an indulgent smile at the face close to her own and turned again, her arm creeping over Bo’s torso. The supple skin under her fingertips brought a flush of pleasure to her cheeks and she was glad, suddenly, for the dark to hide her weaknesses and shield her fallibility.

Bo shivered again as Lauren’s hand drifted over her side and onto her hip, lingering for a moment before moving away. “Well in case you hadn’t noticed, the night is almost over, so you might as well stay,” she whispered, throwing a territorial leg over Lauren. “Take your clothes off,” she mumbled, her mouth pressing against the slender neck underneath her mouth.

For a second, Lauren was tempted to do just that. She’d known that intimacy between them was always going to lead to this – to entwined bodies and a desire that swept from one mouth to the other in whispered accolades and beautiful words. And if she could shake the burden that weighed her down, if she could empty her chest of the anticipated grief that was certain, she might have acceded to Bo’s request. But she placed her hands onto Bo’s naked shoulders and pushed at her, the space between them growing as darkness flooded in to fill it.

“I need to talk to you,” she said, Bo’s mouth turning downwards in a pout of rebuttal. “I…need to talk about…well, you.”

“If this is about anything other than the fact that I want you to get naked with me, then I’m less than interested,” Bo responded sulkily, her fingers plucking dismally at Lauren’s shirt.

Despite the smile on her face, Lauren’s heart was heavy. She sat up in the bed and pushed at her hair, shoving it back over her shoulders. “I’m serious, Bo.”

“So am I!” Bo insisted, sliding into an upright position and clutching the bed covers against her body. “I haven’t seen you for days and when I do, all you want me to do is have sex with someone else. I mean, come on Lauren, do I have to Succubus you into it?”

“Speaking of…” Lauren avoided Bo’s eyes and looked instead down at her lap. “Did you and Dyson…?”

She hated the way her voice sounded, so desolate and defeated. She hated the way it felt, too. But a part of her had accepted it, the facts that insinuated themselves between her and Bo with sharp edges that pricked her conscience and sliced at her heart. She’d seen a lot of pain in her work with the Fae, even caused some of it too with her treatments and desire to heal. But the worst pain was the one she inflicted on herself. And who was going to heal her? Who would even want to?

“If you’re asking if I fed from Dyson, then the answer’s no.” Bo lifted her chin defiantly, a hardness entering her gaze. Her fingers clutched at the sheet around her and she moved backwards, away from Lauren with an open mouth of assumed horror. “I can’t believe you’re even asking me this…” she muttered, shaking her head.

“I care about you, Bo!” Lauren swung her legs over the side of the bed and got to her feet, pacing towards the window and frowning. “The longer you go without feeding, the more you’re going to have to take from whoever’s next. Don’t you understand that?” She turned, her hand in the air, helpless.

“No, I don’t understand!” Bo shook her head again, hurt lying in patterns around her eyes and mouth. “You think I can’t control myself? Lauren, that’s all I do when I’m around you – don’t you understand that?”

“You’re so goddamn stubborn, Bo!” Lauren’s voice rose to match the fevered pitch of the other woman’s and she darted forwards, hands outstretched before catching herself and letting them fall uselessly against her side. “Why do you keep doing this to yourself? It’s not healthy!” She wasn’t sure whether she was talking to Bo or to herself; weakness was the only outcome of this, surely. Vulnerability and weakness and wasting away until they didn’t exist at all. Emotional malnutrition, she told herself. They were both starving themselves to death.

“Neither is pushing me towards other people when I only want to be with you!” Bo protested, fingers curling into a fist against the red sheets of the bed. “I can control this, Lauren. You can help me. You’ve already helped me.”

“No.” Shaking her head, the doctor moved to the edge of the bed and sat down gingerly, uncomfortable in her own skin. “The shots I’ve been giving you – they can help to suppress your appetite, but they won’t eliminate it. You have to feed to survive, Bo. And I know you think the occasional energy boosts I can give you will be enough, but I’m telling you they won’t be. Not now, not ever. You need to be strong. You’re going to need to be strong,” she corrected herself, hanging her head and looking disconsolately at her lap, fingers twisting against one another.

“What? Why?” Bo demanded, her voice coming in staccato bursts like rapid gunfire.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Lauren said slowly, lifting her gaze to look at Bo. The Succubus was almost hidden in the darkness of the room, but Lauren could see her eyes glistening in the shadows. Anger, hurt, fear – all the things she never wanted to paint over the other woman’s features were there in broad strokes. For all the emotions that raged through her when she was with Bo, giving her hope for the future, it was her present self who rationalized them. She was tired. Tired of feeling so much, all the time. Exhausted by the sheer effort of restraint and secrecy. Her life had never been so chaotic, so at odds with the person she had tried to be her whole life: controlled, detached, able to resist the inimitable pull of one heart towards another. If Lauren had been the sort of person who believed in a soul, she would have suspected that hers had taken flight long ago, leaving her with an emptiness that could never be filled.

“Talk to me about what?” Bo snapped. “All you do is talk, Lauren. That’s all you do.”

“Because you never listen!” Lauren threw up her hands and let out a frustrated sigh.

“So tell me something I want to hear,” Bo slumped back onto the bed and tugged the sheet around her.

“I found some information out about…about you. Your parents.” Lauren sensed, rather than saw, the stiffening of the other woman’s body and the way her eyes opened wide in anticipation. “You’re not alone, Bo. You have a family. A heritage.”

“How did you…?”

“That doesn’t matter,” Lauren shook her head. And it didn’t, not really. All that mattered was that Bo know and understand who she was. Where she had come from. The only thing that mattered was that she find her place in the world. Even if that was with the Dark Fae.

Swallowing, she prepared herself, hearing Bo’s quickened breathing in anticipation of what she was about to say. In the internvening hours between hearing the information and the telling of it, Lauren had considered at least five or six different ways of giving Bo the information she so desperately wanted. Five or six different ways in which she tried not to focus on the fact that Bo’s heritage was Dark. That her origins were steeped in the nefarious Dark clans who would cut one another down without a second thought if they were to suspect she belonged to them.

Looking at Bo now, Lauren took a long breath and then let it out slowly. The best way – the only way – was to focus on the facts. That was how she’d been trained in medical school. It was how she had been encouraged to deliver any and all bad news. Nodding to herself, she quelled the fluttering of her heart, nervous and unsure inside her chest, and instead focused on the bare, unrelenting facts.

“Your parents were Dark Fae elders who sent you away to protect you. They belonged to opposing clans and any relationship between them was frowned upon…forbidden, actually. When you were born, it wasn’t safe for you to remain with the Dark. They did it for your own good, Bo.” Lauren’s voice was steady; saying this under a shroud of darkness was easier for her. She couldn’t bear to see the expression on Bo’s face, or know that with every word she was widening the distance between them.

“Who told you this?” Be demanded, her voice taking on a roughened edge.

“I can’t tell you – ”

“You’d better,” Bo pushed herself up on the bed, sitting up straight and glaring through the darkness at the figure on the end of her bed. “I mean it, Lauren. I want to know who told you.”

“I made a deal with a Dark Fae.” She heard the gasp of recrimination from Bo and bit at her lip.

“A deal? With a Dark Fae? Lauren, are you insane?” Bo’s voice was horrified, carrying with it all the criticism that Lauren had heaped upon herself for associating and bargaining with Sagi.

“It was the only way I could get the information you need, Bo. And Sagi is respected in the Dark Fae community.”

Silence. A moment’s contemplation. The air between them crackled with intensity before Bo spoke.

“And this…this Sagi, do you trust him?”

Lauren let out a laugh and shook her head sadly. “In as much as I could ever trust a Kitsune, then yes, I do. Believe me, Bo, he was more than compensated for his efforts. Let’s just say it was more than enough to guarantee the truth. Your heritage is in the Dark. It makes sense that The Morrigan takes such an interest in you.”

“So…what, I should just go on over to the Dark side and wait for the homecoming party?” Bo scoffed, throwing up her hands.

“I didn’t say that,” Lauren muttered.

“No, but you knew this about me, didn’t you? Is that why you don’t want to be with me? Is that why you keep wanting me to sleep with other people? Because at heart I’m a Dark Fae?” The embittered tone of Bo’s voice cut through Lauren with the efficiency of one of her medical instruments, sharpened by hurt and rejection. It was all Lauren could do not to reach out to her. Light and Dark meant very little to her now; the only thing that really mattered was the pain of separation and the bitter taste of regret.

“I did this to help you, Bo. Not to hurt you.” Her voice was low, thickened by tears that she refused to shed in this place. Not here. Not in front of Bo, who would surely see how much this was tearing at her if she did.

“All that crap about me feeding…you know, Lauren, I thought you really cared.”

“I do!” Lauren sprang to her feet, swallowing against the ache in her throat. “God, Bo, do you think I would risk everything I am on a whim? If The Ash were to find out I’d been dealing with the Dark, then it wouldn’t just be your life in danger! You’re so…so damned intent on rushing into things that it terrifies me. This was the only way to keep you safe and find out who you are without you getting killed in the process! That’s how much I care, Bo. I couldn’t bear it if you…” She stopped herself, hands shaking and voice trembling over words that she was quite unable to give voice.

Taking several fortifying breaths, Lauren wrapped her arms around herself and dropped her head onto her chest. Getting emotionally involved in the welfare of a Fae was a road she’d always resisted going down. Getting emotionally involved with anyone was territory she’d decided was non–profitable for her. She’d always suspected that caring more about someone else than she did about herself would only break her in the end. Once her own wants and needs became secondary to those of another, her weaknesses rose to the surface, cracked and broken open. Just as she was right now.

“I don’t care where you’re from,” she began again, lifting her head to stare into the shadows where Bo sat motionless and bristling. Lauren could feel the hurt coming off the Succubus in waves, reaching towards her with the strength of a riptide, just waiting to pull her under and consume her.

“But I care that you do,” Lauren added. “And I did what I had to in order to find that out.”

“By putting yourself in danger? I told you not to do that.”

“Yeah, well…” Lauren allowed herself a tight, tiny smile. “I wonder who I learned that from.”

“So what happens now?” Bo asked quietly. “If I’m Dark Fae by birth…does that mean I’m bad?” Her tone, desolate and dipping to a tone that spoke of the fears lurking deep within her caught at the doctor’s chest, grasping at it with cold fingers.

“God, no!” Now Lauren did move forwards, sitting on the bed and taking Bo’s hand between her own, squeezing it gently. “Every Fae gets to choose who they belong to and how they live. But you didn’t choose Light or Dark. Your parentage means that The Morrigan, if she knows, will want to draw you to the Dark. But it doesn’t mean you’re bad, Bo. If you were truly bad, I wouldn’t – “ She caught her breath, clamping her lips together and reminding herself that declarations didn’t belong here. The only thing that belonged here was honesty. And honesty dictated that Bo was better off without her. Would be better off, once enough time had passed to allow the Succubus to realize that.

“Wouldn’t what?” Bo urged, leaning forwards and peering into Lauren’s eyes, hidden by the shadows falling across them.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t find out more for you.” Lauren ignored Bo’s question and focused on the issue at stake. Perhaps doing that might alleviate the doubt spreading pain across the back of her neck and prickling behind her eyes. “You don’t understand how this world works, Bo. I wish you did. Maybe then you’d realize how dangerous it is for you to be asking questions.”

“Do you?” The Succubus’ chin jerked forwards and she curled her fingers around Lauren’s, holding them so tightly that the doctor almost cried out. “Jesus, Lauren. Why didn’t you tell me? You say you want to be honest with me and tell me the truth and then I find out that you’ve been on some secret spy Fae mission and putting your life in danger! It’s not fair! You promised you wouldn’t!” Her words came out in a rush of criticism that assaulted the doctor and pulled her into the present. Clear and guilty and hurtful.

Sliding her hands from Bo’s grasp, Lauren smiled sadly. It was always the lies that found her out, in the end, even when she so carefully constructed them from half–truths and confessions. Bo’s ignorance of the Fae world would ultimately be the Succubus’ downfall. And even if she could encourage Bo to navigate it with care and diplomacy, there still might not be enough time for her to find out what she needed to know. At least, this way, Bo would be protected for a little while longer. But she wouldn’t.

“I didn’t tell you because the less you’re involved, the safer you are. I can try to find out more for you – “ she hesitated as Bo’s mouth opened to protest and held up a hand to stop any further tirade from the Succubus. “I can try to find out more, but when The Morrigan discovers this, and she will, I’ll be the only one responsible.”

“That’s crazy!” Bo cried, shaking her head. “Do you think because you’re under the protection of The Ash that you’re untouchable or something?”

“I don’t know,” Lauren admitted. And she didn’t. All she knew was that she had given Bo her birthright, which was what she had wanted to do. Needed to do. She’d wondered if it might bring some sense of closure to this…to them. But all she could feel right now was an overwhelming sense of sadness, of desperation and emptiness. She had taken her leap of faith and was still falling. Only this time, she couldn’t be assured that there would be anyone there to catch her.

“So what do we do now?” Bo asked, her voice sounding very small in the quiet of the room, a blanket of silence creeping in from the night outside.

“I don’t know that either.”

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” It was an innocent enough question, and one to which Bo already knew the answer. But she reached out anyway; she had to try. Her hands met dead air as Lauren stood up and moved away from the bed.

“It’s not safe for you to be with me right now.” The voice that came at Bo from the darkness of the bedroom was flat, monotone in its acceptance and resignation. Even the Succubus could hear that. Lauren had given up. On them. On herself, even.

“I don’t care,” Bo was resolute, leaping from the bed and ignoring the chill of the air as it hit her skin. “Lauren, please. I can protect us both.”

But Lauren shook her head and gave Bo a sad smile. “Not if you don’t feed, you can’t. And maybe not even then. The Morrigan…Bo, she’s powerful.” A shiver ran down her spine as she remembered the stories she’d heard. If The Ash was seen as ruling his people with a strong arm, then The Morrigan did so with fear and the fist. And she was utterly unreasonable in getting her demands met. For all that Bo suspected she knew about The Morrigan and the Dark Fae, she had barely touched the surface. Working for The Ash meant that sometimes, Lauren had delve into the murky depths of questionable morals and even more questionable actions. But she’d always justified it with her link to the Light. The Dark…well, the Dark did whatever was necessary to perpetuate their stronghold over the Fae. And even if, as Lauren suspected, Bo was important to them, they wouldn’t hesitate to bring her under their control in whatever way was available to them. Especially if her parentage was linked in such an intrinsic way to their society. Humans rarely felt such strong connections to their origins; in fact, most humans didn’t really care about them at all. But the Fae, in their thousand year tradition, had lost so much that heritage was one of the only things they had left to celebrate. That, and a millennium of conflict between the Light and the Dark.

“When will I see you again?”

Bo’s question came out of the dark. A plea, choked by tears that Lauren could hardly bear to hear, let alone see. She was thankful for the darkness that hid Bo from her, grateful for the shield it offered against her unruly and desperate heart.

“I’ll…I’ll call you,” she said. “Try to feed, Bo. You need to be strong. Please, do it for me.” Again her request came. One last request to elicit some sign that Bo cared. One last opportunity to show that she did, too. But it was met only with silence, and in the blackened shadows that crept across the room, Lauren only saw an empty void turning and returning to haunt her. Reaching up to scrub at her eyes, she caught her breath and gritted her teeth, determined not to release the sob stuck in her throat. She’d done quite enough already.

She heard her name as she left the room, then once more as she stumbled her way down the stairs. By the time she’d reached the hesitant silence outside, she heard nothing but her own breath, jagged and broken in her ears.

~ ~ ~

Title: Ways To Tell You I’m Sorry – The Eighth Way: Repercussions

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 gets some unexpected news.

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

The Eighth Way: Repercussions

heartsways

Lauren liked her home. It was simple, beautifully furnished with clean lines and a wall devoted to a huge bookcase crammed with tomes she’d collected over the years. Working for The Ash often came with caveats that she found difficult to endure, but the benefits had paid off and allowed her to indulge in her passion for knowledge. And knowledge was on every shelf along the back wall of her lounge. Sometimes she enjoyed just standing back and looking at her collection; knowing it was hers and hers alone brought her a satisfaction that she’d always craved as a child. And on the nights when her mind wasn’t full of her work or the ramifications of working for the Fae, she would curl up in the huge armchair by the fire and open a bottle of wine, reading her favorite works over and over.

She’d always been a private person, but when she retreated into the glorious silence of words that weren’t her own, she often felt less solitary. Sometimes it was her only link to the life she’d left behind and she felt a wistful pull towards the humanity contained between the pages of a novel, or the desires that resonated with her own in the verses of a poem. It was only then that she experienced harmony and retained a connection to her own kind, indulging in the brief sanctuary that her home offered. At least, it had always been so before.

Before Bo.

Wearily, Lauren opened the door to her house and stepped inside, closing it behind her and letting a huge sigh gush from her chest as though it could offer the catharsis she needed. Before Bo life had been simple. Lonely, but simple. Sometimes Lauren wondered if her life would ever be simple again, wondered if she really wanted it to be.

Dropping her keys onto the table by the door, she trudged into the lounge, only to be stopped dead by the realization that she wasn’t alone. Her home – her sanctuary – had been invaded and as she stared into the gloom of her lounge, she could see indistinct, shadowy shapes beyond. She gasped, a loud, harsh sound in the quiet of the room, and felt a trembling begin in her legs.

The standard lamp by the armchair clicked on, flooding the room with light and illuminating the figures standing in it. Fear washed over Lauren as suddenly and starkly as the light had done and her eyes widened in horror as the figure sitting in the armchair – her armchair – stood and smoothed down the lines of her skirt with a practiced and well–manicured hand.

“Doctor Lewis,” The Morrigan said with a humorless smile across the red slash of her mouth. “Hello, dear.”

She was flanked by two large Dark Fae, who stood menacingly behind the chair and more than filled the cut of their expensive suits. One of them had the temerity to growl at her but was soon silenced by a wave of The Morrigan’s hand. He dropped his head obediently and took a step back, somewhat like a well–trained attack dog. But his eyes gleamed red as he stared at Lauren with open hostility and she blinked, caught between the instinct to run and the knowledge that if she did, she would be dead before she reached the door.

“Don’t mind Vyras,” The Morrigan said in a smooth tone that licked soothingly at Lauren’s ears. “His bark’s worse than his bite.”

Then she frowned a little and tilted her head to one side. “Actually, that’s not entirely true,” she added with a silken laugh. “His bite could tear you to shreds. But then, you already know that, don’t you?”

“What are you doing here?” Lauren managed to force out bravely. “You have no jurisdiction in my home.”

The Morrigan shrugged and held out her hands in mock–supplication. “Which is why your throat is still intact and Vyras isn’t covered in your blood.” Demurring somewhat, she took a couple of steps towards the terrified doctor, her smile fading as she did so. The intent in her eyes was sinister and quite at odds with the disappearing smirk on her lips. Gazing at Lauren with cold curiosity, The Morrigan’s eyes dragged up and down the doctor’s body, sensuously and so intimately that Lauren shifted uncomfortably as though she had been somehow violated.

“But you are troublesome, aren’t you?” The Morrigan murmured, almost to herself. “I don’t like humans interfering in Fae business. Even if you are a human who works for us.”

“I don’t work for you,” Lauren said through clenched teeth.

“No, that’s right,” The Morrigan countered in a light, breezy tone. “You’re owned by The Ash, aren’t you dear? His little pet? I wonder what he’d say if he knew that you’d been so disobedient. Still,” she shrugged and pretended to inspect her nails, “I always did suspect that The Ash lacked the necessary ability to control his wards. Such a shame. But you know what they say, you’ve either got it or you haven’t.” She let out a self–satisfied laugh and twirled her fingers in the air before her expression became stony and she stared at Lauren with undisguised contempt.

“I don’t know what sort of dog and pony show The Ash is running, but when it allows a human to infiltrate my business, then I have no choice but to take action.” She jerked her head towards the archway that led through to Lauren’s dining room and held out her hand. “You can come out now!” she called, as a figure appeared from the other room.

Sagi walked across the room to stand by The Morrigan, his eyes glittering with pride as she stroked a hand down the lapel of his suit jacket and smiled affectionately at him. Lauren’s heart sank and turned cold. Lies. Always the lies. And the ones she believed the most were the ones she told herself. The ones that Sagi had allowed her to believe.

“You lied to me?” she said in a hushed tone as Sagi inclined his head in a mock bow at her accusation.

“You see,” The Morrigan remarked, “I think the lesson here is that we are not to be taken for granted. Did you honestly think that Sagi would betray his own kind for you?” She looked Lauren up and down again, the distaste in her heart evident on the downward turn of her scarlet lips.

“No,” Lauren answered bravely. “I thought he might do it for his own gain, though. And I made good on that agreement.” She looked at Sagi with a hardened gaze and he shrugged slightly, as though none of that really mattered. He even looked as if he was taking pleasure in her discomfort and fear, the emotion only too palpable and coming off her in waves of desperation.

The Morrigan clasped her hands together and took a short breath. “The thing is, dear doctor, you have no idea who this Succubus is. Not really. You’re only human, after all. So when Sagi came to me and told me about your inquisitive little deal, what other option did I have than to give you what you wanted? We had a lot of fun thinking up a story to tell you, knowing that you’d run off to your little lover and repeat it word for word.” She stood back on her heels, looking for all the world like a feline predator who, on capturing their prey, wanted to play with it for a little while before tearing its throat out. The tip of her tongue ran over her crimson lips and she smiled dispassionately.

“You mean…everything you said? It’s not true?” Lauren gasped.

“Not a word!” The Morrigan trilled delightedly. “But Bo doesn’t need to know that. And you won’t tell her. Let her think she’s Dark Fae. It’ll make claiming her so much more…” she trailed off, waving a finger in the air thoughtfully. “Delicious,” she eventually decided, nodding at her choice of word.

“I trusted you!” Lauren threw towards Sagi.

“Which is why your kind are so easy to manipulate,” he responded with an icy smile. “Humans. Always so ready to trust. Always so ready to let emotion sway you. Such a shame. I rather liked you, Doctor Lewis.”

“Anyway, dear,” The Morrigan countered, patting Sagi absent–mindedly on the arm and nodding at Lauren. “I just wanted you to know what you’ve done. And to thank you, actually. You’ve saved me a lot of time and effort. I mean, why do all the dirty work myself when I can just get you to do it for me? It won’t be long before The Foundling comes to us wanting to find out more. It really is going to be one of my greatest triumphs.”

“If you kill me, what do you think The Ash is going to do in retaliation?” Lauren’s gaze flickered between The Morrigan and Sagi, who exchanged a smile of such pleasure that she gasped again, sucking in a short breath as though it could steady her pounding heart.

It didn’t.

“Kill you?” The Morrigan echoed. “Oh no. That would be far too easy and honestly,” she leaned forwards as though sharing an intimacy with a close friend, “not nearly as satisfying as I’d like. No, we’re not going to kill you. But we are going to let The Ash know that you’ve been meddling in my affairs. He’s such a stickler for tradition and protocol. I’m sure he’ll be horribly disappointed.”

Her mouth turned down and she assumed a tone of disappointed concern that stuck in Lauren’s throat and lodged there in a hard knot. The Ash. The one being whose trust she had really betrayed. There were things he had tolerated, such as her involvement and work with Bo. He’d even been persuaded on occasion to allow her to stretch the bonds of her protection to almost breaking point. She was looked upon as his ward, he her guardian. Before Bo, Lauren had never kept any secrets from him; she’d never had reason to. But now she was to be exposed, her fear shifted from the Fae in front of her to the one under whose protection she lived. If that was taken away, she might have wished that The Morrigan had killed her.

