all right, since i've read some rather unplesant spoilers concerning this season, my muse was pretty much squash and kicked and sent through a blender on Oh Olivia. Instead of thinking of babies and unplesant spoilers, i've decided that i would make a t rated story. This is sent in the future and i must say, it will be very good. I'm proud of it myself. And the best part? NOT AU at all.
so suck it.
Anyone i own nothing. I'd like to own the show to make it much better than what i fear is coming. But since i wont ever have that chance, i'll write out my version.
T for some violence and swearing.
summary: introducing Lauren Bishop, small town waitress in New Mexico. Or, that's what she was.
"Hey Cutie," called a man from down at the opposite end of the diner's checkered counter, "How about another cup of coffee?"
The upsweep of dark hair bent underneath the counter poked up, piercing green eyes staring down at the weary man at the end of the counter. The trucker, a man in a red baseball cap, waved his cup towards her grumpily. She smiled and straightened her apron and grabbed the coffee pot, heading towards him.
"Maybe a few more cups might get that crank out of you," she said with a smile, "And John? For the last time, it's Lauren, please."
The man watched her pour the cup of coffee for him and he took a sip before looking at her with twinkling wrinkled brown eyes.
"Yes ma'am," he said, "As long as your bring me coffee like that, I'll call you whatever you'd like." He winked and she smiled herself before swinging back around to replace the coffee pot by the juice machine. Just then the kitchen bell rung throughout the air and the booming voice of Kyle, a red haired mid 50's cook with a thick mustache putting a plate of fries onto the ledge.
"Order up," he said, sliding the plate to her. She smiled at the cook and grabbed the plate, moving behind the diner's counter toward the window booths toward a pair of teenage boys sat, waiting for their food. Brushing a stray strand of hair that had fall from her up-do out of her face, she set the plate down and took a bottle of ketchup out of her apron.
"Eat up guys," she said, "Anything else I can get you?"
The boys smiled at her flirtatiously, sending looks to each other before one spoke.
"That's it for now," said the dark brown haired boy, "But come back later?"
Lauren rolled her eyes and didn't say anything. She walked away and back towards the diner's counter.
The hot New Mexico sun had long set over the desert and diner off of route 66 when Lauren started her shift. It was nearing midnight now and the diner was pretty much empty, a few straggling teens either coming or going to a party, a lost tourist, and two truckers were her costumers tonight. She looked out through the front windows into the desolent landscape. There were no headlights that she could see. Lauren sighed and returned to swiping big circles across the table that the tourist had sat at. He had left her a whopping $1.80 tip. Grumbling she had scooped it up and tucked it into her apron and headed back to hand the cook her dishes.
The diner had started as a side job to help pay for college. She worked after her last class on social justices on Thursdays and Saturdays and then full time on Mondays. It was only to pay for college. After college she was going to move away, somewhere nice, and live there. But when she finished, she couldn't find the will to just get up and move. She ended up working night shifts because she found herself liking the night the best, sleeping in during the hot New Mexican desert days in her little mobile home pressed against the butt of the rocky mountain range. She liked the warm sun, and she wasn't about to move back to Boston or anywhere on the east coast where her mother was.
Her mother was her own tragic story, the poor woman gone completely insane when Lauren moved away. There was nothing left for Lauren to do when it happened. Her mom was a secretive person, a trait that Lauren had inherited from her, and she guessed that one day, she had simply just cracked from all those secrets. She had never met her father, her mother told her he had died when she was very little, yet her mother kept his picture around the house, and Lauren looked at them a lot when she was little. She even took one with her when she moved. But Lauren had never met the man with green eyes and the same dark hair as her own. And when she had heard that her mother was being put into a sanitarium she had figured out that somehow it had to do with her father and his death. After all, when Lauren had last visited her mother she kept mumbling, "He's gone, he's gone" over and over again. According to her doctors, she wouldn't elaborate on the topic. When they were sure there was nothing that Lauren could do, she left for school again. She hadn't been back since.
