Inside out

Chapter 1

It's past midnight on a Saturday morning. Just a few weeks ago, at this hour, she would had been home asleep; or perhaps, if she was really lucky, at the Dal with her friends.

She tells this to herself. But it is a lie. She knows it. She has no real friends. That would imply they were her equals. She is a slave to the fae.

A human, so much as chattel.

The only other human in her life, that tiny, crazy girl, Kenzi, doesn't even like her. She likes Kenzi just fine, but to be truthful, it doesn't really bother her that the feeling is not returned. Maybe it should, but she has never been well-liked. Not in high school. Not at the University or during her residency. It's something she has learnt to ignore. If it pained her at some point in her life, that time is long gone. She was always an awkward know-it-all with little time to waste making friends.

A lopsided grin crosses her face for a second.

The more you change, Lauren, the more you stay the same.

She is still in the lab, reading the last of the books Trick gave her. She has been at her desk since 7:30 am, but it feels longer than that. Maybe it is because yesterday, and the day before that, also followed the same pattern. She knows she's obsessed, on the verge of collapse. But knowing it doesn't change anything. The only thing she has eaten all day is an old apple that she had lying around, and only because the pain in her stomach was distracting her, making it difficult to concentrate on the book. Her eyesight is getting blurry, and she's probably not giving the text the attention it requires. But she cannot quit.

She is frustrated. Angry. Upset with herself.

She should have known it was a curse. She should. How did she not see it?

But there is more. She feels guilty. Ashamed of herself. She knows that she had started to give up on Nadia. That she was no longer looking for a cure, not with the intensity that is now driving her. That drove her at the beginning.

She had been almost happy, hadn't she? Playing doctor for the fae. Since she met Bo, she had even started to dream of a future without Nadia. But the recent string of events has certainly closed that door. On her very face. She has been shoved back into her past. And suddenly, she is stuck in the now. In this very minute. She has no future beyond reading this book, beyond finding some information that may help break the curse.

She runs a hand through her hair. Darn it. Something has to give.

She needs to leave. Sleep. Grab a shower. Rest so that she can be sharp. Clear her mind. She knows it. But she needs to keep going.

Every day that goes by is a torment. Now that she realises Nadia's state might very well be her fault, she cannot live with herself. It is bigger than she is; this possibility that all of this is Her Fault For Real. Not some misplaced guilt because 'I shouldn't have invited Nadia to come along,' but this burden, this certainty that somebody cursed Nadia just to 'snatch' Lauren for the Light.

She cannot stop thinking of everything that has been stolen from her. From Nadia. Poor Nadia, who has lost some of her better years stuck in a freaking pod, for crying out loud.

Lauren has to atone. She has to.

She gazes at the monitor, it is second nature to her; she must look at it at least 50 times a day. Her gaze moves over Nadia's body. It is like looking at a beautiful Greek statue. There is never any change. Not a blink. She has been stable like this for 5 years, 2 months and 3 days. She looks at her watch. Make that 4 days.

Not that she is counting.

Even if she went to bed, she might not sleep. She has not slept well since her time in limbo. She lied about seeing her aunt. She never really left her body. She cannot tell the others, but when they held the syringe to Lachlan's neck, it was her who said the contents were 'freedom.' Her freedom. Maybe Nadia's too. She heard herself screaming it into her head, and then out of their mouth as Raynard repeated it in his sing-song maniac voice. Her voice.

How can any of her so-called friends understand what things are like for Lauren? Realise how far removed she is from the carefree kick-ass scientist she once was? Understand that she had actually wanted to kill the Ash? That maybe she still did?

Lauren herself cannot. She is afraid of this darkness she has discovered in herself. She is afraid of how different she is these days. How changed. She is afraid she might snap.

Her phone rings, but she lets it go to the voice recorder. It has been blinking and ringing all week, but she hasn't taken any outside calls. Her inbox must be full of messages. But she has no time to be social, to talk about kisses, or to joke around with Trick. There is only this book. And the answer is not in it. She reaches the last lines of the last page, and wishes again that somebody had thought to put all these books in digital format, so she could search for 'Congo' and 'curses,' and be done with it.

Life is never that easy, Lauren.

'At least not yours.'

A long exhale.

She needs more books. It's nearly 1 am, but the Friday night crowds tend to keep the Dal open until the early hours of Saturday, so she may be lucky. She can talk to Trick. He may have some new material for her. She'll have to sneak out, but that is no longer an issue. She's found a number of ways to get in and out of the compound in the last couple of months. Somehow, finding ways to escape appeals to her scientific mind; they are like puzzles to solve. She even thinks of inventive ways, deriving a bit of childish pleasure each time she outsmarts her watch-dogs. They are not really even onto her. Too easy.

