A/N: This was supposed to be only the 1st part of the chapter, but since I can't get much time/emotional stability to write, I'm uploading what I could get on words. I'm sorry for taking so long, but... life is happening screwing me.

If there's still any readers out there (which i hope), thanks for not giving up on me, that's all.

Chapter 22: Work is personal matters

Darren shared with her a very brief eye contact before taking a seat before her, which was not enough to demonstrate much more than a moderate surprise. He put his notebook and pen on the desk, placed his bag under it and only then turned around to whisper, lowly enough to not call Professor Rosenberg's attention while he wandered throughout the classroom dictating the theoretical class.

"Hey," She leaned slightly forwards to hear him better, "Everything alright? You didn't answer my calls."

"I know, I'm sorry." Lauren answered, lowly as well, her fingertips pressing the pen placed on top of the desk. "These days have been a mess, I forgot." While that excuse wasn't true, the days did were a mess. Darren's expression anticipated there was another question at the tip of his tongue, so she added abruptly, "What happened with the website? Did you guys find anything you could send to NYU, anyway?"

"Tell me yourself." He simply said, grabbing the New York Times' paper of the day before from the inside of his notebook, folded at one specific page, and throwing it over her desk.

It wasn't quite a big article, but you could spot the black letters after your eyes had given a glimpse all over the page, rumpled from what surely have been the entirely of the gang's hands while a chant of victory came from their mouths. She could practically picture it in her mind.

Group of students get expelled after handling a drug business inside of university, and a more detailed explanation following she didn't bother to read.

"Well done," Lauren replied, handing the paper back.

Darren's eyebrows were up as he observed, "I expected a much more moving reaction, to be honest."

"I'm singing inside, trust me." Lauren grinned shortly, then shook her head. She let it out after a pause, "It's just… Don't you think-?" She leaned backwards to rest in her seat, mouth shut discretely, while professor Rosenberg walked next to them, and continued when he got far enough, this time leaning sufficiently close to make sure no one else could hear a thing. "Don't you think they'll know it was you?"

Darren shrugged, careless, "Does it matter?"

"Of course it does." Her answer was immediate. She placed a hand on his shoulder, softly. "I'm worried."

"I knew the risk." Darren seemed confused at this statement, like if they were having the exact same conversation all over again. "You knew the risk."

And Lauren hated that I-told-you-so look, but she couldn't turn off emotions inside of her like the light of a room.

"So you're saying that you don't care?"

Darren sighed, finally throwing with a certain tone and looking at her, "I'm saying that I'll take whatever I have to take."

Then he turned around before giving her the chance to respond, and Lauren had no option than to pretend she was taking notes of the class. Feeling somewhat alone in the middle of that classroom, like if she had fallen on a strange land, and she didn't talk the same language, wore the same clothes, or felt the same grieves.

"Are you sure you want to do the ball this year?" Lauren's reply to her mother's question about the possible future date they should meet with the catering service wasn't neither the reply she was expecting or a proper reply at all. "I mean… You shouldn't over-demand yourself right now, and with college I barely have time to do anything whatsoever. It might be too much for just the two of us."

She knew after finishing that last phrase that she chose the worst possible words.

"I don't see what can be too much about it, and I'm perfectly capable of taking care of this on my own. Besides, it's practically tradition. Why wouldn't you want to celebrate this year?" The phrases came out of her mother's lips one through another, like spasms she couldn't control.

The ball was an odd nickname for the fancy gala her family hosted every year during her birthday, and the tradition thing was a suitable point. It had been -at the beginning- a birthday party, but at that point it felt more of an excuse and it was everything but about her at all. It was a meeting of friends and coworkers of her family, it was a business meeting, it was a fashion event for some –but it wasn't about her. Nonetheless, she was a crucial symbol of the dinner, so her opinion should somewhat weight more in the whole thing.

"I could celebrate differently this year. The ball is so much effort. I could just go and have dinner at a restaurant with a few friends. We could have lunch in here with close family." It made her embarrassed as she said it: how silly it sounded, and how thin her voice seemed to come out, almost fading out by the end.

"You know I'll take care of everything." The tone in Katie's voice was already defensive, "If we just don't do it, people will think –God, who knows what they will think?" The scenario was, apparently, too horrifying to describe.

That we have better things to take care of? "Yeah, okay. Sure." She finally gave in, knowing it wasn't worth to start a discussion for just a one-night thing. She was so used to it that it'd pass as fast as the blink of an eye.

The scandalized tone vanished quickly as Lauren said that, and it was replaced by a satisfied, subtle grin in her mother's lips. "Wonderful. I have an event that week, though, so I was considering it to make it on March 1st."

"You know, they say it's bad luck to celebrate birthdays before the date." Katie's expression changed abruptly again, so she just shook her head. "It's a joke. March 1st is perfect."

