And...DRUMROLL...I'm back with an update on Christmas date! Yay!How awesome is that, cause the real Christmas is just around the corner! Awesome timing of little ole MOI! :-)
My lovelies, it's been a hellofalongtime since I've updated this story, so all I can say is thank you for your patience! The little bit below is short, but I felt I needed it to be separate from the next chapter which is going to be Lauren's version of Bo and Lauren's day at the theme park.
Hope you enjoy, hope it gives you something to ponder, think and wonder about, and here's to hoping you'll review!
See you laters, lovelies!
Replies to reviews below.
Bo's POV
Have you ever really been in love before?
Have you ever loved before?
Really loved before?
I don't mean only the butterflies, or even the lust,
I mean that deep sense of connection we all look for:
That one person that takes a stroll with you and then sits down on the exact same bench you wanted to sit on?
That one person that seems to know what you're thinking, and who thinks the same,
That person you share an easygoing laugh with, but whose outlook on life is sometimes so different that it makes you think?
Really think.
Think so hard that it can actually change you?
xxx
Have you ever once loved someone so deeply that you would want to change the world for them?
that all it would take to ask is a look or a smile?
And that that look or smile makes you believe you could actually do it?
xxx
Have you ever loved someone so much you hurt when they hurt, and all you wish is to take away that pain?
Or loved someone so much that you think only of making them smile?
Loved someone so much that the only future you see is one with them?
xxx
I can't recall ever having loved someone like that,
I've had bits and pieces:
the attraction, the lust, the butterflies,
even the hope of a future,
but one or the other was always missing.
xxx
I can't recall ever having loved someone so fully
and yet I believe firmly that I have.
Or is that just my longing for it?
December 2018, Washington DC
Lauren's POV
I smile gently at the woman accross the table as she tells me about her day, and then I pour her another drink.
"This was great Lauren," Emily says.
"It was nothing. Just a casserole, nothing fancy."
"Still, I know how busy you are. To take the time..." Emily's hand moves over my own, and I look down at our hands. I know what she's going to ask me, what she wants, what she's been hinting at. We've been dancing around this for a while now. I'm not sure why I keep postponing it. Emily is an amazing woman: smart, beautiful, talented, driven, one of the top lawyers in the state next to her best friend and business partner Mabel Pierce. All I could ask for. So why do I keep doing this?
I pull my hands back.
"It's late." I say with a small smile, and she knows what I mean by that. Usually, she just nods and we call it a night, but she's going to say something now. I can tell by the deep inhale.
"Lauren, we're good together," Emily says. "We share the same values, we have great chemistry, I think you're amazing, I tend to think you, at least, like me." Emily chuckles at her joke, but I can still sense that tinge of uncertainty in her voice.
"Of course, I do."
"Then give us a chance? We have dates, we sleep together, we're good I think, but I never get to sleep over here. You hold back." Emily says with a sigh. "And after four years..."
My head shoots up at her words, and my brow creases up in a defensive position.
"After four years, don't you think it's time to make room for someone else in your heart?" Emily doensn't wait for my reply. "I want to be that person, Lauren." Emily puts her hands over mine again and squeezes lightly. "But you've got to let me."
I look sideways avoiding her eyes, and Emily sighs again.
"I'm going to go. Just think about it, really think about it. Give me a chance?"
I nod silently at her request.
"Goodnight."
I watch Emily head towards the door. I'm tempted to say something, tempted to call her back, put a smile on her face by promising her something. A weekend away maybe, but I say nothing and instead watch her walk out of my flat.
Bo's POV
My chest heaves and my pulse races as I finally clear the woods. I keep up my tempo despite the fact that after two hours of running my muscles are strained, and that one muscle in my calve is playing up again. The midnight air is cool, there is hardly any wind resistance. I concentrate on my feet hitting the pavement catching the shadows I cast as I'm now passing one street lamp after the other. The lights of the Lake and the Lincoln Memorial loom up. Just one last stretch I tell myself. My body burns, my feet thump, my heart beats loudly. In the back I hear the honking, the sirens, the cars of downtown Washington. I push through willing my body to forget my physical discomfort, forget I'm tired and that I'm running on five hours of sleep in the last three days, forget everything. Surprisingly, there's something left in the tank and I cross my self-imposed finish line five minutes later in a good time.
