Welcome to Wednesday! Hope everyone is having a productive week. Staying with the same this chapter, Bo POV, should be easy to match to the previous part. I'm not sure that there will be an upload tomorrow as my day is shaping up to not allow it, but we'll be back on Friday. Alright, off we go.

Saturday

Saturday morning started in much the same fashion as Friday. By 4, Bo was preparing for her second circuit through the neighborhood. She knew it was crazy, alright? She wasn't even sure what she was really looking for at this point. Still, the routine of it, the certainness that she had checked, seemed to calm her somehow.

A few circuits done, and she returned to the house to get Zeus and begin her run in earnest. Her muscles protested with each step, and the burning feeling of them, the slight pain, came as a sort of welcome relief. It gave her something to focus on other than her own mind.

By the time she got back she was sweat drenched and in desperate need of a shower. Still, she felt better. Refreshed. She removed Zeus' leash and headed inside, feeling almost ready to tackle the day.

Bo entered the house quietly, gently kicking off her sneakers. She pulled her sweatshirt from her body and felt a gratifying moment of cooling relief as the air hit her sweat dampened back while she hung up Zeus' leash. She loved the tee shirt she had on – it was Lauren's, a band tee shirt with the members of Hanson labeled "Nirvana".

She crossed to the coffeepot and began the brew. When the coffee was ready, she poured a generous cup and sat relaxed at the counter, scrolling through her phone. After a few minutes of absent scrolling she realized that she was looking for reports of overdoses.

Your mother isn't here. You just got back from doing the loop, remember?

You checked one neighborhood. You have no idea if she is here or not.

Realizing she was beginning to even sound crazy to herself, she thumbed over to Twitter.

"Morning."

Bo jumped with a startled jolt, reacting like a gunshot had gone off behind her, not realizing Lauren had woken up and was approaching the kitchen. She felt her heart pounding with the sudden fright.

"Another run?" Lauren asked, crossing to the cabinet to retrieve her mug.

Bo glanced at her sidewise as she took a sip of her coffee, feeling her heartrate retreat back to normal. Before she could finish her drink, Lauren spoke again. "How far today?"

"Not far," Bo answered honestly. Not far at all. Just one neighborhood.

"Are marathons what you're going to do instead of therapy?"

At the question, Bo felt herself bristle slightly, trying to prepare herself for whatever was coming next.

Lauren put up a hand, pausing Bo's preparations. "I'm not trying to argue. But, if you aren't going to do therapy, I do think we should acknowledge that you're suffering from some pretty hardcore anxiety right now."

"Anxiety?" The word gave Bo pause. Yes, she was stressed, she hadn't been sleeping well, but it wasn't anxiety, it was…Bo searched for the words, but none came.

Was Lauren right? Bo didn't think of herself as an anxious person. She was stronger than that. She was a person who prepared, who faced things, who dealt with whatever came towards her. She wasn't someone who cowered and hid when things happened; to the contrary, when she thought she had seen her mother, she had responded by meticulously returning to the place where she thought she had seen her to verify she wasn't there. She dealt with things. Of course, that could be interpreted as hypervigilance, and when she thought she had seen her mother…

Lauren rolled her eyes. "Seriously? Yes, anxiety. You can't sleep, when you do you have nightmares. You're so unable to keep still that you've taken up running God knows how far every day, you jump every time someone comes near you…you have anxiety. I'm shocked you aren't having full blown panic attacks yet."

Ding, ding, ding.

I'm not having panic attacks. I had one bad moment. I'm not breaking down or falling apart…I'm out of shape and got winded and nauseous because of running. That isn't a panic attack. That's a cry for a gym membership.

As she silently argued with herself, she didn't realize the length of quiet that had stretched in the conversation until she heard Lauren's sigh. "Unless you already are."

"I don't think I am," Bo answered. Is that true? her mind niggled. You're lying to your wife, you know.

Lauren shook her head in clear disbelief of Bo's denial. "What did it feel like, and when did it happen?"

"It was nothing." Right?

"What did it feel like," Lauren repeated, and Bo could hear the frustration streaking through her voice. Bo fought the urge to shrink back from the tone.

