It was rare to hear the sound of crickets chirping from inside the Dal, especially at such an early hour. But tonight, the sweet, soothing chorus filtered through the still air, barely muffled by the thick brick walls of the unusually quiet pub. Bo could even hear the steady hum of the electric and gas lights, sucking in energy and oxygen to keep flickering warmly and unsteadily against the smooth, polished surface of the bar, where a range of empty tumblers and tankards and shot glasses were scattered in an abandoned array around her. Even Trick was downstairs, in his lair, and Bo could just hear the scrape of his furniture, and the muffled crackle of pages turning and the dull thump of books being organized as he moved around and tidied his home. Tonight had been a short celebration, a congratulation to Bo for successfully completing the Game, and receiving her official invitation to the Dawning, and tomorrow would return to business and training as usual. Just for a couple more days before her Dawning would begin.
And Bo only leaned against the bar with her eyes closed, drinking in the almost-silence, the unsettled stillness and tense peace that surrounded her as if it were one of the last she might feel for the rest of her life. Because, for all Bo knew, it might be. Carefully, slowly, she sipped at the dregs of the wine in her glass, rolled the rich, warm bitterness in her mouth, tasted the woody oak tones and inhaled the smoky sweetness with an appreciation not necessarily for its flavor, but for the simple awareness of appreciation.
She was only alone for a few minutes, it had not been long since Kenzi had retreated to Trick's study to further annoy the old bartender, or since Dyson and Hale had bid her good luck and left for home, before the door to the Dal scraped open again and Bo found herself with company once more.
She'd been texting Lauren all evening, trying to apologize to her for missing her girlfriend's awards ceremony the night before, but hadn't heard back all night. So Bo was bitterly disappointed when short blond curls, arranged in a messy halo around a ruggedly handsome face, poked in through the door and Dyson stepped fully inside.
"Bo," his low, scratchy voice was as uncertain as his expression, he allowed the door to fall shut behind him and took another tentative step in Bo's direction, "I just wanted to say…" he hesitated, it gave Bo enough time to plunk her wineglass on the bar and close the distance between them.
"What?" Bo's voice was a little more aggressive than she'd intended, but her heart beat heavily in her chest and anxiety and anger coiled low in her belly together. She'd managed enough patience with him to get through their last minute celebration earlier, but now she was too tired and too frightened to try to manage any more. And it had been over a week since Bo had discovered Dyson had taken his love back from the Norn, and though she'd tried, desperately, to take Maia's advice and understand Dyson's reticence, she couldn't seem to make herself see why he still hadn't confessed to her.
Dyson was never one to cow in the face of aggression however. Like the Alpha he clearly was, the Wolf drew himself up, and his expression turned hard and stoic, and he set his shoulders back and stared down at Bo in a way that instantly made her regret her rash annoyance.
"I just wanted to say: good luck," his voice was soft, but it surrounded Bo with a familiarity and sense of safety Bo longed for in the chaotic, messy, frightening weeks she'd pushed herself through. She frowned up at the Wolf she'd once loved, once given her whole heart to, and struggled not to rebel against the feeling of security that low, rumbling tone tried to give her now. She held his gaze for a long minute before she felt herself deflate in submission, and heaved a heavy, tired sigh, and dropped her hands on his chest. She could feel his heart beat under her fingertips, strong and steady and reliable, under the rough, curly hair that grew on his chest and the soft shirt he wore, and spread her fingers widely across to feel it all the better.
"Thanks," her muttered words were almost drowned out by the soft symphony of the crickets outside, but Bo knew he heard her. She could hear his breath escape his nostrils when he relaxed and smiled, though she focused her gaze on her fingers splayed across his chest. His large, strong hands brushed the hair back from her shoulders and settled in its place, warm and comforting.
"You know, there's a way for me to come with you," his rough voice was soft and a little hesitant. Bo chanced a glance up at him, his eyes glimmered down at her, opaque and swirling with turmoil, "if I offer myself as Hand."