Out of breath, I bend through my knees and inhale deeply. I feel beads of sweat run over my back, and know I'll have to layer up quickly or I'll freeze. I swing my back pack off of my shoulders and unzip it. I go for the water bottle first, unscrewing it and then drinking large gulps of it. As soon as I'm hydrated I feel a queasiness settle in my stomach and a shiver run over my body that's telling me that I can't do this to my body on those five hours of sleep. I let myself fall back unto the grass as I feel my balance is faltering. I reach for the backpack again, and pull out a hazelnut crunch energy bar, breakfast of champions! even though breakfast is a solid six hours away still.
With the energy bar, a crumpled envelop comes out of the backpack. I can just make out the sender: "NASA RECRUITMENT"I scowl at it. I've already opened it, I've already read what's inside, and after basically five copies of the same letter, I can almost recite them by heart.
Dear Major McCorrigan,
We regret to inform you that you have not been selected for our recruitment process.
We thank you for your interest in applying with our agency and wish you all the best in your future endeavors.
At least the first rejection letter had some feedback, it even encouraged me to apply again. Now all I get is the standard fucking letter of three lines. Three lines! That's what I get for two years of hell and another two years of working my ass off, getting back in shape physically, and mentally as well as I can.
"Goddammit!" I curse out loud and tear the envelop and letter all in one, then toss the snippets angrily. Why had I thought this time would be different? I close my eyes against the headache that's starting in the back of my head and breathe deeply. I can't get a migraine at this time, so I try and calm myself again. I've been fighting to get my life back for so long, maybe it's time that I just cut my losses, accept that I'm not the person I used to be.
"Damnit," I say aloud while tears brim behind my eyes, and my hands clench in angry fists. My head throbs and I know now I'm dangerously close to passing out. Another deep breath and I try and just shake this feeling of disappointment. If NASA isn't going to get me where I want to go, then I'll get to space via a private company.
I push myself up on my legs. I don't feel wobbly, and my headache seems to be pulling back. I breathe out relieved, and put one foot in front of the other before I decide to just jog back home. Perhaps tonight I'll get some much needed sleep.
One week later
Tamsin and Bo's apartment
2am
Tamsin's POV
Mug in hand and intent on filling it up with delicious hot coco, my bugs bunny slippers rustle against the wood of the stairs and then against the tile of the kitchen floor. In the dark, my hand fumbles about looking for the light switch. At 2am I would expect my kitchen to be empty, but I'm proven wrong when the noise of stumbling and the fridge opening grabs my attention. Either I'm dealing with a burglar who seems to have utterly missed the point of his chosen profession or Bo is back from Rand Tech. Looking up, I see the lit up derriere of my friend stick out of said fridge, and smile lightly knowing I won't have to send anyone to remedial school.
"Bo? Don't bother looking for anything edible in there. Some of your yoghurts may have grown feet and made it out on their own accord."
"Oh, uh no. Just getting a drink, " Bo mutters hastily, and closes the fridge basking us in darkness again. "I'm uhm...I was going to bed," Bo adds and then moves to pass me exiting the kitchen. I ain't a middle of the night person, not a morning person. More like a noon to late afternoon gal, but when I smell a rat, I can sure as hell recognize it scurrying out of my kitchen. I catch Bo by the elbow while my other hand reaches and finds the light switch.
"What the hell," tumbles from my lips the moment I see Bo. I blink twice making sure I haven't landed in some sort of weird ass dream. "What the fuck happened to your face?" I ask incredulously. Bo has a busted lip, a busted eyebrow, and an eye that looks like it should have its own zip code.
"It's nothing, Tams."
"Nothing?" I blink again. "Dude, your face looks like Arnold Schwarzeneggar went to town on it!"
"It's nothing," she repeats. "Taking up a new sport. Kickboxing. Kinda rough."
"Sure, and they train without padding? Bullshit, Bo!"
"It's not exactly at a gym."
"You're fighting illegally? I huff out incredulously. "Goddamn, Bo. What the hell are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking I like keeping busy. It's just a scratch, it'll heal."
"A scratch? No, no, this ain't just a scratch! What the hell is going on with you? What your day job isn't dangerous enough that you feel you need to get roughed up as a hobby? Jesus Christ, you can get braindamage from this shit!"
Bo gives me a blank stare.
"Have you never seen 'Concussion'? Sad movie with my man Will Smith where he plays this South-African doctor- .Anyways, it's about footballers, but the very educational fact remains is that you can get braindamage from getting knocked over the head.
"I'm a test pilot, Tamsin. It's a nice nine to five regular job," Bo sighs out.