Lauren grinned shortly, before calling to be excused of finishing dinner and going upstairs. She walked the way to her room slowly, remembering the countless times in the past she had wandered through the house, sensing it was enormous and wondering if she could ever finally memorize the number of steps she tried to count, as a game, that lead you from a room to another. The emptiness and silence from back then had become not a challenge anymore, but an obvious sign of lacking –of people, movement, noise, life. She felt the huge difference with her apartment, though it was quite big for two people if you compared it with other classmates', she could count with Caroline to always make it feel like if it was alive.

Not so much now, though. Things have been weird since the redhead started dating Joe and she went out with the gang. Whenever Lauren started feeling like she could actually play a role in the group, and that she was one of them, having earned the place as everyone else, Caroline worked as a reminder that -if it wasn't for Darren- none of them would think she was rad or an option to hang out with, and that the outsider mark would never fade off her skin. She didn't even consider it important, until she realized that it was. So Lauren sometimes acted cold, but Caroline didn't joke about it like she used to –instead, she fired back a colder comment and then a tense silence followed until one of them walked out of the room. All of this contributed to Caroline not even texting her during the days she was immersed in the house, and Lauren didn't text first neither. It felt like if instead of going twenty minutes away from their apartment, she had moved to the other side of the world.

Her mind was lost somewhere between counting the steps from the stairs to the room, and wondering if there'd be a text from Caroline on her phone, when she stopped in front of the door of her mom's studio. Forty-two steps, and it seemed like if a clout drew her eyes to the wood, and she felt frozen there for long enough to lose count.

The silence was so powerful, that there wasn't a way of shutting the voice in her mind out. A year ago, it'd say: what's the right thing to do? And she'd answer to herself almost immediately. Now, the question was: what will bring me less guilt? What will hurt less the ones I love? But she was opening the door before she could get to an answer.

Katie was still in the middle of lunch when she left, so she guessed she had more than enough time to find what she was looking for. The table was a big mess of different files, and she abandoned it after leafing through a tall pile of papers without spotting the yellow portfolio. She opened the first drawer of the desk with hands that were slightly shaking, but not enough to be noticeable to the eye. There was a blue file at first sight, and she couldn't avoid the air coming out loudly of her mouth when she lifted it a bit, and there it was. The cover was hard under her fingers, and opening it felt heavy, both in a physical and metaphorical sense.

She'd never define what was worse: the doubt of whether worrying about Darren was righteous, or its certainty. But she could define that this certainty felt like a punch in the pit of the stomach that leaves one out of air. Her eyes laid on a parade of pictures, folded one by one, of Darren doing a variety of things: sometimes alone in the street, with people she didn't know, sometimes posing or without knowledge there was a camera around, but mostly with his usual careless expression that made clear he had no idea how those pictures would be used. Quite a big part of the pictures didn't give away the best side of him, and they made him look like some dark, cocky underground. Under each one of the photographs, written in black ink, footnotes indicating a date and hour –some of them had been crossed out and changed, the location of the picture, and with a bigger font: suitable, or not suitable. There were plenty of pictures with Michael that said not suitable, but some of them apparently passed the test; she failed to determine the pattern.

Lauren skipped a few pages, to a pair of newspaper clippings regarding the club situation. There were not more than four or five. She felt too overwhelmed to stop for a detailed reading, but the words mysterious network, Michigan and quiet police were thrown all over. She was turning the last page when a voice almost made her jump of fear –did she stupidly leave the door open or she was too immersed in the yellow folder to hear it?

"Lauren, what the hell are you doing?"

When she said it, it felt like if it came from someone else, and she was a spectator of the whole scene. But her voice wasn't anywhere nearly to fading out.

"You can't do this."

The woman seemed more confused than offended, for the first time in a while. "What are you talking about?" Her eyes, with the same brown as hers, looked down to the sheet of paper in her hands.

"You can't charge against him. He's innocent."

Katie placed a hand that meant to be gentle on her shoulder, because she noticed the nerve that was setting her voice straight and rough like that. Lauren was annoyed by the touch, but she didn't say it.

"We've talked about this before. I know people in your college will talk behind your back, but this is work and it's far more important. I thought you said you understood that. I'd rather discuss why you were spying on my…"

"It's not that," Lauren snapped, upset. "It's because he's innocent and… and he's my boyfriend."

The expression on her mom's face could've been the same if she said she wanted to quit college and become a circus star.

"You're messing with me." She said it as a statement.

Lauren pressed her lips together, and then shook her head. She remained silent, trying to let that sink in before giving more information that could only weight against her.

"How could you even meet someone like this?"

"He's in a few of my classes. It's not that hard, meeting people, you know."

"I mean," Katie was losing patience, and Lauren knew she shouldn't do this, not in the state she was, but the beast had been unleashed and she couldn't stop it now. The judging tone in her voice made nothing but to trigger it. "How did you end up in a relationship with someone like that? Are you even aware of the circles he's been involved with? The things he's accused to have done?"