“Well, this has been lovely.” The Morrigan looked around Lauren’s home and proffered a smile and a nod. “You have a beautiful home. Enjoy it while you still can.”

Gesturing to her lackeys, she made for the doorway, brushing past Lauren as she did so. The doctor flinched as though she’d been struck and took a step backwards, away from The Morrigan. Her very nearness was anathema to Lauren; her words an indictment. As the two Fae bodyguards lumbered past her, Lauren turned to see The Morrigan lingering in the doorway.

“Remember, dear. Not a word to the Succubus. Having to punish you myself would be so tacky,” she waved her fingers in the air and her mouth formed a moue of distaste. “But don’t think I won’t, if you warn your little friend. Jurisdiction or no jurisdiction.”

It was more than a warning. It was a promise. And as The Morrigan gave a little wave farewell and the door clicked shut behind her, Lauren found that she could no longer stay upright. Her knees gave way and she sank to the floor in a crumpled heap, arms sliding around her torso as though she could offer herself the succor she so desperately craved. But her arms felt empty, her body brittle and cold. Everything she’d done; everything she’d sacrificed, it was all for nothing. And more than that, she had placed Bo directly into the path of the danger she’d tried so hard to avoid. By her own hand, she had sealed not only her fate, but also Bo’s. And The Morrigan had let her. Encouraged her, even.

The pain in her chest was almost too much to bear. All the years of struggling to sever herself from her emotions had weakened her defenses and she was utterly undone, stripped almost to the bone and shattered open so that everything inside her was visible and raw. It was too much. Failure bowed her, bearing down on her shoulders with such force that she leaned forwards, unable to comprehend or even distinguish the myriad feelings tearing through her chest, the pain so great she could almost believe she was being ripped apart. She could only acknowledge how they felt as they pounded in her brain and squeezed at her heart, that useless, inconsequential organ that only served to flood her body with a fevered sense of anxiety and regret, as if her very blood had become a toxin, searing through her veins, leaving irreversible damage in its wake.

Lauren had hurt before. She’d experienced sorrow and grief when she’d had to leave her sister. But this…this was unlike anything she’d felt before. Before, she’d always been able to justify her actions and loss with tangible results. Her sister was alive and well because of her sacrifice. The Light Fae thrived because of her medical interventions. There was always an outcome, something she could identify as her success – something to give her work meaning and purpose.

But this meant nothing. It had amounted to nothing. It was a wasted truth and an errant lie. And in the midst of it all, Lauren’s heart was breaking as surely as if she’d taken it in her own hands and squeezed every last drop of life from it.

~ ~ ~

Title: Ways To Tell You I’m Sorry – The Ninth Way: Recriminations

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: Bo gets a shock…and a clue.

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

The Ninth Way: Recriminations

heartsways

Bo flipped open her phone and stared grimly at the screen as though she could make words appear there by sheer willpower alone. After a few seconds, she let out a sigh and snapped the phone shut again. Resisting the urge to throw it across the room, she leant back on the couch and stretched out her legs. This wasn’t good. Lauren had promised to call, and, more than a day later, she’d heard nothing from the doctor. Not even so much as a quick message or a text or…or anything. After the night when Lauren had told her about her parentage, Bo had swung wildly from exhilaration to despair. Knowing who her parents were was a huge step forwards, but finding out that she was from Dark Fae blood changed her perspective on everything. She’d seen enough of the Dark to know that it was a burden she wasn’t ready to take on. But her true nature was rooted in death and destruction, so how was she to deny herself the heritage that Lauren had sought out for her?

Discovering her Fae identity had opened up her life to impossible expectations and experiences. Her abilities had always seemed like a punishment, preceding the crimes she had committed over the years. But Lauren had helped her to see another side to her Fae abilities; the doctor had enabled Bo not only to control her powers, but to actually enjoy them. There was something to be said for science, after all, Bo had thought firmly. And more than something to be said for Lauren’s patience and guidance.

It wasn’t just that, of course. Because if patience and guidance were all Bo required from Lauren, then they would be together right now, working on Bo’s abilities and having drinks and fun and meaningless flirtation that led nowhere. Everything had seemed easy at first, but emotions always got in the way sooner or later. For Bo, it was usually sooner. She sometimes felt the need for love, almost too desperately. But she’d watched too many happy couples pass her by on the street at night and found herself gazing after them with a longing that was akin to jealousy. Her parents had loved her the best way they knew how, but growing up had become a painful process almost overnight. One minute she’d been thinking about Homecoming and the next, she was trapped under the dead weight of her boyfriend. After that, it was a succession of failed one–night affairs from which she ran with horror.

And she’d kept on running. The more she ran, the further away she’d seemed from the one thing she wanted the most. Her human foster father had always been an equivocal sort of man; he’d told her once that people often didn’t find what they were looking for until they stumbled over it by surprise.

Lauren had been a surprise. Almost from the first moment they met. Bo couldn’t forget the sensation of Lauren’s cool hands on her skin, that first time. Nor could she forget the expression of embarrassed chagrin that crept across the doctor’s face as she forgot herself in the lab. For all the times Lauren had attempted to embody her persona and remain calm and collected, she had also allowed Bo to see what lay beneath. And Bo had found herself desperately attracted to the woman Lauren permitted herself to be when they were together. No longer running from, but running towards at a breakneck pace that left the Succubus breathless and aching in its wake.

Even the lack of trust that flickered between them hadn’t deterred Lauren’s persistence. Sometimes Bo felt as though their relationship was too tenuous to survive; after all, there was more unsaid than said, more repression than confession. It had only been very recently that the notion of complete honesty had sprung up between them, growing anew among the embittered wastes of lies and deceit. Bo wore her heart on her sleeve – a fact that Kenzi had often warned her about – but the desire to love and be loved was too strong for the Succubus to ignore and her heart, like her nature, was an unstoppable force integral to her survival.

Glancing at her phone again, Bo grunted and let out a sigh, leaning her head back onto the couch. Okay, so maybe Lauren was just really busy. Or her phone wasn’t working. Or maybe she’d forgotten to call.

No; that wasn’t right. Lauren never forgot anything. It was in her nature to be precise about the things that were important to her. And Bo was important to her…wasn’t she?

Pushing her lips together in a pout, Bo dismissed notions that suggested otherwise. Of course she was, or Lauren wouldn’t have made deals with the Dark Fae to glean information from them. She was just being cautious, that was all. The fact that she hadn’t called meant that she was covering her tracks, hoping that nobody would discover her betrayal. It was hard to judge what would prevail: Lauren’s fear and devotion to The Ash, or her desire to help Bo. Either way, she was probably just laying low for a while and doing what she’d promised; protecting Bo as well as herself had become a priority.

Not that I need protecting, Bo thought glumly. I just need Lauren.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a body crashing onto the couch beside her and an elbow digging firmly into her ribs. Letting out an injurious cry, Bo threw a fierce glare towards Kenzi, who shrugged it off and leaned against the Succubus.

“So what’s with the face?”

Bo balked at Kenzi’s question and screwed up her face in confusion. “The uh…the what?”

“Face,” Kenzi repeated, circling her finger around her own visage and speaking as though Bo was a five year–old child. “What’s with your face? You’re all gloomy and grouchy and…and…other things beginning with a ‘g’.”

“Oh,” Bo responded, leaning her head back against the couch again. “It’s Lauren. She hasn’t called.”

“Uh huh.” Kenzie wasn’t surprised. People playing with Bo’s emotions? Must be a day ending in ‘y’. She just couldn’t understand why Bo kept going back for more. It was like the girl had a deathwish for her own heart or something. Succubi were weird, from what Kenzi could gather. Weird and horny. Like, all the time.

“Kenzi…” Bo let out a sigh and frowned at her friend.

“What?” Kenzi assumed an expression of innocence and held up her hands in wonder. “She’s sneaky, Bo. Like a little Fae–owned snake. And what’s with that anyway? What sort of person allows themselves to be owned by someone else?” Her hands dropped onto her lap with a loud smack and she puffed out her cheeks in disbelief.

Lauren’s secrets were her own to keep or share, Bo thought. And although there was very little about her own life that Kenzi didn’t already know, she was loath to start giving details of Lauren’s. She could never convince Kenzi of Lauren’s reasons for being with her that fateful night, and even if she could begin to explain, there was no guarantee that Kenzi would listen with forgiveness. Instead, she offered a shrug of response and avoided elucidating any further. There would be no point, given Kenzi’s infuriating ability to state the obvious – that Lauren had left her without word or sign of life. Again.

“Let’s go out and get smashed,” Kenzi suggested brightly, turning to fix the Succubus with a firm gaze. “You need a little pick me up, if you know what I mean.” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and brought the faintest of smiles to Bo’s face, even if the idea was distasteful to her with Lauren still spinning around her brain.

“Can’t,” Bo replied, the smile fading. “Lauren might call.”

Kenzi pushed herself up off the couch and threw her hands into the air again, frustration tugging at her features. “Seriously, Bo. Give it up. She’s no good for you! You’ve been like a Fae with a sore head ever since she slithered out of here the other night. What the frickin’ hell has she done this time?”

“She made a deal with the Dark Fae and found out who my parents are.” Being blunt was, Bo knew, the only way to communicate the gravity of the situation to Kenzi. A situation that was growing more grave with every minute that passed without knowing Lauren’s fate.

Kenzi blinked, trying to take in as much information as she could all at once. Her mouth opened wordlessly a couple of times before she finally shook her head and blinked again. “She…she did what now?”

“Lauren contacted the Dark Fae to get information about my parents. And when I say ‘dark’, I mean nasty, Kenzi. Like, The Morrigan, nasty.”

“Isn’t that kinda…dangerous for her?” Kenzi’s brow furrowed with the mere notion. “And kinda stupid,” she added, with a twist of her mouth.

“Ya think?” Bo’s eyebrows lifted and she let out a sigh. “I told her not to. I mean, I can handle the Dark; I’m Fae. She’s just a human and you know how the Dark feel about that.” Of course, it wasn’t just Lauren’s vulnerability as a human that bothered Bo. It was rather more to do with the fact that Lauren had taken uncalculated risks on her behalf. Risks that indicated a depth of emotion that Bo was still trying to figure out. Lauren was hard to read at the best of times – never more so than now. The metamorphosis of their attraction into something that was much deeper was still undiscovered territory. Bo was certain of her own feelings – but could she depend on Lauren’s to transcend the circumstances that seemed set against them?

She glanced at her phone again, as though it was the barrier she needed to punch through and not the intangible, nebulous uncertainty that flitted through her head every time she thought of the doctor.

“Wow. Go Doc.” Kenzi’s musing brought Bo out of her reverie and she turned to fix her friend with a gimlet gaze.

“Yeah, so the next time you feel like ragging on her, remember what she did. For me, Kenz. She’s not as bad as you think she is. She’s not bad at all, actually.” Good and bad were such directives in her life. She’d often felt that she was bad – after Lauren’s discovery, Bo was beginning to feel trapped on the path she was following. No matter where she trod or how fast she travelled down her own road, it seemed that badness was doomed to trail after her. She was just hoping it would never catch up, because if it did, then she was doomed to be Dark forever. And someone like Lauren could never love a woman whose heart was blackened by birth.

She blinked at Kenzi and let out a sigh, shrugging a little. The girl was her touchstone; her link to the humanity that had been denied her. Could Lauren be the same? Another way of grasping on to the elusive good in her life?

“You know,” Kenzi said thoughtfully, half–smiling at Bo. “That’s kind of badass, contacting the Dark Fae. I might want to hug Lauren.” Catching herself, the corners of her mouth turned down and she cocked her head onto one side, pondering her words. “A little,” she qualified with a grin. “Or maybe just pat her on the shoulder or something…”

Bo couldn’t resist the smile that sprung to her lips. Kenzi was many things, but in the midst of them all, she was still Kenzi. The resolute consistency of that was somewhat comforting.

“So what happens if The Ash finds out Lauren’s been dealin’ with the Dark side?” Kenzi asked.

Bo looked at her phone again, flipping it open and scowling at it before snapping it shut. “It’s not him I’m worried about. It’s The Morrigan. Lauren’s meddling might just be enough to piss her off and you know what happens when the bitch queen gets her rage on.”

Kenzi rolled her eyes and solemnly drew her finger in a line across her throat, making a noise that approximated slashing. Bo nodded silently. It hadn’t escaped her notice that the Dark were merciless when it came to protecting their secrets. And even though Lauren was protected by The Ash, she was fairly certain that The Morrigan wouldn’t take too kindly to any intrusion into her affairs. The fears she harbored on Lauren’s behalf clenched in her chest, compounded by the fear that when Lauren had left her room the last time, she might have also left her life. It had seemed so…so final. As though Lauren was surrendering to the unforgiving restraints placed on their relationship. As though she was saying goodbye and meaning it. Bo had been abandoned by many people, mostly because of her own lack of control. But to be abandoned by Lauren because of her exercise of it? It was cruel and ironic and made her want to march into the Dark community and start throwing punches.

“Have you tried calling her?” Kenzi’s voice was hopeful, helpful. She leaned over the back of the couch and rested her chin affectionately onto Bo’s head, nudging some sort of life back into the Succubus, who gave a watery smile of response and nodded.

“Keeps going to voicemail. I think she might be avoiding me.” Jerking her head back, she blinked at Kenzi with worried, dark eyes. “Do you think she’s avoiding me? I mean, she kept going on about me feeding and crap. Is this a test to see if I sleep with anyone else? What if she’s hurt? Oh god, what if she’s hurt?” Her voice lifted into a high pitch that was horribly whiny and she winced instinctively. She was turning into one of those girls. And it was all Lauren’s fault!

Kenzi stood up, arms outstretched with her palms turned towards Bo in an attempt to quell her fevered worries. “Whoa, whoa…too many questions spinning you off into crazy town there, Bo. She’ll come around. You know,” she pursed her lips, “if she’s got any sense in that science lab of a brain of hers.”

Bo threw up her hands and let out a noise of frustration. “It’s like, we got so close and then she does this and…and…she drives me crazy!”

“Okay, ew.” Kenzi screwed up her face and shook her head in an attempt to rid herself of the mental images that had sprung to mind. “Nobody needs to know about your special doctor/patient relationship, Bo.”

Ignoring the glare that came her way, she folded her arms over her chest and stared down at the Succubus, disconsolate and slumped on the couch below her. “You know what you need?” she suggested.

“A really good therapist,” Bo grumbled, pushing out her lower lip.

“Well, yeah, but apart from that, what you need is a drink. C’mon.” Kenzi reached out and tugged at Bo’s shirt as the Succubus mumbled a reluctant refusal. “Let’s go to The Dell.”

* * * * *

“Hey Trickster, how about two of your finest cocktails for us to start with tonight?” Kenzi slapped her palm onto the bar of The Dell with a determined glint in her eyes.

Trick looked up from where he was cleaning a glass and frowned as his gaze flickered between the two women on the other side of the bar. Kenzi proffered one of her trademark expectant grins and held out her hands like a Dickensian urchin, but Bo merely nodded absently at him and looked away, around the bar. Her eyes ran over the clientele as though searching for something…or someone, but she clearly didn’t find what she was looking for and turned her eyes back to Trick instead, sighing deeply.

“Yeah, bring on the alcohol, lessen the pain,” she said dolefully.

“Because getting drunk is just what a hungry Succubus needs,” Trick told her sardonically, ignoring the roll of her eyes and the second sigh in as many minutes. He’d noticed it as soon as he’d looked at her, the pinched, hungry expression in the corners of her eyes and how her body was tensed and tight on the other side of the bar.

Bo waved away his concerns with a sluggish hand. “I’m not hungry,” she insisted. “I’m just…peckish. So I’m going for a liquid diet instead, right Kenz?” Her friend nodded enthusiastically and Bo shrugged. “Nobody in here looks remotely appetizing anyway.”

“She wants some medical attention, if you know what I mean,” Kenzi leant over the bar and spoke in a horribly loud stage whisper, eliciting a tiny smile onto Trick’s mouth, and a sullen downturn on Bo’s. “A little doctor on patient time, right Bo?”

“Kenzi!” Bo’s response fell somewhere between horror and embarrassment and she looked heavenward, shaking her head. It wasn’t so much Kenzi’s knack of reducing things to their most base components that bothered her, it was more that what Kenzi had said was absolutely true. There were a number of attractive Fae in the bar tonight, most of whom would have rescinded any and all loyalties for one thrilling night with the unaligned Succubus. There was nothing more attractive than walking on the wild side – humans and Fae had that in common, at least. And Bo was aware of the reactions she instilled in other beings. But she’d had enough of empty liaisons; had her fill of energy that, while sustaining her, never really made her feel alive.

It was somewhat ironic that the one person who did was noticeable only by their absence.

“Oh calm down,” Kenzi laughed, pushing at Bo’s arm and winking at Trick across the bar. “Trick’s a man of the world. I bet there’s very little he hasn’t done or seen, am I right or am I right?”

Trick pressed his lips together, giving Kenzi a stern stare. “Fae honor prevents me from answering you with anything other than none of your business,” he intoned, as Kenzi let out a noise of dismissal and rolled her eyes at him. He turned back to Bo again, lines of worry playing around his eyes and tugging at his mouth. Bo not feeding because of Lauren was one thing – and he made a mental note to deal with that problem later. But he couldn’t help wondering just what had transpired between the Dark Fae and the doctor, because in his long existence, he’d seen the heart inspire acts of great recklessness and careless abandon.

But Lauren had never indulged in such dangers. She’d always avoided them and clung to her allegiance as though that alone made her incorruptible. The risks she might have taken had always been entered into with a strong belief in the extent of her abilities, and the restrictions placed on them, too. Her fastidious nature demanded it. But, Trick narrowed his eyes and stared at Bo, he’d also seen how quickly Lauren had been encouraged to question her conscience when it came to Bo; how she’d been almost eager to supplant fidelity with devotion.

A tiny sigh escaped his mouth and he felt the vague pangs of worry prickle at the back of his neck. He’d experienced it himself – the splitting of oneself between duty and love. Allegiances were easy when loneliness isolated the heart. They only became difficult when that heart began to long for a new master, and more so when that master was uninvited and irreplaceable.

Placing two drinks onto the bar in front of the women, Trick leaned over towards Bo and put his hand gently onto her arm, drawing her attention to his saddened gaze.

“If you want to talk about it…” He left the suggestion hanging between them for a moment before Bo pulled her arm away, reaching for her drink and throwing it down her throat with an assumed swagger.

“Talk about how I always fall for people who leave me?” she shrugged. “You don’t need to be a Fae expert to know that it’s me who’s the common factor in all my failed relationships,” she growled. Softening slightly at his widening eyes, she shook her head and let out a mirthless laugh. “At least I didn’t kill her,” she added.

“Bo,” Trick said slowly, a frown forming between his eyes, “whatever she did, she did for you. If she’s not contacting you, then there’s probably a good reason for that.”

“What do you know?” Bo leaned forwards, her gaze hardening with intensity.

“Only that Lauren was getting herself into some hot water, politically speaking,” Trick answered in a low tone.

“Trick. What do you know?” Bo demanded. She understood little about the political ambitions of the Fae; she understood even less about how Lauren navigated her way through that legislative mire. It stood to reason that the further into the dirt Lauren went, the messier it was going to be for her. Fear flashed in her gaze as she looked at the bartender. It pulled at her chest and sent a shiver of anticipatory worry around her body, almost making her flinch.

Trick drew in a short breath and glanced around the room before leaning over the bar. Although The Dell was universally considered as a place of sanctuary for all Fae, he wasn’t naive enough to think that there weren’t ears ready to scoop up secrets and use them for personal gain.

“Not much more than you,” he told the Succubus. “But I heard that the Dark Fae have suddenly acquired an awful lot of medical research that they’re very happy about.”

“That’s the deal Lauren made?” Bo was aghast, mouth falling open in wonder.

Trick shrugged almost non–committally. “Perhaps she thought it was worth it.”

His inference was clear, and Bo shifted slightly under his gaze as she considered the ramifications of such a trade. Lauren had already made a life–altering bargain and relinquished all her connections to the human world. But this? This was her life. That she would give it up so eagerly struck Bo and held her, frozen for a long moment. She’d never considered herself of much consequence when it came to being worthy. Any value she placed upon herself was contained in her abilities and the powers she exacted over those unable to resist them. Her new life with Kenzi and the Fae had encouraged her to seek out value in different ways and, for the most part, she was beginning to see herself in a new light. But there was still a void inside of her that cried out for validation. The incessant desire to mean something to another person, so much so that the future, always so elusive, might even begin to unfold before her eyes.

The last time Lauren had made a sacrifice, it had been for love, and love alone. And this time?

A sudden rush of emotion flooded through Bo, taking her quite unawares and pounding in her ears so that the sounds of the bar dissipated into the background. Knowledge was power, and if the Dark Fae knew everything that Lauren did, then they would surely not hesitate to use it. It was a dangerous game that Lauren was playing and one that the doctor couldn’t possibly hope to win. So why had she even cast the die in the first place?

The only acceptable answer was one that Bo didn’t dare hope to believe in. Not for herself. Not from Lauren. But she wanted it so badly, so desperately that it was the only answer she could find in the dark recesses of her mind where she’d hidden it away and tried to bury it under good deeds of atonement.

Her eyes flickered to Trick’s and she looked at him steadily. He nodded at her, a tiny assertion of the thoughts fleeing through her head and taunting her poor, lost soul. Love, and love alone. However foolhardy and ill–advised Lauren’s actions and words might have been; however many lies had been laid carefully over the truths that the doctor might never be able to say, there was only one reason to do anything…to be anything. Lauren had already proven her worth.

Now it was time for Bo to prove hers.

~ ~ ~

Title: Ways To Tell You I’m Sorry – The Tenth Way: Exposure

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: Bo wants to know what’s going on and only Lauren can tell her.

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

The Tenth Way: Exposure

heartsways

Lauren had tried to ignore the incessant pounding on her door. She’d even poured herself another glass of wine – her fourth – and hunkered down in her armchair, attempting to pretend that it simply wasn’t happening. The Morrigan had been clear in her threats and Lauren knew it was only a matter of time before Bo came looking for her. In an oddly childlike and obstinate manner, she’d thought that if she believed that none of this was happening, then perhaps that might prove to be true.

It was only when the sound of her name, shouted wildly and loudly outside her door, reached her ears that she uncurled her body from the chair and got to her feet. This wouldn’t do. Bo needed to stay away from her – as far away as she could so that the stench of betrayal that surrounded her wouldn’t attach itself to the Succubus as well. Lauren’s jaw hardened as she clenched her teeth together and rushed towards her front door, a frown scurrying across her brow as Bo’s fists and voice got louder.

Throwing open the door, she saw the Succubus, hand raised in mid–air and face set in a determined expression that, Lauren knew, would brook no dissent or hear no reason. Her heart sank. She’d hoped that by detaching herself from Bo that the Succubus would see that their paths had diverted. They were no longer set on the same journey together; Bo had her own road to follow, beset by lies and loss. But it was her road, nonetheless. Lauren’s work here was done. She had tried and failed. Loved and lost – in more ways than one. Knowledge of that burned acidic in her throat and ached in her chest. She had opened a bottle of wine and taken up her place in the chair by the fire, waiting for the inevitable retribution that was rumbling its way towards her like an oncoming tropical storm: an uncontrolled tempest, powerful, and always deadly.

Bo’s appearance at her door was the first onset of that storm, face like thunder and eyes flashing lightning as day faded to night. The Succubus dropped her hand and pushed past Lauren, marching into the house with an agitated step that thudded on the wooden floor. A call to arms, Lauren thought, closing the door and following Bo into the lounge. She watched, silent, as Bo turned, swinging around to face the doctor. Bo always looked so beautiful when she was like this, terrifyingly angry and desperately lost in the sheer strength of her own emotions. As Bo’s face worked around words that momentarily failed her, Lauren waited. Just like she’d always done.