Bo took a step back, her face tightened into a scowl, and she drew her hands down beside her, clenched into fists. The memory of Dyson, beaten and hobbling on a shattered ankle, but still willing to fight and die for her at O'Meara's mansion, flashed in the whirling tumult of her thoughts, and though Bo had been distracted at the time, she'd seen the shift in his attitude, the understanding he'd suddenly experienced that Bo could fight, and win, her own battles, and the acknowledgement of the strength he'd loved and ignored in her until that point. The way he'd been behaving since – the backseat he'd taken in all of Bo's struggles, the supporting role he'd assumed – Bo had believed that Dyson had finally understood that Bo was not simply another maiden in distress. Perhaps he had finally understood it, for a little while.
"No way," Bo's answer was immediate. She crossed her arms over her chest and glowered up at him, furious that he'd even offered.
"Do you even know what that means?" Dyson chuckled quietly, the anxious lines of his face softened considerably by the expression and he smiled down at Bo, undeterred and undaunted by the angry scowl she returned him.
"I don't have to, to know that you're up to something," she retorted, "this is my fight. Did it ever occur to you that I don't need taking care of?" Though Bo's words started sharply, biting and aggressive, they softened as she spoke. Her arms fell to her sides again, and the scowl she'd worn melted into a tired frown. She didn't want to fight with Dyson. She was tired of fighting with Dyson. And she didn't want to say anything she couldn't take back.
Dyson dropped his head, defeated. He'd known the offer would be met with refusal, this much was clear to Bo in the subtle way he shook his head and smiled at her through his worry. But that he'd made the offer anyway meant the world to Bo.
The smile on Dyson's lips trembled for a minute, but held, and when Bo stepped close to him again, and dropped her hands on his chest once more, he grasped her hands in his to give emphasis to his softly spoken words, "I know. I just want to be here for you."
Bo's eyebrows knit into a tight frown at the tender, worried smile he gave her.
"Why?" she asked simply, her fingers tightened over the creases of his shirt, and she could feel her lips tremble with the tension that stiffened her frame and corded the muscles along her shoulders. His fingers pressed gently into them, rubbed unconsciously in an effort to ease her discomfort and anxiety, and he looked down at her for a moment contemplatively before his smile faded and his expression sombered, and he answered as simply as she'd asked.
"Because I love you."
Though Bo had already known, for some time now, the simplicity and forthrightness of his answer took her aback. Her hands fell from his chest, her mouth dropped open, and his own hands slid from her shoulders. She stared up at him almost incredulously, her expression drawn and tight, and stepped back a little, as if taking more of him in visually would somehow gain her insight.
"Was that so hard to say?" her tone was harsher than she'd intended, she didn't mean to scold. And Bo realized that instead of the relief she thought she'd feel at his confession, frustration rolled instead, and the anger and tension she'd managed to suppress, for the most part, until this moment, were finally breaking free. She felt herself tense with it, and clenched her hands on either side of her in a futile attempt to reign it all in.
Dyson's shoulders fell and his chin dipped. "You're with Lauren now," he sounded resigned and he shrugged helplessly at her, "I can't say that I like it, but I respect it."
Bo's anger and frustration, coiling and rumbling in a thunderhead in her chest, finally broke loose, and she slammed her fist into his shoulder to give vent to it. Dyson fell back a step with a grunt softened by quiet, almost surprised laughter, and rather than face the chivalry and charm that disgusted and annoyed her so much right now, Bo spun on her heel and stomped away.
"God, I won't be much help setting up for the Ceremony if I'm crippled." Bo could hear the grin in his words while he joked, and she scowled, though with her back turned to him, she knew he couldn't see it.
"You're not going to be much help to anyone if you're pining away for me, you moron!" Bo finally turned back around to face him, comprehension spreading across her features like furious thunder rolling in from a great distance. "Wait," horror and anger flared in Bo's eyes, dark and glinting in the flickering light of the Dal, "was that supposed to be some suicide mission?" The way Dyson shook his head and looked away from her only stoked Bo's growing anger, her voice rose with her frustration, "some kind of male honor bullshit?!"
"I offered because I want to be there for you," his voice was soft and low, but Bo could hear the growl he suppressed, and ignored it.
"Why?"