"I know everything I need to know."

She sighed, and then the spit slowly travelled through her throat. "When did this happen?"

"It's been more than three months by now." Lauren tried to calm her voice. "He's a delight, and you'd think so if you get to know him." She made a pause before adding, lower, "I didn't mean for you to find out like this."

But that didn't seem to be the problem for her. "Well… that's not really the point. I am very sorry, Lauren, but I can't let personal matters into my work. It's not… it's not professional."

"But your work is personal matters, mom, and have always been. These are real people's lives we're talking about. Lives that affect me directly. Can't you choose literally anyone else?"

She got the point right with that discourse and the woman seemed to notice.

Katie appeared to be just as impotent as her with the situation. Her voice came out less certain with every sentence. "He is perfect. I have no one else that fits the profile so correctly, with evidence that can be so easily manipulated and a suitable history. And everything has been settled down for months now. The trial should have place in about a month and a half, and next week I have to send to the police the…"

"What if I give you someone that checks all those items as well?"

"I need evidence that I can…"

"You mean, like pictures?" Lauren couldn't help but to keep interrupting. This was on her, and on her only. She had to figure it out.

Katie nodded, but the look on her face was discouraging everything she could possibly say.

Lauren tried to sound the most reasonable she could. "I can get you that. Trust me, I can. I have someone that suits even better your profile, I think."

"I don't know…"

"Give me a chance. I can get this for you. I'm completely sure it'll work. You're a great lawyer, and you'll fix it with Mi- with your client to change the target. It'll be the same for them. Please."

Lauren knew it wasn't right. She wasn't sure about many things, but she was sure this wasn't right, and it didn't stop her.

The woman pressed her lips together. It was clear that she was upset, but she gave in. "Okay. You have three days and nothing more, get it? If not, I'll continue with the plan as we had it."

"Absolutely." Lauren made an effort not to smile, because it was the least proper thing to do.

Katie sighed, and she knew this was incredibly difficult to accept, and she wouldn't have done it for anyone else. The wood could bend before it cracked.

"And can I know who this person is, anyway?" She asked, her eyes looking straight into hers.

Lauren knew it wasn't right and that was one thing, point and new paragraph. But another completely different thing was to find pleasure on it.

"His name is Joseph Walker."

"Get this, she's gonna blow me off. I'll bet you… a Fernet Branca." Darren said, resigned. He was lying on the couch, legs resting comfortably over the top of it and head dangling upside down as he messed around on his phone. "Remind to me how did I survive Friday night's parties when I was single?"

"You got drunk and got into someone else's pants, eventually." Joe explained as he slid through the couch, stretching his arm to the other side of Darren to grab the TV remote.

"Right." Darren said, hearing the dial tone on his ear. "We can arrange half of that plan."

Joe gave him a look, zapping through the channels, but Lauren's voice came on surprisingly fast for what Darren was expecting.

"Hey, how are things?" He gave Joe a glance that asked to turn down the volume, but it was ignored.

"Things are okay around here. And you?"

Darren groped blindly to take the remote from his friend's hands, but it was quite a hard attempt in that position. He had to gather some air before replying.

"I'm at Jim and Joe's right now. If you don't have plans for tonight… they're throwing a party, kind of. A few people will come over. There'll be food, alcohol, someone embarrassing themselves. The usual."

"Is it the party at Jim and Joe's apartment?" The question practically gave him the answer he expected.

Darren cleared his throat before answering, like if he wanted to delay it somehow. "Yeah…"

"Okay, I'm in."

He couldn't help but to let out a snort of surprise, his hand falling on the couch, passive. "Really?"

"I can't wait." Lauren assured.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Darren sort of felt he was misunderstanding a joke. He grabbed Joe's shoulder to sit up, the concentration of blood in his head was making him dizzy.

"Why did you invite me if you're gonna act all weird when I say yes? I need to let go some of the stress."

He didn't think he was the one acting weird, but he just mumbled out, "I was expecting having to convince you for over fifteen minutes more, but this gives me time to go home and get a shower. I'll pick you up in over an hour and a half."

"Great. I'll see you soon."

Darren looked at Joe with a satisfied, though confused look as he hung up the phone. "Well, that was unexpected." He said.

"You owe me a Fernet Branca." His friend only warned, standing up and cracking his back.

"I wonder what made her change her mind out of nowhere."

Joe rolled his eyes before saying, "Stop complaining. It sounds like you're getting laid tonight."

"Or I'm in some fucking deep trouble." Darren sentenced.

Joe had walked to the bathroom. Without closing the door, he opened water of the shower. The drops made a loud rambling while falling down. "Yeah, there's always that possibility." He added, honest, and took off his shirt.

Darren's sigh was escorted by a sway that put his head upside down again, before he rolled over and dragged himself out of the apartment. He had a bad feeling about it, and his instincts were never wrong about those things.

A/N: Reviews and support and signs of life are all very welcome!