“Is this part of your plan, then?” Bo finally said, her voice trembling with the dark, warning clouds that fled through her gaze. “You’re just going to hide away and…and…” Her gaze fell onto Lauren’s glass, placed on the low table in front of the armchair. “And drink wine?” Bo’s voice lifted incredulously and she threw up her hands in the air.

Lauren looked away, her eyes seeking comfort in the solid ground beneath her feet. Her hands moved towards one another, fingers twisting and untwisting as she attempted to not feel anything; to not run and take Bo in her arms and plead for forgiveness. Stoicism, her only companion in this room, forced its way through tear–soaked layers of confusion and regret to lift her shoulders. She straightened up and raised her head to look at Bo, wishing she didn’t have to see the hurt on the other woman’s face and know that she’d put it there.

“I told you,” she said slowly in a near–whisper. “It’s not safe for you to be near me.”

“Right,” Bo’s face set into hard lines of denial. “Keep saying that if it helps, Lauren.”

“Bo, please.” Lauren took a step towards the Succubus and lifted a hand as though that could ward off the torrent of passion sweeping towards her. “You have to stay away. You have to.” She heard the tremor in her voice and closed her eyes briefly, drawing in a ragged breath. Everything she never wanted to feel crept into her tone and made it unsteady – made her unsteady. Made her susceptible to feeling too much all at once and stripping her of all the things she’d built up over so many years alone. Biting at her bottom lip, Lauren opened her eyes and looked at Bo, drinking in the other woman’s beauty like an elixir, as though it could somehow give her the strength she needed.

Bo let out a brittle laugh and rolled her eyes. “You think that being near you puts me in danger? Come on, Lauren. I’m Dark Fae! Don’t you think they’re going to come for me sooner or later?” She swept her hands outwards, effectively presenting herself to the other woman. Lauren glanced away. The lies she’d told and the truth she couldn’t thickened her throat with a tight knot of pain and she winced.

“That’s not the way it works, Bo.” A muscle ticked in Lauren’s neck and she felt the urge to confess all; to dissuade the Succubus from what was the burden of darkness that she appeared to have resigned herself to, if not accepted completely. This was all wrong. It was not only a betrayal of trust, but a betrayal of nature.

“No?” Bo’s voice was harsh and raw. “Then tell me how it works, Lauren. Because you seem to have all the answers – you seem to know what’s best for me.”

“Dammit, Bo! I’m trying to protect you!” Lauren’s voice broke over the words and she clamped her lips tight shut lest she should give vent to the growing gale inside her chest.

Bo stormed forwards a couple of steps, then halted and clenched her hands into fists. “I know what you did,” she said quietly. “I know that you gave the Dark Fae everything you had.” Her gaze narrowed as she saw Lauren’s defeat, etched in lines around brown eyes that stared sadly back at her, the first rains of the season glistening in their depths.

“And then you find out that my parents are Dark,” she let out a burst of mirthless laughter. “I bet you were disappointed, right? Not what you wanted?” Her chin jutted forwards: a challenge, a request.

Lauren stared down at her hands, once more twisted against each other. “None of this is what I wanted, Bo.” That, at least, was the truth. “Not for you.”

“And what about what you want for you?” Bo took another step forwards and Lauren exhaled slowly. The closer she came, the harder it was to stand firm.

“You think I can’t fight against my nature, not in any way. You tell me to feed from other people, you tell me to stay away from you. But you give up everything that’s important to you and put yourself in danger. Why?”

“I…” Lauren began to sway, like a tree bending under the winds of change, whipping around her and tugging mercilessly at her will, tearing at the roots that she’d thought were unshakeable and immovable.

“Why, Lauren?” Bo took another pace towards the doctor, only inches remaining between them. “Tell me why.”

“I…I wanted to…to help you, Bo. Find out who you are.”

“You know who I am.” Bo’s response was immediate, a flash of light leaping into her gaze, breaking through the gloom. “You always have.”

And there it was, Lauren thought. The calm; the eye of the storm where they both found peace in the midst of the maelstrom. Where there was nothing but an implicit understanding of who they were; who they could be to one another. Nothing else seemed to matter very much anymore. And if she could remember this – this moment, then Lauren knew she would always have a piece of Bo’s heart to keep her strong in the dark days ahead.

“Lauren,” Bo urged, impatience quickening her tone. “The Morrigan…The Ash…you put yourself in their sights to help me. Why?”

She peered into the other woman’s eyes, watching as Lauren’s head dipped and shook silently from side to side. She’d known that Lauren was stubborn; it was in the set of her jaw and the determination with which she addressed all Fae issues. But looking at her now, she saw a woman who was broken and flailing to find answers that would appease her own sense of self, never mind Bo’s.

“It doesn’t matter,” Lauren sighed. “You have to go. You need to go.” Lifting her head, she reached out and touched Bo’s shoulder, pressing lightly with her fingers.

But the Succubus reached up and flung Lauren’s hand from her, anger and despair contorting her features. “No!” she shouted, squaring herself firmly in front of the doctor and noticing how she flinched. “Tell me why, Lauren!”

Shattered as she was, split and torn into shreds that barely resembled the woman she’d tried so hard to be, Lauren felt anger burn hot and bright in her chest. It flared quickly, igniting all the passions she’d sought to douse with her actions and her lies. And it met Bo’s gaze, the only incendiary she needed to put aside duty and honor. It caught like a conflagration, scorching Lauren’s skin and turning her gaze to burning embers of undisguised emotion. She’d never been able to control this – this feeling that Bo breathed into her. The only thing that she was sure of was that it was as unyielding and unrelenting as the tumult that surrounded them.

“You know why,” she said, as her fingers slid around Bo’s neck and pulled the other woman to her.

When their lips met, it was with a whimper of blessed relief and a primal hunger that overwhelmed all reason. Bo’s arms flew around Lauren, fingers sliding up into locks of blonde hair and tugging her closer, ever closer. Teeth clashed as lips parted to allow desire to take flight. Lauren felt Bo’s body bumping against her own, desperation crashing limbs against limbs and hands snatching, pulling and tugging at whatever they found in their way. A low groan came from Bo’s mouth, humming against Lauren’s as her tongue sought purchase and gratification. It was answered by a barely disguised sob wrenched from Lauren’s throat as Bo’s mouth made her way down its long lines, lingering over muscle and skin before moving back to her lips once more.

Words could never hope to supplant this kiss, this communication, this feeling. It was everything they’d never said and more than they ever could. It slid into their veins, trickled through them like wildfire, blisteringly hot and consuming all the fears that had kept them apart. It razed all their hurt to the ground and left it, blackened and abrogated so that there was only this. Only them. Only this kiss.

Stumbling against one another, both women were caught in a battle against their own wills, desire rising between them and licking at their senses like a growing flame. Lauren’s skin burned everywhere Bo’s mouth touched it and she knew that her will, always so in control and compliant, was no longer her own. As Bo’s fingers turned their attentions to her pants, plucking and tearing at her belt and buttons, Lauren felt a distant urge to resist. She knew that she should. She knew that the dangers that existed outside her home were all too present and threatening and they simply didn’t have the time for this.

But her urge to resist, like the dangerous line they both walked, was replaced with Bo’s mouth and tongue on her skin. By the strong fingers that were removing her clothes and tugging at her so that her senses were a flurry of maddening wet heat and the whispered entreaties in her ear. Closing her eyes, Lauren swallowed hard as Bo murmured her need and her want in a pressing tone. Feeling her will desert her completely, the doctor’s knees gave way and she fell against the Succubus, letting out a cry of desperate, wanton lust.

They sank to the floor, bodies entwining and hands gripping, clutching, holding on to one another as clothes were shoved aside without care or attention. Bo’s eyes gleamed as she leant over Lauren, their strange inhuman blue shining for a moment. Half naked and hungry, Lauren reached up and tugged at Bo, dragging the Succubus down to her own mouth, groaning at the contact. Her hips thrust upwards, bumping against Bo’s body, legs caught in a tangle of limbs as the Succubus shifted over her, pushing her own leg between Lauren’s. There was no tenderness to this, no tentative expectation or apologetic caress. There was only haste, driven by the uncontrollable want and greedy longing that shone on Bo’s skin and trembled her fingers as they moved in between their bodies.

It was like a drug, this harried contact and undeniable want. As Bo shoved her hand between Lauren’s legs and thrust her fingers into the slippery heat there, she threw back her head and let out a gratified moan, ragged and harsh. This addiction, like her hunger, had been restrained too long and the Succubus knew that should she give way to her cravings, Lauren would never recover. But passion, like addiction, compelled her to feed, demanded that she should take her fill. And as Lauren’s hands slid into her hair and clawed at her back, Bo felt only acquiescence from the other woman, only encouragement and the intrinsic need for fulfillment.

Lauren’s hand pushed between them, scraping over Bo’s belly and underneath her clothes. The Succubus gasped and lifted her head, looking down to see brown eyes darkened with desire, blackened with need and want. The moment that Lauren’s questing fingers touched her, Bo felt herself dissembled, as though Lauren’s touch was melting her from within. Pushing down onto it, the Succubus began to move on Lauren’s fingers, echoing their stroking, thrusting, agonizingly blissful movements with her own.

It wasn’t perfect. It was fevered and fast and hard with the unrestrained desires that they had both tried to keep at bay. Bo’s head dropped, mouth hanging open and flooding Lauren’s ears with her breath; irregular gasps of unbridled pleasure forming a moist heat on the doctor’s neck until Lauren was dizzy with the sound of it. She felt Bo begin to tighten around her fingers; felt the Succubus begin to breath quicker, harder, trying to form words that fled from her mouth as soon as they touched her lips. Bo hadn’t fed for so long that her mind was a sudden haze of pleasure, famine turning to feast in the blink of an eye. Without warning, Bo fastened her lips onto Lauren’s and began to feed, traces of energy spilling out from between their mouths.

Lauren recalled thinking that it was like slipping into a kaleidoscope, having the Succubus taste her this way. Colors slid around behind her closed eyes and amplified the sensations in her body so that they rushed to every nerve ending, exploding in a shower of bright sparks, jerking her hips upwards time and again. Even if she’d wanted to stop, even if she’d paid heed to the tiny voice of warning at the back of her brain, there was nothing to stop this seduction, this glorious rush towards a heightened climax and a heady release. And as Bo drew back, wrenching her mouth from Lauren’s with some difficulty, the doctor could only acknowledge her inherent desire to taste it again and feel it drawing her very essence from her soul, it seemed.

Sucking in a lungful of air, Lauren felt herself begin to tense; felt Bo begin to respond in the same way, too. Despite her weakened state, Lauren knew that Bo hadn’t fed nearly enough to sate her hunger. Flashing above her, Bo’s eyes glistened brightly with blue fire before it dissipated and drained away. Before they looked at one another and saw truth in each other’s gaze. Before their bodies scrambled towards the precipice that yawned before them, enticing them into a whirling, breathtaking freefall that leapt in their chests and rolled in their stomachs.

Crying out, Bo bucked against the woman underneath her, closing her eyes and freezing in a suspended moment of silent ecstasy. It was all Lauren needed, the only incentive to allow herself permission to surrender to Bo’s touch and her own desires. Biting at her lower lip, the doctor whimpered and bore down on Bo’s hand, wondering if she could ever stop wanting this, needing it, longing for it with every part of her heart and soul. Her eyes opened and she looked up to see Bo gazing down at her in wide–eyed awe as her body shook, buffeted by the strength and tumultous power of her want as it coursed through her veins like quicksilver.

For a moment, neither woman spoke. Bo lay down beside Lauren and slowly removed her hand from the doctor’s clothes, letting out a long breath of satisfaction. Turning her head to one side, Lauren looked at Bo, as though seeing her for the first time. Perhaps she was. Emotionally naked and unabashed, Lauren shivered. Her tongue ran dryly over her lips, tasting Bo there and sending a jolt of sensation down her spine again.

“Are you okay?” she asked, seeing a frown draw lines across the Succubus’ forehead.

Sitting up, Bo pulled at her clothes, rearranging them into some semblance of order. Glancing back at Lauren, she dropped her head and shook it shamefully. “I fed from you,” she whispered glumly. “I didn’t mean…are you okay?” Her eyes sought out the other woman’s and she peered into them, woefully apologetic.

Pushing herself up from the floor, Lauren blinked and drew in a fortifying breath. Her attire in disarray, she half–smiled at how it was an apt representation of her insides right now, jumbled and rumpled and not at all the way she cared to look. She reached out and put a hand on Bo’s shoulder, squeezing gently.

“But you stopped yourself,” she said reassuringly. “I always knew you could, Bo. You just had to know it too. Besides, you barely took enough to do any real damage.” As though to prove her point, Lauren made as if to stand up, but found that her legs were still trembling and quite unable to support her. Slumping back down on the floor, she let out a surprised and embarrassed laugh as Bo sprang forwards and supported her, strong hands around her back.

“I’m sorry,” Lauren whispered, and fumbled with the buttons on her shirt, looking anywhere but at the woman beside her.

Bo reached out, folding her fingers over Lauren’s and stilling their movements. “Don’t,” she said softly. “Don’t apologize. God, I should be the one saying sorry. I fed from you and I – ”

“Stopped yourself,” Lauren interjected firmly. She glanced down at Bo’s hands on her own and took a breath as the dizziness in her brain began to fade to a dull, swirling hum.

“And you?” She looked up at Bo, frowning at the Succubus in enquiry. “Are you alright? How are you feeling?”

Bo’s lips twisted at the tone of the doctor; reverting to type was like second nature to Lauren now. Even as the remnants of passion began to fade from their bodies, Lauren’s concern for her Succubus health stepped in to cover them with concern. It was almost touching, in a way, and Bo shrugged and shook her head, although not unkindly.

“I’m fine,” she said in a soothing tone. “It was…kinda like having a shot of espresso when you haven’t slept for a week. Really great,” she qualified, “but not enough to stop me from feeling…”

Her voice trailed away as she frowned and let out a tiny sigh. “And I have no idea where that metaphor was going,” she said with a quizzical grin.

As Lauren let out another self–conscious murmur of laughter, Bo stroked her thumb over the other woman’s knuckles and smiled. Nobody would ever believe her if she told them that Lauren could be like this, so utterly undone and torn asunder. The mask she wore and completed with an enigmatic smile had fooled everyone. Well, Bo thought with another faint grin, almost everyone. But she treasured the secret knowledge of this; the moments in which Lauren was revealed, undisguised. They sustained her in ways that satiating her hunger never could. Never would.

Lauren shivered slightly and looked around the room, reality rushing in with the cool air to slake her skin with a stark brightness. Blinking rapidly, she gazed at Bo and her smile faded. They could lose themselves in one another, but they could never escape what lay beyond her door, or the dark threats that were lurking outside, just waiting to ensnare them. Bo saw the concern flitting through Lauren’s eyes and shifted a tiny bit closer, offering whatever comfort she could to the troubled doctor before her.

“It’s going to be okay, you know,” Bo ventured.

Lauren’s eyebrows rose and she looked at Bo with cynicism. “The Morrigan came here, Bo. She knows that I contacted the Dark to find out about your parents.” Glancing away from the concern that tightened Bo’s features, she let out a wavering sigh. “And when The Ash discovers that I went to the Dark without his permission…”

Shrugging, Lauren let out a laugh and swallowed as tears shone in her eyes. “Nothing about this is going to be remotely okay.”

“The Morrigan was here?” Bo’s voice was alert, sharp. “She threatened you?”

“Well she wasn’t here for tea, Bo.” Lauren regretted the comment the moment it left her mouth. Bo drew in a short breath and straightened, her hands falling from Lauren’s to ball into fists, clenching and unclenching in front of her chest. “Now you know how this world works,” she added, tilting her head onto one side.

“That…that Kis…Kit…”

“Kitsune,” Lauren supplied with a nod. “Sagi. Yes, Bo, he told her all about it. I was so stupid to think I could trust him. God!” She threw a hand up, shoving at her hair and blinking away a couple of tears that slid slowly down her cheeks. “I was so stupid!”

Bo darted forwards and took Lauren into her arms, holding her close. “Hey, come on. You did something amazing.” She put her hands onto the other woman’s shoulders and pushed her away a little, looking into her eyes and offering a small smile of comfort. “Something wicked crazy and dangerous, but amazing all the same. And I’ll never forget it, okay?”

Despite herself, Lauren nodded. Perhaps it was this that had prompted her actions – the gratitude and love shining brightly in Bo’s eyes. Or perhaps it was for the only reason people did anything at all. The only reason she had ever really needed.

“So where do I find Sagi?” Bo asked, letting go of Lauren and rising to her feet, pulling at her jacket, tugging it more firmly around her.

“What?”

“Where do I find him?” Bo demanded. “He tricked you, Lauren. He stole your work and gave you up to The Morrigan without a second thought. I might not know much about how this world works, but I do know that he won’t be doing it again if I’ve got any say in the matter.”

Lauren frowned and shook her head. “It’s too late for revenge, Bo. I set this in motion and I’m the one who’s culpable. Sagi can’t do anything about that now.”

“Oh yeah?” The Succubus lifted her chin and stared at Lauren. “He can hurt, though. I mean, he can feel pain, right?”

“Bo!” Lauren gasped. “Please don’t. Don’t do this. It won’t help.”

“It’ll help me,” Bo growled. Her jaw hardened as she cast a parting glance towards Lauren and made for the door. But a hand around her wrist stayed her progress and she swung around, glaring at Lauren. She anticipated pleas and persuasions, for Lauren to beg her to stay. As her eyes met those of the woman that she knew she loved, her heart beat just a little bit faster in fear, hope, devotion. Lauren wasn’t strong enough to stop her and they both knew that. But the fingers curling around her arm held no restraint, no hindrance. There was only a sad acceptance of who they were now, thrown back into the storm once more.

“Be careful,” Lauren said, and let go of Bo’s arm.

~ ~ ~

Title: Ways To Tell You I’m Sorry – The Eleventh Way: Revenge

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: Bo exacts revenge on Lauren’s behalf and gets more than she bargained for.

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

The Eleventh Way: Revenge

heartsways

The door to the luxurious office crashed open and Sagi lifted his head from where it had been pressed against a microscope. If he was surprised, his face didn’t show it and instead a cold smile slid over his lips as he stared at the figure in the doorway. He pushed his chair back from the desk and swung it around, rising nonchalantly and running his hands down over the front of his suit, picking at an invisible piece of lint. He inclined his head by way of greeting and eyed the bristling figure in the doorway. This was going to be interesting. Very interesting indeed.

“And you,” he said slowly, deliberately, “must be the Succubus everyone’s talking about.”

“And you must be the lying sack of shit that everyone’s going to be talking about when they find pieces of you up and down the river,” Bo snarled, lip curling as she advanced further inside the room.

“Oh dear,” Sagi frowned and folded his arms over his chest. “Should I be suitably terrified?”

The smile that returned to his mouth only served to fuel Bo’s anger and she shook her head, a cruel grin slashing her mouth. “I’d say so, yeah,” she told him in a low voice. “This is what happens when you fuck over people I care about.”

“I see.” Sagi’s voice was absent of fear as Bo moved towards him, even though her eyes were gleaming with rage and unspent anger. She really was quite the specimen, he thought absently, eyes travelling up and down the length of her body. Sleek, like a cat, and fierce too. The rumors about her had failed to do her justice because in person, she was much more intimidating than any stories the Dark Fae had told him. He watched, fascinated, as she rounded on him slowly, the consummate predator. Yes; she would benefit the Dark in ways he’d only ever dreamed of. And, of course, his own personal gain would be far beyond those dreams if The Morrigan’s promises were to be turned into reality.

“I don’t think you do,” Bo said, attracting his gaze and turning his mind from future glories to the present, tense and barely controlled in front of him.

“You sold Lauren out,” she spat. “You took her work and then went running off to that bitch you call a boss. If anything happens to her because of this – ”

Sagi held up his hand and stilled further recrimination. “Dear child,” he said in a silken tone. “I rather think we’re at a stage in the proceedings where ‘if’ is a worthless consideration. The Morrigan is an intensely private and protective Fae. Family is everything to her, and when someone intrudes upon that, then there really is no other choice but to teach them a lesson.”

“Family?” Bo’s head jerked back on her neck and an expression of disgust crossed her features. “That’s a pretty sick family you’ve got there, Sagi.”

“We protect our own,” he mused thoughtfully. “We could protect you too, if you’d join us.”

Tossing her head, Bo let out a scornful noise and flexed her fingers. “Maybe after I kill you, I’ll think about that.”

Lurching forwards, she grasped Sagi around the throat and propelled him backwards until he hit the wall, breath whooshing from his lungs. She could feel his muscles under her fingers, feel him try to swallow and wriggle free. It only made her increase her grip all the more until she felt his windpipe beneath her grasp. It wasn’t wise, killing a Dark Fae who had connections to The Morrigan. It wasn’t really wise for her to be here at all, but every time she’d thought of Lauren on the way over here, it had only urged her on. There had been enough lies pulling them apart. Killing Sagi would be payment enough for at least one of them. Anything else seemed immaterial and she increased her grip on the Kitsune, eliciting an injurious croak from his open mouth.

“Family…” he whispered, eyes bulging as she effectively began to cut off his air supply. “Your family…the Dark…”

“Shut up!” she snarled, pushing her face close to his. “I’m not like you. I never will be.”

Sagi had the temerity to smile, his mouth pulling into a rictus grin. “Not…yet…”

“Not ever!” Bo lifted her free hand and pulled it back, fist in the air ready to deliver a crashing blow to his face. “And I told you to shut up!”

Before she could punch him, even before she moved, she saw his gaze flicker beyond her head into the room behind. His smile increased and he relaxed in her grip, a portent of his submission and the movement that Bo felt, rather than saw, at her back. Her fist was suddenly covered, enveloped in a searing heat so painful that she screamed and let go of Sagi, who slid down the wall and lay slumped on the floor at her feet.

Turning, Bo was met with a heavyset man whose eyes were red with flames burning, it seemed, from the very heart of them. She looked at her fist; it was already turning crimson and blistering. As the man raised his hands, fire leapt from his palms, shooting up towards the ceiling. She could feel the heat and stumbled backwards away from it, shaking her head and sucking in a fortifying breath through her teeth as she stared at her hand.

“What the…?” she murmured, as the large Fae lumbered towards her, lips drawn back from his teeth in a terrifyingly primal snarl.

Near her feet, Sagi held a hand to his throat and scrambled to his knees. He let out a soft laugh that garnered Bo’s attention for a ridiculously distracted moment. A swathe of flame crossed her chest and she let out a cry as it sizzled through her clothing and sank into her skin, leaving a raw, scarlet stripe of unutterable pain.

“He’s an Elemental,” Sagi explained, moving to a safe distance near his desk. “A salamander, to be precise. Very dangerous. But then, I’ve never been averse to the smell of burning flesh. It reminds me of the good old days.”

Leaping back from another jet of fire directed towards her face, Bo’s eyes widened and she stared at Sagi momentarily, horror reflected in her gaze. “You knew I’d come here?”

“Sooner or later,” Sagi responded, rubbing at his neck. “You do have a reputation for being rather…proactive, shall we say?”

Bo dodged another burst of fire, but wasn’t quite quick enough to prevent it catching her shoulder and throwing her askance. She tumbled backwards and fell awkwardly, letting out a grunt of pain as she did so. Her jacket smoldered and the material produced faint sparks that she patted at hastily. But the pain…the pain was unbelievable. It spread over her shoulder…no, into her shoulder, almost down to the bone, it felt. White–hot pain that blurred her vision and threw nausea deep down into her stomach so that she bent over and pressed her arms against it, retching slightly.

