[FIC] Lost Girl: Ash to Ash
Title: Ash to Ash (I will be as the dew. He will send down his roots. His young shoots will grow.)
Fandom Lost Girl
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~1700
Featuring: Lauren Lewis, Hale
SPOILERS: Up to and including Season 3
Disclaimer: “Lost Girl” is the property of Showcase, Syfy, and countless other affiliates. Not mine.
Summary: Lauren swore an oath to serve the Ash.
“Doc!” Hale said, half-rising out of his seat behind the modern glass desk, arms spread in welcome. Lauren smiled up at the siren as she crossed the threshold into his office, taking in his neat tailored suit and bare head. The crisp lines of his attire made him appear taller or perhaps more broad-shouldered, but his smile was the same as ever, wide and effortless with a hint of playfulness. It radiated warmth in that vast stone room and Lauren allowed herself a moment to bask in it from the respectful distance at the foot of the stairs to the raised dais.
“Hello, Ash,” Lauren greeted him.
Hale, resettling in his chair, raised his hands in protest. “Please, Doc, just Hale.”
Lauren hesitated, but then shook her head. “You’re the Ash now, Hale.” Her voice held a note of admonishment that pinched the siren’s eyebrows together. Hastily, Lauren added, “The acting Ash, perhaps, but the Ash nonetheless.”
“Alright, alright. I get it,” Hale relented with a shake of his head. “Jeez, you’re as bad as Trick.” He let out a little sigh, then pressed the tips of his fingers together and thumped his joined hands lightly against the desktop. “So what’s up, Doc? Your request sounded pretty urgent. Something wrong? Something I can help you with?”
“Actually,” she began slowly, clasping her hands together, "something’s come to my attention and I'm here to pass on some doctor's orders." Lauren took a deep, measured breath, while a cloud of worry passed over Hale's handsome features. "Do you mind if I make us some tea first?"
"Uh, sure, Doc." Hale licked his lips. "Yeah, that sounds good."
A dip of her head sent Lauren’s hair cascading across her mildly grave expression but not enough to screen it from Hale’s scrutiny or her from his anxious eyes. She strode quickly around the raised platform to where, if it had escaped Lachlan’s renovations, a sideboard stood tucked into the corner, hidden from view. The sight of it--attended and fully stocked with the familiar carafe of water, spotless upended glasses, a french press, slender mugs, a porcelain tea set for four, and an electric water kettle--sent a rush of relief and unexpected gratitude through Lauren.
Not all her memories surrounded in this place were bad ones.
She took stock of the drawers. Lachlan hadn’t touched the sprawling assortment of teas and grounds his predecessor had left behind. Lauren didn’t fight the smile that gently eased up the corners of her lips. She picked up a tin canister and turned it under the light to study its delicate floral pattern. Popping the lid released a heady aroma of jasmine.
Good. She’d come prepared with loose leaf tea from her own cupboards, but now Lauren paused in a crux of indecision.
Turning to catch Hale’s distant eye, she asked, “Do you have a preference? Black? Oolong? Green? White? Rooibos? Though,” a slender index finger stabbed the air for emphasis, “rooibos isn’t technically a tea.”
The Ash stared at her. “Really, Doc? Does it matter?”
Lauren’s eyes swiveled up toward the ceiling in search of an answer, and then refocused on the Light Fae leader with the certainty of enlightenment. “Yes.”
Hale huffed out a sound between a laugh and a sigh. "I don’t want to sound rude, but whatever you gotta say sounds important and I’m really kinda busy . . .”
He trailed off as Lauren began to nod absently, turned away, replaced the tin she had been holding, and uncoiled the electric kettle’s power cord. When she suddenly sank to one knee and began to grope blindly behind the sideboard with the cord, his parted lips pressed into a line of annoyance and curiosity. A second later the doctor let out a soft “Ha!” and straightened up as the light on the electric kettle came to life.
