Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to eblane. I am always looking forward to your reviews and I appreciate your dedication to the Lost Girl fan fiction community. Thank you!

To all the other people who review and comment: you are equally appreciated! You guys help make writing a pleasure. Please enjoy!

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She should be in the lab.

Sweat mingled with tears and hoarse breaths as she pumped furiously. Her knuckles, raw, ripped and bleeding from repeated contact with canvas, were a distinct contrast against the white of the lab coat she had failed to remove. Blood splattered in creative patterns, an uncomfortable mess that normally would have sent her obsessive compulsive tendencies into action.

Right now none of that mattered. She pounded on the bag, forgetting all of the techniques that Dyson had painstakingly shown her—skills she knew she had impressed him by learning so quickly. She hadn't taped her hands. She wasn't holding the thin metal bars he had insisted she grip to minimize the damaging compression of her knuckles.

She shouldn't be here.

She thrust at the bag with another ragged breath.

She should be examining stony sprites who had ultimately met the end of their malevolent little lives at the hands of some unknown creature.

Lauren wasn't sure where to place her fury. Bo's biological imperatives dictated that she feed regularly, preferably from multiple, strong sources. Rationally, Lauren knew this. She wanted to believe she was prepared for its inevitability. But Bo had thrown it in her face, flaunting the fact that she had sex after Lauren had refused her.

And wasn't that just the crux of the problem? Lauren had refused the succubus, knowing full well what Bo had needed. Bo had come to Lauren—as a lover, as a partner—with the one thing she required and Lauren had failed to provide. She could have avoided all this anguish if she had only given Bo what she wanted; what they had both wanted.

Lauren was not often prone to feelings of inadequacy, but she had never been more painfully aware of her human shortcomings than she was right now. Surrounded by powerful beings that quaked at the mere hint of a presence stronger than their own, Lauren felt her own vulnerabilities much more acutely. Her only method to combat the shortfall was to exemplify her strengths. And that meant using science to augment the potency of the fae themselves, because they had to win or there would be no point to anything.

To that end, she should be in the lab doing her part. It was why she had refused Bo in the first place. She had stretched herself too thin and screwed up her priorities. Again. Now she was here in the gym, completely out of control, thrashing a punching bag. And it had to be Dyson who found her clinging to it, sobbing great wracking anguished tears. It was shaping up to be her lucky day.

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He made the mistake of touching her trembling shoulder as she clutched desperately at the swaying canvas bag. Lauren sprang at him; whatever was bothering her exploding outward in a massive wave. Her thin, lithe body bowled into him, knocking him unexpectedly onto the mat. She stumbled, caught herself and scrambled around, furiously whipping her way out of the cumbersome lab coat as she assumed one of the well-balanced stances he had shown her.

"Get up," she demanded.

Dyson flipped himself backwards into a low crouch. "Lauren?" Something about the way she looked reminded him of a cornered animal.

"Attack me, Dyson," she said, voice low and threatening.

Alarmed, Dyson shook his head as he rose. "You've hurt yourself."

She vaulted forward; landing a solid back-hand across his face that rocked his head to the side and left a smear of her blood across his cheek. He slowly brought his gaze back to her, eyes narrowed. She leapt again, but this time he was ready. He caught her fist in the palm of his hand and held it in a tight grip, constricting her knuckles. It had to hurt, but she clenched her teeth and tried to hit him with her other fist.

"Lauren... come on, cut it out."

He eased his grip and she twisted away from him. They slowly circled one another. Dyson never took his eyes off hers. They were red and swollen, yet glittering with determination. He had never considered that the good doctor could become unhinged, but he briefly wondered now. She was always so calm and rational. This was an out-and-out break from the norm and he had to admit that it unsettled him.

It also sparked compassion.

He had a sneaking suspicion that Bo had pulled something. Whenever heightened emotions came in to play these days, the succubus was never far from the scene of the crime. Hale had been right, the woman was a handful.

Lauren was showing vulnerability, something that was exceedingly uncommon especially in front of him. Their relationship had never been easy, even before they had fallen in love with the same woman, and now it was moving into an entirely different realm. Dyson wasn't sure what to make of it.

He had been surprised when she had approached him weeks ago and asked him to teach her how to fight. She didn't deign to explain herself, just asked him in a no-nonsense manner if he would do it. He had shrugged and agreed as if he didn't have the slightest curiosity as to her motivations. But he was mildly curious, although if he cared to spend the time to think about it he could probably figure out her reasons.

So, now as they circled, Dyson felt himself frowning. Experiencing compassion for a woman that he so desperately wanted to continue to dislike threw him into a tailspin. He suddenly had no idea what to do. He recognized that she was seeking some means of venting her frustration. If he were to admit the deeply buried truth, he would welcome the chance to bruise her just a little. It wasn't like him to feel his emotions writhing this close to the surface.

If he didn't know better, he might have thought she wanted him to hurt her. The last thing he wanted to do was to purposely hurt someone weaker than himself, even by invitation.

And this invitation was definitely not about him.

Dyson stopped circling. He dropped his hands to his side and watched the doctor, waiting for her to move.

She did, with viper-like speed. When she sucker-punched him, with impressively excellent form, he had already tightened the abdominal muscles of his stomach to absorb the impact. But she actually hit him hard enough to cause him to expel the deep breath he had taken in anticipation. He bowed forward a little with the blow, bringing his chin within range. She took advantage of the weakness and his lack of defense and dropped her body down slightly, rotating into a fantastic upper-cut. His teeth jarred against one another, his vision blurred and he grunted, losing his balance and landing on his ass on the mat again.

She must have stunned herself as well, because he heard a sharp intake of breath. When his vision cleared he saw her standing before him, fiercely shaking her hand. Renewed tears were streaming down her face, but she seemed not to notice.

"Oh my God, Dyson, I'm sorry!"

The doctor had finally regained control of herself.

She knelt down in front of him, gingerly touching his chin. She held herself rigidly, as though expecting some kind of retaliation. "I'm good, Doc," he said. She kept fiddling, turning his face this way and that, examining him for damage. Finally he reached up and gently took hold of her wrists. She flinched, but didn't extract herself from the contact. "Seriously, it's fine. Wolves are pretty tough, you know that."

Lauren watched him for a moment, her throat working, and he imagined she was anxiously trying to figure out what on earth she would say to the man she had just attacked unprovoked. Ultimately, she said nothing because they both knew that there wasn't anything to say.

They considered one another, both of them sensing the subtle shift in their association. They listed dangerously toward friendship. If stubbornness weren't inherent to either of them, it might even be plausible to venture down that avenue. For now, they collectively ignored the possibility.

Still holding Lauren's wrists, Dyson stood up and drew the doctor to her feet.

"We need to look after your hands, Lauren. Maybe someday you can explain to me what that was all about," he said.

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