"And that isn't dangerous enough? You're what then? Bored? I thought this is what you wanted? I thought you wanted to be here more often, develop your plane, not always away from home."
"I did," Bo says hesitantly. "I do," she clarifies.
"And you've still got that two-year plan going, couple of more months working for Rand and then NASA."
"Yeah," Bo agrees flatly.
"Then why Bo? Seriously, why?"
"I miss mattering?" Bo exhales. She doesn't look at me, but I can hear the emotion in her voice. She swallows and when her voice picks up again it sounds indignant. "What is it I do? Test some plane so I can work out the bugs, and some company can make billions of dollars? Bo rolls her eyes. "For the Air Force I had a purpose, I flew military missions, rescue missions, I contributed, I mattered, I made a difference."
"You can still matter. Join the voluntary fire department! Wait, no, too dangerous. Help out at the soup kitchen or something."
"That's my Wednesday night."
"Is it?"
"Rand Tech doesn't let me volunteer for the fire department. Too hazardous," Bo chuckles ruefully at the irony.
"But, they don't object against getting your face smashed, huh?"
"No broken bones," she shrugs and then grins a little. Gods, it pisses me off when she does this. When she's being flippant on me in the worst of moments. It's a trait she's picked up from me through the years. It's one of my many superpowers, and it's hella cool when she uses it on someone else. I totally get the sense I raised the girl. When she pulls it on me though, I just wanna smack the smartass out of her.
Instead I just mutter "Yet" through my teeth, and exhale deeply. "Alright, come on, let's get you cleaned up a little," I say and pull Bo to the kitchen table with me.
I gesture for her to sit and then rummage through the kitchen cupboard for our first aid kit. I also grab a clean towel, and open the fridge. I go for the freezer pulling out the bag of frozen peas Bo bought like a year ago thinking we'd get round to making soup. I throw the bag of peas and the towel to her, and she quickly wraps one around the other and then presses the towel with the peas in against her left eye.
I move to the table again, open the kit and get out the Isobetadine. I put some on the small cotton cloths and press the disinfectant against her lip, then the cut to her eyebrow, and some other minor cuts she has on her face and her hands. The disinfectant must hurt like a bitch, but she doesn't flinch.
"I'm so grounded, huh?" Bo asks after a few minutes of me tending to her. It's another smartass comment this time to break the tension, but I don't want to hear it.
"You're a grown ass woman, Bo. You make your own choices," I say coldly. "If you want to get your head bashed in, I'm not gonna stop ya." I see Bo flinch at my tone. Boyaa! Yup, I'm pissed and she knows it.
I've pretty much covered all of the visible cuts, so I'm gathering all the used cotton swabs and the disinfectant to clean up. As I do that, I realize I'm not entirely being fair to Bo. Usually this dynamic, that being one of us tending to a black eye or a busted lip or whatever, is reversed. I've been in quite a few bar fights. Always legit on my end. And I've dated, and broken up -perhaps not always as subtly- with quite a few women with a mean right hook.
Unable to stand the tension between us I ask. "I hope you won at least?"
"Got her to tap out in the 5th round,"
"I do like me a good tap out," I offer, and Bo launches into a detailed explanation of her fight, and the lock she had her opponent in. After a few minutes of just talking, I nudge her off to bed telling her I'm just going to make myself some hot coco before I go back to bed myself.
When I hear Bo's bedroom door fall shut behind her, I exhale.
I've known Bo for a very long time, longer than I've known anyone else in my life as well as I know her. Also, I'm a lawyer. We smell bullshit from miles away; probably because we sell it almost every day. I swallow hard. Bo isn't telling me everything, she's hiding something. I could tell when she launched into that whole Spiel about not mattering anymore. No doubt the not mattering is part of it, but I just know right to the depths of my funny bone that there's more.
The fact that she's lying to me is a scary thought. People on a whole lie all the time, I know that better than most, and for all different reasons, but Bo as a rule doesn't. She's a straight shooter. Always has been. It's not even the fact so much that she's fighting illegally, cause shit girl is a good ass fighter. It's the fact that if Bo is lying to me then shit is seriously wrong. Bo is the type of person that only lies for two reasons: either because she's protecting someone by lying, or because what she's lying about scares her so much she doesn't want to deal with it. That realization mixes and washes in with the many times I've woken up these last couple of weeks to Bo having nightmares, and it makes the heart in my chest cringe painfully.