Hale tried again. "What I'm tryin’ to say is--"
"Hale,” Lauren cut him off abruptly. “Ash. Sorry." Lauren steadied herself with a breath, then pivoted to face the Ash and continued in a gentler tone. "I know. Just. Humor me. Please. Pick a tea."
For a heartbeat the Ash’s expression hovered between stunned, affronted, and irritated. There was no trace of the amiability Lauren associated with the siren, just a stone mask that sent up a rash of goosebumps along her arms. Her body tensed, ready, knowing what could happen in this room. But then it was like a crack split his visage, the moment passed, and a helpless, tired smile pulled at Hale's lips.
"You know what. Fine,” Hale said. “This is how you want to play it, then you choose, Doc. I've been making decisions all day."
"Deal." Lauren spun around to hide a slow exhalation that she forced into a shaky smile. Then she set about filling the kettle, adjusted its temperature dial, and flicked the power switch. The kettle let out a hollow hiss as the coils heated up. “Did you know that each variety of tea steeps optimally at different temperatures for different lengths of time?”
There was a long silence, after which came a simple, “No. I didn’t.”
“They do,” Lauren said as she found the red canister for the green tea that she was looking for and measured out the right amount into the teapot’s basket. “It’s very important to use the right temperature. Using water that’s too hot--or too cold--or steeping the leaves for too long can ruin the taste of the tea, or bring out tannins that can make it bitter.”
“Uh huh.”
The disinterest in the Ash’s voice eased the smile on Lauren’s lips. Hale sounded so unlike the first Ash whom she had served. He used to have a pot sent up to them, the tea of his offhand choice, precisely prepared and ready to pour upon arrival. Lauren had sometimes dreaded that first delicious sip, mindful of the Ash watching her, the teacup so tiny in his large hands. She knew that teacup was a potential lecture waiting to explode all over their hours-long discussions on medicine, history, lore, and politics. Every brew was flavors, origins, preparation, folklore, yet another lesson the Ash wanted to impart on her.
There were always lessons waiting to be imparted.
It had been Lauren who’d suggested purchasing an electric kettle--with a variable temperature setting, obviously--so that they would have hot water on hand. Not for the first infusion, of course, she’d told the Ash, but for the second or the third, to save the trouble of sending the pot back to the kitchens. That plan lasted about a month, before the loose leaf began to fill up the drawers and it was Lauren preparing every pot.
The appliance interrupted her reminiscence with a sharp click. Steam wafted up in thin curls as Lauren filled the teapot. Moving quickly, she glanced at the clock, arranged the teapot and two cups on a serving tray, and called up to Hale, “Join me?”
They converged on the white couch at about the same time. Hale reached out to help her with the tray, prompting a small smile from the human, and even waited until she had settled down first.
Lauren would have commented that he had a lot to learn, but she wasn’t sure this was one of those things that she wanted to correct.
The thought kept her quiet for the remaining seconds the tea needed. When it was ready--ninety seconds of steeping, exactly--she poured out two cups without comment and held one out to the Ash. He hesitated. She smiled reassuringly. Still, he took the cup from her with a bit of awkwardness and a mumbled thanks.
Hale leveled his gaze on her. “Alright, Doc, hit me.”
“Try your tea first.”
“Seriously?”
“Doctor’s orders.”
Hale groaned, but raised the cup to his lips. He wasted no time inhaling the aroma or noting the liquid’s vibrant green color in the white belly of the teacup. Just took a careful sip. Swallowed. Blinked. Then tipped the cup again, for a longer, fuller draught. “Mmmm,” he hummed in his throat, almost despite himself. “That’s good. Almost as good as Trick’s.”
Lauren grinned. “High praise, but all of it’s due to the tea. It’s gyokuro. A Japanese green tea, said to be one of Japan’s finest. These leaves were a gift from a contingent of Japanese Light Fae to the old Ash.”
Lauren could practically see the gears of Hale’s mind churning into motion at her words. As if he were considering revising his statement. As if he wasn’t sure he should be drinking the tea.
