Kat Scratch Fever
Home | About Me | Awards | Contact Me | Fanfiction








Deceit

Lauren Reed.  What does she really think?

Title: Deceit
Author: Me
Rating: PG at most. 
Pairing: None yet.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they belong to JJ
Spoilers: Up to 3.19 is fair game, the rest is just speculation on upcoming episodes.
Summary: A look into a day in the life of Lauren Reed
Note: Was originally going to have a pairing and a whole plot and all that, but for now, is just a little vinegette.  Give it a chance.  Maybe I'll continue it at a later date, but for now, this is all I have the energy for.
 
~*~
She sat at the bar, holding a drink and ignoring everyone who came her way.  Picking up the glass, she swirled the liquid around before bringing the glass to her lips.  The vodka burned her throat as she slammed the drink, yet Lauren hardly noticed.  She was too preoccupied.  Her eyes burned with unshed tears as she tried to hold them back.  How had her life reached this point?  When had her life become one huge joke?  Her marriage was in shambles, her husband hated her, her father had been killed, her mother was pressuring her, and Sydney was out for blood no doubt.
 
At least Sark was keeping his distance.  If she had to look at his smug expression one more time she would not hesitate to wipe the smirk off his face.  He would no doubt gloat over her recent misfortune and try to get her into bed.  He only wished to use her in his little game against Sydney and to satisfy his body.  She was tired of being used as a pawn in everyone’s game.  But most of all, she was tired of the lies.
 
Being a mole meant always having to think fast, always needing to check her facts and watch her back.  And she was sick of it.  But she never dared to contradict her orders, lest her mother find out.  Her mother wouldn’t hesitate to kill her.  Her lower lip trembled as she thought of her mother.  
 
A lone tear trailed down her cheek as she leaned forward, letting her hair cascade around her face.  The thought of her father’s death still haunted her.  A decent night’s sleep had evaded her for weeks now.  Whenever her eyes closed, she saw her father covered in blood.  He had died thinking she was a traitor, but she had had no choice in the matter.  Her mother had made sure of that.
 
She had never been close to her father, having been shipped off to boarding schools and the like over the years, but she had loved him.  He had never been vocal about his feelings, but the fact that he had admitted them before his death gave her some closure.  But what her mother had done was unforgivable.  To shoot your own husband in cold blood was horrible.  She had known something would happen if she refused to obey orders, but she hadn’t counted on her mother’s actions. 
 
Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to calm down.  Thinking about her family would only serve to anger her more.  The entire reason she was in the bar in the first place was to forget about the twists her life had taken. 
 
She was shaken from her thoughts as the man next to her tapped her arm.  Startled, she turned, raising a brow.  She was in no mood to talk to anyone.  He murmured something in French, and she scowled.  Standing, she threw a few bills on the bar top and turned to leave.   The man grabbed her arm, but she shook him off, ignoring his drunken rambling.  Hearing that language only served to remind her of her husband.
 
Another area of her life she wished to forget.  She had cared for him, and had been lucky enough to know his affection for two years.  A part of her had always realized that if Sydney were ever to show up again, he would leave her, but it did nothing to lessen the pain.  She had grown used to his presence in her life and was beginning to feel almost empty without him.  These feelings were starting to take their toll. 
 
Finally reaching the exit, she pushed her way out the door and relished the fresh air.  A shadowy movement to her right made her pause.  Looking around, she scanned the area, making sure no one was following her.  In this line of business, one could never be too careful.  Assured that no one was around, she continued on her way.  Somehow, her cover had been blown and now she had to be even more careful.
 
That damn Jack Bristow was to blame.  Somehow she had done something to arouse his suspicions and he had taken the initiative to check her private files.  Not that it mattered.  They couldn’t do anything to her without concrete evidence. 
 
Reaching her destination, she took a seat, waiting for her mother.  The alcohol in her system helped her to relax, but she still hated these meetings.  Her mother would only badger her about staying close to Michael and gathering as much information as she could.  Signaling to a nearby waiter, she placed her order and sat back, trying to collect herself. 
~*~
"You could at least pretend to be in mourning."
 
"Must we go through this again?  I have nothing to mourn."
 
Clenching her jaw, Lauren did her best to remain calm.  Her mother was only trying to get a rise out of her.  It wouldn’t work this time.  "He was your husband.  That had to have meant something to you."
 
"He was a necessary burden."
 
"How can you talk like that?"
 
"Lauren, really.  You should know by now that emotions are nothing in this business.  If you let yourself get caught up in them, it will only be your downfall."  She glanced meaningfully at the ring on her left hand before taking a delicate sip of her drink.
 
"Mother, that has nothing to do with it.  Whether you want to believe it or not, I actually cared about my father."
 
"You were only a disappointment to him in the end."
 
"Because you killed him.  He never knew the truth.  He died thinking I was doing this of my own free will.  He was the one who ever cared about what I thought."  Her voice started to rise and she could feel herself grow angrier by the second.
 
"Calm yourself before you make a scene.  The man was an imbecile and the sooner you realize that, the sooner your life will become easier.  He cared more for his work than for his family."
 
"And what an easy life I have.  They’ve already found out I’m the mole, mother."
 
Olivia set her drink down, staring at her daughter with a cruel smile.  "And just whose fault would that be?"
 
"For all I know, your pretty boy was spotted by Michael while he confronted me in the parking garage."
 
"Sark has more care than to be caught by that dimwit of a man you married."
Lauren resisted the urge to roll her eyes.  She would never understand why her mother was so protective of that weasel.  He was nothing more than a leech, working with whoever could offer the better deal.  But she also knew not to voice any more of her opinions unless she wanted to be subjected to a lecture from her mother.
 
"Mother, can we just agree to disagree?"  Glancing at her watch, she realized just how late it was.  "Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to be at the office.  They do expect me there, probably so they can give me more false information to pass along."
 
Olivia glared at her and she smirked.  "Watch yourself.  We can’t afford any more mistakes."
 
"Like they will even discuss anything important in front of me unless they want us to know about it."  Standing, she walked away from her mother before she could respond.  It was bound to be a long evening.  But she was ready for whatever came her way.  She would have to be if she wanted to stay alive.

Hmm, most likely my last Alias story.  I might continue, I might not.  It all depends.  Basically, I think that poor Lauren is given a bad name.  All the 'shippers hate her and take it way too far.  I believe that she's only bad because she has to be.  She has no choice in the matter.  Hell, her mother seems to be the entire reason she's even the mole.  All I can say is that not many give her fair treatment.  Yes, she has her faults, but so does Sydney.  Deal.

Enter supporting content here