My eye falls on Bo's gym bag that sits on the breakfast bar. She must have dropped it there when she came into the kitchen. I ain't big on sniffing through people's things -without a court order that is- I ain't big on big government. Fuck, I'd probably vote Republican if it wasn't for their ass backwards ideas on every single social issue, but this is bigger than that. I move to the breakfast table and grab Bo's bag, pull it open.
I find the regular stuff in there; extra gym clothes, some dirty socks. Nasty!
I move to one of the side pockets dreading to find dirty underwear in there, but instead pull out a couple of letters clearly addressed to her and from NASA.
I pull one of the envelops open and start reading. "Goddamn,"
Two days later
Lauren's POV
I'm behind my desk looking at CT scans from the hospitals making observations. I jot down a couple of notes, including the fact that I want another scan and I want another opinion beside my own and that idiot Dr. Grant who first diagnosed the young man whose CT scan I'm currently staring at. It's plain to see that there's a hematoma on the occipital lobe of the brain. It's small, but still, it should be bloody obvious to someone who's studied medicine for almost a decade, yet Dr. Grant missed it. I shake my head frustrated at so much incompetence when my house phone goes off in the distance.
It's not the hospital, they'd call my work cell if it was an emergency, and I'm off tonight anyway, so it's either Mabel, Ben or Emily; the three people that have an idea of my schedule and know I'm home. I let it go to voicemail, I'm too engrossed with work. If it's Ben, he'll understand. If it's Emily then she'll probably want to schedule in our weekend plans. I already talked to her yesterday, and I honestly don't want to deal with it right now. I told her I would think about what she asked me, told her I would think about her words. I know she is right, but she can't expect me to give her an answer straight away.
At my feet Arthur purrs and I smile lightly, my hand going down to pet his head. His fluffy big ears and snout push back against my cuddles. In a second or two he'll either jump up on my lap or jump up on my desk. I hope it's the lap cause if he's going for the desk he'll start walking on my keyboard, and distract me from what I need to do.
"Artie.." I say with a sigh as he jumps up on the desk, and moves straight for the keyboard. I should just shoo him off, but his tail hits the computer screen as if he's cleaning it for me and his snout is nuzzling my cheek.
"Charmer," I say with a grin as he begins to purr again. I bury my fingers into his thick tiger coat fur, and am rewarded with an even louder purr. "You're such a cute cat," I mumble out, and he pushes his snout against my cheek agreeing with me. "A handsome cat," I praise him further and put him on my lap so I can get back to working and typing. My house phone stops ringing, but moments after I've let my fingers move over the keyboard, my cellphone starts up. My iPhone is next to the keyboard, so I glance over looking at the screen and frown lightly. It's my neighbors' number and it makes me glad I ignored my house phone.
My neighbor is a cranky man in his sixties who calls me every so often to vent about something or another. Last time, he ranted on about the state of the flower bed in front of the condo for twenty minutes. The time before that it was about the paint odor that he had to deal with when the flat next to him was being repainted, and the time before that it was the doorbell tune he was unhappy with. I usually listen to him without having to offer up much input on my own. I don't think he has anyone else. I've never seen family visit, never seen anyone visit him, actually.
But nights like these I just want to get my work done, then perhaps watch some mindless show on TV, forget about this headache that's settling at the base of my skull, forget about the kitchen that's still a mess, cuddle with Arthur and go to bed.
My iPhone lights up one last time, and then the noise and the lights go dim again. With a short sigh I concentrate on the screen in front of me once more.
"How bout we go to bed, Artie?" I ask my cat hours later. Artie is still in my lap. He likes company and will always be 'around' when I'm working. Either on my lap or in his fluffy catbed that's at the back of my desk. He's probably one of the few creatures on this planet that actually likes that I can sit perfectly still in my seat for hours on end in focused concentration.
Artie purrs again as if saying yes, and jumps off of my lap. I head for the bathroom; brush my teeth and take what little make up I have on off then put on my pajamas and head for my bedroom. Artie is already at the foot of the bed curled up like a little ball of wool, and I smile. I swear sometimes my cat understands what I'm saying. I slip under my covers, and close my eyes hoping I'll sleep without nightmares for a change.
The next morning
It's ten o'clock when I wake up the following morning. I glance at the clock and grunt. It's not my habit to wake up this late, but then again, I haven't been getting much sleep lately, so perhaps these extra couple of hours of being passed out will have done me some good, and I'm always grateful for a night without nightmares. I swing my legs out of bed, and grab the remote on the nightstand. With a push of the button, my blinds are pulled up, and with it the sun and light filters into my bedroom again.
