I own the air in my lungs and even of this, I am suspect. All characters belong to the creators of Lost Girl and Showcase. Just playing in their sandbox for the fun of it. Nothing more.

Airports were never her favorite of places. Unlike the travelers milling around in anticipation of their boarding calls, Lauren Lewis did not tingle with the anticipation of arriving upon sandy beaches, or imagine the awe of lingering in the light and shadows of ancient monuments or cobbled, centuries-worn streets. The roar of jet engines triggered memories of the march to death or the march of life, if one was so lucky to survive the war zones she had known littered with dusty, sunken eyes and fields of ash and agony. Airplanes and airports reminded her not of homecomings or vacations. They were the stuff of nightmares and although this particular airport, filled with roll-aboards, tuneless piped-in music, neon-lit magazine stands, shelves bowing under the weight of chocolates and digestive aids—all the things the smart traveler should have handy at their seat—Lauren's mind did not give into the cheerfulness of her surroundings. She would not be distracted from her mission: to get as far away from the Fae and as fast as her human skills could take her.

She felt the weight of a body drop into the plastic seat next to her. Lauren spied a familiar pair of black, high-heeled lace-up boots next to her legs. Without looking up, she greeted her, "Glad you could make it. We're only boarding in about ten."

"Yeah, well, it's not like I had all that much time to pack. Fast and Furious best describes this getaway, hey, Dr. Lewis?"

Lauren turned her head toward her companion, a modern courtesan dressed all in black, poured into a corset and topped with a Goth attitude—the doctor's eyes rolled over her with a mix of admiration and melancholy. "You know this person will no longer exist once we get to the other side of the pond," she smiled, more with fatigue than relief or happiness. "And you, Kenz, will have to do some re-inventing yourself." She turned her head away from her friend, "We both do."

Kenzi dropped her head, her hair falling over her face like a curtain and hiding bloodshot eyes. "One thing at a time, Doc. And for the record," she thrust her index finger upward, "I do not do khaki." Several announcements boomed overhead through the airport speaker system and Lauren barely heard the words Kenzi spoke under the din. Maybe she intended to say something comforting or utter a curse word in Russian. The slump in Kenzi's shoulders said everything. Lauren responded by very gently resting her palm on the back of Kenzi's hand, tapping her fingertips lightly as if she were beating and repeating a secret code, It'll be all right. Tap. It'll be all right. Lauren slowly released her hand and to her surprise, Kenzi reached for it and brought it back to the armrest and squeezed it back, holding on, holding on.

Lauren leaned it to whisper. "Did you get everything?"

Kenzi nodded and answered looking straight ahead, her voice uncharacteristically soft and monotone. "Passports. Medical history. Driver's licenses. Bank accounts. I still got game, yo. I feel fucked but this stuff I can still do." She croaked a bit of a laugh, half-heartedly amused at herself. "And you?"

"Plane tickets, first class," she smiled with pride. "Hotel reservations—I only booked a week. We can decide what's next later. Car rental agreement. Oh, and this—"she fished out a resealable bag from her carry-on.

Kenzi turned and her eyes opened wider, seeing the neat, foil-wrapped wedges. "Pizza?" she exhaled, absent was the usual excitement pizza would bring.

"Just something familiar to help pass the time. I bought a double cheese and sliced it up for the plane. A snack that plays well both hot and cold."

Kenzi squeezed the doctor's hand again. "Everything familiar is what we're leaving behind…but it was a nice thought, Hotpants. Thanks." Kenzi shifted her lithe frame in her seat to face Lauren, her brows pinched low and wrinkling her forehead slightly. "I didn't call her. Just so you know. Did you?"

Lauren shook her head.

Kenzi shifted again. "But do you think we should? I mean, we're both fucked here but still—"

"—Kenzi," Lauren stopped her, her voice gentle. "if you're having second thoughts—"

"No, Lauren, I'm not." Her tone changed, her confidence building as she straightened up in the chair. "Without Hale, there's nothing left for me there. Not even—" she stopped herself as the face of her ex-best friend flashed across her mind but she recovered herself quickly, throwing a weak smile across her lips. "It's Team You and Me now…Team Human and in case I forget to say it, thank you for taking me with you…and for the first class tickets. Wa-bam!"

This was the Kenzi Lauren knew, spritely, spirited, the finder of every silver lining but then her head dropped and Lauren figured it must have been because Kenzi didn't want Lauren to see her cry. It was just as well. Lauren didn't handle public crying very well. She, herself, was through with crying. Lauren made a mental note to improve her self-discipline, adopt a more clinical demeanor in as many situations as possible. Easier to recover that way. Easier to think clearer, too. She was through with feeling anything, at least for a while, and that's one thing she and Kenzi shared—the overwhelming desire to close off the world and retreat, somewhere, anywhere as long as it wasn't near the Fae and all the monsters in, over, and under the bed. All connections severed, their resignations tendered and inked in silence. "You know, Kenzi," Lauren wanted to soothe her, "London is a great city. We can try it out, right? And if we don't like it there, we'll find someplace else, anywhere you want, move until we find just the spot that—"

A deep voice interrupted from above. "This is the pre-boarding call for passengers on Air Canada Flight 909 traveling to Heathrow. Passengers in First Class may now make their way to the gate. Please have your boarding passes visible."

Lauren and Kenzi nodded at each other, holding each other firmly with their eyes. "Team Human," Lauren smiled with her lips pressed together. "This is it. Are you ready?"

Kenzi sniffed and hugged her quickly. "Let's do this."

Together they rose, inching toward the gate and a future of unfamiliar places, faces, and with any hope, peace and anonymity. Their ride with the Fae was over and if they stayed they had but two guarantees: isolation and quite possibly, death. It wasn't even their fight anymore. Was it ever? Lauren, a woman of science, Kenzi, a survivor of the streets: united in the pointlessness of staying and the need to run. Held together by heartbreak and a little bit of hate, they'd reinvent themselves. Again. That would be enough, wouldn't it? A desire to mend? To write a new story? One where that goddamn Bo could never find them.