“You’re the Ash now, Hale,” Lauren reiterated softly, studying him closely.
If she expected vulnerability, Hale showed none. His head bobbed up and down in small jerks. “Don’t I know it. Alright, Doc, tea time is over. You said you had some doctor’s orders. Lay ‘em on me.”
Lauren stalled by savoring a sip from her own cup of tea--delightful--and then set her cup down with deliberate, precise movements. With Hale looking like he might whistle her into talking, she primly interlaced her fingers, let her clasped hands fall into her lap, and raised her eyes to meet Hale’s. “This is my order: Take breaks.”
Hale’s eyebrows furrowed. “Say again.”
“You, the Ash, need to take breaks.”
Hale leaned back and blinked. “Doc, are you telling me that you made an urgent request for an audience to make me a cup of tea and tell me to take breaks?”
“Yes,” Lauren answered without pause. “And, hopefully, to sit here with you for fifteen minutes to drink the tea.”
Hale surged up halfway to his feet. “I have a million things to do. A million and one.”
Lauren put a hand on his arm. A breath of silence ballooned between them into which Lauren sent out a soft “I know.” Her slender human hand perched like a small bird on his sleeve. “I know that you’re taking on a lot of responsibilities right now and that everything is demanding your attention.” Under the guidance of her hand, Hale sank slowly back into his seat. “And as your doctor--and I am your doctor, Hale--I know that if you continue working as hard as you are, you risk overexerting yourself, which would do no one any good.
“And as a ward, I came to see how my guardian is doing.”
For a moment Hale looked unsure. A little surprised. A bit weary. Then he smiled, exhaled hard through his nose, and shook his head. The Ash patted the doctor’s hand.
“Fifteen minutes.”
Lauren smiled. “Deal.”
-FIN-
Editing turned this piece a lot more serious. I'm not sure it's fun anymore.
I just want Lauren to teach Hale how to be Ash. In return, I want Hale to protect Lauren. I want them to be friends. Real friends! Hale-Lauren lesbros! Y/y? XD
Fandom Lost Girl
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~1700
Featuring: Lauren Lewis, Hale
SPOILERS: Up to and including Season 3
Disclaimer: “Lost Girl” is the property of Showcase, Syfy, and countless other affiliates. Not mine.
Summary: Lauren swore an oath to serve the Ash.
“Doc!” Hale said, half-rising out of his seat behind the modern glass desk, arms spread in welcome. Lauren smiled up at the siren as she crossed the threshold into his office, taking in his neat tailored suit and bare head. The crisp lines of his attire made him appear taller or perhaps more broad-shouldered, but his smile was the same as ever, wide and effortless with a hint of playfulness. It radiated warmth in that vast stone room and Lauren allowed herself a moment to bask in it from the respectful distance at the foot of the stairs to the raised dais.
“Hello, Ash,” Lauren greeted him.
Hale, resettling in his chair, raised his hands in protest. “Please, Doc, just Hale.”
Lauren hesitated, but then shook her head. “You’re the Ash now, Hale.” Her voice held a note of admonishment that pinched the siren’s eyebrows together. Hastily, Lauren added, “The acting Ash, perhaps, but the Ash nonetheless.”
“Alright, alright. I get it,” Hale relented with a shake of his head. “Jeez, you’re as bad as Trick.” He let out a little sigh, then pressed the tips of his fingers together and thumped his joined hands lightly against the desktop. “So what’s up, Doc? Your request sounded pretty urgent. Something wrong? Something I can help you with?”
“Actually,” she began slowly, clasping her hands together, "something’s come to my attention and I'm here to pass on some doctor's orders." Lauren took a deep, measured breath, while a cloud of worry passed over Hale's handsome features. "Do you mind if I make us some tea first?"
"Uh, sure, Doc." Hale licked his lips. "Yeah, that sounds good."