“Agni,” Sagi’s voice held a warning tone. “We don’t want to kill her now, do we?”

The salamander shrugged non–committally and advanced upon Bo, clapping his hands together so that red and white sparks crackled between them like some sort of manual forge. Bo scrabbled at the floor and got to her feet, retreating for a moment to consider her options. She didn’t have many. And as the fire creature approached, she slid underneath his hands and aimed a heavy–booted kick at his knees. There was a satisfying crunch as she made contact and Agni let out a howl of pain, staggering backwards and away from her.

“Oh, well done!” Sagi’s voice came from across the room and ignited Bo’s anger once more, almost blotting out the encroaching the pain in her hand and shoulder. But the slash across her chest burned hot and bright as though it had a life of its own and she pressed a hand to it. Her skin was burning. From the inside out.

“Don’t be afraid of the dark inside you, child,” Sagi called to her. “Let it take free reign over you. You’re stronger that way.”

But Bo wasn’t. Not in the slightest. Going without feeding for as long as she had had severely depleted her energy levels and sapped at her strength. Even the little that she’d taken from Lauren hadn’t really begun to replenish her strength. She could feel the rage inside her, willing her on and trying to combat the pain, but it had little of her Succubus power on which to rely. As she careened across the floor, she knew that a few more well–placed burns and she would be utterly defenseless.

“My parents might be Dark Fae,” she hissed at Sagi, “but that doesn’t mean I am! I get to choose, right?” She ducked another whistling burst of fire and threw herself across the floor, rolling to one side and leaping to her feet, fists raised. “Well hear this. I don’t choose you!”

Agni moved towards her and she tried to get out of his way, tried to avoid the burning in his eyes and on his hands…all over his body, it seemed. It was as though he was made entirely of fire and Bo knew that if she went in for the kill, she’d have to be swift and sure otherwise his flames would surely consume her. The skin where she’d already been burned felt tight and painful, and she let out a grunt of distress as it prickled and stretched with her movements.

“Ah, yes.” Sagi leaned back against his desk and looked at her and Agni as though indulging in the playful romps of a recalcitrant child. “About that…”

Bo glared at him and moved closer to the door she’d burst through only minutes before. Picking up a chair by the conference table nearby, she threw it at Agni, who batted it out of the way with a lazy sweep of his flaming hand.

“We might have stretched the truth a little with the information we passed to your dear doctor,” Sagi pulled at his suit jacket, smoothing his hands over the lapels and straightening out the creases. “The Morrigan thought it might persuade you to join us if you were to suspect that your parents were both Dark Fae.”

“What?” Bo gasped, taking a chance and aiming a fist at Agni’s face. The blow pushed his head back on his neck and he growled at her. But as she pulled her hand back, she saw her knuckles already turning white, the skin there bubbling into blisters that sent pain rocketing all the way down her arm.

“Yes.” Sagi nodded gravely, although a slow smile appeared on his lips. “We really don’t know much more about your background than you do. But I can see the dark in you. Why don’t you join us and we can…work on it, hm? Wouldn’t you like to be stronger? Faster? Less…” he twirled his fingers around in the air and shrugged, “…in pain?”

Bo stopped for a moment. And it was only a moment. But it was enough to tear her concentration from her opponent. As she gaped at Sagi, his words sinking into her brain and whirling around it in confusion, she failed to see Agni bearing down on her, anger contorting his features into an inferno of rage. His fist made contact with her jaw and she felt, rather than heard the sickening crack as he punched her. The dull pain that spread up into her skull was compounded by the nauseating smell of her scorched flesh as she felt her face begin to burn.

She reeled back, this time heading for the door to the room. Her escape route. She was too weak, too empty and too injured to do this. Not feeding properly had left her dizzy; the pain from her burns was making her shiver and she knew that were she to stay, she would die. Meting out punishment on Sagi for his lies and deceit would have to wait. Agni would have to wait. And her own compulsion to seek out her parents? Well, if she didn’t leave now, that would die along with her.

Pitching backwards, Bo knew that she was going to pass out. Not here, she ordered herself. Not like this. Not weak and lost and alone.

She lurched through the doorway and down the corridor, every move sending unimaginable pain through her body. Home. She had to make it home.

* * * * *

Lauren rushed past Kenzi and into the house, looking around her with wild eyes. “Where is she?” she demanded, voice hitching over the words as her heart sat high in her chest, clattering so hard that she could barely breathe.

“Upstairs.” Kenzi’s face was pale, her eyes dark.

“Call Dyson,” Lauren threw over her shoulder as she made for the staircase.

“Wait a minute, Doc. Can’t you just – ”

“Call Dyson! Do it now!” Lauren shouted in a hard tone, barely giving Kenzi a second glance as she took the stairs two at a time. It was only when she reached Bo’s bedroom that she slowed, stopping outside the door and putting her hand against the frame. Sucking in a huge breath, she let it out slowly and tried to prepare herself for what she might find inside.

Kenzi had called her, begging Lauren to come to the house. It had been clear from Kenzi’s voice and the garbled answer to the pertinent, urgent questions that Lauren had asked that something was wrong. Very wrong. Kenzi had sounded hesitant, desperate. She’d kept on telling Lauren that Bo had been asking for her and it was apparent that Kenzi was suitably freaked out by Bo’s condition. She’d tried to calm the girl as much as she could on the phone while throwing on a jacket and heading for her car at breakneck pace. On the way over, she’d tried not to think of the consequences of Bo’s revenge. Tried not to think about the fact that she had let the Succubus go on an ill–advised rampage. No; she’d tried instead to figure out what treatments she might have in her medical bag stowed in the trunk, and if they would be at all useful.

Heart still pounding unreasonably fast, Lauren closed her eyes tight shut for a moment and then straightened up, opening them and walking into the bedroom. She’d witnessed some horrific conditions in her time as doctor to the Fae, and had managed to control her features and her emotions so that she could ascertain the extent of any injuries and treat them accordingly. It was how the medical profession was trained, to become hardened to the horrors that hospitals housed. There was very little that truly shocked Lauren any more.

She wasn’t altogether sure if that was a good thing.

As she approached the bed, however, she found that her training all but deserted her. Bo was lying in the center of the bed, her breathing ragged, uneven and very loud. She’d partially removed her clothes, her jacket and shirt lying in a crumpled heap by the side of the bed, bloodstains marring the material that was withered around gaping holes. Her booted feet shifted slightly on the bedclothes and she moaned in pain, eyes flickering shut, ignorant to Lauren’s presence as the doctor stood over her.

Lauren couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her mouth as she looked Bo over. The flesh that she could see was red, streaked with black that she knew was charred flesh. Third degree burns, she assessed mentally, with almost certainly first and second degree burns around them. Agonizingly painful and potentially fatal to a human. But Bo wasn’t human, and it was only her Succubus physiology that had prevented her from dying this time. Although, judging by what Lauren could see and the assumed injuries that she couldn’t, if Bo didn’t receive treatment soon, then death would take her. Sometimes Lauren felt as though death was always lingering around the edges of Bo’s life, often stepping into the fray to assert itself and remind the Succubus of her mortality. As she gingerly lowered herself onto the edge of the bed, Bo’s whimpers only served to confirm the doctor’s suspicions and Lauren couldn’t help putting a hand over her mouth to quell the horror that parted her lips. This was not a time for her own emotions to boil to the surface. She needed to be strong. For Bo, if not for herself.

“Bo,” she said gently. “It’s me, I’m here.”

Opening her eyes, Bo turned her head and only then was Lauren able to see the gash on her cheek, trailing blood down skin that was already starting to bruise underneath the crimson burn there.

“Hey,” Bo croaked. “I kind of got pounded.” She let out a laugh that turned into a cough and lifted her head from the bed, clutching at her stomach.

“Sssh,” Lauren urged, reaching for Bo’s hand; the only part of her, it seemed, that wasn’t damaged. “Don’t try to talk. Lie back.”

“I’m fine.” Bo attempted to sit up and winced, her features contorting in pain as she did so. “I’ll be fine. I just need to rest.”

“No,” Lauren said, putting her hand onto Bo’s shoulder then snatching it back as Bo hissed and flinched. “You need to heal, Bo. Please, lie back. Please.” Bo’s eyes met hers in anguish and Lauren nodded comfortingly, offering a smile that was hesitant and full of concern. But the Succubus did as requested and sighed as her head sunk into the pillow underneath it.

“That Sagi guy is an asshat,” Bo murmured, closing her eyes as Lauren stroked at her hair, tenderly moving it away from her forehead, trying to avoid the smears of blood and tender skin there.

“Bo, what did this to you? Kitsune aren’t able to burn people.”

“Some…some other Fae. Made of fire. An…Elemental?” Bo whispered, a crooked smile tugging at her mouth as she felt Lauren’s hands on her skin. Those practiced, healing fingers that had saved her on so many occasions. And now they were touching her with the simple grace of a lover. It almost made the pain bearable.

“You fought a salamander?” Lauren’s question was rhetorical as she cast her eyes over Bo’s flesh. “God, Bo, what were you thinking?”

“I thought if I…if I kicked his ass I might get…” Bo moved and caught her breath as agony overwhelmed speech. “Get…some play from you.” Opening her eyes, she blinked up at Lauren and saw the doctor smile ruefully. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for now. Because when Lauren looked at her like that, with those eyes that seemed to peer into the very depths of her, there was no price she wouldn’t pay to see it again and again.

“You’re ridiculous,” Lauren whispered, leaning down to place the softest of kisses on Bo’s forehead. Sitting back up, she frowned down at the Succubus and let her gaze sweep the length of the other woman’s body. “You need to heal, Bo. And I can’t…” She paused. She’d never felt the burden of her humanity and the constraints it placed on her heart more keenly than this moment. Her medical knowledge far surpassed that of any other doctor but even Lauren was aware that she was powerless to help Bo. Even if she were to give her life – and the thought had occurred to her at least twice since entering the room – it wouldn’t be nearly enough to bring Bo back to full strength.

“Sure you can,” Bo mumbled, looking at Lauren with glassy eyes. “Just give me enough to get me back on my feet and I’ll – ”

“I can’t, Bo,” Lauren said more firmly. Swallowing, she took a short breath and looked down at the Succubus. Being a good doctor meant that one often had to make difficult decisions. And hers had been made on the drive over here, for better or worse. She could deal with the consequences later. If there was a later after tonight.

“Dyson’s on his way over,” she told Bo. As the Succubus opened her mouth to protest, Lauren held up a hand to silence any doubts. The hardest decisions were the ones the patients never liked. The ones that she had to justify to herself as well as to them.

“He can help you,” she insisted. “You need to heal, Bo. It’s the only way.”

“Lauren…” Bo’s voice carried the doubt that ached at the back of Lauren’s neck. It held the hesitancy that they both felt; the understanding that trickled between them in scarlet droplets of shed blood and would hurt like the open wounds on Bo’s body.

“I know,” the doctor replied, heaving a huge sigh that lifted her chest and dissipated into the ether along with her good intentions. There had been a tiny part of her that had hoped she might be able to restore Bo’s strength. A part of her that irrationally believed that her own human energy might be enough to satisfy the Succubus’ cravings and heal her injuries. But their reality had proven otherwise, dashing Lauren’s hopes and replacing them with the fears that lurked in the back of her mind. She wasn’t enough for Bo. Not tonight. And tonight was all that mattered right now.

“Dyson’s here.”

Kenzi’s voice came from the doorway, low and troubled, laced with the worry that had shadowed her eyes when Lauren had arrived. Turning, the doctor nodded her thanks before standing and looking down at Bo.

“I’ll be back to check up on you,” she said softly, leaning down and meeting Bo’s eyes.

“Promise?” Bo’s voice met her ears with a plaintive tone and it was all Lauren could do not to give way to the tears that were prickling hot in her eyes and throat.

“I promise.” With one last lingering touch, Lauren let go of Bo’s hand and walked towards the door until the sound of her name caused her to stop and turn back towards the bed.

“Sagi…” Bo lifted her head with some difficulty and squinted across the room to where Lauren stood. “He told me…he said the information you got…it’s a lie. It was a lie. Everything you did…was all for nothing…” Grimacing as pain shot through her body once more, Bo closed her eyes and clutched her hand to her chest. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “It was all for nothing.”

“No.” Lauren’s dissent was firm, assertive. “You were worth it, Bo. All of it.”

The slow smile that crept across the Succubus’ face was recompense enough.

* * * * *

Dyson scratched at his beard and watched as Lauren appeared at the bottom of the staircase and walked towards him. Kenzi had told him that Bo was injured but said little more than that. She had been breathless, worried and the panic in her voice had unsettled him as he’d rushed towards his car without further questioning. From the expression on the doctor’s face right now and the harried nature of her gait, he suspected that Bo’s condition was a little more than just a few scratches. He moved towards Lauren and a frown crinkled his brow.

“What happened?” he asked, as Kenzi paced around them anxiously.

“Bo hasn’t fed for a while and tried to take on a salamander tonight.” Lauren wanted to give Dyson as few details as possible. She was only too aware what he thought of her and although she’d tried not to care, she knew that his closeness to Bo wouldn’t offer her many favors were he to discover Bo’s true intentions or the reasons why she’d taken on Sagi and the Elemental tonight.

“She hasn’t fed? Why?” he questioned, confused. It was only when Lauren avoided his gaze and shook her head that he began to gain a clearer picture of what had been happening lately. Shrugging, he tilted his head onto one side and raised his eyebrows. “You been holding out on her, hm?”

Lauren’s eyes rose to meet his own and he found that he was vaguely alarmed by what he saw in them. Humans were notoriously unable to hide their feelings well, but he’d always considered Lauren to be something of a master of disguise when it came to showing how she really felt. Tonight, however, there was nothing but emotion painted across her face and through her eyes in colors that almost blinded him with their intensity. He didn’t understand the relationship between Bo and Lauren – wasn’t even sure he really wanted to – but what he did know was that they would continue to circle one another until something broke.

Looking at Lauren right now, Dyson felt as though something had.

“Don’t be glib, Dyson,” Lauren said sternly, in no mood for flippant behavior. “She’s seriously injured and needs to heal. And you…” she trailed away and pressed her lips together firmly. Shifting under his gaze, her nostrils flared as she struggled to control herself. This was much harder than she’d expected. So much more difficult than the decision she’d made in her car, now that it was a reality standing in front of her.

“I can’t help her with that,” she said abruptly. “You can.”

Dyson nodded. “Is that what she wants?” It was his only way of asking what the hell was going on without being too blatant, but even this question seemed out of place and he cleared his throat and gazed down at the ground momentarily.

“It doesn’t matter what she wants,” Lauren answered shortly. “And if you don’t help her, Dyson, she’ll die. So stop wasting time with questions and go.” She jerked her head towards the staircase and turned on her heel, making for the door. As she passed Kenzi, she nodded to the girl and gave her a faint smile.

“Bo’s going to be fine. She’ll need a lot of rest after Dyson…after she heals. Make sure she gets it,” she said gently. She reached out to pat Kenzi on the shoulder and her hand was halfway there before it stopped and Lauren drew it back, almost embarrassed. Drawing her lips into a tight line, she nodded and turned towards the door. “Thanks for calling me, Kenzi.”

“And what about you?” Kenzi’s voice halted her. “Are you going to be fine?”

It wasn’t what Lauren had been expecting at all, and she swallowed over the ball of hurt in her throat, her back to the girl so that she could at least try to maintain her confidence. Because if she lost that, then she would surely allow the evening’s events to overwhelm her entirely. And if she were to do so, then she might never be able to claw her way back up towards an appropriation of life again. She heard Dyson’s footsteps on the staircase as he made his way up to Bo’s room and felt them echoed in the throbbing of her heart as it beat traitorously hard in her chest.

Lifting her head, she reached for the door handle and turned it, stepping forwards.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “Call me when she wakes up.”

* * * * *

By the time Lauren made it to the relative safety of her car, she was already crying.

By the time she closed the door, she was gasping over the sobs wracking her chest.

And by the time she was clutching herself, giving vent to the confusion that tormented and ripped at her, she knew that she was absolutely, undeniably and painfully in love with Bo.

~ ~ ~

Title: Ways To Tell You I’m Sorry – The Twelfth Way: Concession

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: Bo and Lauren find that they have some things to talk about.

Author’s Note: Thanks for the awesome beta and advice. Truly appreciated. And this will probably be the last update until after Christmas. Sorry to leave it on a cliffhanger. Wait…no I’m not. I’m not sorry at all! Muahaha.

The Twelfth Way: Concession

heartsways

Bo opened her eyes and tried to ignore the killer headache that pounded behind them with all the grace and subtlety of a jackhammer. Groaning, she reached up and rubbed at her forehead, feeling the faint stippling of flesh just beneath her hairline although there was no pain anymore. She didn’t remember much; she’d been in so much pain that consciousness had taken a well–deserved break and what she could draw from her memory was hazy and a collection of images seen through the broken mirror of shock, fragmented and jagged. Squinting into the stray beams of sunlight creeping through the boards over her window, she blinked a few times and tried to piece together what had happened after she’d tumbled through the doorway of her home and collapsed at Kenzi’s feet.

Lauren.

The name sprung to her mind almost immediately and she sucked in a short, loud breath, lifting her head from the pillow and struggling up onto her elbows. Lauren had been here the evening before. Bo could remember that, if not much else. Lauren had come to her and seen her weak and wounded and helpless. Just the way the Succubus promised herself she would never be again. Her heart sank as she remembered Lauren’s hands on her flesh; Lauren’s eyes looking her over and reflecting the pain emanating from every part of her body, clawing its way out of her almost like a living, breathing thing. Bo had failed. She’d tried to defend Lauren’s sacrifice – defend her life – and she’d failed. And all that had happened was that she had given the doctor cause for more pain.

It wasn’t how Bo had envisaged their relationship progressing at all. Because if she couldn’t be strong for Lauren in the most base of ways, then what good was she at all?

“You’re awake,” a voice came from the other side of the room.

Turning her head, Bo saw Lauren in a chair that had previously been shoved in a corner of the lounge downstairs. The doctor had a book on her lap which she slowly closed and put to one side before rising and moving to the bed, sitting down beside Bo and giving the Succubus a warm, if tentative, smile.

“I…uh…how long have I been out?” Bo frowned, shaking her head slightly as though the movement could dislodge the remnants of sleep that lingered around the frayed edges of her brain.

“About a day,” Lauren said, her gaze flickering up and down Bo’s body. Reaching over to the bedside table, she picked up her light and leaned over Bo, lifting the Succubus’ eyelid and shining it directly at the iris. Bo flinched and tried not to blink, but as Lauren moved to her other eye, she reached up and curled her fingers around the doctor’s wrist.

Lauren frowned slightly and fixed the Succubus with a stern gaze. “Bo, I need to check your visual acuity,” she said quietly. “I need to know that you’re healing properly.”

“Believe me, I am,” Bo answered. But she let go of Lauren’s arm and allowed the doctor to complete her inspection of the eye. Making a sound of satisfaction, Lauren replaced the light on the bedside table and then moved forwards, pressing her fingers into the hollows just beneath Bo’s ears, pressing gently. Her mouth twitched slightly and, catching Bo’s gaze, she smiled again before sitting back. Grabbing her stethoscope, Lauren inserted the ear pieces and then tugged at the sheet over Bo’s naked body. If she reacted to the Succubus’ nude figure, it barely showed on her face and Bo couldn’t resist a vague smile. Sometimes she forgot that Lauren’s immersion in her profession was absolute – that when the doctor was fixated on medical issues, the rest of the world melted away. Even if the rest of the world was contained in a muscular, lithe and beautifully strong female form currently lying naked in the bed below Lauren’s eyes.

Shifting slightly, Bo caught the doctor’s gaze and Lauren blinked, two tiny spots of color appearing high up on her cheeks. Well, Bo thought almost smugly, maybe Lauren wasn’t completely immune to her charms after all, when it really mattered.

Pressing the diaphragm against Bo’s chest, Lauren listened carefully, moving it from one side to the other before she seemed satisfied with her findings and removed it altogether. Pulling it from her ears, Lauren nodded and smiled again, this time the gesture was less shadowed by the night’s memories.

“You seem fine,” she murmured, “apart from a few patches here and there.” Her eyes moved over Bo’s shoulder and face, roaming across scarring that was, even now, beginning to fade into smooth, fresh, healthy skin.

“Is that your professional diagnosis?” Bo’s eyebrows knitted together in bemusement as Lauren pulled the sheet up over her body again, tucking it around her almost daintily.

“Bo,” Lauren admonished with vague amusement, putting the stethoscope onto the table next to the bed and dipping her head so that the Succubus couldn’t see the concern etched onto her face. She’d kept vigil at Bo’s bed while the Succubus healed. Dyson had given her the energy she needed, but the real restorative process was contained in the deep sleep that had followed the exchange of life–saving Fae essence. Kenzi had helped her move the chair from the lounge into Bo’s room and it was where Lauren had stayed for an agonizingly long 24 hours, occasionally checking Bo’s vitals and administering sips of water to the half–conscious Fae.

Bo would never know what it was like, watching her sleep, restless and troubled. She must never know what it was like, Lauren reminded herself. Monitoring patients was a necessary part of medical treatment, but monitoring Bo had been an experience Lauren never wanted to repeat. She’d always prided herself on her detachment from patients; it was one of the facets of her personality that The Ash congratulated her on, in fact. Being able to disassociate herself from the vagaries of illness and disease had always protected her.

But there was no protection from Bo, or the way she felt about her. Her pretense that she felt nothing was the flimsiest of barriers, unable to stop her heart from being consumed by the emotion the mere presence of Bo elicited. Lauren knew this as certainly as she knew all immutable facts in her world. Fighting the onslaught of that feeling had taken so much effort that she was simply too exhausted to rail against it any more. Though she had yet to give voice to them, she had found treacherous relief in surrendering to those feelings, in naming them even if she could not yet bring herself to truly accept them. They were as much a part of her as the air that she breathed, or the blood that quickened in response to a single look from Bo.

“Jesus, I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck,” Bo moaned, lifting a hand to her head and pressing her fingers against her temple.

“Hm,” Lauren sat back on the bed, eyeing Bo with as much criticism as she could muster. But it was difficult for her to feel anything but unbridled joy at seeing Bo so healthy again, her wounds almost fully healed. It was a strange sensation, being so fully invested in the wellbeing of another. She’d told herself that that was the reason she’d joined the medical profession in the first place, but as she’d sat in the chair watching Bo sleep, Lauren had realized that this was different. She cared about Bo’s welfare as much as her own – probably more – and that had never happened before. In a life that had become insular, beginning and ending with her own existence in the world of the Fae, Lauren had almost forgotten how liberating it was to love someone so completely. And how terrifying. Her world was no longer structured and compartmentalized; now her world was unwittingly huge and unpredictable.

A hand crept out from under the bedclothes and covered her own. Looking down at it, Lauren smiled slowly. Maybe huge and unpredictable could be a good thing, after all.

“Well,” she said briskly, clearing her throat and trying to dispel the tangled mists of doubt that twined around her heart and mind. “You have Dyson to thank for the fact that you’re still here with only a headache and some scars as a souvenir. I can give you something for the headache, and the scars will fade in a few days.”

She paused, catching her breath and sliding her hand from Bo’s grasp. “You’ll need to feed, of course. But that should take care of – ”

“Lauren.” Bo’s voice was low, eyes dark and worried.

“I’ll get you some painkillers for that headache.” Lauren stood up and moved to search through her medical bag; anything rather than let Bo see how much she cared. It was ridiculous to expect Bo to be with her and remain monogamous. Ridiculous to even think it could work that way.

