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"Ren?"
Flames scorched everything in sight. Heat blasted Lauren's skin as she lay in the burning rubble, barely conscious and probably bleeding out. She could hardly see five feet in front of her—a combination of the mirage-like effect in the air and the black and purple splotches that blurred her vision. At first, everything hurt like hell—the gunshot wound, the now-countless bruises and scrapes from the prior fighting. There was no telling what kind of damage the explosion did to her; judging by the immeasurable pain in her body, the situation was dire.
Despite the searing pain, her senses screaming for her to get up and find Kieran, Lauren just lay broken on the ground. This is it, she thought, we lose. At least Kym and Will got out safely. She let her eyes drift shut—rather, she lost the strength to keep them open any longer. The sounds of the crumbling building, the roaring of the flames, it all became distorted to her ears. Her body went numb, too, until the pain was nothing more than an alluring cold embrace.
"Ren."
Lauren drifted willingly into what could only be described as death's grip. Was this really the end? All the work she and Kieran had put in over the months, would it be gone after this? Would it die here with them? Would it have been enough to protect another event like the Allendale Tragedy? It had to be. Right?
Everything that had happened, it had to be worth it. Dylan's death, her parents' deaths, Lauren's years of work to find the truths only to be met with more questions, partnering with the Purple Hyacinth of all people.
And yet, as she faced death, that wasn't her biggest regret. Not even close.
The interrogations, the cave incident, finding out the true goal of the Phantom Scythe and her parents' involvement; as tolling as the months had been since joining Kieran, Lauren couldn't say she truly regretted it. In fact, she felt glad that it happened this way. Glad to have met Kieran, and glad to have discovered some of the truths—about her parents, about the history of the Phantom Scythe, even if it ended with even more questions.
"Ren!"
A voice broke through the numbness of her body and senses. Her eyes opened slowly, against her body's will, and she was met with a fierce orange glow from the still-raging fires. She could see her own bloodied hand stretched out in front of her blurred vision. As the visual snow receded, she could make out some kind of black shadow on the ground past her hand.
Beyond that, she saw—she saw someone walking through the fire toward her. Even seeing the shoes, she knew who it was. Opening her eyes just a little more, she saw the signature white hair covered by his cap. Dylan? Lauren opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was a pained croak. The ash, smoke, and heat of the fire had left her voiceless.
"—ren."
Dylan kept approaching her fearlessly. She knew this was a hallucination—how couldn't it be?—but it looked so real. He looked so real, the same as the day he died. Lauren winced, desperately willing her hand to reach out to him as he approached, trying to call for him. Her vision blurred again as he knelt at her hand, staring down at her.
"Where are you going?"
The last thing she saw before she lost consciousness again was Dylan reaching out to her, the factory still crumbling and burning around them. She couldn't find the strength to fight the icy cold grip as it returned, taking her senses before it reached for her life too.
"Hey, Dylan . . . ." Lauren crouched over the flowers with her friend. She'd been here too many times to count—a memory some would be fond of, but now, it just haunted her. Like all times before, Lauren could only watch as her memories played out word-for-word until the inevitable happened.
The white-haired boy looked at her curiously, twirling the little hay-stem in his teeth. He gave an inquisitive hum, waiting patiently for Lauren to speak her mind.
"You know lots about flowers. Do you want to be a gardener, like your dad?"
"I like flowers, but—" Dylan said, plucking the hay-stem out of his mouth. Then he flashed Lauren a toothy-grin, "—I want to become a doctor!"
Lauren was frozen, her heart throbbing painfully as she witnessed Dylan and herself goofing off and playing around. When he gave her the flower crown, she wanted nothing more than to just reach up and feel the soft petals of the daisies. And when the car nearly hit them, sending them tumbling back into a light pole, all she wanted to do was cry.
"I'll be a police officer," Lauren felt herself say with a smile, "and you can be the best doctor this city's ever seen."
Don't go, she thought desperately when he ran to find his dad. Please don't go. Her stupid sprained ankle, maybe it wouldn't have been like this if she'd waited just a few moments longer to send him off.
Just like every time before, she could only watch in silence. Knowing exactly what was about to happen somehow made it worse every time. She could almost count the minutes that passed now, until the explosion that ruined everything. She stumbled forward until she found it.
Only a few feet in front of her, Dylan's hat sat on the ground, free of the fire and soot and blood that she stood in now. All she could do now was scream, so she did. She screamed and cried and fell to the ground until it ended, just to have to watch it happen all over again.
Lauren gasped and snapped her eyes open. Her body throbbed with lingering, aching pain, and for a short while she didn't move. Her left arm hurt worse than most else, and she couldn't help but think of the investigation with Flemmings. Falling out of the tree in that god damned maid suit, needing stitches in that same arm—looking back on it now, she almost laughed.
'Did you finally fall for me, officer?' She could practically hear Kieran's stupid, smug voice, even now.
Wait a moment.
"Yes. Thank you."