"It was just…when I was out for a run, I got kind of…short of breath. Which is normal for a run, I'm just out of shape." That's right. You just need to work out more. It had nothing to do with thinking you saw your mother. Don't even mention that part, it isn't pertinent information that your wife would want to know. Better to tell her this, to lie to her, because clearly she's going to buy it, because she's so gullible. Right? Right?! You utter moron.

"Except that it was different than you had been feeling, or else it wouldn't have stood out to you at all." Lauren took a drink of her coffee. "When did it happen?"

How could she explain this? She didn't want to lie to Lauren. Despite all evidence to the contrary…she shut the thought down. She wanted to be honest with Lauren, but that was easier said than done, especially when it came to her mother. She sighed. "I was running and I saw…someone." Smooth. Idiot.

"Who?"

Shocking that she would ask that given your stellar explanation of things. "I don't know who she was," Bo replied as she quietly searched her brain for a logical way to explain all this.

A look passed through Lauren's eyes. "But she looked like the woman he killed?"

The statement caught Bo off guard. The woman who…oh. Oh. Of course, Lauren thought this was just about the case. Why would she think anything else? You haven't told her anything. Because you're nailing it with this whole marriage thing, you haven't screwed this up royally at all. Bo shifted her eyes to her mug while she berated herself and took a sip.

"And you felt – what, exactly?" Lauren pressed.

Bo cleared her throat. You need to deal with this. The longer you wait, the worse it will be. But she couldn't do that. She couldn't deal with that. Why, because the thought makes you anxious? "It was nothing." Winning again. Just killing it.

"Bo."

"I felt…" Bo thought for a second. What had she felt? She remembered the terror, the desire to claw at her own throat for air, the burning of the vomit forcing its way from her. How could she explain that? "I don't know," she continued, lamely. "I just thought it was her for a second for some reason." She knew it was a lie of omission. She knew she was letting Lauren believe something she knew wasn't true. She knew she was despicable, alright? She knew.

"And you felt like you were having a heart attack? Like you couldn't breathe? Dizziness, nausea?"

Bo forced herself back to those horrible moments, comparing them to Lauren's words. Yeah, that's pretty bang on, actually she thought.

When she didn't speak, Lauren continued. "Yeah, Bo, that's a panic attack. Has it only happened once?"

"Yes," Bo answered automatically, relieved to finally be able to say something truthful.

"And you still won't go talk to someone?"

Bo felt herself deflate. "Lauren…" Of COURSE I don't want to go to therapy. I don't want to be unzipped. I don't want to be opened up. If I do that, if I let it all spill out…what will be left? I won't survive that. We won't survive that.

They lapsed into quiet, the silence filling the space around them like half set jello, viscous and thick, occluding the air and muffling all sounds. For a moment Bo had a thought that she could reach out to it, touch it and watch it wobble and bend without breaking. She didn't move for fear of feeling the resistance at her legs.

"Are you working a shift at the Dal today?" Lauren said, and her words pushed away the oppressive silence, a breeze blowing away smoke.

Bo looked up. "Can I?"

Lauren laughed without humor. "I'm not your jailor, Bo. I get it, you can't stop working yet. Incidentally, that's also the anxiety, but whatever. I know you aren't ready to be still yet. I just want to help. If going to the Dal is going to help…I'll go with you."

See what she's doing for you? See how much she's willing to do for you? And won't even talk to her. You don't deserve her. You never have. "You don't have to do that, Lauren."

Lauren reached over and took Bo's hands. The action startled Bo slightly, but she hid it well. "Unless you tell me you don't want me there, I feel like this falls under the whole 'for better or worse' part of the vows."

And there it was. There was the difference between them; because where Bo was hiding and deflecting and lying, Lauren was doing everything to be open and honest and present. The imbalance made Bo want to stagger; further confirmation, as if any had been needed, that Lauren was far more than she could possible deserve. What trick of karma had led to this? How had she tricked Lauren into this relationship? "I'm so lucky to have you," Bo said, quietly.

"Well that's obvious," Lauren replied, and Bo felt herself smile involuntarily as light, warm and foreign, bloomed in her chest over her heart. "What time do we need to leave?"