She took her break after the teenage boys had left her a $15 tip and two phone numbers on their receipt. She swept up their plates from the table and had placed them in the sink on her way out back when she heard the door chime open. The elderly cook looked over at her and rolled his eyes. Sighing, she peeked down at her watch. It was just a bit past 1 in the morning. Grabbing a handful of menus, Lauren headed back out into the diner to find a small group of three men sitting near the window.
"Can I get you three anything to drink? Water? Coffee?" she asked, placing the menus down in front of them.
"Water please," said a man with a heavy British accent.
"I'll have the same," said the sandy haired man across from him. Lauren looked at the last man.
"Nothing," he answered. He picked up his menu and started look at it. Lauren walked away and got them their drinks, bringing them back.
"What can I get you?" she asked with a smile. The man with the accent spoke for the three of them.
"What is the roast beef sandwich like?"
"It's good," Lauren said with pep in her voice, "Jared makes the best roast beef around here. Where you guys from?"
"Somewhere you've never heard of, most likely," he answered cryptically. Lauren's eyes narrowed but then she smiled, not wanting to press the matter further.
"Okay," she answered, "Just passing through?"
"Something like that," he answered, "Three roast beef sandwiches with peppers please."
"Okay then, coming up," Lauren said, taking the menus from the men. She noticed the man that did not want a drink didn't look at her. Thinking nothing really of it, she picked up the menus and headed back to the chef.
"Three roast beef sandwiches," she said standing on her toes to look over the window. The cook eyed the men behind her. They were dressed to nicely to tourists or traveling salesmen. They looked as if they belonged in a large city.
"Where they from," the cook said. He considered Lauren his daughter. The young girl was attractive and innocent, naïve and stubborn as hell, throwing herself into danger because she didn't see it there. Ignorant.
"I don't know," Lauren answered, "Hey I'm going to use the bathroom. I'll be right back, okay?"
"Okay," the cook agreed. Lauren smiled at him. She hopped down and nearly bounded toward the back door. She stepped out into the cool desert air and toward the bathroom door. She locked the door and bent over the sink, looking at her reflection. It was then she heard the sound of footsteps. Where they leaving already?
At that very second the door burst open under the force of a foot kicking it. Wheeling around, she gripped the sink with her hands as the man that didn't speak came sauntering in.
"Please," she murmured," Whatever you want," she pleaded. The man gripped her arm forcefully and yanked, pulling her one arm of the sink and towards he door.
"This will be much easier if you don't struggle," he growled at her darkly. Panic floored itself through her veins, chased away by adrenialine. Feeling courageous, she ripped her arm from his. The behemoth of a man staggered toward her. She ducked a flying arm and kicked him hard in the shin, squeezing herself by him and into the night. She ran toward the back door, intent on getting the help from inside the diner, when a man came around the corner, the man with sandy hair, and lunged at her. She twisted away from him and turned toward the desert, a dead run as she went.
She could hear three distinct sets of running feet behind her. She ducked to the left and they followed. She realized she could lose them easily, as long as she kept running. Suddenly there was an explosion behind her and she saw a bush in front of her go up in flames. They were shooting at her, but she'd never seen a gun do that before. She faltered in her step for a moment, but scrambled into a sprint, heading for a nearby rock cove that she could sneak behind and take shelter from the onslaught of fire. There was some shouting behind her and she looked forward just as an explosion in front of her occurred sending her into a stumble. Before she could get up a burly man pounced on her.
"Stop," she screamed loudly, "You can have my money!" she screamed angrily, "Please just take it!"
She fought the man off with her fists and knees. She had managed to knee him in the gut, causing him to roll to the side in pain. But it was too late. Another man had come for her and grasped her wrists tightly. She kicked and screamed, but she had lost the fight. He hauled her to her feet and started to drag her, arm around her waist, toward the diner and their car.
"Please," she begged, "Let me go. I won't tell anyone I swear. What do you want from me? Please, let me go, I'll give you my money, just please-"
The man shoved her into the truck of their car roughly before dusting off his sui. The other two had caught up and where standing next to him.
"What do you want?" she hissed as they blocked her exit.
"Lauren Bishop," the man said with a heavy English accent, "You're a hard woman to find."
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