“Lauren, look at me.”

The doctor’s hands ceased their foraging and Lauren was immobile, her back still turned to Bo.

“Lauren! Look at me!” Bo pushed herself up in the bed and shoved at her hair. As Lauren’s gaze travelled slowly up the side of the bed until it met that of the Succubus, Bo’s eyes widened imperceptibly at the almost guilty expression on the doctor’s face.

“Just…come here,” she patted the bed beside her, relenting slightly.

Moving reluctantly, Lauren rose and returned to the bed, sitting down on the edge of it. Bo inched closer to her and reached out, wrapping her fingers around the doctor’s and squeezing.

“Are we going to talk about this?” she asked, peering up into Lauren’s eyes, apprehensive about what she might see there.

Lauren smiled at her and gave a tiny shrug. “There’s really nothing to talk about, Bo. As a human, I would never be able to sustain you as your only source of energy. You’re a Succubus, and you require more than any one person could possibly give you. You have to establish a regular feeding pattern and – ”

“Can you please stop talking like a doctor and talk like…” Bo frowned, tugging at Lauren’s hand. “Like a human being?”

Drawing breath, Lauren swallowed and nodded, letting out a soft laugh. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Bo urged. “Just be honest. Do you want to be with me?”

Despite herself, Lauren smirked and chuckled gently. “Are you asking me to go steady, Bo?”

The Succubus let out a frustrated groan and shot Lauren a distinctly unamused glare. Snatching her hand away from the doctor’s, she grabbed the bedclothes and shifted underneath them so that she bumped up against Lauren’s legs. Sitting up, Bo didn’t care that the sheets fell away from her body, exposing her to the cool air of the bedroom. She needed to be close to Lauren, as close as was possible so that all the doubts between them, all their fears and hesitancy could be replaced only by the intimacy and warmth of their bodies.

Reaching out, Bo pushed Lauren’s hair back from the doctor’s shoulders and lay her hands there instead. After all they’d been through over the last few days and weeks; after the pain and uncertainty and the exhausting back and forth between them, Bo was tired. Physically, mentally worn out. And even if she wasn’t sure of the response she might garner, she was ready for honesty. She was ready for all that this amazing woman could offer her, and all that she might give in return. Looking into Lauren’s eyes, her heart began to race. No matter what the doctor might say, her brown eyes – rich and dark with infinite warmth and depth – told Bo that she might be ready for that, too.

“I like you, Lauren.” Bo’s voice was a little shaky as she began and her teeth came out to worry at her lower lip. “A lot.”

Lauren smiled and lifted her hand so that her fingers could curve around Bo’s wrist. “I like you too,” she answered, a bemused expression on her face.

“I mean…” Bo frowned and shook her head. When she’d thought about this little speech – and she had done, many times before going up against the Elemental – it had always flowed easily from her lips. Because in her head, Lauren had swooned and declared undying love for her and that had been that. But the reality of this – the reality of now was much harder to navigate. She sighed; the Lauren inside her head was a lot more amenable to discussions like this. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth, allowing a momentary flash of desire to flood her brain: the Lauren inside her head was a lot more amenable to many things.

But Real Life Lauren? She was afraid and hesitant and unwilling to allow vulnerability to surpass control. It was frustrating and endearing all at the same time. Taking a breath, Bo frowned into Lauren’s waiting gaze and began again.

“I spent the last ten years thinking I’d never be happy, you know? And – and you helped me realize that I could be happy. That being who I am…being what I am isn’t a death sentence for anyone who gets close to me.”

“I’m a doctor. It’s what I do,” Lauren replied gently.

“Is it just that, though?” Bo’s grip increased ever so slightly on Lauren’s shoulders and she leaned in a little, fixating on the doctor’s lips for a long moment before sucking in a breath and shaking her head. “Don’t you…I mean…”

“Bo.” Lauren slid her hand down Bo’s arm, the contact feeling as though it was dragging sparks down the Succubus’ flesh and eliciting a faint sigh from her mouth.

“I went against The Ash,” Lauren said in a grave tone, eyes clouding with the mere mention of it. “I betrayed his trust in me and contacted the Dark Fae. And I did it for you.”

“Yeah,” Bo agreed glumly. “And look at where that got us.”

“It got us here,” Lauren told her. “Whatever happens because of what I did, it got us here. And yes, I know that you’re Fae and I’m human and that’s about as far from ideal as it can get. But I don’t regret it. Not any of it.”

Bo smiled, relief palpable in her gaze. She shivered as Lauren’s hand travelled up her arm, over her bicep, tracing the muscle up to her shoulder and then dipping down to follow the lines of her collarbone. It was as close to a confession of affection that she was likely to get, and although she secretly wanted grandiose words and gestures, the greater part of her realized that this simple intimacy was more fulfilling because it was real. It was true.

“I tried to stay away from you, Bo,” Lauren murmured, her gaze following the path of her index finger. Her words seemed unintentional, drawn from somewhere deep inside her that could no longer contain them. “I even thought I could. But…” She sucked in a long breath as fingers crept from her shoulder up to her face, a palm settling against her cheek. Lauren leaned her head into it instinctively and closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the sensation.

“But?” Bo questioned, dragging her thumb over Lauren’s cheekbone.

Opening her eyes, Lauren looked deep into the eyes opposite her own and saw in them all the promises she wanted to make; all the loyalties she needed to keep. “I can’t,” she answered simply, shrugging. “I just can’t, Bo.”

“So…no more asking me to sleep with other people then?” Bo asked tentatively.

Lauren’s gaze clouded and she frowned, slipping away from Bo’s hand and leaning backwards. The absence of her touch was like moving from technicolor into monochrome and she swallowed, lest she allow Bo to encourage her to see the world through the eyes of the Succubus: black and white and absolute. Lauren knew better; her world was a myriad of shades of gray. The Light and Dark that had dictated her circumstances and her behavior were intermingled, indistinct and not easily defined. Bo didn’t know that. Lauren hoped that she would never fully understand the machinations of the Fae because to understand them was to be trapped by them, held to ransom by their ancient laws and loyalties.

“You almost got killed, Bo,” she said, her voice hitching over the telling of it. “You were weak because you’ve been starving yourself. For me.” Her head lifted and she looked at the Succubus, eyes darkened by her grave tone into shades of worry and distress. “I can’t ask you to do that and I can’t expect you to do that. You’re a Succubus. It’s who you are.”

“But what if I want to do that?” Bo protested, eyebrows lifting challengingly.

Lauren paused for a moment, teetering on the brink of a fight or flight response before she sighed loudly and shook her head. “God, you’re stubborn!” she glared at Bo in mock–severity.

“And you aren’t?” Bo responded in kind. For a moment, they simply stared at one another before Bo smirked and chuckled. “The Lauren in my head would want me to be all hers,” she said slyly. As Lauren opened her mouth with the beginnings of a question, Bo shrugged nonchalantly.

“You know,” she said, “when I imagine you in my head, you’re a lot easier to persuade.”

Standing up, Lauren couldn’t resist a faint laugh and frowned good–naturedly at Bo. “Right,” she answered. “And the Bo in my head tends to follow medical advice without being so obstinate.” Glancing at her watch, her face fell and she muttered under her breath, concern flitting across her features.

“I have to go,” she told the Succubus. “I’ve been away from the lab too long.” She reached for her medical bag and threw a quick smile towards Bo. “I’ll come back and check up on you later.”

“How about you give me a physical right now?” Bo knelt up on the bed, the sheet falling away to gather around her knees, revealing her voluptuous, beautiful and utterly naked body. She tilted her head onto one side and fixed Lauren with a gaze that hovered on the brink of enticing and decidedly lascivious.

Lauren was transfixed. She wasn’t sure if she would ever stop being taken aback by Bo’s body, the curves of it painted in vivid, exquisite detail in her memory, filling her mind with delicious and tantalizing thoughts that would flash into her brain at the most inopportune of moments. There was little else she could do other than stare at Bo, her gaze raking up the length of the Succubus’ body as if with her eyes, she could close the distance between them and caress every inch of skin, every camber and dip, every peak and secret hollow that she longed to trace with her mouth and tongue.

She’d seen Bo naked before, of course. She’d even examined her with the care and attention that her work for The Ash required. And she had touched her in passion, too. But it had been a passion borne from deceit – a deceit that was foolishly rooted in her efforts to save Bo’s life, but a deceit, nonetheless. Lauren had never had an invitation to touch. Not like this. This was overt and explicit and offered with the promise of a desire only a Succubus could instill in another. Without even touching her, Bo made Lauren feel as though she was under a Fae spell already, a jolt of want hitting her stomach and bleeding out into her whole body.

She felt like a teenager, standing there open–mouthed with a thrill of lust racing up her spine and lodging low in her pelvis. Of course, even when she had been a teenager, Lauren had never quite felt like this. She’d never experienced such unmitigated longing before, and even if she had, she was certain that it had never manifested itself in this way – with Bo’s eyes gazing at her so intensely that she felt stripped naked even though she was fully clothed.

Lauren shivered and swallowed hard. The lab could probably wait a little while longer.

Her medical bag hit the floor with a dull thud as she darted forwards into Bo’s open arms. The Succubus let out a delighted sigh as Lauren’s mouth descended on to her own and tugged at the doctor, pulling her closer. Her fingers scrabbled at Lauren’s jacket, attempting to push it from the doctor’s shoulders without breaking their kiss. As the jacket slithered down Lauren’s back and onto the floor, the doctor dragged her mouth down Bo’s neck, lips fastening on to a spot just above the collarbone and sucking hard. Bo’s head lolled back on her neck and she closed her eyes as a pair of hands trailed down the sides of her body, traversing the faint protrusions of her ribs, pressing into muscle that was taut and tense with longing.

Bo’s hands crept up over Lauren’s shirt, plucking at the material as though to remove it. But instead they continued their journey, sliding up into blonde hair that fell over her fingers and grasping at it, letting it wind around her skin. Tugging on it, Bo pulled Lauren’s mouth from her skin and held it so that she could look down into brown eyes that bewitched her. She wondered, somewhere in the back of her mind, if this was how it felt when she touched others with her Succubus abilities; if it was this all–consuming and powerful. Staring at Lauren, Bo wanted to remember the way she looked right now, her mouth half open and lips full with kisses yet to be bestowed; the flush along the top of her cheeks, bright red spots that contrasted so starkly with the dark of her eyes, shaded to burning russet by desire.

But it was the smile that crept over Lauren’s mouth that pierced Bo’s chest, casting tendrils around her heart that clutched at it and claimed it. It was a smile of discovery, of pledges made and seared as truth by the taste of Bo’s flesh. But more than that, it was the openness that Bo had craved so much, painted across Lauren’s face and through her eyes. It was everything…almost too much, and not nearly enough.

Becoming greedy and driven by a desperate need for Lauren’s touch, her mouth, her body, Bo shifted, lying back on the bed and pulling Lauren down on top of her. She heard a low murmur of laughter against her neck as the doctor’s mouth began tracing a line of wet heat from just underneath her ear down to where her jugular pulsated, barely able to contain the fire that heated her blood.

Lauren’s mouth moved downwards, nipping at the swell of Bo’s breasts as her hands sought to unbutton the shirt the doctor was wearing. She hovered over the Succubus’ body for a moment before leaning back and sliding off the bed onto her knees. The shirt soon joined the jacket on the floor and with it, Lauren’s chaste white bra. Bo let out a delighted laugh as Lauren leaned over her again, sliding her hands under the Succubus’ thighs, roughly pulling her forwards until she was perched on the edge of the bed.

A quizzical expression shaped Bo’s features as she struggled up onto her elbows and stared at Lauren, even now parting Bo’s legs with those strong, careful fingers and kneeling in between them. It was only when Lauren bent and began to kiss Bo’s stomach that the Succubus understood, comprehension flooding her eyes and closing them with a low groan of sheer pleasure. The moist heat of Lauren’s mouth on her belly made her twitch and squirm, but a pair of hands on her thighs held her in place and Bo let out another moan, back arching and shoulders pressing hard into the bed. Blonde hair spilled out across her skin and tickled over her legs; Lauren’s fingers began a torturous journey up her thighs as the mouth on her stomach started a similar road downwards.

By the time fingers slid inside her, Bo was already ablaze, her body the kindling to a passion that glowed, it seemed, from the very heart of her. She felt alive, as though the very essence of her existence was contained in the contact of lips, fingers and tongue on her flesh. Gasping, sucking at the air around her it felt full of Lauren, thick with her presence and her touch. Bo breathed it in and experienced an almost heady rush of power as Lauren’s mouth joined fingers and brought the Succubus to a whirling cadence of infinite pleasure. Her shoulders pressed into the bed as her body bowed, muscles tightening as her awareness cracked and shattered. She spread her arms wide, capitulating to the keening sound that broke from her throat, passing over her lips and into the air. It was exquisite, this feeling. Like falling, like floating, like being suspended in the moments between waking and sleeping where only sensation took hold.

It was only when Lauren crawled up the length of her body that Bo opened her eyes. The doctor’s face was flushed and streaked with bright swathes of pleasure that crept down her throat in crimson ribbons. Heart still pounding in her chest, Bo opened her arms and took Lauren into them, hand splaying out on the other woman’s back with a possessive curl of her fingers.

“How’s that headache?” Lauren asked with raised eyebrows and a laugh playing around the corners of her mouth.

Bo grinned lop–sidedly. “Headache?” she asked innocently. “What headache?” She tugged Lauren closer until the two women were lying as one, entwined together on the bed.

Lauren pushed her face into the crook of Bo’s neck and let out a humming sigh of contentment, flinging an arm over the Succubus’ torso. “I never took you for a snuggler,” she murmured, her mouth curving in a beatific smile.

Bo let out a grunt of laughter and rested her chin on the top of Lauren’s head, wondering at the clattering pace of her heart and listening to it resound in her ears for a few seconds. She’d never fully experienced the post–coital bliss of cuddling; never really understood its therapeutic effects or the desire humans had for it. Not until Lauren. The doctor had taught her a lot of things about her true nature, but the greatest lesson of all was the one that was contained in the texture of skin, the spaces between them and the eradication of those voids. In feeling love, Bo had come to learn that this simple intimacy was a craving almost as great as the one that her Succubus–self demanded.

“I guess that’s not what Succubi are known for, huh?” she asked.

Pushing herself up onto one arm, Lauren lifted her head, tendrils of hair hanging down to whisper over Bo’s shoulder. “I have no idea,” she shrugged. “I’ve never slept with one before.”

“Hm,” Bo pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. “So are you going to add this piece of information to your research on me?”

Lauren let out a soft laugh and her brow crinkled in a self–conscious frown that Bo couldn’t help finding utterly endearing. “I’m thinking probably not,” the doctor told her in a low tone. Leaning forwards, she dropped a gentle kiss onto Bo’s lips and the Succubus tasted a memory of their lovemaking, sweet and coppery. It thrust remnants of pleasure into her chest and she drew in a halting breath as Lauren lay down beside her again.

“I won’t tell anyone,” she said, settling her head back onto Bo’s shoulder. “I’d hate to ruin your reputation.”

“Right,” Bo grinned, rolling her eyes. “Because the Fae think I’m aces so far.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way,” Lauren answered quickly. “If you chose to join the Light, you could – ”

She was silenced by the loud and insistent sound of her cellphone, coming from her medical bag on the floor. Moving away from Bo, she ignored the Succubus’ sounds of offense and her clutching hands and scrambled down the bed to reach for her bag. Throwing it open, Lauren snatched at her phone and looked at the screen. Her face drained of color and she cast a wary look back at Bo before lifting the phone to her ear.

“Yes?” Her voice instantly assumed a hesitant tone and she blinked quickly, turning her back to Bo and shoving at her hair as though they had been caught in the act by their parents. Bo frowned, pushing herself up onto her elbows and staring at Lauren’s back, hunched over as the doctor spoke into the phone.

“I…yes. Of course. I’ll be right there. No – no, I’ll be right there.” Lauren’s voice came in short little bursts that held worry in every syllable. Dropping the phone from her ear, she pressed a button on it and let it fall from her hand onto the floor. Bending forwards, her head hung onto her chest and she lifted her hands to cover her face.

“Lauren?” Bo was immediately behind her, hands smoothing down over Lauren’s shoulders and an anxious expression coloring her face. “What is it? What’s wrong?” A plethora of scenarios flooded her head, sending panic coursing through her veins and heightening the chill on her skin.

Slowly, Lauren twisted around and looked at Bo with eyes that were fearful and acquiescent, all at the same time.

“It’s The Ash,” she whispered. “He wants to see me.”

~ ~ ~

Title: Ways To Tell You I’m Sorry – The Thirteenth Way: Loyalties

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 goes to see The Ash, who isn’t best pleased…

Author’s Note: Thanks for the awesome beta and advice. Truly appreciated. We’re heading towards the end of the fic now – not much longer, I promise, heh. Thanks so much for sticking with it this far.

The Thirteenth Way: Loyalties

heartsways

The Ash’s home was opulent in a way that spoke of his influence and standing within the Fae community. Lauren had often wondered why someone so intent on being undiscovered by humans would live in a mansion that was unashamedly obtrusive. It screamed the benefits of his accumulated wealth and his penchant for the finer things in life. He had a meticulous attention to detail and a taste for unapologetic luxury. It adorned the walls of his home and fashioned ornate staircases and balustrades into an external display of the esteem in which he was held. It bled into everything he did and owned: the carefully landscaped gardens surrounding the house, the works of art in his study, even the clothes he wore. He was a stickler for having everything in its place. This way of thinking also extended to the people under his protection and he ensured that places were kept with due attention. If they weren’t, then the consequences were always carried out with painstaking and terrifyingly adept attention, too.

Rules were rules, after all. And The Ash was a patient and fair being who was more than prepared to take the time to explain the rules. It was why he hadn’t killed Bo outright from the beginning. It was why he’d allowed Lauren to get close to Bo. And it was why he had called her in to see him and made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that his rules were the only ones that really mattered.

As she made her way up the long staircase towards his study, Lauren listened to the sound of her footsteps on stone, marking time. In some ways she felt as though that was all she’d done ever since she became a ward of The Ash. She’d just marked time and waited. Of course, she hadn’t been aware that she had been waiting, and her work – the sole purpose of her life – had been all–encompassing and made the passing of time almost irrelevant. But, like The Ash’s home, her life had been clinical and devoid of the emotion that she’d so recently discovered. She had found purpose, but it was cold and unforgiving.

Trapped in the strictures and rules of the world she had chosen, Lauren had become accustomed to restraint. To abiding by the decisions and demands of others. Individuality was afforded to few and she had abandoned hers when she had given her life over to The Ash. She wasn’t his prisoner, of course. At least, not in the conventional sense. She was permitted to move freely and live as normal a life as one could under the auspices of the Fae world. But sometimes she wondered if she was caged by the expectations he had placed upon her shoulders.

Reaching the heavy door to his study, she knocked and waited. A flash of fear made her heart race and brought a flush to her face. Bo had wanted to come with her – demanded it, in fact. Had it not been for Lauren’s entreaties she might have been standing here as well. But the doctor had been resolute and, this time, Bo had listened. The Ash wouldn’t take too kindly to Bo showing up at his mansion without an invitation. And with that gentle explanation, Lauren had indicated to Bo that her grace period with The Ash was liable to come to an end sooner or later. Marching into his study to defend Lauren’s honor – or lack of – would probably ensure that it was sooner.

The door opened and Lauren was ushered inside by an obsequious manservant who proffered her an appropriately tight–lipped smile that spoke of nothing more than the duty he performed. Once inside, he stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him.

The Ash sat behind a huge desk that was loaded with what he liked to call his ‘souvenirs’. Each one signified a victory, each one holding significance for the Fae. Lauren had never looked closely at them, but she knew even from a distance that what humans might call ‘antiques’ were very much a part of the present world of Fae law and order. A few she recognized from the books that The Ash had given her, others she could only guess at. But they belonged to The Ash, like she did, and he chose to display them as evidence of his great power. Or as a warning of it.

Stepping forwards, Lauren stopped short a few paces from the desk and clasped her hands together, looking down at the woven rug underneath her feet like a contrite child. The Ash leaned back in his chair and lifted his hands, steepling his fingers and touching them against his lips for a brief second.

“The Morrigan has been telling me stories about you,” he said, his voice quiet and yet seeming to echo with a cavernous sound.

Lauren’s chest froze, compacted into a tiny ball of terror that sat high up in her chest. It began to unfold, creeping around her heart as she looked up, blinking at The Ash.

“You don’t deny them.” It wasn’t a question; it was a statement of guilt. Lauren didn’t need to deny them because The Ash already knew she was full of iniquity. He could tell just by looking at her, at her slumped shoulders and the gaze that darted away from his every time he began to examine it.

“That would depend on what The Morrigan told you,” she made an attempt at bravery but failed miserably. She’d known this was coming. There had been an air of inevitability about her actions – about the deal she’d made with the Dark Fae. All along, she had felt herself rushing towards this moment; now that it was here she knew that its presence along the road she and Bo were traveling had been part of what made her so courageous. She’d just wanted to do one good thing before…before this. Before her motives and designs were uncovered and laid bare before her.

Glancing up at The Ash, Lauren summoned the last vestiges of the courage Bo inspired in her and stared him in the eye. “You know as well as I do that her word isn’t to be trusted.”

The Ash smiled mirthlessly, his lips stretching wide. “Child,” he said, his tone putting Lauren firmly back into her place once more. “What I know and what you know are lifetimes apart. Do not assume to tell me about The Morrigan. She and I have been adversaries since long before you were born.” He dropped his hands into his lap and nodded. “Long before any of you were born.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Lauren was breathless in apology.

“The Dark have suddenly acquired a great deal of medical research pertaining to the Fae. Research that was carried out in my lab. Do you know anything about that?”

His request for information was invalid; Lauren knew that any questions he was likely to ask were ones that had been answered already. But he wanted her admission of guilt. He wanted her pleas for forgiveness and leniency. He wanted her to show the loyalty she had pledged to him, not to hear the betrayal of excuses.

“I…” she hesitated. Anything she was likely to say would be insufficient. His eyes watched her carefully and he waited. Patience would always be his first strike. Anger? Anger came later.

“You gave them the research, didn’t you?”

“It was…I wanted to – ”

“You wanted?” His head jerked back on his neck and he paused, letting out a long sigh. Pushing his chair backwards, he stood and walked around the desk so that he was inches from her. His presence was always intimidating and Lauren couldn’t ignore the tremble that began at the back of her knees. The Ash was like an indulgent parent who let his children run so far before he had to take action and halt their progress. He looked at her now in the same way that that parent would – disappointment tugging at his lips and chagrin heavy in his eyes.

“Want is a very powerful emotion, wouldn’t you say?” he asked.

Lauren nodded dumbly and he moved around her, his eyes traveling up and down her body. When he stopped, it was in front of her, his imposing frame looming over her as though he was a giant. In essence, he was. He’d always been bigger than she’d imagined; always been darker than she’d suspected the Light could be. Despite her natural tendency to fear him, she lifted her chin and straightened her back, facing her fear with the grim acceptance of a condemned woman.

“Have I been cruel?” he asked, his voice dropping to a distant rumble of thunder on the horizon. “Have I not cared for you? Nurtured you? Given you what you needed?”

Again, he waited. And it was a long moment before Lauren could find the strength to speak. He had given her more than she dared dream of as a human doctor. He had elevated her to the heights of his world and held her close in his confidences so that she had become almost breathless with the knowledge he spread before her like a sumptuous banquet, inviting her to partake of it and gorge herself. And she had. She’d been a part of the Fae world for so long that to turn her back on it had barely seemed possible. And to turn her back on him? Heresy.