She cannot believe now how concerned she was about being imprisoned in the lab. It feels like a lifetime ago. Maybe it was. She smiles. That bit of irrationality did bring with it some of the happiest days of this life she was reborn into that awful day 5 years ago when her other life disappeared under her.

She shakes her head. No point thinking about that now. It's her rational mind speaking.

In her life, she has come to observe that the things she does on impulse often bring her shame, embarrassment and awkwardness; but never regret. And sometimes, Lauren curses her rational mind. That annoying voice that always talks reason. She wishes she could just follow her heart. But she's not built that way.

Maybe what she really wishes is that she was a bit braver.

She rises from the chair. She's been sitting for so long in the same position, her legs have gone numb. She nearly topples over. She has to hold onto the table to stay upright. A wave of dizziness leaves her feeling weak. Her vision goes white for a frightening moment. She can hear her own heavy breathing and the beat of her heart.

She has no time for this. This weakness.

'Keep it together, Lauren.'

It's only a whisper, but it helps her focus. Sugar, she needs sugar. The doctor in her knows that she has not been taking proper care of herself. Such a small problem. She can think of ten ways to fix herself. If only she had ready answers for all the other problems in her life. For all the big questions; like, did she still love Nadia? But the answer to that one question is irrelevant right now. It wouldn't change any of her actions.

But it will be important if Nadia ever wakes up. The voice reminds her.

'When. When she wakes up.' It is the only possible answer.

And when she can safely let go of the table, she'll go get some candy. A Kit-Kat or a coke will do. Maybe both. And then, continue. Move through the painful bits. Just as usual. Do not stop to think.

She has most of her diminishing mind powers split between her internal conversation and the act of staying upright, so she doesn't hear the sound of footsteps behind her. But she hears the voice.

'Lauren?'

She closes her eyes and drops her head slightly. Just what she needs. She is tempted to let go of the table and collapse into a heap. Maybe Bo won't see her is she's lying under the table.

'Are you ok?'

Too late. Bo's hand is suddenly on her shoulder. Lauren knows she is trembling, very slightly, but probably visible to someone like Bo. She hates how this woman affects her.

How close she always stands.

She loves it.

'Hey,' Bo says it like a question. Her hand squeezing lightly; moving down to her arm, pushing slightly to turn her around. There's concern in her voice.

A pause. A blink. Lauren doesn't need this. Not now. Not when she's holding so tenuously onto who she is. She goes for a levity that she doesn't feel.

'Hey. Must had been pretty boring at the Dal. Let me guess, bingo night?'

She straightens up and tentatively lets go of the table. A bit seasick, but not too bad. It's not like she's got anything on her stomach to worry about. The hand on her arm burns through her lab coat and blue shirt. The need to step aside is strong. But that is one thing about Lauren, she always stands her ground. It's a rule she's made for herself. No matter how uncomfortable anyone makes her feel, she does not step back. It would feel like a weakness in a world where she already is the weakest specimen.

Maybe it is her pride that is the real weakness.

But tonight she breaks her rule. A small concession to her sanity. She turns to face Bo, effectively moving away. She doesn't try to smile. She cannot.

Bo is silent. Staring at her with her big brown eyes and for once, seeing her.

Seeing everything.

Lauren looks sick. Pale and withdrawn. With dark circles under her eyes. Like she's lost a couple of pounds in the week that they haven't seen each other. Weight she could hardly spare to begin with.

Bo doesn't know what she was expecting, but this is not it. She was worried about all the unreturned messages and calls. That is why she is there. Now she realises she should had visited the doc sooner. And just like that, any residual awkwardness between them is suddenly unimportant. Lauren may not be asking for her help. But she will be getting it nonetheless.

Lauren is too tired to do anything more than just stand. In a corner of her mind, where she's always observing herself go through life, like the subject of one of her many experiments, she realizes that she is hoping she does not look as rumpled as she feels. Damn that Bo. She makes Lauren worry about girly, irrelevant things like how her hair looks or her clothes fit. She had never thought of herself like that before Bo came into her life. Whatever hairstyle she liked was good enough for everyone else or deal, but now, now she finds herself worrying about it. At her age. She'd be annoyed at Bo if she wasn't so amused at discovering this 15 year old girl living inside herself.

But now she's just knackered. Too tired to guess at why Bo is at the lab, or why she is getting her jacket and bag. She feels detached. Uncomprehending. So much so, she dismisses Bo from her mind for a moment, and turns to stare at the monitor.

No change. Nothing. Nada.

Just her Greek goddess stuck in a pod for time unknown.

Again, the voice and the hand on her arm break through her foggy mind.

'Come on, Lauren. You are done here.' It is an order, but, somehow, also a plea.

