Fan Fiction - Lost Girl - Bo/Lauren - Rated G
It’s Wednesday afternoon, quarter-past five. Bo’s phone rings on the bedside table. The succubus is technically unemployed and living alone in the crack shack while her roomie tours outer Ontario with a scruffy rocker boy. She’s sleeping hard, and fighting her way through a bitter dream.
Onstage in a baroque theater, she reaches up toward a stolen lover, a cherished body bound tightly in ropes and suspended just beyond her grasp. The stage floor slants under her feet as Bo jumps and misses, time and again.
From a darkened balcony box, a shadow man laughs at her failure. For some reason, Bo thinks he may be her father. She snarls at him and leaps again, higher, but still falls short. Her fingers skim through streamers of blonde hair. Those binding ropes tighten with every failed attempt. Somewhere, a clock is ticking.
Again, her phone bleats for attention. She starts awake and blindly snatches it under the covers. “Yeah. Hello.”
The line goes dead for a moment. “Bo?” Lauren begins. “Were you sleeping? Is this a bad time?”
Bo’s eyes flicker open. Sunlight filters through her sheets. In that moment, the world is a perfect triptych of soft magenta glow and warm bed and Lauren’s unexpected voice. She smiles and shakes off the lingering chill of her nightmare. “No worries. My dream sucked; this is better,” she says. “Hi.”
“Glad to be of service.” Lauren exhales in her ear. “Also: hi.”
“Hi,” Bo repeats, and waits to hear the reason for this call. Lauren had said she wouldn’t phone from the road, which was reasonable. After five years of separation, she needed time alone to reconnect with Nadia. Still, they’ve only been gone four days. To Bo’s mind, four days wouldn’t be enough to even get started properly.
Maybe that’s why Lauren is calling. Maybe the reconnect is a bust. After so long among the Fae, Lauren probably isn’t as Nadia remembers her. Maybe she’s preoccupied now, cool and elusive. Maybe Lauren keeps her eyes closed when they make love, fantasizing other flesh in her hands, other kisses on her skin. Maybe Bo isn’t the only one troubled by dreams of loss.
Bo feels like an asshole for even thinking these things, for heaping imaginary drama on a woman who’s just slept away five years of her life. Still, Nadia would be safer far away from the devious local Fae who twice plotted to chain down Lauren Lewis. Tasmania might be far enough.
“There’s no easy way to say this.” Lauren pauses, sighs. “And you have every right to be upset with me.”
Bo feels her heart jump, certain that she was right, that this is the ‘I miss you like crazy and can’t stop thinking about you’ call. She gulps down a lump of hope and says, “It’s okay. Just tell me.”
“Bo, I’m so sorry,” Lauren says, with a meek catch in her voice. “Your car died.”
All the happy squeezes out of Bo’s heart and she flushes bright red. The only saving grace is that her silly romantic presumption remains private. Lauren, oblivious and miles away and now doomed to a bus ride home, is none the wiser. Bo hugs her pillow and takes a steadying breath. “Well, I knew this day was coming,” she says. “I just wish I had taken out more life insurance on the old gal.”
“I wanted to save her. I consulted a specialist - Nadia’s cousin Niko. He did all he could, and then offered the car a rollback ride home… so you could make your own arrangements,” Lauren says, playing along with the bereaved auto owner conceit. “Actually, his crew should arrive at your place before six.”
“Wow. Quick.”
“Niko was pretty happy to see Nadia, so we got the rock star family treatment.”
“That sounds nice.” Bo doesn’t know what else to say. Straying beyond platitudes and happy talk is dangerous. “Anyway, thanks for breaking the news so gently. Sorry the car left you stranded.”
“Don’t apologize. You’ve done so much for me, and for Nadia.” Lauren breathes heavily down the line, lets the moment sprawl and prickle. “I just wish I could do more for you. I just want…” She trails off and goes silent.
Unnerved by the tender, imperfect admission, Bo bites her lip and feels a burn below her eyes. She reflects that it might be easier to let Lauren go if it didn’t feel like they were both still holding on, still aching, still wanting each other so damned much. “I know,” Bo whispers. She clears a thickness from her throat. “So, I’ll see you next week?”
Lauren’s reply is delayed by a muted sniffle. “Yeah. Definitely.”
“Good. Travel safe,” Bo says. "Don’t talk to any creepers on the bus.”
“I have pepper spray,” Lauren says, “and Niko gave Nadia a lipstick stun gun.”
Bo sniggers a little. “Rock on, Cousin Niko.”
They say goodbye, quick and clean. Bo rubs at her eyes, wonders if she could get back to sleep without drinking anything this early. She gets out of bed. She takes a deep breath, orients herself in reality, and flips on a lamp just as someone knocks on the front door. She’s still almost fully dressed from her overnight spy mission for the Ash, so she slips on some boots and clomps downstairs.
The young man at her door wears grease-stained coveralls and looks vaguely like Nadia - olive-skinned and green-eyed and handsome. “Bo Dennis?” he asks. She nods and he hands over a set of keys. “Náse kalá!,” he says, and departs with a friendly wave.
Bo palms her keys and notices a new keychain, a shiny Chevy Super Sport logo laser-etched with the words “Valkanas Customs.” She squints, confused, and walks outside as the tow truck pulls away.
In the otherwise empty front lot, her old yellow beater gleams in the golden sunset light. At first glance, she thinks the dead car looks suspiciously healthy, like a corpse under a layer of bronzer. As she gets closer, she realizes it’s actually wearing fresh paint and pinstripes, along with new tires and a new vinyl roof.
Her jaw drops. She unlocks the door, peeks inside and finds a freshly upholstered interior, complete with a new sound system, “SS” logo floor mats and a chrome skull gear shift knob. Delighted and puzzled, Bo claps her hands and laughs.
On the dash is a sealed envelope with her name on the front. Inside is a short note from Lauren.
I wanted to get this done before your birthday. That did not happen, for various reasons. My apologies.
You deserve this, Bo, and all good things. Prepare to be hit on by a higher class of motorheads. Enjoy!
Bo finishes reading the note and wipes a hand across her eyes. She laughs a little and sobs a little until the weird emotional mix levels out and she just feels good, cared for, and known. Somewhere between cranking the engine and pushing the rumbling beauty past 100 clicks on the freeway, Bo turns down the radio and repeats the last line of Lauren’s note out loud. Her words are addressed to the universe as a whole and to one woman in particular.
“Be good to her; she’s a keeper.”