Aftermath Ch. 1
Summary: Takes place leading up to and during 2X20. This work will explore Lauren's emotions and her interaction with Bo following Nadia's death.
Disclaimer: The words are mine; some of the ideas and the characters belong to the creators of Lost Girl. No infringement intended. Don't sue me; I have student loans.
This is a short chapter. It's my first LG story. Let me know if I should continue. Suggestions welcome. It's sure to get smutty at some point.
Lauren continued kneeling beside Nadia's lifeless body, gently resting her head upon a small patch of exposed skin near the dead woman's chest. She remained there, silent and barely moving. The large pool of blood beside the body started to clump on the cold concrete floor, and the setting sun, cast ominous shadows across the now cold and lonely room.
With a great deal of effort, Lauren rose from the floor, stiff, and broken-hearted. Her red, swollen eyes burned, and she could taste the saline on her dry lips. Her normally lithe body now ached as her thoughts raced. The shell that lay on her floor had once housed someone she loved. The realization caused fresh tears to stream down her face. Taking in a lungful of air, Lauren recognized that yes she loved Nadia; felt obligated toward the woman, missed her, but hadn't been in love with her for a long time.
Five long years of servitude to The Ash included many unpleasant side effects; the least of them being isolation from nearly every aspect of meaningful human interaction. No human intimacy, no human comradely exchanges, no human empathy; only a sterile existence with a species who for the most part resembled humans, but regarded them as genetic inferiors. Lauren smirked at the irony of looking like what you despise most. 'Quite a predicament,' she muttered to the air.
Lauren sniffled as thoughts ricocheted inside of her head. She turned toward the corpse lying on the floor and looked at it with what can only be described as a thousand mile stare. 'It took meeting Bo to realize that I'd changed over the years, and you remained the same; unchanging, preserved like some museum piece. I'm so sorry for everything.' She shut her eyes tightly as the image of Bo stabbing Nadia, and Nadia thanking her for it played over and over again in her mind.
The exhausted woman slumped into a nearby chair. He shoulders sagged and she shivered as a chill that started on the inside enveloped her. She knew she would have to call the cleaners soon. She cradled her head in her hands and asked herself, 'What do you do when someone you love kills someone else that you love?'
When the cleaners finally arrived, Lauren with hands trembling helped them to prepare the body for transport. They wanted to remove the bloodstain from the concrete floor, but she wouldn't allow it. She would do it herself; part of her feeling like the gesture was one of respect, and part of her feeling like it was a punishment she needed to inflict upon herself for letting Nadia down. She rubbed her eyes and asked God out loud, 'In what fucked up, cruel world does someone get their life back just to have it snatched away again?'
After the cleaners left, one of the Ash's guards stopped by, and without a shred of sympathy assured Lauren that, "All will be taken care of." She was not expected back at the lab for another week, and with no work to occupy her time, Lauren felt more alone than at any other time in her life.
She spent most of her time anxiously pacing the floor, careful to avoid walking on the stain that had now turned a dull shade of rust. The normally fastidious doctor left empty plates full of half-eaten food all around her apartment, she dropped dirty laundry and tear sodden tissues with little regard to where they landed. Soon her living quarters looked like that of a messy college student. She had no desire to clean up, or leave the confines of her home, despite what had happened there, it was familiar, and Lauren was sure Bo would avoid going there. She was grateful for that because right now, Bo was the last person she wanted to see.
It was late on Saturday night and Lauren was content to lie on her couch staring at the ceiling. It had been four days since she slept, and the depravation was taking its toll. Dark circles formed under her eyes, her skin was pale, and she felt limp, devoid of any spark or ambition. She knew what was happening to her; always the doctor, she reminded herself that anger and denial were the first stages of grief, and she didn't care if she ever moved past them; then, her phone rang. She watched it vibrate on the side table, and thought about not answering it. After a few more rings, she angrily reached for it, and in a voice that showed signs of barely being used in days answered, "Hello."