A dip of her head sent Lauren’s hair cascading across her mildly grave expression but not enough to screen it from Hale’s scrutiny or her from his anxious eyes. She strode quickly around the raised platform to where, if it had escaped Lachlan’s renovations, a sideboard stood tucked into the corner, hidden from view. The sight of it--attended and fully stocked with the familiar carafe of water, spotless upended glasses, a french press, slender mugs, a porcelain tea set for four, and an electric water kettle--sent a rush of relief and unexpected gratitude through Lauren.
Not all her memories surrounded in this place were bad ones.
She took stock of the drawers. Lachlan hadn’t touched the sprawling assortment of teas and grounds his predecessor had left behind. Lauren didn’t fight the smile that gently eased up the corners of her lips. She picked up a tin canister and turned it under the light to study its delicate floral pattern. Popping the lid released a heady aroma of jasmine.
Good. She’d come prepared with loose leaf tea from her own cupboards, but now Lauren paused in a crux of indecision.
Turning to catch Hale’s distant eye, she asked, “Do you have a preference? Black? Oolong? Green? White? Rooibos? Though,” a slender index finger stabbed the air for emphasis, “rooibos isn’t technically a tea.”
The Ash stared at her. “Really, Doc? Does it matter?”
Lauren’s eyes swiveled up toward the ceiling in search of an answer, and then refocused on the Light Fae leader with the certainty of enlightenment. “Yes.”
Hale huffed out a sound between a laugh and a sigh. "I don’t want to sound rude, but whatever you gotta say sounds important and I’m really kinda busy . . .”
He trailed off as Lauren began to nod absently, turned away, replaced the tin she had been holding, and uncoiled the electric kettle’s power cord. When she suddenly sank to one knee and began to grope blindly behind the sideboard with the cord, his parted lips pressed into a line of annoyance and curiosity. A second later the doctor let out a soft “Ha!” and straightened up as the light on the electric kettle came to life.
Hale tried again. "What I'm tryin’ to say is--"
"Hale,” Lauren cut him off abruptly. “Ash. Sorry." Lauren steadied herself with a breath, then pivoted to face the Ash and continued in a gentler tone. "I know. Just. Humor me. Please. Pick a tea."
For a heartbeat the Ash’s expression hovered between stunned, affronted, and irritated. There was no trace of the amiability Lauren associated with the siren, just a stone mask that sent up a rash of goosebumps along her arms. Her body tensed, ready, knowing what could happen in this room. But then it was like a crack split his visage, the moment passed, and a helpless, tired smile pulled at Hale's lips.
"You know what. Fine,” Hale said. “This is how you want to play it, then you choose, Doc. I've been making decisions all day."
"Deal." Lauren spun around to hide a slow exhalation that she forced into a shaky smile. Then she set about filling the kettle, adjusted its temperature dial, and flicked the power switch. The kettle let out a hollow hiss as the coils heated up. “Did you know that each variety of tea steeps optimally at different temperatures for different lengths of time?”
There was a long silence, after which came a simple, “No. I didn’t.”
“They do,” Lauren said as she found the red canister for the green tea that she was looking for and measured out the right amount into the teapot’s basket. “It’s very important to use the right temperature. Using water that’s too hot--or too cold--or steeping the leaves for too long can ruin the taste of the tea, or bring out tannins that can make it bitter.”
“Uh huh.”
The disinterest in the Ash’s voice eased the smile on Lauren’s lips. Hale sounded so unlike the first Ash whom she had served. He used to have a pot sent up to them, the tea of his offhand choice, precisely prepared and ready to pour upon arrival. Lauren had sometimes dreaded that first delicious sip, mindful of the Ash watching her, the teacup so tiny in his large hands. She knew that teacup was a potential lecture waiting to explode all over their hours-long discussions on medicine, history, lore, and politics. Every brew was flavors, origins, preparation, folklore, yet another lesson the Ash wanted to impart on her.
There were always lessons waiting to be imparted.
