Title: Echoes of the Past

Author: philote_auctor

Rating: PG

Fandom: Life Unexpected

Characters: Lux, Baze (gen)

Word Count: ~1400

Disclaimer: The characters and situations of Life Unexpected do not belong to me. I make no money from this story. Please don't sue.

Author's Notes: Written for small fandom fest. Prompt was "Lux, normal." This is my first attempt in this fandom, so I hope it's all right. Feedback is welcome.

Summary: Lux wants to sink into this normal sort of lifestyle completely. But she can't erase her past; can't hide from it when it insists on haunting her dreams.

oOo

It comes as a cold shock when she finally wakes.

Later, she'll know that it was not her location or the identity of the person looming above her that made it hard to grasp onto reality. It was the simple fact that someone was there, reaching for her and touching her and since she'd long since trained herself not to cry out with the nightmares, no one usually came.

In the moment, she doesn't realize she was screaming until after she's identified Baze; until the lights are on and he's backed off to the opposite end of her bed, hands raised and saying repeatedly, "Lux, it's me. Just me."

She trembles, chest heaving as she tries to draw in a proper breath. The images of the dream are fading already into an amalgamation of faces and feelings. Fear, mostly. She doesn't need to remember details to know it was mostly past memories of very real people, sometimes exaggerated. Sometimes not.

The nightmares are nothing new.

Having someone staring at her in blatant concern, trying to soothe her—that is.

She gives herself a mental shake, a command to get it together, and forces a tremulous smile. "I'm okay."

Baze still eyes her worriedly, but takes her apparent coherency as license to approach again. He carefully sits down near her. Despite her best efforts, despite knowing that she's safe, she still stiffens. If he notices, he doesn't let it deter him.

"You sure?" he asks tenderly.

She just nods, smile still in place by shear force of will, and tries to resist the urge to scoot away. She doesn't want to talk, doesn't want his attention laser-focused on her. She can't deal with it right now.

He reaches for her again, and though she knows he wants nothing more than to comfort, it's too much. Instinct makes her jerk away again. The surprise on his face is a bit more hurt this time. This isn't fair to him, and she knows it, but she can't help it.

"I'm fine," she reiterates, firm and a bit colder than she'd intended.

Of course, it's nowhere in the vicinity of believable and Baze isn't stupid. "Lux…"

"Really, I'll be okay. Please, just…" She can't make herself say it but she wants, needs, him to go. Right now.

Luckily, Baze is a lot more intuitive than most people give him credit for. After a long moment he nods and slowly stands. "All right. You know where I am…if you change your mind."

She nods, studiously studying the sheets until she hears the curtain pulled back into place, his footsteps retreating slowly and haltingly back towards his bedroom. Only once she hears the door close does she slowly relax her tense posture, sliding back down and rolling onto her side. The tears come then, but they roll silently down her cheeks. She stays there, though she knows there will be no more sleep tonight—probably for her or Baze.

oOo

The next day is impossibly long and too short at the same time. She's tired and has no patience, snapping at everyone and unable to focus on her schoolwork. Math calls her aside at one point and tries to talk to her, but later she remembers very little of what he said. Her attention is elsewhere.

She seriously considers spending tonight at Kate's, valuing the idea of a closed room. But sound would carry through the floorboards, and Kate and Ryan would be doubly hard to fight off. She's pretty sure that Kate in concerned mode wouldn't have backed off as gracefully as Baze had.

And she feels bad about that. She loves Baze, feels fully comfortable and safe with him, and she knows that's not the impression she gave last night. It wasn't him. And she knows she's going to have to explain that.

By the time she gets back to the bar, she's got a speech rehearsed. But Baze is busy, occupied with a delivery, and she retreats upstairs by herself. She's trying to do homework on topics she wasn't paying attention to, which is unsurprisingly not going well. As such she's distracted and off her game when he finally makes his way upstairs, grabbing a soda and coming over to sit with her.

"How's it going, kiddo?" His delivery is casual enough. But he doesn't ruffle her hair; doesn't come near her personal space. She can tell he's being careful, ready to back off if she shows signs of skittishness.

"I'm sorry about last night," she blurts.

He looks surprised by her directness, swallowing a mouthful of soda before he sets the bottle down and leans forward. "It's okay."

She shakes her head. "No, it's not. It wasn't fair to you, and…well, it wasn't you."

"It's not you, it's me?" he teases lightly. "I think I've heard that somewhere before…"

She rolls her eyes, letting him tease a small smile out of her. "I'm not breaking up with you."

"Good, 'cause I've grown kinda attached."

The mood is lighter now, easier somehow. She studies the pencil in her hands for a moment before she lays it down and focuses on Baze. On her father. She's determined to be honest, no matter how difficult it gets. "The nightmares…they're nothing new."

"Nightmares, plural," he observes. "You have them a lot?"

"Yes. Not as much lately. When I have one that bad, I'm usually in for several nights of repeat performances," she admits.

"You want to talk about them?"

"They're just….memories. All mashed together and exaggerated sometimes, but…" she shrugs. "Memories."

Baze nods slowly. "You can tell me about those, too. When you want."

It's an out for now, and she takes it with shameless gratitude. She doesn't want to talk about specifics, not yet. She returns the nod and a small, sad smile. "I don't usually cry out, though. I kinda taught myself not to do that. Well, until last night, I guess. I'm sorry I woke you."

"Lux, I want you to wake me. I was just sorry I couldn't help."

"I guess I'm just used to dealing with them on my own. And," she pauses, debating before she decides she might as well state the obvious. "I don't want to be touched. Not, like, in general, not at all, just…not right then."

She's not sure that made any sense, but Baze is looking at her with a sort of aching understanding. There's sorrow in his eyes along with a bit of anger, but she knows it's not directed at her. For him, all her demons are faceless people looming in her dark past where he can't go and defeat them for her. "I get it," he says softly, and she feels such a rush of affection for him that her eyes fill.

She puts down the book in her lap and goes to sit beside him, close enough to let him know that while she didn't want to be touched in the aftermath of the dream, she could really use a hug right now. He's still more cautious than she'd like, watching her reaction carefully, but he slowly drapes an arm around her. She leans into his side, using courage born of not having to look him in the eye to keep talking. "I want to be normal," she blurts. "I love being with you and Kate and having my actual family and I want more than anything to fit into a normal life. But I'm never going to be; I'm always going to have my past."

Baze squeezes her a little closer. "Normal's overrated. And your past…it's a part of you. It may not all be pretty, but it's made you who you are. And I think that person is pretty cool."

She can't help but grin. "But you're biased."

"Bias is perfectly respectable. Normal, even…just not the overrated kind."

She turns a little, resting her cheek against his chest. "Thanks," she says as loudly as she's able, which isn't much above a whisper.

A gentle hand pats her back. They sit still in the companionable silence for a while before Baze muses, "You said you don't usually cry out?"

Her brow furrows. "Yeah. Not sure why that changed."

He shrugs, the movement taking her with it. "Maybe because you know it's safe to, now. That someone will come."

Someone who loves her will come. She smiles, rubbing her cheek against the fabric of his t-shirt. Yeah, she can learn to live with that.

oOo