Lauren and Bo spent the day at the Dal, and despite everything, despite the hell that had been the last few days, Bo swore to herself that she was starting to feel better. Lauren was more…well, not relaxed, but they seemed to be working toward some sort of understanding. Yeah, now Lauren knew about the panic attack, if that was what it really had been, but honestly it was probably for the best that it was out in the open. It had a label; now Bo could move past it. And, yes, Bo wasn't being entirely forthcoming, or forthcoming at all, but it didn't matter, right? It wasn't relevant information. Her mother hadn't answered her, but maybe that was a good sign also. Maybe she was thinking about what Bo had said.

Bulllllshit! the voice in her head sing-songed.

No proof to the contrary, her rational mind responded. She hasn't lashed out or rejected help.

Yeah, she hasn't accepted it either, because if she had, she would have asked for the name of the shelter.

Great, now she was arguing with herself. That would definitely make Lauren think she didn't need therapy. As she somehow managed to lose both sides of a debate to herself, she felt her phone buzz in her pocket.

Why don't you go ahead and check it? the dark voice hissed. Go celebrate how this time you fixed her and made it all better. Go celebrate your success.

It might not even be her texting, Bo reasoned.

Maybe not. So why aren't you checking?

With a resigned sigh, Bo pulled out the phone and saw her mother's number. Without reading the message, she pushed the phone back into her pocket.

Oh, would you look at that, it is her! Time for your victory lap, champ! Pull it out!

Just shut up.

You're talking to yourself.

I know.

Thirty minutes later, the phone buzzed again.

Ten minutes after that, again.

Hmm, seems like she really, really is ready to accept your help. Why are you ignoring her? I'm sure that's all she's saying, just that she's so motivated to become a healthy person that she's chomping at the bit to find out about that shelter you mentioned.

Maybe she is. Maybe this time is different. Maybe she will get well this time.

Right. So why aren't you checking your messages?

Bo sighed, stepping towards an empty back booth, and pulled out her phone.

im sry i yelld im fr this time tho jus need bump to get goin

plz dont ignore me i jus need lil bit

bo srsly its different this time

Bo stared at the three messages, and felt her irritation rising again. You text like a fifth grader. Also, stop calling it a 'bump', you want the money for heroin, not cocaine. Bo typed the message in, and then deleted it. She stood with her thumbs hovering over the keys, debating what to write.

"Uh, excuse me, if you have time to lean, you have time to clean, Ms. Dennis!" Kenzi called out from across the bar, causing Bo to startle slightly.

Bo looked up and rolled her eyes, and then shoved the phone in her pocket.

Good work, superstar. Looks like you really fixed her this time. Well done.

Shut up.

By the end of the evening, Bo found herself in the back office working on payroll. Her phone lay on the desk near her. Her mom hadn't texted her any more, and the black screen of the phone mocked Bo as she tried to ignore it.

She was about to put it back in her pocket when it lit up with a call from her mother.

Ignore it, Bo told herself.

Answer it, the other voice told her.

She reached for the phone and took the call.

"What?"

"Hey, baby," Bo's mother's voice said through the line, the voice sounding sicker than before.

"Don't call me that," Bo said, coldly. "I'm not giving you money. Anything else?"

"Bo, baby, please, I just need…just a little bit, okay?" her voice sounded desperate and shaky, and Bo could hear the edge of tears slipping in.

Bo shook her head in disgust. "Withdrawing?"

Bo's mother began to cry. "I just need a little bit, okay? I just need to get on my feet, put some things together!"

"What 'things', Mother? You've said that for years. What things are you magically going to put together this time?"

"Just like three grand, okay?"

Bo barked a humorless laugh. "Three grand? Are you out of your mind?"

"Okay, okay, if that's too much, how much can you do?" she asked, her voice speeding up. "It doesn't have to be that much, anything you can spare, baby, please."

"How about a referral to a nice rehab center?"

"Bo, c'mon, just some cash, that's all I need! What are you willing to give me to make me better?!"

"Mom, listen closely, I'm. Not. Giving. You. Money. I know why you need it; I know what you'll do with it. I'm not buying your heroin."

"I'm clean, alright? Dammit, Bo, I'm clean!"

"You're withdrawing!" Bo nearly shouted back. "It's not the same thing!"

"Bo, please, I –"

Bo hit the red hang up button and threw the phone onto the desk.

I do enjoy hearing from you