Alright, I said last chapter would be the last for this week, but I did miss Tuesday, and this one felt neater. For what I wrote of this new story piece, this would be the ninth chapter of about twenty-six I believe. So, we're less than half through what I have. I hope everyone is doing alright with this so far, I swear there is a narrative arc (at least sort of), so roll with me here. I tried not to leave extraneous things, or things that would just dangle with no payoff, however light that payoff may be. Hopefully I pulled at least some of that off, but hey, not a real writer. Enjoy this, and enjoy your weekend. Let's get after it.

Lauren had always felt at home in hospitals. She liked the way they felt like their own miniature worlds, a constant hum of activity at all times of day and night, a pulse like they were their own living entity. She liked the way their hallways intersected it strange junctures, testaments to the fact that they were often built piecemeal, and how it made each one like a fingerprint.

She liked their dynamic nature, the fact that there was always new challenge or puzzle to be sorted through. She liked the uniquely human moments that only hospitals could provide. They stripped away everything and left bare what people really were; the pure joy that came with a new baby, the desperation that came with a loved one in a dire situation. They highlighted what was important in life, what mattered, which was just…each other. They provided clarity.

As Lauren stood in the corner if this hospital room, she felt herself yearning for that clarity. The room was bright, stark, strangely awake and vibrant. There were sounds filtering in from outside the room, nurses in the hall, people walking, chatter and inane conversations. Desperately ordinary things, nurses talking about what to have for dinner, floors being cleaned, someone far away laughing at a joke whose punchline no one in this room would likely ever hear.

"Time of death, 4:17pm," Lauren said, looking at the black and white clock on the wall.

The others in the room began moving again. Machines were turned off, beeping ceased. Lauren stood still. She wanted to snap off her gloves and dramatically throw them in the trash, the way it's always depicted in TV dramas. She wanted there to be some Coldplay song underlying her as she walked out. She wanted the moment to feel significant, full.

Instead, she took one last look at the woman in the bed. She was – had been – in her late eighties. Lauren had a strange moment where she realized that, although she hadn't known this woman, she actually had never lived in a world where this woman didn't exist before this moment. She was small, thin, probably not more than 100 pounds, maybe 5'1". Her skin was sallow, waxy. Already Lauren noted that she looked absent from her body. For a moment Lauren thought about saying some sort of last rites – some prayer, some words, something. She knew it was pointless – it didn't matter what God you believed in, if there was one this woman had already met them. The time had passed, just as she had passed.

Lauren watched the nurses moving, some starting to leave. Soon there would be no one here, just this woman's discarded shell. Somewhere in this building someone would call a family member, or a next of kin, or someone. But no one was here with her. She had died alone. Lauren had spent extra time in her room over the last few days, but she still hadn't had the chance to know her. She still hadn't been there when she had passed.

Walking over to the computer, Lauren clicked through the woman's digital chart and found out she had a daughter, in her 50s, as her next of kin. Lauren had a fleeting thought that she should wait with this woman until her daughter arrived, if she came, but even as she thought it she knew it was foolish. This woman would be transferred out of this room before the daughter ever arrived, anyway.

Lauren spared one last look for what remained of this woman, this person who had at one time was likely vibrant, maybe funny. Maybe she'd had a sailor's mouth, or maybe a career. She'd had a daughter, had she had a husband? A partner? Did she have siblings, friends who would mourn her? What things had she seen, what things had she known? In the end she'd suffered from dementia, before the cancer took her. Now she was a statistic. Her death would be noted. Her name would be lost.

Lauren turned and left the room.

By the end of the day, Lauren was drained. This week had been…well, horrible. The death of this patient seemed fitting in a terribly dark way. She felt beaten down, broken. Selfishly she realized that what she wanted right now was to go home and find Bo there, her eyes alive with that light that radiated from her. She wanted Bo to smile brightly when she saw her, to pull her into her arms and tell her she loved her. She wanted to drink wine and watch bad TV and have a night where nothing happened, a night no one would remember, but a night where she was known, completely and wholly, by the person she cared about the most. She wanted Bo.

