Disclaimer:I do not own Lost Girl or any of the show's characters.
A doccubus headcanon that follows "Fae-ge Against The Machine" (3x08). Things return to normal (relatively) after The Game, but there's something that Bo feels isn't right about her lover. (Headcanon: the Dawning has been delayed due to some fluke)
As a succubus who had been on a killing spree for ten years, Bo was used to a lot of things. She was used to people flocking to her, she was used to their friends or family calling her a demon – an unfortunate aftermath of said flocking, and after running from town to town, she was also used to the silence.
But she wasn't used to this.
On the night of Lauren's award ceremony, she slept on the couch, waiting for her lover to come home. She wasn't sure how Lauren managed to do that sober, a few hours later, but the doctor did, and smiled at Bo when she saw her. Before Bo had a chance to apologize, however, the doctor gave her a quick kiss and asked her to go to bed.
While they now knew that the award, the ceremony and the visit by 'Isaac' were part of the game, the memories of Lauren showing up at the Dal, their phone conversations and the drunken fight lingered in their minds, much like a dream.
Bo guessed that Lauren would be mad at her, and she felt guilty about the kiss with Tamsin, so she tried to make it up to the doctor before she had to go to the temple. She spent her days – when Lauren was working – with Kenzi and at the Dal, but would always make it back to the apartment right before the doctor came back from work, and spent her nights there.
She made dinner (or ordered takeout), helped clean the place and tried her best to be the most attentive girlfriend ever. It would all have been fine, except for one thing.
For the first time that Bo's known her, Lauren was indifferent. And Bo wasn't used to this at all.
Lauren wasn't angry at her. There were no tears, no acts of passive aggressiveness, and no mention of that day, save for a wry smile when Trick explained the game to them, followed by the doctor heading right back to work. The award was never picked up again and was discarded in a corner, untouched and forgotten.
The couple spoke, but the words were meaningless. They hugged, but the hugs lacked warmth. Lauren would answer all the questions that Bo asked, but nothing more.
And every night when Bo awoke to a bed devoid of her lover, she would find Lauren on the couch, staring into nothing and drinking glass after glass of the same bubbly that she had bought to celebrate her 'award'. Bo sometimes felt that the only thing that was missing in that scene was a cigarette between her girlfriend's lips.
There was something so private and sacred about those times that Bo didn't dare to intrude. She would creep up to bed, turn and twist until she heard the doctor join her for a few hours' nap. Then dawn would break and she would get a perfunctory 'good morning' kiss from her lover, and a sumptuous breakfast would be waiting for Bo when she went to the kitchen. They would eat and talk and Lauren would smile and laugh like a debutante at a high society ball.
Yes. Everything was fine, except for the indifference.
After three days, Bo couldn't take it anymore. She thought she had done extremely well by lasting as long as she did, seeing that she was usually the pit bull who charged without a pause.
This was something she wasn't used to – and it scared her more than the time she had to confess about Dyson, which, compared to Lauren's response now, was a walk in the park. At least Lauren had shown anger and sadness and everything that Bo longed to see in her almost robotic girlfriend now.
At least she knew that Lauren loved her then.
She had wanted to ask Kenzi for advice, but that would mean telling Kenzi about the nights, and Bo couldn't find the words to describe them, and she wasn't sure she could share that with anyone. So she took a deep breath and stepped into the hall. "Lauren?" she asked.
Lauren turned to face her and smiled. The insincerity – and indifference – in that expression made Bo think that she would gladly go 50 more rounds with the Garuda than have it directed to her ever again.
"Bo," the doctor said simply. There was no surprise, no guilt. It made Bo feel unwelcome, so she stood near the couch and clasped her hands.
"Lauren, what's going on?" Bo said, treading carefully. "You haven't been yourself since…that night. Did I do something? I mean apart from…what I said to you, which I'm really, really sorry for."
"It's not that, Bo," Lauren waved her hand. There it was again – the invisible cigarette – now held between the doctor's fingers. Lauren poured herself another glass of wine, and Bo decided to risk it and went to sit next to her. The succubus then felt that she shouldn't have bothered about feeling unwanted at all – the doctor's lack of acknowledgement or response told Bo that she didn't care where she sat.
"Then what is it? Lauren…you're scaring me," Bo beseeched.
"Have you ever felt that you could be great?" Lauren asked, breaking out of her reverie. "That you could achieve great things in life, be somebody, and contribute something to mankind.
Bo wanted to answer, but she felt that the doctor wasn't looking for one.
"I did," Lauren said, staring at the wall. "I mean, that was why I went to Yale, to Afghanistan, and to the Congo. I wanted to make my parents proud, help save lives and change the world. I was brilliant, ambitious and arrogant.
"And look at me now. I guess I deserve all this for being such a naïve, foolish little human being," Lauren laughed and Bo winced at the bitterness.
"I don't regret what I did for Nadia," Lauren continued. "And I like helping you, Trick, Hale, The Ash, Dyson, Kenzi and the fae. I love learning about the fae biology and I enjoy what I do.
"Except…it would have made things a little better if I actually had the choice of wanting to help. And of course, there's the tiny little fine print in my contract that brands me as a slave, with no hope of a release, ever."
"And I lied to myself and lived in denial for a good long period," Lauren said, pouring more wine into her glass without offering any to Bo. "I told myself that being at the bottom of a caste didn't matter. Being seen as nothing but a tool – and an easily replaceable one – didn't matter. And being with a succubus whom I couldn't sustain didn't matter too.
"I just had to make the best of what I was given, and as long as I loved my job, and we loved each other, that was enough.
"But it's not. And it's not your fault," Lauren held up her hand to stop Bo's attempt to interrupt. "You are what you are, and whatever situation I'm in, are the consequences of my actions and my choices. I chose to go to the Congo. I chose to save Nadia. I chose to recommit myself to The Ash. I chose to be with you, although I'm not sure if I really had a choice there – I'd fallen for you before I even knew it."
"So I'm going to lie in my bed now and accept things for what they are," the doctor continued somberly, despite the three empty bottles on the coffee table. "But that day – the letter, the award, and a fellow scientist who understood, appreciated my work and respected me – gave me a glimpse of what I could have had, and could have been, had I never stepped foot in that God forsaken territory."
"Lauren," Bo exclaimed as she held the doctor in desperation, knocking the flute off her hand. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," the succubus repeated, fear and anxiety evident in her tone.
"Please, please don't think like this," Bo said, almost in tears. "We appreciate you, we do. Kenzi told me that she loved you, in her own way, and I do too. I love you, so much now that I can't bear the thought of losing you. I need you."
"I love you too," Lauren returned the sentiment softly, her head placed on Bo's shoulders. "And I'm not going anywhere. Don't worry – I'll be fine in a couple of days. I just…need a moment."
"Okay," Bo said and placed a soft kiss on Lauren's lips, glad that the doctor returned it this time. "I want to talk more about this, but it's really late and I know you haven't been sleeping much. Should we go to bed?"
"Sure," the doctor replied. "Why don't you head up first? I'll just finish this and clean up."
And as Bo climbed up the stairs, watching her lover pick up the flute, poured the remaining wine from the bottle and placed her feet on the coffee table again, she felt the trepidation that their talk hadn't changed a single thing.
Bo was used to solving cases, saving the world once or twice, and getting to the bottom of what she wanted to find out. But this time, she had the feeling that she had lost her girlfriend, maybe forever.
No. Bo was definitely not used to this.