Bo helps her out of her lab coat and into her leather jacket. If she was feeling better she would enjoy the tenderness and care Bo is affording her. How one of the succubus' hands lightly brushes the underside of her breast for a moment. She feels her body react to the gentle touch. A pulse. A sweet rush of pain. Some part of her mind registers all of it. She will savour it later, when she can. When she is lying in the room she has been given in the basement. Her living quarters. What a joke. No more than a bed, a small wardrobe and a tiny bathroom. Given to her by courtesy of the new Ash. So nothing distracts her from her servitude.

So she doesn't forget her place.

And she doesn't.

No inventive ways of getting out for Bo. She just walks out with Lauren in tow. A firm hand still circling Lauren's bicep. Still burning her skin through two layers of clothing. When they meet the first of her guard-dogs, Bo just touches his chest and tells him 'The doctor is not felling well. She is coming with me.' The effect is immediate. He just nods and lets them pass. Lauren can't help but be impressed. Bo seems to get more powerful all the time. In fact, where her safety is concerned, Bo's displays have been awe inspiring.

They get past all the other guards in similar fashion, finally hitting the street. It's cold outside. Lauren's jacket is not much help in this weather, but she doesn't care. She loves nights like this. She breathes deeply and exhales, looking at her breath in the freezing air, as it forms a small cloud in the night. It amuses her now like it used to when she was a child and she would exhale and exhale just to see her own breath.

She is spacing out a bit. She can tell. A deep shiver makes her shake; and just as suddenly, Bo's arm is around her shoulders, pulling Lauren firmly into her body. She is warm and soft in all the right places. It makes Lauren ache.

She mentally scolds herself. 'Put a lid on, Lauren. She has hardly looked your way and you are already past third base.' But that's how it is with them. Lauren has stopped analysing it and just accepted it as some sort of brain short circuit she has. A broken fuse.

Bo lets go of her to open the door of her silly yellow car, but almost immediately, one arm is back around Lauren's waist and the other on her upper arm to help her in. Bo's front brushes slightly along her side and back. Lauren fights with herself. She wants to tell Bo that she doesn't need the help, but she cannot. That she shouldn't touch her, shouldn't stand this close, because she feels even the smallest of contacts in a decidedly unfriendly way. She realises that those touches may not mean anything to Bo, but they are like a saving line to her. The pleasure and well-being she draws from them completely out of proportion. But she doesn't say anything. She is tired of being proud and strong. She'll get her guilty pleasures where she can.

She can feel bad about it tomorrow.

A sardonic grin. How very Scarlett O'Hara of her.

It is kind of crazy inside her head these days. She is exhausted of keeping up with herself and her riotous thoughts.

She sits back as Bo closes the door and walks around the car to the driving seat. For a second, she is tempted to let Bo help her with the seatbelt. But that is just too lowering, even in her current state. So she puts it on herself. Still, Bo reaches around and gives the belt a bit of a tug just in case, the back of her hand brushing lightly against Lauren's hip and tight. It's only for a moment, but enough to make Lauren wish Bo hands away from her side.

Lauren lets her head rest on the back of the seat, feeling some of the tension leave her body. She turns around slightly, looking away from Bo as she starts the engine, and her gaze lands on the entrance to the lab. It is starting to feel like a tomb in there. Her own and Nadia's, so it's good to be out.

She dares to look at Bo again. Only for a moment.

Such a beautiful woman. Calm. Strong. Good. Anyone would be lucky to be with her.

Maybe what is good is not so much to be out of the lab, but to be with her. Like this. Driving in a car, in the middle of the night. Going somewhere. Anywhere. If she could forget about her life back in the compound and that other life, the one before this one, she would be tempted to ask Bo never to stop driving.

She has come to live for these moments, Lauren. For these stolen moments with Bo, Trick, Kenzi, Hale. Even Dyson. When she forgets about what is in the lab and what it has cost her.

That is why she didn't tell them about Nadia.

Some words if you never say out loud, you can ignore.

Things that are not spoken of do not exist.

Right?

She looks out of the car window. The city is speeding by. Not much to see at this hour. Just dark streets, and some of the low life that comes out at night in any city this size. If she was really paying attention she would realise where they are headed, but she's not. She doesn't care. Bo can take her wherever she wants.

She must have fallen asleep, because the next thing she knows is she is being held like a child. Her face against a warm neck and shoulder, one strong arm around her shoulders and another under her knees. But she's just too tired to worry about who is carrying her and where. She supposes it must be Bo. From the tests she has given her, she knows Bo is certainly strong enough to carry a full grown man, let alone her. The 15 year old girl in her jumps up and down in joy at the possibility of being carried like this by Bo. But the ancient lady that shares the top loft with the overjoyed teen is just too tired to care.

She feels herself drifting back to wherever she was before.

She needs it.

A voice. A bit frantic perhaps? 'Lauren is not well, Kenzi. Help me with her.'

And then sleep.