But Bo was at the bar, and even if she went to her, Bo was barely holding herself together. Everything was precarious, waiting to collapse.

Lauren wasn't sure she could handle another collapse right now.

I guess I could take my mind off things and go paint the living room she thought, darkly, as she gathered her purse and prepared to leave her office.

Once in her car, she turned the radio down and rode in silence. It was dark, after 7. The roads were busy with Friday night traffic, people going out to make memories that would die with them. When she arrived at the Dal it was fairly busy, half full. She scanned the room and didn't see Bo. Her eyes caught on Ciara, sitting in a booth alone. She made her way over.

"Hey, mind if I join you?" Lauren asked, sliding into the seat across from her.

Ciara gave her a small smile, and Lauren noted that she also looked tired.

"Doing alright?" Lauren asked.

Ciara sighed and held her beer slightly up in a 'cheers' gesture. "I really hate that question."

Lauren smiled, and they lapsed into silence.

"How's Bo doing?" Ciara asked.

"I really hate that question," Lauren replied.

Ciara nodded and they were quiet again.

"I should probably apologize to her, I was freaking out on that call and she was so calm."

Lauren glanced up, waiting for Ciara to continue.

When the silence stretched longer than she anticipated, Ciara looked at Lauren.

"What call?" Lauren supplied.

"I called her Tuesday morning, after I heard. We didn't know what was going on yet, but we knew something had happened. One of the other teachers has a husband who is an EMT. I was just…I freaked out, and I called her."

Lauren took this in. "She didn't mentioned it," she said, softly.

Ciara nodded. "I probably…I was yelling, I was upset. I should probably apologize."

"I'm sure you don't need to. She understands. It's all just…" Lauren trailed off, gesturing broadly at nothing in particular.

Ciara nodded and took a sip of her drink as they lapsed back into quiet.

"This week sucks," Lauren said, finally.

"Yeah, it really fucking sucks," Ciara affirmed.

Lauren looked up, startled.

"What?" Ciara asked.

"I just…I don't think I've ever heard you cuss before," Lauren answered with a surprised smile.

Ciara smiled. "Yeah, well, elementary teacher."

Lauren nodded. "So, you know the kids?"

"Aiden – the little boy – is in my class," she answered, taking a sip of her drink. "His dad died in a car accident a couple months ago."

"Jesus."

"Yeah. The girl is his half-sister. I taught her three years ago. The guy that did this to them was her dad."

Lauren was quiet, absorbing this.

"So," Ciara continued, "they have just about no one left, by my count." She took another drink.

"Do they have grandparents?" Lauren asked.

Ciara smiled. "Ms. Valentina," she said. "Yeah, she's a good woman. She'll look after them. I guess that's where they'll go."

Lauren nodded. "But, still."

"Yeah. Still."

They were quiet again.

"How are you doing with it all?" Ciara asked.

Lauren shrugged. "Better than you all, I guess. Today was a long day."

Ciara nodded. "When we get some distance from this, we should all go on a vacation."

"How soon can we leave?" Lauren asked, quickly, causing Ciara to chuckle.

Dyson walked over to the table. "Hey, Lauren, need a drink?"

"Yes," Lauren replied. "But I should probably find Bo first. Any ideas?"

"In the kitchen last time I saw her."

Lauren nodded. "Working hard, I have no doubt."

Dyson smiled apologetically. "You know Bo."

Lauren sighed. "Yeah, yeah I do." She gave Ciara another smile and reached out to squeeze her hand. "You're probably sick of hearing this, but anything we can do, okay?"

Ciara nodded and gave Lauren a grateful look. "I know. Thank you. You guys too."

Lauren nodded and patted Dyson on the shoulder as she got up and walked towards the kitchen in search of Bo.

