Chapter One! Yay! So like I said before, first Lost Girl fic and it is OC based. Hope you all like this! Feedback is welcome and I usually respond to reviews just so you know.
Enjoy!
Disclaimer(I forgot last time): I do not own anything recognizable in this story. I would love to own Dyson but well...yeah only in my dreams. I do own Simone and the parts of the plot that aren't used from episodes. So yeah...I own nothing important.
[001]
Dyson was drained, quite literally, by the time he managed to get himself home. All he wanted was to have a beer and fall face first into his mattress and forget about the whole day, if only for a little while. The day had been long, and entertaining if he let himself think about it, but it had been tiresome. Some of that tiredness was attributed to something he was just now realizing as he made his was down the hallway to his front door. The succubus, Bo, had drained much more energy from him before her trail than he had thought. She was strong and she didn't even realize it yet.
Thinking of the trail made him want to groan. The succubus hadn't even taken a side in the end even after surviving, with the help of a little and somewhat fascinating human. This fact that she was now unaligned might prove problematic in the coming months unless she came to her senses and picked whether she wanted to be Light or Dark Fae. While he hoped that she went for the Light, it was her choice in the end and while he barely knew her he would support her as much as he could even if she chose the Dark.
Approaching his door he nearly gave a sigh of relief with his haven just within reach. All he had to do was unlock the door, throw off his jacket, take off his shoes, grab a beer, and relax. Just a few more steps and he would be inside where nothing could bother him as long as he ignored it. Nothing could go wrong now. That's what he kept telling himself.
As his hand made contact with the handle his nose caught the fresh scent of blood. His cop instincts told him to draw his gun while investigating but his beast told him to do things a different way, a more primal way since his territory had been invaded, or so he assumed. It was a short battle but he managed to push both instincts out of the way, at least for the time being.
He took a minute to poke around the door and its frame, finding some fresh blood smeared against the paint. It wasn't much but it was enough that be was worried just a little. His eyes flashed yellow and he snarled as his hand finally turned the knob finding that it was unlocked. That was not the way he had left it that morning. He took yet another deep breath, leaning slightly into the door to get the scent into his nose to see if maybe he recognized the person who had left it.
It was hard since he had to weave his way through the smell of damp dirt, farm animals, fear, and that overly powerful cooper tinge that blood seemed to spread everywhere. He narrowed the dirt to the woods just outside the city, a place he knew well and the farm animals were indiscriminate from one another. Throwing those two scents out of his mind he sifted through the fear and the cooper smell coming to find the underlying scent of the person who he figured was inside his apartment.
The shock of actually recognizing this face made him tense for a moment before he finally relaxed enough to allow his eyes to shift back to their natural blue. Yet he didn't allow himself to relax completely since there was the fact that he hadn't seen this particular person in quite a long time. This face had him worried as he pushed open the door, careful not to let his guard down too much as he inched his way in. He was on alert as he closed the door with a light click moving deeper into the apartment until he was standing five feet from the bed.
Dyson's jaw went slack at the sight before him. In his bed lay a curved female figure. White skin, covered in dirt, blood, bruises, and scratches and was slightly paler than normal, clashed with the dark brown of his sheets while her knotted auburn hair created a fire of color against the cotton. She was curled tightly in his sheet as if the fabric formed a protective cocoon that would keep her safe from whatever had caused her such harm.
The form of this woman brought a tug to his heart, a tug that caused him to remember how they had left each other so many years ago. They had yelled, screamed, and fought until finally she had left with tears in her eyes and a promise that under no circumstances would she ever go crawling back to him, even if she was in some kind of trouble.
She was obviously in some kind of trouble from the state of her and his floor. There lay a dirty old flannel shirt, most likely stolen from a clothes line outside whatever farm she had managed to hide on, and bloody foot prints dotted the scarred floor. So she was naked under that sheet and probably injured.
This was the main reason Dyson knew he had to wake her up even though he knew that she needed the sleep. From the dark rings under her eyes he knew that sleep had not been high on her list of things that needed to be done at least for the last week. He also wanted some answers, like why after several centuries was she finally turning to him for help? Why and how had she been injured? And finally did she really need some help? He would help her, he knew he would. She had after all been the baby sister of his best friend as well as one of his closest friends.
"Simone," he whispered lightly, hoping that her increased hearing would help to wake her up. When she didn't budge he had a moment of silent mental panic that told him she might not be breathing. He took a step closer, hitting a floor board that made a creak. He held his breath and watched as she took in a deep breath, a signal that she was indeed alive and currently awake.
In under two seconds she was wide awake, her gem bright green eyes blinking in confusion before she let out a low snarl. Apparently she wasn't quite as awake as he had assume because she went into protection mood, or maybe she didn't recognize him the way he did here.