But that was precisely what she’d done. And in all her considerations before acting, Lauren realized that it was only now that she was able to grasp the full extent of what she had brought to pass. Her own fate, handed to her and slipping through her fingers like life’s blood, sticky with betrayal.

“I’m sorry,” she finally said. It was poor recompense for any traitor to offer.

The Ash’s mouth twitched, registering her paltry apology and he leaned in, frowning slightly. His eyes closed briefly as he hovered close to Lauren and she trembled, hands tugging against one another in an effort to calm her nerves.

Taking a step back, The Ash put his hands behind his back and linked his fingers, looking for all the world like the paternal authoritarian he had become in her mind. He sucked in a long breath and his lips turned downwards in distaste.

“She’s all over you,” he remarked. “You know that, don’t you?”

Swallowing, Lauren nodded again, catching her breath. He had encouraged her to cultivate a relationship with Bo. He’d even hinted at her making it into something more. But he hadn’t bargained for the workings of the human heart: its ability to love without reason and want without caution. In her darkest moments of contemplation, Lauren had wondered what was more disappointing – her inability to control love or the fact that she’d succumbed to it.

“I did it for her,” she said in a low tone. “I wasn’t trying to defy you.”

“And yet, you did.” The Ash’s voice was almost surprised and he lifted his chin, looking down at her imperiously. “You would sacrifice your loyalty to me, for her. What did you imagine would be the result of that?”

Lauren shook her head, mouth falling open. “I don’t…I don’t know,” she answered. Then, eyes widening, her gaze snapped up to meet his. “Please don’t hurt her.”

The Ash chuckled, a harbinger of the anger that was flashing through his eyes. He nodded and walked a few paces away, still laughing to himself before turning on his heel and fixing Lauren with a dark gaze. “If I wanted her dead, she would be by now,” he told Lauren. “Hurting her would cause you pain, is that right?”

Lauren gasped, her head suddenly filled with unimaginable terrors. All the things she’d sought to keep from Bo; all the things she’d tried to shield her from. All for nothing. If The Ash so wished, Bo would spend the rest of her life in torment. Lauren knew that living with that – knowing that she had been the inception of Bo’s pain would surely kill her. It would kill them both.

“Please, don’t,” she begged, turning to him. “I’m the one who went to the Dark. I’m the one who did this. Please don’t punish her for my failings.”

The Ash’s eyebrows rose as he caught the hushed tone of her voice and acknowledged her ownership of betrayal. Of all the things he might have anticipated, he hadn’t expected this. Such naked, raw emotion and the willingness to sacrifice one’s own existence for the benefit of another. A thousand years ago, he might have felt the tug of compassion in his chest; he might have been tempted to show lenience. But the passing of time and battle–weary political wrangles had left him cold. He had thought that Lauren might become that way too, given the care and attention he had lavished on her.

Apparently, he was wrong.

“You have put me in a very difficult position,” he said, watching two frightened eyes leap to his face. “Fae–owned humans have often sought to gain their independence and break the bonds of loyalty that connect them to us. But they never do. And do you know why? Because humans are dispensable. When one falls, there is always another to take its place. Always another willing soul to pledge fealty and give up their putrid existence in service of a higher power. You have walked a dangerous line with this Succubus, Lauren. And now I find that you choose her over me?” He shook his head almost sadly and let out a sigh of troubled contemplation. Of all his humans – all who had slaved for him over his long existence, Lauren had been a prize that he treasured. Perhaps, even, cared for. Which made this all the more difficult – for himself and for her.

“There is no place for love here. Not for you. And not with the Succubus.”

There was a part of Lauren that wanted to rail against him, to lunge at him and beat his chest with her fists, shouting her protest in the hopes that he might hear it. But she’d known all along that love, so elusive and precious, was also dangerous and doomed to hopeless trial in this world. Perhaps she had been caught in a flight of fancy – the imaginings of her loneliness besting her understanding of reality. Perhaps this had been her destiny all along, to love briefly and with the heat of a passion that couldn’t possibly sustain itself. Falling from grace had always been her greatest fear. Falling in love, impossible.

“Humans,” The Ash muttered to himself. “Always letting emotion guide them and throwing reason to the gutter.”

He walked towards her again and shook his head. “I’m disappointed in you, Lauren. More than you know. Hurting the child won’t bring you back to me.”

“Then tell me what to do!” Lauren pleaded. “Tell me how to make this right.”

“I can’t,” The Ash told her. “Only you can decide the true contents of your heart. My will always dictated your work here, but your own has been instrumental in discarding that. And yet…” He paused, ruminating with a frown digging deeply into his brow.

Hope flared like a flashfire in Lauren’s chest and she moved towards him, hands outstretched. “My work here,” she said slowly, “has been my life. All my life.”

“Ah, yes.” The Ash nodded and his expression relaxed slightly. “The life you once traded for another’s benefit. And now you are willing to do that again.” Softening, he shook his head sadly and turned a dark gaze onto her. “Lauren, you know I value you and the work you do. You understand how disappointed I am and how I am bound by Fae law to punish any and all dissenters.”

Lauren had read enough and seen enough to know that her life was meaningless to the Fae. Even if it was important to The Ash. But she had diminished that value by her own hand, attempting to break bonds that had been made in blood, love and faith. But if her reward was to be death, then it was a just and fitting punishment for the transgressions that had caused such disappointment on her mentor’s features.

The Ash let out an audible sigh and gazed across the room for a moment, taking in the shards of sunlight that broke through the heavy shades over the window. For a moment, they glittered and then disappeared, taking with them all of Lauren’s momentary hope.

“Punishing the Succubus would achieve nothing,” he said firmly, nodding to himself. “But punishing you…” his eyes raked over her again and his shoulders sagged momentarily, the only outward sign of the disappointment that had surprised him with its depth and strength.

“Well,” he continued decisively, “punishing you would send her a message that she’s likely to understand. She’s naive and foolish, but you aren’t. And I have no other choice but to make that clear in no uncertain terms.”

“I don’t understand…” Lauren felt terror and panic begin to rise in her throat and she swallowed hard in an effort to quell them.

“Your punishment is of your own making,” The Ash said carefully. “You will live or die by your own hand. If you live, then you may resume your work for me. If you die…” He shrugged and moved towards his desk, turning his back on her. Reaching for the telephone that lay next to a stack of books, he lifted the receiver and punched in several numbers. Whoever was on the other end of the line answered quickly and The Ash glanced over at Lauren before speaking. “Send him in,” he ordered, before replacing the receiver.

“You’re…you’re giving me a second chance?” Lauren wondered aloud, almost before she could stop herself.

“I’m giving you your will,” The Ash intoned, seating himself back into the huge chair behind his desk. “Let’s see what it’s made of, shall we?”

* * * * *

The door of The Dell banged against the wall with enough force to make Trick start. From behind the bar, the Fae rolled his eyes and sighed as he shoved bottles onto the shelves underneath it. He rarely kept the door locked. Most humans didn’t know where the bar was anyway, and he’d made it a rule to never deny a Fae entry to what he deemed the most impartial space in their world. But he didn’t much like being interrupted when he was trying to take stock and replenish the bar for another busy night. Glaring at the space above him, he didn’t really care who it was bursting into the bar. The mood he was in, he’d turn away Gaia herself right now.

“The bar is closed!” he yelled, getting to his feet and preparing to make short shrift of the intruder.

“Good,” Bo rushed across the floor and leaned over the bar towards him. “Because we don’t want a drink.”

Wiping his hands on a nearby cloth, Trick frowned at her. Her gaze was intense, eyes burning darkly in the pale, sharp planes of her face where concern had carved hard lines of undisguised care. He noticed how tense she seemed, her body taut and rigid against the wood of the bar. How her hands lay flat and hard on top of it. Mentally preparing himself, the Fae watched Kenzi move from behind her, meeting his gaze and shaking her head, wide–eyed. A thin line of panic crawled up his spine and he passed a hand over his chest as though he might be able to feel it there, itching to be exposed. Bo’s eyes glittered darkly and she jutted out her chin as he returned to look at her strained features.

“I need your help,” she said in a low tone.

Trick let out another sigh and threw the cloth in his hand down onto the bar. “I am not going to like this, am I?” he asked hopelessly.

“It’s The Ash,” Bo said, a muscle ticking high up on her cheek. “He’s got Lauren.”

He’d known this would happen. Deep down, he’d known since Bo had walked into their lives that they would come to this moment. It had only really been a matter of time before she encouraged one of them – all of them – to do something bordering on insanity. Succubi had a habit of attracting chaos and Bo was no exception, despite her claims to the contrary. In fact, the only thing that surprised Trick was that it had been Lauren who fell first, so quickly and so deeply that she had lost all ability to see the abyss itself. He’d tried to warn the doctor and yet a part of him had known even then that it would likely be to no avail and any warnings about the chasm opening beneath her feet would fall on deaf ears. The look in her eyes when she’d talked about Bo had told him that she was already in it.

“Of course The Ash has got Lauren,” he told Bo as she glared at him. “He owns her, Bo.”

Kenzi made a noise of sympathetic disapproval as Trick suddenly found himself almost eye to eye with a furious Succubus. Bo’s lip curled and she stared at him with such intensity that he found himself a little intimidated. That hadn’t happened in a long, long time. He felt the faint urge to smile. Bo was certainly living up to her reputation. Of course, she had no idea what that was – nobody save himself and Dyson did. But the eyes he was looking into were those of a warrior, of a fighter who had no will but her own. It was almost encouraging.

“You know I don’t believe in that,” she snarled.

“It really doesn’t matter what you believe,” he said calmly. “It only matters that she belongs to him. She’s his to do with whatever he wants.”

“Bullshit!” Bo exploded. “You know so much about the Fae, you must know a way out of it for her.”

Taking a step back, Trick shook his head and dropped his gaze. “For as long as she’s under his protection, he owns her. Not even I can find a way past that.” He glanced up to see Bo opening her mouth to protest and held up his hand. “You may not respect the way we live, but Lauren does. She gave herself over to The Ash and agreed to abide by his laws. By our laws.”

“This isn’t about respect!” Bo banged her hand down on the bar and slid away from it, folding her arms over her chest and shaking off the placatory hand that Kenzi placed on her elbow. “It’s about Lauren, Trick! I know you care, so don’t try to give me a bunch of Fae political bullshit and expect me to walk away. I can’t.” Her voice began to tremble and she clamped her lips tight shut and glowered at him.

“She knew what she was doing.” Trick attempted to be equivocal about it, but he knew that underneath the laws that bound him to his own kind, he did, in fact, care. Lauren wasn’t like other humans. She had not only entered into the Fae world but embraced it; her knowledge and understanding of it far surpassed that of most Fae he knew. But it was more than that: Lauren had immersed herself so fully into their existence that she had become a part of it. But in her efforts to protect Bo, Lauren had fallen foul of the most human of emotions that had ripped her away from the Fae. And he knew exactly how that felt. Over the thousands of years that the Fae had walked the earth, Trick had seen far too much love and loss, and borne the guilt of it on his shoulders every time.

As he watched, Bo began to pace restlessly, her boots thudding irritably on the floor, and he suddenly felt very old. Almost too old. The ways of his people were unkind to humans; the Fae were atavistic and harsh. Human life meant very little to them. And yet, to Bo, human life was more than a commodity; it was a precious facet of her own identity that she clung to with all the protective savagery of a proud lioness. He admired her for it, even if he recognized her naive compulsions for the uncontrolled rebellions that they were.

“Bo, it would be unwise for you to take on The Ash,” he warned, as Bo swung around and stared at him. “He’s too powerful for you,” he explained kindly.

“Yeah.” She nodded and walked back towards him, placing her hands onto the bar again and leaning over it. “But he’s not for you, is he?”

Trick let out a faint laugh and shook his head, eyeing Kenzi. “Has a little bird been tweeting in your ear?”

“Dude, like I would,” Kenzi said dismissively, but she avoided his gaze and suddenly found something fascinating on the floor by her feet, shuffling them together with a nervous shrug.

“Come on, Trick,” Bo pleaded, her voice dropping to a tone that allowed emotion to overwhelm ferocity, a discordant note of fear sounding through her words. Anger slid from her eyes and left in its place desperation; the need in her words palpable. “You have to help me. You have to help her. Whatever you know, whatever you can do, then please do it.”

“Bo…you have to understand. Lauren chose this. She chose to work under the protection of The Ash and to pledge loyalty to him, just as she chose to defy him and betray that loyalty. I can’t get in between that.” His tone was measured and he spoke quite deliberately, unsure whether she was even hearing him or not.

“You did it for Dyson.”

Both Trick and Bo gaped at Kenzi, who squirmed uncomfortably with their eyes fixed upon her face. She shrugged again, biting at her lower lip and wishing that the earth would open up and swallow her. She would have even settled for the whole ‘eyes of blood’ deal again – anything other than the dual gazes that were boring into her right now.

“What?” she said defensively, eyes widening. “You did!”

“That’s right!” Bo said, an enthusiastic note entering her voice. “You totally went up against The Ash for Dyson.”

Trick threw his hands up in the air and let out a noise of frustration. “He’s Fae! And he’s an old friend. We don’t defend humans.”

“Gee, thanks,” Kenzi spoke up, glaring at Trick and pushing her lower lip out in an affronted gesture.

He shot her an indulgent glance and sighed. She was right, though. For all his assertions about Fae law and the belief system that had nourished his sense of self throughout the centuries, he wasn’t immune to humanity. Nor was he intolerant of it, unlike many of his kind. If he thought about it with any semblance of logic, then his attachment to certain humans far outweighed his kinship with the Fae. He half–smiled at his own fallibility; at the little human who saw more than anyone suspected she could, and at the emotion that was clearly written all over Bo’s features. Despite his natural reluctance, he had an affinity for Lauren’s respect of the Fae, for her work with them and her devotion to the Light.

But more than that, he understood Bo’s inherent need to be Lauren’s savior. To protect, defend and cherish the one that she loved, it seemed, above all others. In his younger days, he had felt the rush of blood to the head that denoted unfathomable and unreasonable emotions and even if Bo didn’t realize it yet, she was aligning herself not with the Fae at all, but with the human part of her that had been cultivated and nurtured throughout her life away from his kind.

Whether he agreed with it or not, Bo’s importance to the Fae outweighed his own reluctance to act against The Ash on her behalf. Duty to legend and prophecy was, after all, ignorant of individualism and self–determination. So if he wasn’t prepared to save a human for altruistic reasons, he was prepared to save Bo for reasons that had existed long before she had. If he didn’t help her, then she’d go up against The Ash on her own and that, Trick mused, would wreak results of catastrophic proportions for them all.

“The Ash won’t appreciate me being involved in this,” he finally said hesitantly, seeing a glorious expression of triumph light up the Succubus’ eyes and bring a smile to her lips.

“Trick,” she said, curling her hands into fists and literally punching the air. “I could kiss you!”

“Hm,” he demurred, turning away so that she couldn’t see the pleased expression on his face. “That would probably be entirely counter–productive.” He made a show of wiping down the back of the bar and gathered his thoughts for a moment. Asserting his authority for another Fae was one thing. Doing it for a human was quite something else. And yet, in his heart he knew it was the right thing to do. If not for himself or Lauren, then for Bo and the future she had yet to shape for herself – for them all.

“I won’t forget this, Trick.” Bo’s voice was sincere with the warmth of gratitude and he couldn’t help turning and smiling at her, although his eyes were worried and all too aware of what he was about to do.

“Somehow I don’t think The Ash will, either,” he told her in a concerned tone. Attempting to shake off his apprehension, he jerked his head towards Bo and clasped his hands in front of him. Decisive. Authoritarian. The Blood King.

“Call Dyson,” he said bluntly. “We’re going to need him.”

~ ~ ~

Title: Ways To Tell You I’m Sorry – The Fourteenth Way: Punishment

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 is punished by The Ash and has only herself to rely upon.

Author’s Note: Thanks for the awesome beta and advice. Truly appreciated. This is not a pretty chapter, I’m afraid. Fair warning for angst and unhappiness.

The Fourteenth Way: Punishment

heartsways

She was cold. She knew she was cold because her brain screamed it into her senses. Because when she reached out, her hand touched the icy plains of a stone floor and she shivered and gasped, pulling it back to where it had been pressed against her stomach. The encroaching darkness had overtaken her efforts to stave it off and she was enveloped in it, smothered by the pitch that had taken away her light and covered her in a sweat of fear, beads forming on her brow and upper lip despite the shiver that crawled down her spine.

How long had she been here? Hours? Days? Longer? She couldn’t remember. And in not remembering, she only had more questions. Memories were indistinct, coming to her in fragmented pieces that she was unable to fit together into coherency. Like the brittle leaves of Fall, floating down around her to drift into a homogenous heap that was muddled and without true shape or form.

The Ash.

His face swam before her blind eyes, the look of resignation he’d given her before…this. Before nothing. Before the dark had overwhelmed her and blotted out pain.

Pain.

She clutched at her stomach again, fingers exploring the span of her torso, reminding her fevered brain that she was still corporeal. But the cold numbed her usually deft touch and she couldn’t identify where the pain began or ended, only that it was there. Everywhere. Here.

Her eyes were open – she brought her fingers up to her face and felt the flutter of eyelashes against her fingertips. But she was sightless in the absence of light, motionless in the blanketed still of the all–consuming night that had descended over her. She could recollect nothing after The Ash had meted out his sentence; nothing other than the Shaman entering his study, reciting the invocation of Eljudnir and a creeping cold that had chilled the very heart of her. After that? Despair: the onset of a numbing, visceral pain that had bitten at her with glacial teeth and a touch that turned every warmth to freezing tundra.

Trying to move her arms, Lauren flailed in the darkness, grasping at shadows that flitted past her fingers, taunting her with their insufficient forms, quickly engulfed by the pitch around her. Eljudnir came with the cold of winter and banished the light of summertime into a world of night. She couldn’t remember where she’d read that; couldn’t quite recall anything but the Shaman’s sonorous voice speaking the guttural, strange language of Old Norse.

“There are at least a dozen types of Fae associated with anxiety, despair, desperation, that kind of thing…”

And she knew them all by reputation, if not experience. She knew their place in Fae history, reaching back into the aeons that had existed long before humanity. The millenia of mythical creations that humanity preferred to ignore. How arrogant they were, she thought, to imagine that the world was created for them, when they were merely following in the footsteps of the Fae on paths that had been forged by terrifyingly beautiful creatures. How naive humans were, too, to think that they would be protected from them by rescinding reality into folkore and legends that kept children safe at night and monsters far from the door.

But you know we exist.

Her arm fell limply to her side and she stared ahead, holding her breath, listening intently. Sometimes the monsters crept inside. Sometimes they watched children as they slept and feasted on their dreams, replacing them with untold nightmares. Under Fae could never show their true faces – they infiltrated the human mind and gorged on the rich offerings they found there. Imagination and emotion, the wayward wanderings of the human self was their banquet and they lived only to lay waste to the mind and destroy what humans held most dear.

And you turned your back on that, didn’t you?

Again, Lauren caught her breath, staring into the darkness and straining to hear the voice, no more than a whisper, little more than a fleeting thought. Eljudnir. Hel’s hall. The Mist World created before time and the threshold to an eternity of suffering. It was the boundary of creation and damnation; a nowhere–land that hovered between life and death. A place where lost spirits surrendered to the failures of their lives and left behind all nobility and honor.

Now it was her prison.

* * * * *

Dyson shifted a little under the gimlet gaze of The Ash and looked away, down at the floor. He’d got them this far, but now he was uncertain of how to proceed. His relationship with The Ash had been frosty of late, to say the least. Ever since The Ash had wanted to hand him over to the Dark Fae, Dyson had found that his desire to prove his fealty was lackluster and filled with the kind of resentment that only he could harbor. It sat low in his gut, roiling with uncertainty and misplaced loyalties. He’d believed in the Light; he’d sworn to work for them and had carried out his oath time and again.

That promise wasn’t a two–way street, apparently. The Ash would have given him up without a fight, no matter what he had promised regarding ’due course’ and representation. Dyson understood little about the machinations and intricacies of The Ash’s plans, but he’d understood that having blind faith in them offered him precious little protection against the Dark. So as he he’d entered The Ash’s home, Trick by his side, there had been an irritable swiftness to his pace that had Trick literally trotting to keep up with him.

“To what do I owe the honor of a visit from The Blood King?” The Ash intoned, gaze sweeping from Dyson to Trick, lingering with an amused smirk on the bartender’s grave expression.

Trick bristled, but never took his eyes from the Fae Elder. He knew that The Ash called him that to goad him, reminding him of things past and put aside, but never forgotten. Their histories had been long and lurid, pitted with conflicts and decisions that had caused heartbreak and guilt. But Trick had walked away from his power, fearing that it would consume him and make him more despot than deity. The hardest choices had always been the ones that affected those under his care and protection; he had, over the course of a life longer than most of them could comprehend, come to realize that having the ability to make those choices wasn’t what he might choose for himself. So he had turned his back on his true nature and cast off his title, retreating from the political world of the Fae and creating the persona who tended bar and offered sage advice to its patrons.

The Ash had not.

The Light Fae, under The Ash, adhered to rules and policies that their leader deemed ’safe’. And throughout the years, the safety of the Fae and their disguise, hiding them from the human world, had become paramount. Those who failed to follow protocol were dealt with, by any means. Trick had seen the harmony he’d created become fractured, allegiances creating a divisive society that threatened the peace that had slowly begun to appear after centuries of bloodshed and feudal battle.

Trick wasn’t afraid of The Ash. He wasn’t afraid of much. He’d lived too long and seen too much to allow fear to threaten his own sense of wellbeing. But he remembered the expression on Bo’s face, the frustration she’d exhibited at being forbidden to accompany them and the threat sitting high on her cheeks in a crimson flush of uncontrolled passion. She loved Lauren, that was evident. And she had sworn to him in a low voice that if anything happened to the doctor, then she would unleash almighty hell on The Ash. Looking up at him now, Trick realized that he wasn’t afraid of The Ash at all. He was afraid for him.

Ignoring the Fae Elder’s barb, Trick stepped forwards and fixed The Ash with a firm stare.

“You have Lauren.”

The Ash’s gaze flickered at the sound of her name, but he remained impassive. “And?”

Trick smiled, but it failed to reach his gaze and sat stony and cold on his lips. “Don’t play games with me. I came here to get her and offer her sanctuary.”

“Sanctuary is a privilege of the Fae,” The Ash said, his eyebrows rising imperceptibly. “Lauren is a human. My human, as a matter of fact. I own her and she’s mine to do with what I please.”

“If you kill her, it won’t go over well in the community,” Trick said slowly, using the only bargaining chip he had without revealing Bo’s true nature and purpose. “She’s well respected among the Fae. And I know that you value her work.”

“Ah.” The Ash put his arms behind his back, clasping them together and straightening slightly, drawing himself up to his full height and towering over Trick. “The work that she handed over to the Dark Fae for a worthless piece of information, you mean? I won’t be held to ransom by meaningless threats. Especially not over a human.” He chose his words carefully, emphasizing each one in an attempt to reassert his power. But Trick noticed the careworn expression that flitted briefly over the Fae Elder’s features at the mention of Lauren, how he seemed to wrestle with an emotion he couldn’t name and didn’t want to.

“Her intentions were pure,” Trick folded his arms over his chest and stood his ground. “Don’t punish her for your own frailties.” He could see that he’d hit a nerve, and a muscle ticked high up on The Ash’s cheek as the Fae Elder’s jaw firmed in acknowledgement and barely disguised irritation. Trick smiled again, this time, a genuine smirk of victory.

“You have no power here, old man,” The Ash took a step forward and gazed down at Trick imperiously. Behind the bartender, Dyson shifted, instinctively protective and ready to defend The Blood King, if necessary. The Ash looked up at him, surprised.