A quick scan of the kitchen didn't reveal Bo, so Lauren next tried the back office. There, she found Bo sitting at the desk, doing some paperwork.

"You don't stop, do you?" Lauren asked.

Bo jumped at the sound of her voice and looked at her. "What's wrong? What happened?" Bo asked.

Lauren shrugged. "Long day," she replied.

Bo stood up and walked over to Lauren. "Are you okay?" Bo asked.

Lauren nodded and pulled Bo into a hug. "Yeah. Just a long day."

Lauren felt Bo run her hands through her hair and exhaled a breath she hadn't known she was holding at the comforting contact. She knew Bo needed her, knew Bo was running on adrenaline and stress, but fuck, she needed this for a minute. Just a minute.

She turned her face to Bo's hair and took a deep breath. Bo continued to run her fingers over Lauren's scalp. After some time had passed, Lauren stepped back slightly.

Bo looked into her eyes. "What do you need?"

Lauren knew that Bo needed her, not that Bo would admit it, and that she needed to be strong right now. But, fuck it, right? Bo wouldn't acknowledge that she needed Lauren, but Lauren was read to acknowledge that she needed Bo. "Can we…can we just go home?"

Bo ran her thumb near Lauren's eye, touching her lightly.

"I just…I know this week has been…" Lauren sighed. "I just need you tonight."

Bo nodded. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah, let's go home," Bo said.

Lauren wanted to sob in relief. "Okay."

Lauren and Bo back to the apartment and poured wine. They made a cursory show of pretending to discuss dinner before silently acknowledging that neither wanted it. They sat on the couch, the glasses untouched in front of them.

"What happened?" Bo asked.

"I had a patient die. I knew it was coming…she had cancer, it wasn't a surprise. But…I don't know. Sometimes it just…" Lauren searched for the words.

Bo nodded. "Sometimes it just hits you differently?" she offered.

Lauren looked over at her, and nodded. "Yeah, something like that."

Bo ran her fingers through Lauren's hair, soothing her slightly. Lauren let her eyes fall closed for a moment, accepting the comfort. She cleared her throat. "Is that what it's like for you?" she asked, quietly, her eyes still closed.

She felt Bo's hand fall still. She opened her eyes and found Bo surveying her, her expression looking more distant than it had a moment before.

She had an impulse to fill the silence, but honestly, she was tired, so she let it continue on longer.

Bo shifted her gaze away. "Something like that," she said, softly.

Lauren nodded. "It was strange," she continued. "It was just something about the fact…you think about people dying and it seems abstract, or something. But when you look at someone, when you give them a name, when they aren't just a part of a crowd anymore, when they're an individual, and you realize that they had thoughts, and dreams, and fears, and hopes, and that they probably had hobbies, and found things funny, and listened to music and read books…when they're a whole person, not just a patient, not just a puzzle to work on…"

Bo stroked Lauren's head again. "She was a lion once," Bo said, so softly that Lauren wasn't sure she had heard it correctly. She glanced at Bo, who said, "when they're real it's hard to compartmentalize?"

Lauren nodded.

Bo nodded back. "Yeah, it's like that for me, too."

Lauren looked at Bo, gratefully. It had been a small exchange, but to Lauren it felt monumental. She shifted over to sit closer to Bo, leaning into her.

"I've missed you," she told Bo, quietly. "I know you're going through a lot, but you're my best friend and I just…I want you to come back."

She felt Bo's exhale. "I'm trying," she replied.

Lauren nodded. "I know. I just want to help."

"I know you do."

"Can I?"

Bo thought about this for a moment. "I don't know," she answered, softly.

They sat quietly for a bit more. Slowly, Lauren became aware of Bo making small movements, her leg bouncing slightly. Lauren took a deep breath. "You can't sit still, can you?" She turned her face to look at Bo.

Bo looked…ashamed? She didn't answer.