It had been Lauren who’d suggested purchasing an electric kettle--with a variable temperature setting, obviously--so that they would have hot water on hand. Not for the first infusion, of course, she’d told the Ash, but for the second or the third, to save the trouble of sending the pot back to the kitchens. That plan lasted about a month, before the loose leaf began to fill up the drawers and it was Lauren preparing every pot.
The appliance interrupted her reminiscence with a sharp click. Steam wafted up in thin curls as Lauren filled the teapot. Moving quickly, she glanced at the clock, arranged the teapot and two cups on a serving tray, and called up to Hale, “Join me?”
They converged on the white couch at about the same time. Hale reached out to help her with the tray, prompting a small smile from the human, and even waited until she had settled down first.
Lauren would have commented that he had a lot to learn, but she wasn’t sure this was one of those things that she wanted to correct.
The thought kept her quiet for the remaining seconds the tea needed. When it was ready--ninety seconds of steeping, exactly--she poured out two cups without comment and held one out to the Ash. He hesitated. She smiled reassuringly. Still, he took the cup from her with a bit of awkwardness and a mumbled thanks.
Hale leveled his gaze on her. “Alright, Doc, hit me.”
“Try your tea first.”
“Seriously?”
“Doctor’s orders.”
Hale groaned, but raised the cup to his lips. He wasted no time inhaling the aroma or noting the liquid’s vibrant green color in the white belly of the teacup. Just took a careful sip. Swallowed. Blinked. Then tipped the cup again, for a longer, fuller draught. “Mmmm,” he hummed in his throat, almost despite himself. “That’s good. Almost as good as Trick’s.”
Lauren grinned. “High praise, but all of it’s due to the tea. It’s gyokuro. A Japanese green tea, said to be one of Japan’s finest. These leaves were a gift from a contingent of Japanese Light Fae to the old Ash.”
Lauren could practically see the gears of Hale’s mind churning into motion at her words. As if he were considering revising his statement. As if he wasn’t sure he should be drinking the tea.
“You’re the Ash now, Hale,” Lauren reiterated softly, studying him closely.
If she expected vulnerability, Hale showed none. His head bobbed up and down in small jerks. “Don’t I know it. Alright, Doc, tea time is over. You said you had some doctor’s orders. Lay ‘em on me.”
Lauren stalled by savoring a sip from her own cup of tea--delightful--and then set her cup down with deliberate, precise movements. With Hale looking like he might whistle her into talking, she primly interlaced her fingers, let her clasped hands fall into her lap, and raised her eyes to meet Hale’s. “This is my order: Take breaks.”
Hale’s eyebrows furrowed. “Say again.”
“You, the Ash, need to take breaks.”
Hale leaned back and blinked. “Doc, are you telling me that you made an urgent request for an audience to make me a cup of tea and tell me to take breaks?”
“Yes,” Lauren answered without pause. “And, hopefully, to sit here with you for fifteen minutes to drink the tea.”
Hale surged up halfway to his feet. “I have a million things to do. A million and one.”
Lauren put a hand on his arm. A breath of silence ballooned between them into which Lauren sent out a soft “I know.” Her slender human hand perched like a small bird on his sleeve. “I know that you’re taking on a lot of responsibilities right now and that everything is demanding your attention.” Under the guidance of her hand, Hale sank slowly back into his seat. “And as your doctor--and I am your doctor, Hale--I know that if you continue working as hard as you are, you risk overexerting yourself, which would do no one any good.
“And as a ward, I came to see how my guardian is doing.”
For a moment Hale looked unsure. A little surprised. A bit weary. Then he smiled, exhaled hard through his nose, and shook his head. The Ash patted the doctor’s hand.
“Fifteen minutes.”
Lauren smiled. “Deal.”
-FIN-
Editing turned this piece a lot more serious. I'm not sure it's fun anymore.
I just want Lauren to teach Hale how to be Ash. In return, I want Hale to protect Lauren. I want them to be friends. Real friends! Hale-Lauren lesbros! Y/y? XD