“And you, Dyson,” he directed his ire towards the Fae he’d considered one of his most dedicated cohorts. “What do you care about Lauren’s welfare? She’s nothing to you.”

Dyson’s face darkened and he shook his head briefly. “It’s not her I care about,” he growled tersely. When Kenzi had called him, he’d expressed grave misgivings about this mission of madness. But by the time he’d arrived at the bar, Bo’s demeanor had shocked him. She was desperate, becoming unraveled and frantic. And, despite his indifference towards Lauren and his ingrained distrust of her involvement with The Ash, never mind her motives when it came to being with Bo, he’d seen something real in the Succubus’ dark eyes. Something undiminished by all the warnings he’d offered and the disappointments Lauren had delivered. Although Trick had explained what had happened in clear, urgent detail, it had been Bo’s distress that prompted him to be here right now.

Sticking it to The Ash was merely a welcome by–product of those actions, he thought grimly, with a tiny smile tugging the corner of his mouth. But it soon disappeared when he remembered how he had literally had to restrain Bo to stop her accompanying them – how she had railed against them both and threatened to rain down her own personal Armageddon on The Ash if he hurt so much as a hair on Lauren’s head. It had taken some persuasion on Trick’s behalf and a lot of strength on Dyson’s to convince Bo that caution was the better part of valor in this instance.

Looking at The Ash right now, Dyson’s mouth tightened. He wasn’t so sure caution would be enough for Bo when – and if – they returned to the bar with Lauren.

The Ash’s mouth tightened in recognition of all that was being said, and all that was omitted. Evasion was the way they communicated – all of them. The truth lay in repudiation and political preclusion. It was how he’d held on to his power all these years; how he intended to keep it, too.

“You can’t help her,” he told Trick, turning his black gaze onto the diminutive figure below him. “Her fate is in her own hands. Her own will to survive. I gave her the luxury of choice. Her reward, if you like, for what she did.”

Trick’s eyes widened and he lifted his chin, staring up at the Fae Elder with a heightened gaze of anticipatory alarm. “What have you done?” he asked.

* * * * *

A faint buzzing in her ears filled her head with confusion. The far–off whispers of lost souls crept down her spine with a torpid touch. Lauren hugged her hands to her chest, seeking body heat and comfort in the contact that had offered that very thing to so many. But, shivering, she felt nothing. No succor, no solace. Only the chatter of voices in the far–off corners of obscurity and the dank recesses of her mind that she’d tried so hard to escape.

There is no escape. Not from yourself.

“Who are you?” she cried out, her voice horribly loud and pained. It hurt her chest to speak, throat burning with the effort.

I’m you. I’m nothing.

Was it one voice, or many? Did it belong to the ether, or was it from inside her own head? Desperately, Lauren scrabbled at the floor beneath her body and tried to stand, but her legs were weak and her spirit beset by doubt. That alone was enough to make her fall. Doubt had never entered her life before; even when she’d given up everything she’d ever known – her tangible reality – she hadn’t doubted herself. But second guesses were always the ones that cut the deepest. Barely scraping the surface of her fears had been painful enough, but now she was brandishing a scalpel over her sense of self, plunging the blade in deeper and bleeding out around its sharp edges.

No.

Lauren clenched her teeth together and moved with difficulty, shoving herself backwards until she hit a solid wall. Slumping against it, she felt the chilled expanse on her back, searing through her body with an unrelenting onslaught of bitterness. This was her punishment for betraying The Ash; the only way to atone for her humanity was to lose it. He was the life–giver, his roots found above the emptiness of death, his limbs spread across the only world she’d known for much of her adult life. And now he had condemned her to this…this nothingness. Not even an existence anymore. He had returned her will and taken away everything else and now all that remained was her abject humanity, trapped between the walls of conviction and confusion.

She’d always been so strong – always had to be. It was the only way that she could navigate the perilous track of her life, isolating herself from the weaknesses that were always there at the back of her mind, ever–present and hard with indifference. But now they swarmed around her, scraping at her with sharpened talons and whispering lies in her ears. Courage was easy in the light. In the dark, bravery lay only in the cold facts that offered little protection from the fears that were unseen and unknown. Lauren felt alienated by them, set apart from the experience that other humans nurtured every day, stumbling through their lives without direction and form.

You chose that life. You isolated yourself. You only have yourself to blame for this.

“That’s not true!” she shouted. Blame was a shared burden, but her aching shoulders and hunched back suggested otherwise. She had blamed herself for losing her sister, for not being talented enough or good enough to save her. For giving up everything without consideration. For being alone and lonely. She had filled the aching maw of separation with a stoicism that had always been her touchstone, and it had given her some semblance of life, at least.

But you’re lost now.

Yes, she was. Utterly lost, spiraling down throughout her years of solitude without a foothold to break her fall and give her something…anything to cling onto. And around her, memories and people slipped by, blurred and indistinct as she was unable – forbidden – to connect to them and engender a realization of her place in the world. It was beautifully ironic, that only by engaging in feelings was she able to understand just how devastating they could really be. Lauren had always held them at arm’s length and dissected them until they were no longer dangerous, but now she too was no more than a sum of her parts, fatally splintered and steeped in the cold dread of acceptance.

You don’t have to feel. You only need to let go. Let it all go.

She started, lurching to one side as the whisper in her ear was loud and dissonant. It hissed with the seduction of release, the promise of relinquished pain. It was the temptation she’d never permitted herself to consider and the conscience that urged her to repent. She had removed herself from the world once before and closed her heart to the possibilities it craved. She had tried so hard to silence those possibilities, fought against them as though they were the very heart of darkness itself. And even now, in this place that offered her the peace of obliteration and the silence of nothingness, her heart still resounded in her chest and brought a sighing name to her lips. It slid from them covetously, drowning her in a sudden rush of emotion that quieted the insinuations in her ears for a fleeting moment.

Hope thrust a shard of sunlight into her chest and she pushed herself back up against the wall.

Bo.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Bo?” Lauren called out, straining towards the Succubus’ voice. But all that answered was the sound of her own cry, a taunting echo that resonated in the emptiness that rushed in to quiet her. And with it, the icy tendrils of fear, of failure, of love and loss. They swirled like a snowstorm around her head and plucked at her senses until she was disoriented at feeling so much, so quickly. Swaying, she clutched at herself again, curling her fingers into a fist and clenching it so tightly that she could feel her blunt nails digging into her palm. Her will was her own. And so was her heart, its tremulous pace keeping time in this endless void where time no longer existed. It was her only link to reality; the connection she had made and clung to in desperation and desire. But it was hers, and hers alone to want. Her will to sustain it and keep it alive.

Poor Lauren.

The voice came at her again, not like before. This time it was insistent, low with the thickness of mocking laughter and the cruelty of the facts that she had always relied upon to give her strength.

She will hurt you in the end. They always do. There’s a darkness inside her that not even you can cure.

“You’re wrong,” Lauren said, panic rising in her tone. There it was; the one emotion she’d resisted until now. It clawed its way up from her gut and lodged in her throat. If she were to give voice to it, it would overwhelm her completely. The fear of vulnerability and allowing herself to love someone terrified her. Because if she were to give herself to someone so entirely, then how could she ever mend what was broken?

You’re already broken. Can’t you feel the pain of it, Lauren. Don’t you already know that you’re beyond saving?

“No…” She shook her head, but the frost was hardening around her heart, chilling her blood and making her reactions sluggish and thoughts encumbered. Her will, always her greatest strength, was sliding from her as surely as the sun slipped behind the horizon, allowing night to take its place. With it came hurt and the fear that she’d resisted for so long. But now her arms were wrapped around her body as a paroxysm of agony seared into her stomach. Bending over at the waist, she cried out, biting at her lower lip and squeezing her eyes tight shut in an effort to breathe through it.

Hurts, doesn’t it? And you’ve kept it inside for so long, Lauren. Don’t you want to be rid of it?

She did. Eljudnir was the realm of those who chose to die; the final barrier where lost souls disappeared into an eternity of wandering the netherworlds. She remembered reading about Fallandaforad – the fall to peril. And hadn’t she been doing that ever since she’d met Bo anyway? Crossing the threshold seemed only a matter of course now. She had betrayed the one who had given her a new life and failed the one who had given her a new love. There was nothing left now, only the dark and the pain…oh, the pain. Doubled over, Lauren let out a whimper and pressed her hands against her stomach again as though it could ease the convulsive pain there, stabbing at her senses. Stabbing at her conscience. It was as though the guilt she carried within was tearing its way out of her, ripping her apart from the inside out, laced with despair and regret.

The fall to peril. Falling in love. It was one and the same now.

Yes. You knew that. And you let it happen anyway because you wanted this all along. An end to pain. An end to grief. No more waiting, Lauren.

She was fading. Even in the pitch black, she knew that her will was weakening; her resolve to stay alive subsiding only to be overwhelmed by the pain that was, it seemed, everywhere. It raged through her veins, replacing warmth with cold; hope with despair. And the Mist World gaped before her, opening up to enfold her in its black emptiness. Perhaps this was always meant to be; perhaps this was always destined to be her fate. Not one that she created for herself, but one that was a preordained consequence of her emotional isolation from the world. And from Bo.

Bo.

Again, the name brought a flare of hope to her chest, but the heavy weight of years of hurt smothered it and the flame went out as briefly as it had appeared.

She can’t save you. You’re not like her. You’re not like them. You never will be. How can she ever love you?

Lauren lifted her head and looked into the expanse of darkness around her, wildy searching for some sort of recompense, a reason to believe, a reason to stay.

She was met only with the heavy air that whispered around her, trailing lies across her shoulders and sighing the seduction of oblivion into her brain. Lauren had always sworn to herself that she would bend for the Fae, but that they would never break her. Life had already done that in so many ways, anyway. When she had become a ward of The Ash, she had stiffened her resolve and remained aloof, stoic, untouchable.

But love had torn away any semblance of that and had led her here, to the place where capitulation drained will. If she’d believed herself worthy; if she’d considered that Bo might return what she had given so freely – so foolishly – then she might have had enough faith to get to her feet. Her fall to peril was a fall from grace – from the delicacy and intricacy of her relationship with The Ash; from his tutelage and knowledge that he had seen fit to impart to her. From all the things that were once so important, now ransacked and overturned by an emotion that she had failed to resist. And grace was a distant memory in her frenzied brain now, delirium overtaking reason and urging her to submit.

Throwing back her head, Lauren screamed into the darkness. One long keening wail that escaped from her lips before she finally, gratefully surrendered to the dark.

* * * * *

“Lauren broke her pledge to me by going to the Dark without my knowledge.” The Ash’s voice was harsh and he frowned at Trick. “What other option did I have but to punish her accordingly?”

“What have you done?” Trick demanded, his voice stentorian and abrupt.

The Ash lifted his head, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. He shrugged slightly, shadows flitting through his gaze. “She wanted to assert her will. So I allowed her the opportunity to do that. She’s in Eljudnir and only her own will can keep her from Niflheim.”

“Niflheim?” Dyson’s head jerked forwards and he frowned, glancing down at Trick.

“The Mist World,” Trick explained. “One of the primordial realms. It’s where we go if we fail to die a hero’s death.”

“Nice,” Dyson muttered, scratching at his chin. The Ash smiled at him and tilted his head onto one side, looking curiously at the Fae with renewed interest.

“Better the realm of ice than the world of fire,” he said with a satisfied smirk. “She’s always been rather… cold–blooded, don’t you think, Dyson?” He even had the temerity to chuckle before Trick stepped forwards, his figure almost overshadowed by The Ash’s looming presence. But Trick was no stranger to this; he’d met The Ash in combat before, both verbal and physical. The power of the Light Fae carried no threat to him and he steeled himself, meeting the Fae Elder’s eyes with a look that resonated ancient power, crackling suddenly between them with intensity.

“Where. Is. She?” Trick forced out. “You might own her, but if she dies, you may find that your position becomes untenable.”

“Threats, old man?” The Ash let out a burst of laughter that rocked his head back on his neck. “I merely gave her a choice. If she chooses to live, then she may resume her work under my protection. If she chooses to die, then her blood will be on her own hands. Not mine.”

“And what about your blood?” Trick asked. “Whose hands will that be on?”

The Ash smiled indulgently, ignoring the pang of concern that squirmed at the back of his mind. “You’re wasting time. She’s a human. I’ve always found their resolve quite easy to break. I’m certain that this,” he reached around from behind his back and gestured almost carelessly at Trick and Dyson, “is already too late.”

From behind the heavy doors of The Ash’s study, there came a horrifying sound. A cry of pain, so primal and unfettered that Dyson winced and held a hand to his ear. His startled gaze met that of Trick’s, mirrored in solemn eyes and a pale expression. They moved at the same time, throwing themselves towards the door under the watchful eyes of The Ash.

“Dyson! Help me!” Trick gasped, grabbing at the door handle and finding himself unable to open it. A pair of strong hands reached down over his own and a firm shoulder thudded against the wood as Dyson flung himself against it. It shuddered, but didn’t open and Trick let out a noise of sheer frustration, reaching for the handle again and even pounding his fist against the ornate woodwork.

Dyson growled, baring his teeth and shoving Trick unceremoniously to one side. Squaring his shoulders, he hunkered down and rushed at the door, a cry of pain escaping his mouth in a howl as he made contact. The doors groaned, wood screaming before it splintered around the lock and the entrance to the study flew open.

Panting, Dyson crossed the threshold and looked around the room, his eyes still glowing yellow, lip curled back over protruding incisors. His gaze flashed around the room, taking in the luxurious furnishings, the artwork, the garnish of a life that The Ash had created for himself. But it was only when he turned to the far corner that he stopped dead in his tracks.

“Trick,” he said in a low voice. “Trick, come here. Now.”

As the bartender moved to his side, both pairs of eyes roamed slowly over the figure in the corner of the room, crooked and slumped against the wooden paneling on the wall. Lauren’s hands were pressed against her stomach, smears of blood over their backs, scarlet against the pale white of her skin. Eyes closed, her head lolled to one side and the color was visibly draining from her cheeks as Trick ran across the room towards her.

Dyson was frozen to the spot. He’d never seen the doctor like this before. And for all the dissembling characteristics he’d attributed to her true nature, he felt a dread cold inch up and down his spine, spiraling something akin to shame into his brain. She looked dead. He sniffed the air surreptitiously and blinked, trying to discern what it was he could smell. Nothing. He couldn’t smell a thing apart from the traces of panic, fear and desperation. And even they were fading as he moved to stand behind Trick, crouched by Lauren’s body.

“Is she…?” he left the question lingering in the air as Trick leaned forwards and pressed two fingers against Lauren’s neck, narrowing his gaze as he concentrated intently.

“Sssh,” Trick hissed, peering into Lauren’s face and grimacing at the trails of blood that were even now beginning to dry and crust around her nostrils and on her upper lip. Pressing his fingers just under her jawline, he closed his eyes and offered up a silent evocation to any deity that might be listening. Even himself.

And then, there it was. A faint fluttering that was barely present, moving randomly and without regularity under his touch. But it was there. She was alive.

Raising his eyes heavenward, Trick muttered silent thanks, his lips moving soundlessly over the words. His hand moved briefly over her cheek, palm resting there and warming the cold flesh under his skin. She was alive. Barely, but alive.

Turning, he looked up at Dyson, frowning a little as he observed the myriad of expressions flooding the cop’s face. He’d known Dyson for a long time, longer than it was possible for anyone but a Fae to comprehend. And in all that time, he’d never seen Dyson so conflicted over a human. The cop might not think much of humans – and even less of Lauren – but as he stood in the middle of the room, Trick swore that he could see compassion, the hardest of emotions, flicker across Dyson’s face and through his eyes.

Returning to Lauren Trick patted her cheek again gently, whispering soothing words as he leant forwards and moved some hair away from her face. Lauren might be human, but, he realized, she was more Fae than any human he’d ever known in his long life. And he’d lived enough to know that that counted for more than any of his kind might understand.

Standing up, he swung around and stood up, catching Dyson’s eye and letting out a sigh of concerned relief.

“We need to get her back to The Dell,” he said firmly. “She hasn’t got long. Bo will want to see her.”

He took a pace backwards as Dyson moved in without preamble, leaning down and scooping Lauren up into his arms, lifting her from the floor and cradling her against his chest. He gave a curt nod to Trick, who led him out of the study with his precious cargo into the corridor outside, where The Ash waited.

“You may live to regret this, old man,” The Ash warned as they passed him, but he made no attempt to delay their progress as they headed down the corridor towards the stairs.

Reaching the top of them, Dyson began to descend with careful, measured steps. Trick turned and fixed The Ash with a baleful glare. All their history bled into his gaze and he puffed out his chest, feeling seniority and power flood through his veins, seductive and tempting as it was.

“I only hope you don’t live to regret this,” he answered in a measured tone. “For your own sake, hope that she lives.”

~ ~ ~

Title: Ways To Tell You I’m Sorry – The Fifteenth Way: Resolution

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: The ramifications of Lauren’s punishment are made clear…

Author’s Note: Here it is - the FINAL CHAPTER! I know, at last, right? Heh. Thanks for all who helped with this (you know who you are) and provided cheerleading along the way.

The Fifteenth Way: Resolution

heartsways

The Dell was an instantaneous flurry of activity from the moment Trick and Dyson burst through the door. Trick had closed the bar to any potential witnesses and it had remained eerily quiet while Kenzi and Bo waited, the former chewing at her nail and resisting the urge to break open a bottle of Buckthorn mead, the latter pacing from one side of the bar to the other in agitation and impatience, heavy booted footfalls marking time.

The first thing Bo saw was Lauren, limp and immobile in Dyson’s arms, a blanket covering her body. The second thing she saw was Lauren’s hand falling from underneath the blanket, bloodied streaks marring the porcelain skin and making it appear gray and lifeless. Her heart, almost bursting from her chest in a rush of anxious terror, pounded unforgivingly against her ribs. Exchanging an anguished glance with Kenzi, Bo followed Dyson down into the depths of Trick’s bar and watched as he tenderly lay Lauren onto the chaise longue in the basement room. He shot the doctor a sympathetic glance, touching her elbow with his hand before climbing the stairs back up to the bar above.

Trick lingered, hovering around Lauren and wiping at her nose and face with a damp cloth. Bo was struck by how attentive he was, how his mistrust of humanity and his cynicism and realism about the world seemed irrelevant now. She watched as he cleaned the blood from Lauren’s face to the best of his ability, finally laying the cloth down by the chaise longue and tucking the blanket more firmly around the doctor’s body. When he was satisfied, he straightened up and moved backwards a couple of paces, gazing down at Lauren with sorrowful eyes.

Finally, and all too soon, he turned to Bo and let out a short sigh, his eyes downcast. She could tell from his stance that the prognosis wasn’t good. And as he lifted his hands in the air and let them drop down by his sides, she felt her heart lurch in her chest.

“Trick,” she said, her tone low and concerned. “Come on, Trick. She’s okay, right? I mean, she’s going to be okay?”

She wanted platitudes. She wanted his calming smile and words that would soothe the clattering of her heart against her ribcage. But there was worry in his eyes and he hesitated before meeting her gaze. When he did, his eyes were gray with the sorrow of one who has seen everything and changed nothing. It sent a chill of fear down her spine and she lurched forwards.

“Is it… is it bad?”

He looked down at the floor again and shook his head. “I don’t know. She’s hurt, and not just physically.” He cast a look at the doctor, his face lined and carrying an expression of tempered fear. “The Ash gave her the choice to stay in this world or to leave it. But fear is a powerful and persuasive motivator and… I don’t know, Bo. We might have been too late.”

“No!” Bo pushed past the bartender and knelt down by the side of the chaise longue, reaching out and smoothing strands of hair back from Lauren’s brow. Her hands trembled as she touched the other woman and she bit at her lip, feeling a sudden rush of panic and longing clench at her chest. “Come on, Lauren,” she urged in a low voice. “It’s me, it’s Bo. Come on, wake up. Wake up!”

Trick placed his hand on Bo’s shoulder. “I'll be upstairs if you need me.”

“What?” Bo stood and spun around, eyes flashing with a powerful mixture of fear and frustration. “That’s it? You’re just going to leave her there?” Her voice rose in disbelief as her chin jutted forwards accusingly.

“Bo,” Trick said gently, feeling the guilt of thousands of lives he hadn’t saved rest on his shoulders, sagging them under its weight. “Wherever Lauren is, she’s beyond me. I'll see if I can find any information that might help, but you have to realize, the only person who can bring her back is… well, her.”

The Succubus let out a noise of frustration and flung her hands into the air. “Not helpful, Trick! What kind of power is it you have if you can’t help her?” She knew she was being ungrateful. Unreasonable, even. But the same panic that lifted her tone sat high in her chest, roiling acid in her throat and burning it with fear.

Trick hung his head for a moment. The lives he couldn’t save far outweighed the lives he could. Every face, every cry of pain was etched into his memory as clearly as the body of the doctor in front of him. And it had pained him as much then as it did now, pulling at the edges of his scars as though threatening to tear open those half-healed wounds once more.

Lifting his gaze, he frowned into the naked, raw expression on Bo’s face and shook his head. “I'll do everything I can,” he told her. It was a paltry source of comfort, barely even beginning to assuage the desperation on the Succbus’ face, but she relented, hands dropping to her sides.

“Talk to her,” Trick urged. “Let her know you’re here. Give her a reason to stay.”

His tone was low, his meaning implicit. He cast one final look at Lauren before heading towards the stairs, leaving the Succubus alone with the doctor and an overwhelming sense of futility. Turning back towards the chaise longue, Bo sat down beside Lauren and took one of the woman’s hands in her own, tracing the lines of it with her fingertips. She could feel the inherent beauty of the woman in the delicate sculpture of bone, flesh, blood. Lauren was so strong, so capable. Seeing her like this was enough to break Bo’s heart. The doctor’s skin was so pale it was almost white, her cheeks streaked with traces of blood, lips taking on an ominous darkened hue.

Pulling the blanket from the body underneath it and gently pushing aside Lauren’s jacket, Bo grimaced as she saw the patches of blood seeping through the shirt underneath. Tentatively, she undid the buttons there and parted the material, reaching for the cloth that Trick had used and pressing it against the wounds on Lauren’s stomach. They were mysterious, seemingly having no cause and no source. The blood came from nowhere that Bo could discern, but it was apparent nonetheless, droplets forming underneath her fingers as she dabbed with the cloth.

“You know,” she said softly, pressing the cloth over Lauren’s stomach and glancing up at the doctor’s face, “in these sorts of situations, the first person I’d go to would be you.” She let out a sad laugh and shook her head, trailing her fingers down Lauren’s cold cheek. “You gotta help me out here, Lauren. Come on… tell me what to do. Please… ”

Her voice left her as she felt tears prickle at the back of her eyes. Angrily, she scrubbed at them with a resentful fist, shaking them off with a defiant toss of her head. But it was to no avail. Lauren lay still beneath her, body limp and unresponsive. And Bo’s heart ached so much that the Succubus wasn’t certain that she could bring it to bear this loss. Of all the human lives she’d taken with her uncontrolled powers and insatiable appetite, none of them had ever been given freely. But this woman… her gaze drifted over Lauren’s features and she bit back a sob that rose in her throat. This woman had willingly sacrificed herself for Bo. Lauren had stepped into the mire of madness knowingly and completely aware of the consequences. And Bo had let her.

“I should have gone with you,” the Succubus muttered, her thoughts sliding from between her lips. “I should have gone with you to see The Ash. I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry.” She patted uselessly at Lauren’s cheek once more with trembling fingers and felt the skin beneath her touch: cold and lifeless.