I grab at my phone absentmindedly, and throw on my chamber robe as I go downstairs to make myself a cup of coffee. While the coffee brews, I switch on the television for some background noice.
"Senator Dennis is in New York for his presidential campaign and was warmly-..."
I scowl at his name and switch the channels before I ruin my mood. I settle on a rerun of MythBusters and let the amused voice of Adam Savage roll over me. The coffee is ready by now and I wrap my fingers around the warmth of the cup, inhale deeply before taking a sip. I love the smell of coffee, sometimes even more than the actual taste of it. I watch with one eye as Adam and Jamie test the resistance of medieval armor while I throw a glance at my day planner for the upcoming weeks, and pencil in my schedule as good as I can. When I'm done the rest of my coffee has gone cold, and my stomach rumbles softly. I head over to my kitchen and open the fridge. I take out some eggs and milk, and get my tools out of the cupboard to make myself scrambled eggs. I usually only eat a few slices of bread in the morning, my work schedule not permitting me much time for anything else, but I do enjoy cooking, and scrambled eggs is something I like indulging in on a Sunday morning. It's while I'm reaching for seasoning that I noticed the flashing red light on my home phone, and remember that I had a phone call I ignored yesterday.
I pour some oil in my pan, and turn the stove on. I quickly cross the kitchen and the living room to my house phone and press the play button.
"You have two messages." My answering machine says as I make my way back to the kitchen. The first message is indeed my neighbor. While I listen to Eddy complain about the front desk, I add the eggs to the pan. Fortunately for me, his rant is a rather short one this time. The machine beeps again announcing the second message on my machine.
"Lauren, it's Tamsin." At her voice, my head snaps up instantly, and my heart skips a beat. I haven't talked to Tamsin in months and my first instinct is that something has happened to Bo, and Tamsin is letting me know. My heart unclenches as I listen to Tamsin's message and it becomes clear that Bo is alright, but then I frown at what Tamsin is telling and asking me. When I finally look back down at my eggs, when I'm finally done staring blankly ahead thinking of what Tamsin has just asked me, I see my eggs are burnt beyond saving.
Replies to reviews
Joan: I was on the fence for a long time of whether or not I was going to let Bo start to remember Lauren or not, but I think I've worked it out in my head. It's just a question of relaying that process in a believable and truthful manner. :-)
Shomed: Awe! It's a pleasure! I'll get back to the Heir of Arundel too. I think sometimes it's a good thing to step back from certain story lines, and just have a rest, and then come back with a semi fresh view on things. It seems to have worked for this story. ;-)
Saphire: LOVE your enthusiasm! :-)
Sweetcandycane: Yeah, poor Eve :-(
Mulder: All is well, thanks for asking! :-) Stay tuned for the theme park scenes, Same time, same Bat channel! ;-)
Guest: First review? High five, that's awesome. I hope the first of many to come ;-) (They make us writers very happy)
Silvestra: You've had to be patient. Like VERY VERY patient...I should get you a badge for that, like a scout badge/token thing. Actually, i should give that to all of you cause you're all amazing! :-)
J: Heya there! Yeah, we knew what was coming, hope I didn't disappoint in the delivery of it. It's sad of course, and there will be more sadness ahead, hard to avoid that with this story line, but perhaps all the sadness is more just a bump in the road for Bo and Lo?
Susan: I'm happy to read I kept you guessing with the story line. I try to keep some surprises coming at least! :-) If I remember correctly, I tink it was your review that actually made me write out the court scene, and Lauren confronting Nadia. I was always going to touch upon it, of course, but you prompted me to write that out in detail so thanks for that! :-) I'm working on the theme park scenes in 2018 so hopefully I won't keep you waiting as long as I did with this update.
Sylvy: Is it wrong that I think it's pretty awesome that you thought it was scary? Cause..yay! I always hope my stories bring about the emotions I put into them! ;-)
Guest: I specialize in cruel and unusual cliffhangers! Just read my other stories, or ask some of my regular reviewers ;-) Ah yes, the brunette, well.. I suppose you got the answer to that question above! :-) Thanks for liking what I did with Nadia. I don't always make her into a boogieman, but in this story it just fitted.
Junet: Hmm...last paragraph of the first chap? I regularly get confused by my own writing though, not sure if I could explain it to you! haha!
Guest: I did, I did...but yeah...you had to wait for a long time :-(
Frenchi:You hit the nail on the head with that phrase, Frenchi. Thanks, and also thanks for liking The Holiday. I'll be getting back to that soon, I hope!