. . . No, she could definitely hear his voice right now. The door leading out of her room was shut, so she couldn't pick out more than a few words at a time, but that was definitely Kieran. There was a second voice speaking, too, but it was one she couldn't quite recognize.
She sat up slowly, watching the door. For a few more moments, she tried to listen in on their voices, but no matter how hard she concentrated she couldn't decipher more than an affirming word here, or a lone mumble there. Once she accepted the fact that she simply wouldn't be able to eavesdrop, she decided to inspect her room at long last—and her own body. A few pictures hung on the walls; they were professional paintings, most of various landscapes she recognized despite the work being new to her. One was a frame of the tent and crowds of Circus Royale, another was one of the town squares, its fountain the center of attention. Artsy as he might be, this wasn't Kieran's apartment, and it certainly wasn't his cave, either.
Turning her eyes on herself, Lauren became acutely aware of the bandages wrapping around her body. The scratchy fabrics made the painful itch of her healing wounds all the more noticeable, and now that they had her full attention it was very nearly unbearable. She raised an arm, reaching out to further inspect her damage only to flinch when the movement caused a shock of pain to tear through her.
This won't do. She couldn't just accept this and lay there. Sure, it would probably be . . . logical to let her body rest more, but she had to figure out where she was. How did she even get here? The memories of the factory were hazy to her now, but she vaguely remembered someone walking toward her before she lost consciousness. Deciding to think about it after she got her answers, she took a deep breath and braced her body to move.
One at a time, she swung her feet over the edge of the bed and placed them flat on the floor. My movement seems fine when I'm ready for the pain of it, but— She leaned forward a bit, intending to test her weight on her legs before getting up. A twinge of pain shot up her right leg and she quickly leaned back again, but not before the floor creaked from the little test.
The muffled voices outside the room quickly went silent, and she froze with her gaze locked on the door. How could they even hear that out there? Everything was silent for a few moments, but she saw shadows flicker on the other side of the door and linger, as if they were contemplating opening the door. It must be safe—it had to be, if it really was Kieran she heard. And if it wasn't, what was she doing alive?
The shadow remained at the other side of the door, hovering without a sound. Lauren watched the door closely and kept still. There was still a chance that whoever that was, wasn't Kieran. She didn't know who else would rescue her and take her . . . wherever this was, but she had to consider all of the possibilities. Kym knows I'm part of Lune, which means Will does, too. If any of the police rescued me from that hellish factory, I'd be in chains by now. But what if the Phantom Scythe retrieved me? For a moment, she considered laying back down and pretending to be unconscious; they'd come in, see her asleep, and hopefully leave while unknowingly giving her the opportunity to identify them.
Lauren thought about it for another minute before nodding to herself. She shifted back, wincing when the bed creaked quietly with the movement. She'd nearly made it back into her original spot when a cough startled her, burning her lungs and throat. Slamming a hand over her mouth, Lauren tried stifling it, but it wasn't done without great discomfort. Fuck. She should have expected that—for fuck's sake, the factory blew up and the last thing she saw was fire everywhere. The pain from her external wounds must have distracted her from the damage she suffered from inhaling the smoke.
The shadow moved slightly and she froze again. They definitely heard that. While she was silently cursing herself, the door handle started to turn slowly, almost . . . hesitantly. She heard the tongue of the door grinding as the handle was turned fully, yet there was a pause before it was pushed open.
In the next moment, the door slid halfway open and Kieran leaned into the room with a close-mouthed smile. Lauren stared at him in silence; it was easy to see how forced his smile was, yet she couldn't help the breath of relief that escaped her when she saw him. He hardly looked injured, though she knew better than that. He was okay, though, and his presence meant they must be safe.
"It's good to see you awake, detective," Kieran said and stepped into the room. He glanced back into the hallway before closing the door again, leaving it cracked.
"Kieran—" Lauren started only to break off. She didn't even know what she wanted to say. The relief she felt upon seeing him quickly washed away as memories of the factory flooded back. They had looked death in the face—embraced it, just as Kieran had held her when they were minutes away from their ends. And Kym—
Kym knew. Kym knew. And as they were running with the bomb, Lauren remembered making direct eye contact with her only moments before the timer ran out. By all means, they should be dead. How did they get out? How did she even have her limbs intact?
"Lauren." Kieran stood beside the bed now, his hand halfway reaching out to her. He hesitated before pulling his hand back, then turned away slightly. ". . . How's the pain?"
"Considering what happened," she mumbled and gave her body another swift glance-over, "I suppose I should be glad it isn't a lot worse. How did we get here?"
Kieran remained silent for a second. "Where we ended up with the bomb, there was a tunnel. The Phantom Scythe probably used it to counter the police reinforcements. I figured we could use it to escape and get you to a doctor I know—"
"But how did we get here?" Lauren asked again, knitting her eyebrows together. "I mean, we were looking death in the eye. Even if we didn't die, the APD would have found us. How are we—how are we okay?"
"It's hard to recall exact details." The assassin only shrugged half-heartedly before folding his arms. "One moment we're running with the bomb, and the next moment we're on the floor of the burning factory. I wasn't hurt too badly from the blast, so I was able to find you and get us out of there . . . ."