Her hand slipped from Lauren’s face and she curled it into a fist. If she possessed the power to fight this - if she could summon up enough strength to make this right - then she would without second thought. But her abilities were useless. All she did was take from people; all she had ever done was take from people. And she’d taken from Lauren, too, draining emotion from the doctor like it was the very energy on which her Succubus self was sustained.

Energy.

Sustinence.

Healing.

Bo’s mind was suddenly full of memories of Saskia. The other Succubus had given her own energy to a human, the life force that he needed to bring him back from the brink of death. It had been astonishing to see the transfer of chi; to know that the being who could take a life might also bestow it. Bo’s gaze travelled slowly down over Lauren’s face and she leaned in, hesitantly pressing her lips against the chilled ones beneath her.

She really wasn’t sure how this would work. If it would work. It didn’t help that, despite her desperate need to make this better - make Lauren better - her mind was unfocused, frayed by distress and panic. Closing her eyes, Bo tried to concentrate. Give Lauren what she needs, she told herself. Give her the only part of you that you can right now.

For a moment that stretched like an aching eternity there was nothing, and the heavy, choking weight of failure was just beginning to press around Bo’s heart when a thin stream of wavering energy passed from between her lips. Her heart leapt and she tried harder, feeling the spark glimmer between them for a brief, shining moment before it dissipated and vanished completely.

Jerking back, Bo stared down at the woman on the chaise longue with frightened, curious eyes. “Lauren?” she said, her voice low and intimate, thickened by the aftertaste of her own life’s essence still in her mouth. But the doctor remained beyond her reach and Bo let out a noise of utter frustration, closing her eyes and feeling despair creep towards her, enveloping hope, that last bastion of love. The Morrigan’s story about her origins may have been fabricated, but Bo was sure that deep inside she was flawed. Broken beyond repair. Because if she wasn’t evil, then how could this have possibly happened? How could the one thing she wanted more than anything else be taken from her in this way? And how could she be so powerless to do something truly good for another being?

Dropping her head into her hands, Bo cursed herself for all that she was and all that she couldn’t be. What was the use in having abilities if they failed her when she needed them the most? The simple truth was that without Lauren’s guiding force, without her care and concern and love… yes, love. Without that, Bo felt her life yawning ahead of her; empty and joyless. They’d barely begun at all and now here they were, already at the end.

A sound reached her ears and stemmed the tide of tears behind her fingers. A sharp intake of breath, rasping and uneven and a twitch from the body next to her legs. And then, her name, floating up from parched lips, almost inaudible and barely there at all.

Snatching her hands from her face, Bo’s eyes flew open and she stared down at the woman below her. Lauren’s eyes flickered, moving rapidly under their lids as though she was attempting to wrest herself from a nightmare.

“Lauren?” Bo said again, heart beginning to hammer unrelentingly in her chest. “Lauren… Lauren?” Her hands moved to either side of the blonde’s head, terrified to touch, barely able not to. She wanted to shake Lauren awake, wanted to scream and shout but dared not for fear that what she was seeing and hearing wasn’t real but instead a product of her fetid imagination. Patience, never her strong point, forcibly stayed her impulses and she caught her breath, almost afraid to even breathe lest the signs of life below her should disappear, or that patience would give way to the incessant panic pounding at the back of her brain.

Letting out a faint groan, Lauren’s eyes opened and she blinked, looking up at the hazy vision above her until it slowly came into focus. For a long moment, she simply gazed up at the Succubus, eyes clouded and distant. Then her mouth opened and she drew in a breath with some difficulty.

“Bo?” Her voice was little more than a hushed sigh.

“Yes! It’s me, I’m here!” The Succubus pressed her palm against Lauren’s cheek and leaned in closer, gulping over her sobs of joy, of pain, of thanks.

Lauren smiled, her mouth moving over the gesture slowly, as though the flesh could barely contain it. She let out a long breath that hissed over her lips and pulled them into a grimace as she gasped, pain evident in her eyes.

“Sssh,” Bo urged. “Don’t try to talk.” She patted Lauren’s cheek tentatively, holding onto the fragile splinters of hope that had begun breaking through the ice around her heart.

“I… was… ” Lauren closed her eyes briefly and sucked in a sharpened breath of pain, her hand inching over her stomach where blood had soaked through the cloth laid there by Bo only minutes before. “I… was dreaming… ” she said, her voice hoarse. “About you… ”

“Yeah?” Bo laughed, but it was strained and thickened by the swelling in her throat. “Dreaming about me? You looked like you were having a nightmare. Trying to tell me something?” Her attempt at humor sat heavy and morose on her lips, but Lauren smiled anyway and even tried to let out a laugh. As it turned into a cough and the doctor clutched at her stomach again, Bo’s face became lined with worry once more.

“Okay, no laughing,” she said sternly, frowning down at Lauren. “No - no talking, no laughing, just healing, alright? You’re going to be okay, Lauren. You’re going to be fine.” But she knew that, despite her assertions, forced out through gritted teeth, Lauren wasn’t okay. Not anywhere even in the remote vicinity of ‘okay'.

“I’m a… a doctor,” Lauren said, before her voice descended into a groan and she squeezed her eyes shut in an effort to stem the pain in her stomach that rippled out throughout her entire body. With some difficulty, she opened her eyes again and offered a conciliatory smile to the Succubus, acquiescent of her own fate and the encroaching mists of abeyance that were clouding her vision. “It’s not… not going to be fine, Bo.”

“Don’t say that!” Bo’s voice hardened, tense with anxiety that sharpened the planes of her face. “You have to stay with me, Lauren. I… I need you.”

“I’m so tired… ” Lauren breathed, her eyes glassy, becoming sightless as she looked up at the Succubus. “But I have to… have to tell you,” she began, and then stopped as a fresh wave of pain flooded her body, swelling nausea into her throat and making her gasp.

Bo shook her head and leaned down, stroking her palm down Lauren’s cold cheek. “No, you don’t have to tell me anything,” she said firmly. “It can wait. You just need to focus on getting better, okay? On staying with me. Please, Lauren.”

The doctor smiled, her hand creeping up her body to grasp at Bo’s where it lay against her face. The Succubus took it between her own and pressed against the clammy skin, as though the contact of her flesh could bring scant warmth to the chill of Lauren’s fingers.

“Listen… listen to me,” the doctor insisted, gathering strength from the furthest recesses of her entire being. Her fingertips curled around Bo’s and she almost smiled ruefully. She hadn’t anticipated this. Not any of it. Not the lengths she’d gone to, nor the dizzying heights to which she’d been propelled by allowing Bo into her life. Into her heart. Her life had always been a straight line, never deviating from her purpose or the path that she had chosen by serving The Ash. But now that line had swerved off course, and she with it, so that she was disoriented and lost. All she wanted to was to find her direction again, to make amends and follow her path into the inevitable darkness that was at her back, rolling like an endless ocean and dimming her vision with each surge towards a distant shore.

“I want you to know,” Lauren said quietly, drawing Bo down towards her with a weak tug on their joined hands. “I’m sorry - ”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Bo’s mouth formed a grim line below her red-rimmed eyes, tears forming anew in their corners.

“I’m sorry,” Lauren continued with a feeble smile, “that I never told you before. I was afraid.”

Shaking her head in denial, Bo was once again powerless to dam the tears that escaped from her eyes as she rubbed at Lauren’s hand with her own. “I know, I know.” She shook her head. “I was afraid too but we’re together now. You don’t have to be afraid anymore. I’m here, and you’re here and you don’t need to be scared.”

The brown eyes below her closed momentarily as Lauren clenched her teeth over another surge of pain. It brought a strangled cry from her throat and she tried - and failed - to swallow it. Bo could only watch helplessly as the doctor tensed, her body attempting to resist and finally, achingly, sinking back against the chaise longue as the pain ebbed away.

“Bo.” Lauren opened her eyes and looked up at the Succubus. “I’m not scared any more.”

All the things they’d hidden from one another, the barriers between them and the distance keeping them apart slid away. Truth, Bo realized, was contained in the eyes that stared into her own. In the fingers curled around hers and the curve of Lauren’s mouth, working over words that she needed to say. Nothing existed between them any more but this - this moment of undisguised honesty. And it was as raw and visceral as the pain etched deep onto Lauren’s face. As the sharpened edges of the emotion cutting through her heart.

“I love you,” Lauren said, sighing deeply with the relief of unburdening, with the joy of confession. “I’ve loved you for… for a long time… longer than you know.”

She pressed her lips together as another wave of pain spread through her body, face distorted into lines of agony. Gasping as the last vestiges of strength and the will to remain began to ebb from her body and mind, she shook her head and looked into the face above her. She didn’t want Bo to remember her like this, defeated and so helpless. She didn’t want Bo to hear these words from a life that was almost over, struggling to cling to the last few moments of consciousness this way. This wasn’t what she wanted at all. Despite her efforts to be strong for Bo’s sake, if not her own, a tear slipped from Lauren’s eye and began a traitorous path down her face.

In the moments between hearing and knowing, Bo’s heart leapt in her chest, heightening her senses and drawing her closer to the other woman. She leaned down, her face almost touching Lauren’s, their hands clasped between them, Bo afraid to let go lest she should lose the feeling, the moment, the words she’d longed to hear.

“Don’t you do this!” she begged. “Don’t you tell me that and then leave me! You have to fight, Lauren. Fight it! Stay with me!” Bo knew that taking up arms against this invisible opponent was a fool’s cause. Lauren’s weary, wry smile only confirmed that this particular battle had already been fought. And lost.

Lauren let out a rasping sigh, sinking back onto the chaise longue as though the effort of giving voice to her feelings had released their power over her. For a moment, she wondered in the obscurity of her mind if this was her own road’s end. If surrender had clashed with inevitability and any thoughts of battle were no more than a distant cry on the horizon. Oblivion rushed towards her, wresting her from this world and thrusting her towards the next with a dizzying sensation that she was too weak to resist. Her will, that indefinable thing that she had given freely of was fractured; she knew it in the same moment that she knew that love was the only risk she had taken. Lost in the uncertainty of emotion and the sacrifices she’d made to indulge it, Lauren felt herself drift, floating away over the threshold that would both release and claim her. A parting of the ways, in time and in her heart. She heard herself whispering goodbye as the freezing mists wrapped around her, tugging her under a wave of icy numbness and drowning her in submission. As her eyes slipped shut, bringing darkness to her world once again, she felt a fleeting regret that she hadn’t been able to see Bo smile one last time, or to feel the lurch of pleasure when they kissed, or a thousand other simple emotions that had seemed so infinitessimal at the time, and yet now seemed more important than everything.

“No… no, no, no!” Bo grabbed Lauren’s shoulders and pulled the other woman up into her arms, cradling Lauren’s head with her hand. “Don’t you dare!” she cried at the pale face beneath her. Hysteria quickened her movements and she pressed her mouth to the other woman’s in the hopes that she might respond as she had done before. But the body in her arms was lifeless, the soul that had lent it such fire shrouded in deathly white and slipping away before Bo’s very eyes. Leaning down again, Bo covered Lauren’s face in a benediction of kisses that covered eyes, brow, cheeks before she found the doctor’s mouth once more and embraced it with her own.

It felt almost too much. Too little. And the distance between not enough and more than she’d ever wanted was widening, a gaping chasm of loneliness opening up beneath her and yawning wide enough to swallow her whole, should she let it.

She wouldn’t.

She couldn’t.

It would not end like this.

And so she thought of Lauren. From the very first moment they had met, when in a room of hostile strangers the doctor had treated her with kindness, dignity and truth. She thought of enigmatic smiles and serious passion and the exquisite beauty of Lauren, open and vulnerable and glorying in Bo’s touch. And as intent began to shine blue in her eyes, Bo allowed emotion to guide her. It brought a sighing moan from her mouth and fluttered her eyes shut for a moment, her heart beginning a newer pace that strode through her whole body and brought it alive with heat and passion, surging hope into her touch and power into her kiss.

Desire flowed through her like a flame, licking at every part of her body and capturing each nerve ending, heating it and giving it life. It fled into her chest, echoing through the vast expanses of her heart, booming in the caverns of her lungs and filling them with more than she’d ever thought possible for one being to contain. Its luminosity burned in her eyes and she became a pyre of want, a conflagration of need. It consumed her, making her kiss the embers of a newer flame, catching on Lauren’s mouth and taking hold, spreading warmth where there was once only cold.

Lauren shifted underneath her, and Bo increased her grip on the other woman, fingers pressing against Lauren’s scalp with the promise of never letting go. Everything she felt poured from her into Lauren’s mouth; a shining, incandescent stream of all that had passed between them and all that ever would. Giving herself over to it, Bo opened up her heart and soul so that the restraint and caution that had darkened her feelings for so long were banished by the light that shone from her eyes. From the sheer will to keep the emotion between them alive.

In the bitter cold that called her and claimed her, Lauren felt light move across her skin. It grew, like the dawn of a newer day and brought with it a warmth that she thought she’d never feel again. Reaching over the horizons of her bleakness, it laid waste to the icy pitch and moved towards her like a brush fire set loose on the prairie. There was light everywhere, bursting with electricity across her, through her, in her. Like liquid sunlight, it flowed through every cell of her body, exploding with white sparks that blinded her and dragged her out of the mist. And with it, a honeyed sweetness that tasted of lustrous power and radiant desire.

Heart aglow, Lauren was thrown back into the waking world, her body arching like a strung bow under the hands and lips of the woman above her. As Bo drew back, Lauren gasped, breathing in the emotion that came from the Succubus, undiluted and exposed in disquiet and raw potency. Her eyes flew open, wide and astonished as reality closed in around her, dragging her towards it with fingers of unrelenting consciousness. A dizzying sensation accompanied it as Lauren spiraled back towards life, clutching at her chest and trying to define the buzzing that emanated from it.

Blinking, Lauren stared up at Bo, hovering over her with an expression of terrified delight on her features, as though the Succubus could barely believe her eyes. Her mouth opened, but the doctor said nothing, instead frowning and allowing her gaze to roam around the room, taking in her surroundings as her mind registered them, quantified them and ratified them as true. Knowledge - the one thing she had always relied upon - spilled into her brain with an uncontrolled torrent of being, of living, of life itself and she blinked rapidly as she tried to make sense of it all… of anything and everything that this moment contained.

Hand spread over her chest, Lauren felt her heart beating with renewed vigor. Blood rushed into her ears and crashed against her brain, breaking over her senses. She took in a long breath, feeling everything all at once and trembling with the immediacy of it, trying to swim against the tide enveloping her. It swelled against her ribcage, flooding into her throat and making her gasp and sit up as Bo inched backwards unwillingly. The Succubus’ hands reached out, grasping the doctor’s shoulders and holding on tight.

“Bo?” Lauren asked, her brow crinkling in confused wonder. “What did you do?”

The only answer she received was a pair of lips on her own, hot and wet and thankful. They were full of grace, yearning for confirmation that this was real, trembling with remnants of the power that had surged over them. It was only when Bo pulled away that Lauren realized the Succubus was crying, her cheeks wet with Bo’s tears.

“You’re okay!” Bo said in a broken tone. “You’re okay!”

A frown wrinkled her brow momentarily and she peered into the doctor’s eyes, searching them urgently. “You uh… you are okay, right?” she asked haltingly.

“I… ” Lauren shook her head to dispel the humming inside it and glanced down at herself, her fingers moving from her chest down to her stomach where bloodstains blackened her clothes, damp and unforgiving, a reminder of the grim reality of what had passed. But there was no pain. Only the dissipating foam of the knowledge that, although she had felt pain, it was no longer wracking her body. Instead, a faint thrumming fled through her veins, surging with new life and rediscovered energy.

Glancing up at Bo, Lauren couldn’t resist a faint grin of astonishment. “Yeah,” she laughed softly. “I think I am.”

Bo let out a gurgle of pleasure and let go of Lauren, curling her fingers into a fist and punching the air with all the grace of a linebacker. Pride slid across her features and lifted her chin, eyes flashing with a triumphant energy that both intrigued and excited Lauren.

“What did you do?” she asked again, leaning forwards and looking at Bo as though the Succubus was a creature she had never seen before, never named and never suspected even existed.

“I gave you my energy,” Bo stated. As Lauren’s head jerked back disbelievingly, she reached out and laid her hand on the doctor’s cheek, looking into her eyes. “You were dying, Lauren. I didn’t know what to do and then… I guess I figured it out.”

“But I was in The Ash’s study, and then I was… ” Lauren frowned, shaking her head. “I was in - ”

“Somewhere you’re never going back to.” Bo’s voice was hard, final. She stroked her thumb along Lauren’s cheekbone and gave a decisive nod of punctuation.

“And you brought me back.” There was an almost reverent tone to Lauren’s voice and she narrowed her eyes, looking curiously at Bo with a glimmer of her old self in pools of brown. “How did you do that?”

Bo shrugged nonchalantly, although her eyes were gleaming with self-satisfaction. “There’s this thing some Succubi can do where we give back our energy… you know, our chi?” She smiled as Lauren nodded dumbly and then drew in a short breath.

“And when did you learn to do this?” the doctor asked, in a tone reminiscent of the questions she’d asked Bo the first time they met. Intrigued, insatiable, greedy for all the things she didn’t know about the Succubus; hungry for everything she didn’t know about Bo.

Bo was almost sheepish and grinned foolishly. “Uh, just nowish?” she said as Lauren’s eyebrows rose. “Well I didn’t know I could do it until I had to,” she added, her hand trailing down Lauren’s arm until it met fingers and intertwined them with her own.

“Hm.” Lauren squeezed Bo’s fingers absent-mindedly. “So your energy helped me to heal - like it does when you take it from others?”

“I guess,” Bo shrugged again. “I was really frightened, Lauren.” She idled a thumb over the back of the doctor’s hand and looked down at it, shielding her gaze for fear the other woman would see her so exposed and raw. It sent a shiver down her back, remembering Lauren’s pale, broken body and how she had drifted away so far that Bo hadn’t been sure she would ever come back.

“I’m sorry.” Lauren put her finger under Bo’s chin and lifted the Succubus’ gaze until it met her own. “I am sorry, Bo.”

“No,” the Succubus said slowly. “I’m sorry for dragging you into my whole stupid life in the first place.” She rolled her eyes and sighed, pulling her face away from Lauren’s touch and pursing her lips. She’d felt guilt before, of course, and continued to do so for all the lives she’d taken over the last ten years. But the pang of onerous regret that clung to her conscience when she thought about Lauren would last much longer and hurt that much more. If it hadn’t been for her, then Lauren would never have betrayed The Ash and been punished. If she hadn’t wanted Lauren as much as she did, then none of this would have happened. And yet, the unmitigated joy that leapt in Bo’s chest told her that it was only because of Lauren’s actions and sacrifices - and her willingness to do so - that the Succubus had been able to understand how she felt. How she still could.

“I was hardly dragged,” Lauren said quietly, rousing Bo from her reverie. She smiled into Bo’s dark eyes in an attempt to assuage the anxiety that shadowed them. “I chose to be in your life,” she added. “I still would, if I had to do it again. I meant what I said, you know.” She tilted her head onto one side and waited almost breathlessly. It had seemed so important to tell Bo how she felt when she was falling into the void that had tried to claim her. It had been her one regret, resounding in her mind like an echo of lost chances and missed opportunities.

But now, Lauren found that she was flushing with the memory of it. With the disclosures she’d tried so hard to keep to herself and hide them under good deeds and rash actions. Saying those words made her vulnerable, especially if Bo was never going to say them back. And in her darkest moments, Lauren had very near convinced herself that Bo never would. That it was impossible for theSuccubus to love just one person, impossible for her to love Lauren. Not the way she loved Bo, anyway.

“Yeah… ” Bo’s voice was drawn out, slow and thoughtful. “About that… ”

“About what?” Lauren winced as her voice slid upwards and dipped her head so that Bo couldn’t see her eyes.

“The next time you say it, can it not be when you’re going to leave me? Or at least, if you are going to say it, can you give me a chance to say it back?”

Lauren’s head shot up and she stared at Bo, surprised pleasure and expectation racing across her features. Her mouth opened but no sound came out as a myriad of thoughts flooded her brain all at once, quite confusing it and effectively silencing her. It was a long moment before she found her voice and said Bo’s name; a statement, an entreaty, a question.

“I didn’t… I thought you were… ” Stumbling over her words, Lauren shook her head and avoided eye contact.

“Right,” Bo said, with a nod. “Honestly, Lauren. You’re supposed to be the smart one here. Get a clue.” She couldn’t resist rolling her eyes as Lauren let out a self-conscious laugh and shrugged. For a moment, it was as though they were back where they’d started, nervously circling one another and second-guessing every word, every gesture. But it was only for a moment, as Lauren’s hand slid around Bo’s neck and drew the Succubus to her until they were kissing, drinking one another in.

Breaking the embrace, Bo leant her forehead against Lauren’s for a moment. “I love you,” she whispered, reveling in the hitching breath that came from the doctor’s mouth in response, seeking purchase on Lauren’s mouth again so that words and actions became synonymous. The proof-positive that she knew Lauren sought and craved.

“I have no idea how this is going to work,” Lauren murmured, as Bo leaned away from her and traced a line down her jaw with a single finger. “Or if it’s going to work. I mean,” she frowned, “a Succubus and a human?”

“It’d work a lot better if you were… you know, alive,” Bo intoned sardonically. Lauren glowered at her and she held up her hands in mock-submission, although her gaze was serious and held traces of the fear that had gripped her before.

“Don’t ever think that leaving me is a good idea again, okay?” the Succubus whispered. “I couldn’t bear it.” Her eyes widened, sincerity pleading for forgiveness and safety. All the things Lauren made her feel and a hundred more that Bo wasn’t sure she ever could have done. Not until she’d almost lost the one thing that steadied her and allowed her lonely heart to feel comforted and nourished.

Lauren laid her hand on Bo’s shoulder and smiled, lips curving upwards in beatific recognition of what Bo was telling her - and what she wasn’t. Her heart lurched in her chest and she let out another soft laugh. The things that had once seemed so important now faded into a receding fog of worry. There was only clarity that remained, its bright colors and unremitting truth painted over the face of the Succubus and spinning breathlessly inside Lauren’s chest. Truth, and the knowledge that love, despite the adversaries that had borne down on it and reached for it with a stranglehold, had triumphed and flourished.

But those adversaries were ever-present, shadowed by the mists that surrounded them but never dissipating into its depths completely. And their memory brought a frown to Lauren’s face as she gazed at Bo.

“The Morrigan,” she said suddenly, as the Succubus eyed her with suspicion and alarm. “The Dark Fae… Bo, they'll want to come for you in the end. You know that, don’t you?” Lauren pressed her lips together and shook her head. She had passed The Ash’s test, but the trials that were in their future wouldn’t be so forgiving. She was sure of that.

“Then we'll be ready for them,” Bo answered abruptly, with determination hardening her gaze. Grasping Lauren’s hand, she squeezed it tightly and nodded. “We'll be ready. I promise.”

If there was doubt, it was periferal. If there was fear, it had no place between them in this moment. All that remained, all that was found and all that thrived was in their touch and their tacit understanding of the place they occupied and owned. Lauren had never envisaged the journey’s end; she’d only ever seen the long road ahead, stretching onwards to an invisible horizon and a destination that she wasn’t sure existed. She had trudged on in blind faith and held hope, secretive and painful, close against her so that it would complete the armor she wore. But Bo had pierced through her defenses, torn them down and replaced them. And the shield the doctor wore now surged through her veins and heated her blood, making her stronger than she’d ever felt before.

And the road ahead? It still stretched onwards but as its surface rolled and dipped in front of her, Lauren knew that she wouldn’t have to walk it alone.

THE END