Lauren put her hand on Bo's face and kissed her. She moved up to put both of her hands on either side of Bo's face, and opened her mouth to Bo, trying to pour everything she had into the kiss. Bo responded, slowly, kissing Lauren languidly.

Slowly, Lauren pulled back. Bo looked slightly dazed when she opened her eyes, and Lauren smiled. "Your leg stopped bouncing," she noted.

Lauren detected a flicker of light behind Bo's eyes for an instant before Bo pulled her back, kissing her again. Lauren snaked her tongue into Bo's mouth, running her fingertips lightly down Bo's neck. She felt herself shiver as she began to drift of the current that was Bo. She felt Bo encouraging her on, sparking her. She felt a tingling sensation starting on her scalp and radiating down her arms.

She came back to herself for a moment and pulled back. "Bo…" she said, warningly, her eyes still closed.

Bo shifted her hands on Lauren, drawing her back in, kissing her again.

Lauren's resistance was slipping against Bo's encouragement. She wasn't sure this was what Bo needed right now, but she was becoming aware that it was what she needed. After today…she just needed to feel alive. It was selfish, and needy, and probably unhealthy, but damn if it didn't feel right.

She slid her hands under Bo's shirt, reveling in the feeling of Bo's warm skin against her cold hands. She felt a strangled groan rise through Bo, and it sparked something further within her, making her unconsciously tug Bo harder against her as her control broke, making her hands move higher, pulling Bo on top of her.

She placed her feet flat on the couch, her knees bent, holding Bo in place with her thighs on either side of Bo's hips. She pressed her hands into the small of Bo's back as she arched up, groaning when she felt Bo's hips shift against her. She hooked a leg around Bo, squirming beneath her.

"Bo…" this time said as a plea, or maybe a prayer.

Bo pulled back and looked into her eyes, her hair wild, her breathing erratic. Wordlessly, she reached her hand towards Lauren's waistband and pushed her hand inside. Lauren's eyes fell closed at the contact, her head dropping back, and Bo took the opportunity to latch onto Lauren's neck.

Lauren felt Bo's fingers enter her, her nerves zinging like live wires. She bit her lower lip and felt Bo stroke her thumb up, grazing her clit. She opened her eyes for a moment and found Bo staring at her, her eyes dark with arousal.

At their eye contact, Bo fell still. Lauren pushed Bo's hair off to one side, exposing Bo's ear, as her other hand reached for Bo's waist. She ran her tongue over the edge of Bo's ear before whispering "God, I've missed you," into it, as she pushed two fingers into Bo's center.

Bo let out a groaning cry, reclaiming Lauren's lips, as they felt the tension break between them.

Hours later Bo and Lauren laid in bed, naked, and feeling calmer than they had in days. Lauren held Bo's head on her chest, running her finger down the side of Bo's neck. Bo's body felt heavy against her and she could feel the exhaustion settling in Bo's limbs. The weight felt reassuring and comforting, the rhythm of Bo's breathing soothing Lauren's day away.

"Lauren?" Bo said, her voice thick with impending sleep.

"Yeah?" Lauren responded, her voice low, unwilling to break the moment more than was necessary.

"I don't think I want to go to therapy."

Lauren was quiet, absorbing this. The moment was so still, so calm, after days that had felt so raw, so broken… She knew Bo needed help. She knew, at least academically if not fully emotionally, that she couldn't provide that help. Not to the extent that Bo needed it. Her heart clenched involuntarily. What if she doesn't get better? What if she can't come all the way back? The thought was wretched, hideous. She bit her lip to prevent a reaction.

"I'm not saying never," Bo continued. "But I just…I don't think I can do that right now. Not yet, anyway. I just…I don't think…"

"Shh," Lauren said, resuming her delicate touching of Bo's neck. "Just sleep, okay? We can talk tomorrow."

She felt Bo give a faint nod, as they both fell silent, drifting towards the welcoming embrace of sleep.

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