Kieran trailed off, leaving heavy, unspoken thoughts hanging in the air. There was something else he wanted to say—Lauren could feel it, see it in his stance—but he gave no sign of speaking it yet. She frowned and examined him while he wasn't looking; his body was already beaten and broken when everything at the factory happened. On top of that, she knew he got wounded during the fights with the Phantom Scythe members, and the explosion had to have hurt him as well. All that in mind, he hardly moved like someone who'd been so seriously injured.
"Did anybody else get hit?" she asked, tearing her gaze away from his form. "I saw Kym and Will right before the timer ran out, but—"
"I don't know. Maybe." Kieran took a few steps away from the bed. He walked up to one of the paintings, and Lauren resisted a bitter chuckle when she realized he was admiring the work. "The police and their reinforcements were at a safer distance, though we're lucky there wasn't more nitroglycerin around to surprise us. Most of the PS members were long gone by then, too."
"I suppose that's what matters the most," Lauren said quietly, staring at her lap. "I'm glad we could minimize the damage to the people and city."
"Lauren," Kieran spoke her name without turning back to her. She glanced over and caught his gaze in the protective glass covering the painting—how long had he been watching her reflection?
"What—"
"Please." Kieran spun on his heel, facing her fully. His tone teetered between scolding and downright distraught as he stepped back toward the bed. "Worry about your own well-being just once. When I found you, you were barely even conscious. You'd lost so much blood that you were hallucinating. I was trying to keep you conscious, but you just kept mumbling this damn name—and here you are, worrying about everyone except yourself even though you've been unconscious for days now. Do you even remember what happened?"
Lauren froze, not sure how to respond at first. Days have passed, then? How many? She quickly looked back down at her lap and muttered, "Where are we, anyways?"
Madam Deflection at her finest. Admittedly, she only remembered bits and pieces. She remembered seeing Will and Kym outside, and kind of remembered the explosion. Her arm and heart both throbbed when she remembered how she lay on the ground, unable to move as a figure approached her. Had that been Kieran, then?
". . . I brought you to the physician I mentioned," Kieran cleared his throat and motioned toward the door. "He's probably still in the hall. He was just telling me about some new intel that's been gathered since the bombing."
"He's on our side, then?" Lauren fiddled with one of her bandages. If Kieran trusted him, then she supposed that would be good enough. "He doesn't have to wait out there, and I'd like to know what he says, too."
Kieran inhaled through his teeth and threaded his fingers together. "Yeah, I figured you'd say that eventually. There are some things you need to know about first."
"What kind of things?" Lauren frowned and finally offered him her gaze again. It wasn't often that Kieran decided to offer preemptive warnings against the inevitable, and she couldn't remember a single time he'd displayed anxiety at the idea of such things. His hands stayed connected at his center, his thumbs pressing tightly against his knuckles until both turned bone-white from the pressure. "Kieran?"
"Right, first things first—you and I have been presumed dead, Lauren." Within an instant, Kieran pulled his hands apart and motioned with a single finger—as if his previous display of nerves simply hadn't happened. "Obviously, we didn't leave behind any body parts. A shame, really; it would have been highly convincing. At some point, you dropped your gun, and I did the same with my trusty knife. It was enough for us to be placed at the factory."
Lauren nodded slowly, though she didn't say anything. This news wasn't entirely surprising; if anything, she'd been preparing herself for news like that ever since he said that she'd been out for days. It was ironic, really, to have unintentionally faked her own death with the bombing. A bitter laugh threatened to break free once again, but she kept her silence, sensing that whatever else Kieran had to say wouldn't be so easy to digest.
"Is that all?" she asked, knowing full-well that something had been weighing him down since before he even entered the room. Something serious enough that he felt the need to watch over her every move.
"There's no easy way to say this," Kieran said after a pause. "It may be simplest to just invite the good doctor in and show you that way."
"Show me?" Lauren echoed. "Show me what?"
By the time the words left her mouth, Kieran was already moving to the bedroom door. Lauren watched, perplexed, as he ran a hand through his ebon hair. His free hand hesitated at the door handle before he slipped into the hallway beyond. There was an uncomfortable quiet that settled in his absence; Lauren thought she heard him speaking to the doctor, but they kept their voices too soft to hear from the room.
She was considering scooting toward the edge of the bed to listen when the doorknob turned once more. Kieran was the first to enter the room, his gaze lowering immediately after catching Lauren's eye. He shuffled to the side and glanced back at the halfway-shut door motioning to whoever was on the other side of it. Soon, a hand gasped gently at the edge of the door to push it open.
Lauren couldn't even gasp at the man she saw. His white hair, though longer now, framed his face just as well. His silvery eyes gleamed even in the dimness of the room, shimmering with the same kindness he had all those years ago.
"Dylan?" Lauren whispered, her breath catching in her throat. He stood near the door and offered Lauren a smile.
"Hey, Ren," he said softly. He took a step toward the bed, then another, until he stood in front of her. "Long time no see, yeah?"