|Even From Me
Author: Kanundrum PM
The Ash is out of commission and someone is picking off Light-friendly humans. Dyson is emo, Lauren is overwhelmed, Kenzi thinks they're both weaksauce, and Bo's love life is a dumpster fire as usual, though she means well. Should update weekly.Rated: Fiction M - English - Romance/Supernatural - Lauren & Bo D. - Chapters: 17 - Words: 46,549 - Reviews: 124 - Favs: 92 - Follows: 161 - Updated: 09-21-11 - Published: 04-12-11 - id: 6897689
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Title: Even From Me (1/?)
Fandom: Lost Girl
Pairing and Rating: Bo/Lauren, Lauren/OFC, Kenzi/Hale; R (language, sexual content, violence)
Summary: The Ash is out of commission and someone is picking off Light-friendly humans. Dyson is emo, Lauren is overwhelmed, Kenzi thinks they're both weaksauce, and Bo's love life is a dumpster fire (as usual), though she means well. Will update weekly til done.
Author's Note and Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or anything related to their funny, spooky little section of fake Canada. I'm only playing with them because I really miss my new favorite cheezball supernatural romantic dramedy so darned much. Fair use, eh?
Just because the Light Fae promote peaceful coexistence between clans and species, some mistakenly think them weak and passive. This is not so; they are merely deliberate and considered before they decree death upon another sentient being.
Unfortunately, a recent suicide bombing carried out by minions of a mentally unbalanced, vengeful succubus killed or severely injured most of the moderate voices on the Light Council of Elders including their leader, the Ash. As he laid comatose and silent two floors above the Council chambers, his so-called allies bickered and fractured over how to respond to a new outbreak of violence. Two of the loudest and most vigorous Elders clamored for Dark blood, proving that even the wisest of Fae are susceptible to panic and poor judgment.
"A single human death is common, two merits notice, but today makes three within a week's time! These murders of our human associates appear to be an organized attack," said Gorrick, a testy Selkie so aged his once super-elastic shapeshifter skin now drooped like a sodden wool sweater. "Since these humans were all key business and financial contacts, it would seem the Dark are taking advantage of the Ash's absence to chip away at our legitimate interests, endangering our very solvency. We must strike back, quickly and with unmistakable intent."
Gorrick's chief ally, a black-eyed Nagi called Vinata, hissed loudly and clapped her scaly hands. Beneath the table, her tail thrashed and rattled like a rain stick. The other Council members muttered and murmured for a time before grudgingly conceding that this theory made sense.
The most committed advocate for restraint had already spoken her piece, but Lauren Lewis, the human doctor who held the Ash's proxy vote, again raised her voice and urged the Council to judge slowly.
"This is against protocol. You're considering violent reprisal against an entire collective before we even know which individuals are to blame," Lauren said. "Fae police agents are investigating-"
"And making no progress," said the Light security chief, Serena - a firestarter in more than one sense. "Dyson and Hale have produced no motives, no suspects, and no credible leads. So far, we're only losing humans, but if we don't get proactive here, we could start taking Fae casualties." Serena paused and showed her palms to Lauren. "No offense intended, Dr. Lewis."
Lauren narrowed her eyes and stiffened her jaw, indicating that she knew better. Affronts to her humanity came rarely these days, but she had absorbed so many slights, insults and outright abuses over the years that her Fae racism detector was now a precision instrument.
"Dyson and Hale are just now heading to this morning's crime scene. I suggest only that you give your own appointed Fae protectors adequate time to do their jobs before you mount some arbitrary offensive against the Dark," she said, taking one last stab at preserving protocol and sanity. "I feel I have represented the will of the Ash. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have clinic patients waiting."
Gorrick and Vinata nodded consent for the doctor to leave the room while the Elders deliberated. As Lauren passed, Serena snapped up a flame between her fingers and pointedly blew out her blazing thumb.
"Subtle," Lauren whispered.
"Forget subtle - these Dark cutthroats are begging for a napalm enema. You'd do well to steer clear of this one, Doc," Serena replied. She held open the door for Lauren, and then locked it behind her.
Lauren paused outside the chamber doors for a moment and collected herself. She knew that worrying about the Council's decision was pointless. Unless police found a suspect unaffiliated with the Dark, there would be Light retribution and possibly another damned war, with all the accompanying horrors.
Human war was bad enough, but violent conflict between Fae was a nightmare. Lauren couldn't have imagined half the tortures these creatures devised, the atrocious ways they maimed and killed each other. In a way, she knew Serena's advice was prudent - she'd learned the hard way that when Fae want to fight, humans should get out of the way and quickly - but she had a duty to represent the Ash and honor his commitment to maintain peace.
Before clinic rounds, Lauren checked on her benefactor and found his condition unchanged, his eyes still closed in aimless slumber, his hands still curled limp on his chest. She took one and squeezed his fingers tightly, feeling a surge of fondness for this powerful, otherworldly being - her de facto owner - which few free humans would be able to understand.
She could hear her nurses making rounds, their footsteps and voices far enough away to assure her privacy. For just a moment, Lauren let her guard drop. She spoke to the Ash in a voice redolent of exhaustion and loneliness. "The Council hawks are beating war drums again," she whispered. "If you can hear me, if you are able, please find your way back. Your people need you."
In truth, she needed him, too. Without the Ash backing her decisions, Lauren knew her position with the Light was tenuous at best, yet there was nowhere else for her to go. The glass fortress, the downtown netherworld and the manifold creatures that populated it, this was her life entire and had been for years. Without his protection, she would be dead and worse... far, far worse.
A brief masochistic urge pricked at her brain, told her to find a clear phone and call her parents or her sister, just to hear a friendly voice say hello, just to remind her that she once had some connection to the world outside this enchanted prison. It was a foolish idea; suicidal, even. She pushed the thought away.
Now there was only one person Lauren could safely call who might give a damn that she was scared or lonely, but she hadn't heard from Bo in several days. That silence hurt more than it should. Thinking about the succubus, with her brash courage, her kindness, her stupefying beauty, and her severe, cutting judgments, was a different level of self-torment. Lauren shook it off and squeezed the Ash's hand tighter.
"We need your strength. I feel like I'm being tested again, and I don't know if I can... just please come back. Just..." she trailed off and almost laughed at her own desperation.
The monitor banks showed no changes in his vital signs. Apparently, her pleas to the Ash were about as effective as her apologies to Bo. The ventilator pumped, the I.V. dripped, and the skylight channeled sun onto his raw, charred skin.
Air, water, sunlight, and time, she mused, time we may not have.
Lauren patted his hand and walked away with unshed tears in her eyes.
Drifting on another plane of consciousness deep within his healing mind, the Ash could not respond, but he heard his ward. Trapped and isolated, he offered aid in the only way he could: he sent out a psychic call for help, projecting a cry into the duskworld space between light and dark, where the ancient Elex wait dreaming.