"Because you would do the same for me." Dyson moved slowly, he stepped in close to Bo, his voice still soft and low, but the growl in his tone was gone and replaced by something more intimate and tender. The shadows that fell flickeringly across his face played over the lines of worry on his brow, and he stared down at Bo as if trying to pour all the love he felt in his heart for her through his eyes and into hers. "Because in the last three years, I've learned more from you than I've learned in the first fifteen hundred from every other person I've ever met." His rough hands enveloped Bo's. She could feel her heart slam in her chest and beat in time with the pulse that pounded through his fingertips into hers, and she couldn't turn away from the intensity of his gaze. "Even if I can't have you, even if I can't be with the woman that I love with every ounce of my being…" Dyson's words faded away, replaced by a self-deprecating chuckle and a smile so sad it brought tears to Bo's eyes. "Look, I'm just a Wolf," he laughed quietly, his voice so soft it seemed to drown among the quiet, rhythmic chirping of the crickets outside, "standing in front of a Succubus, asking her to –"
"A-hole!" Bo yanked her hands free of his and slammed her fist into Dyson's shoulder again. Fury and frustration broke again, and her voice shook with emotion despite her attempt to hide it by shouting.
Dyson fell back and laughed, the lines on his face disappearing behind the mirth of his expression. "I deserve that!" he grunted, his own voice breaking with his laughter.
"You are the most frustrating, stubborn, ass-face that I have ever met!" Bo shouted back at him, arms waving with her aggravation and her face twisted with hurt and grief and despair.
"Hey, I don't like me much either, trust me!" Dyson was still laughing, it only aggravated Bo more to see him this way, so accepting and self-deprecating. His light laughter fueled Bo's anger, and she stomped toward him, her jaw clenched and her tears beginning to spill over and her heart tight with a desperation she didn't expect to feel.
"Stop! Stop being so charming, this isn't the time, okay? I will kill you!" Her words left her in a rush of air, half-growled and half-hearted. He had loved her for months now, and hadn't said a word, hadn't interfered, had been selfless and suffered silently, and he'd done it because he loved her. Because he loved her enough to see her happy with someone else and cared more for her happiness and comfort than for his own. It broke Bo's heart, and the realization of all this melted away Bo's anger. The vise-grip her frustration with him held over her slipped away and she was left with nothing but sympathy for his pain and a deeper love, understanding and trust for the man that had stood by her side since the beginning.
Bo stared up at Dyson, her eyes still filled with tears and his warm breath breaking across her face, and felt herself calm as the seconds slipped past them, unnoticed, uncounted, like so many others they'd shared, and when she finally broke the stillness between them, her words were quiet and trembling in the pregnant silence, "So what happens now?"
"Nothing," he answered, his voice as quiet as hers and his tone as intimate. His hand ghosted up her arm and she felt the gentle pressure of his fingertips against her neck, a light current of electricity that left her skin burning with the intensity of his touch, "But ask me again in a hundred years, when things are different…" Dyson leaned in, and Bo closed her eyes at the familiarity of this gesture, lost to the moment and the chorus of crickets that seemed to escalate around them. The last of his words fell across her mouth, lips brushed to lips, a final sweet kiss that tingled against her skin and blinded her with the weight of its meaning: 'Goodbye,' it said, 'for now.'
Author's Note: Yes, I know. This chapter was actually kind of Dybo. Don't fret, and don't panic, it's the last one, and one I felt that I, at least, needed for closure on their relationship. We had it in the series, and I was missing it in my story, so the chapter of Bo and Dyson is over, for at least the next century. Yay!
Leader: Kenzi for me is an incredibly pivotal character. Bo's life, in my humble opinion, would have been vastly different if she had not saved, and then later properly met Kenzi way back in the first episode at that hotel bar. So yes, I was exploring what life for Bo might have been like if Aife and Jack (or some embodiment of the father she believes she has) had found her first, and if they'd been the ones to introduce her to the Fae and to shape her beliefs and views on the Fae world, rather than Trick, Dyson and especially very human Kenzi. It was an interesting exercise for both myself and Bo in her Dawning mentality. Her understanding of the world, both Fae and human, and her treatment and attitude toward everything and everyone in it is a huge part of what makes her who she is. Ultimately, an understanding of who Bo is as a person is really what her Dawning is about. At least, that was the way I was given to understand it from the show. The "real world" interactions between Bo and Lauren are coming. A few scenes will start to bleed in here and there soon, but in a way, for the past seven chapters, we've been seeing their interactions in Lauren's apparent absence in Bo's day-to-day life. Things between them have been rocky and strained, and while it's really hard to portray the absence of something, it's a challenge I've decided to take on.