She was unfurled from the blanket in a matter of moments and he realized that she was dressed in one of his older button down shirts and it wasn't buttoned all the way. He got a good glance at her chest, not her full breasts but a good portion of them showing a multitude of colourful bruises and what looked like claw marks. He saw the same marks on the small slice of stomach he could see before the bottom half of her slipped under the sheet.
The auburn haired woman was now growling loudly and her eyes had shifted to deep gold. Her fingers hand turned into claws and her teeth into fangs. She was close to shifting, close to breaking. He had never seen her, in the several decades he had spent with her, turn so feral. Not even in battle had she been this violent.
"Simone," he said, this time his voice louder but his tone just as soft as it had been when he whispered. His voice did nothing to bring her out of the blood haze she seemed to be under. In fact it almost made it worse. Her growling became deeper, that of a scared and crazed animal who had been backed into a corner for far to long. She was about to break from the corner and he feared that he would be in the way unless he could get her to calm down.
Putting both his hands out in a gesture that clearly said he was of no danger to her, he took a tentative step backwards. He watched her shift back, the shirt slipping off her shoulder giving him another good glance of the bruises her body seemed to have endured. "Simone. It's Dyson. I'm not going to hurt you." He tried to reason with her human mind. "Come on Simone remember me damn it!"
The curse and tone seemed to snap a little sense into her. Her claws shifted back to hands, her fangs disappeared revealing a row of bright white human teeth but her eyes stayed gold for the time being. Her snarls were lower, quieter, less violent and fearful as before. She was still scared but he was getting through to her. He took a step forward closer into her line of vision.
He didn't say anything else, just allowed her to get her barrings until finally she snapped out of the fearful stupor she had fallen into. She blinked once and the gold turned back to that lovely emerald. "Oh Gods, Dyson what happened?" She whimpered as she grabbed a pillow pulling herself into a ball around it.
Dyson had seen her in various states of wounded but never had he seen her so distraught and confused. "What happened?"
"I don't remember. I don—" with that she fell into sobs, shoving her face and mouth deep into the pillow to avoid them being heard by anyone but herself. She ended up curled in such a tight ball he was worried about if she could even breathe with how hard she was pressed into the fabric of the pillow.
In the midst of all this he found himself stuck to the floor, unable to move and unsure of what to do. He could go to her, comfort her, and try to get her to explain whatever had happened that lead to her being so wounded and tucked in his apartment. He could also stay where he was, rooted in his spot watching her break down until she managed to pull herself together. In the past he would have done that, just waited and watched because she hadn't been the type of person to like being comforted. But now, after so long, he couldn't be sure if she would want to be touched or not.
However it was his instinct to comfort the woman he had once known so well. With a sense of purpose he walked to the bed and sat gently beside her. She didn't move at the sudden weight on the bed and taking that as a good sign he carefully put his arm around her shaking shoulders hoping she didn't recoil.
At first, Dyson felt Simone stiffen under her touch, a slight flinch of her muscles was what gave her away. He didn't know if the flinch was from the fact that she was hurt and even the littlest touch affected her or if it was the fact that she didn't want to be comforted and touched.
Just as he was about to move his arm off of her she relaxed against him until she was fully tucked underneath his arm. He stroked her arm as gently as he could even making light sounds of comfort to get her to calm down. He could feel the scraps and scratches on her arm under his fingertips.
Thankfully it did calm her down after several minutes. She pulled her head out of the pillow, her dirty cheeks streaked with wet trails from her tears. She shuddered a couple of times closing her eyes as she took two deep breaths before opening her eyes to face Dyson once again. Those eyes of hers were a little less fearful but she still looked scared out of her mind. Time, he hoped, would heal that.
"Are you alright?" he asked softly as she began to shift away from him, still curled in a ball around his pillow. He caught flashes of her marred skin and felt the anger swell up inside of him at the thought of someone, or something, putting those marks on her. The last time he had seen her in such a state he had slaughtered those who had dared do such a thing. Of course Simone had been right by his side doing just as much damage as he had but the fact still stood that he didn't like her being harmed.
Simone gave weak nod. "Yeah, sort of," he smiled at her slight accent, the flare of Ireland that still existed in her speech. "I don't know honestly. All I know is that I'm in so much pain right now I just want to lay in a ditch and die." She groaned and tried to roll her neck finding that it was stiff and just as ripped up as the rest of her was. "Damn it," she snarled reaching back to feel the scabs that moved and cracked under her touch. "I'm all scabbed and scarred." It was like she gave a puff of air as if she was resigned to the fact she looked and felt like a punching bag.
"What happened?" He asked again as he moved aside her long hair to get a better look at what she was talking about. On the back of her neck there were scratches, those belonging to a wolf or a cat or something with claws.
"I was being chased and attacked. I don't—it's been a haze for the last five days and I don't—don't want to remember." She stammered out her eyes squinting as she tried to remember everything that happened. "I don't want to explain Dyson, I really don't. I want a bath."
He wanted to push, he needed to push, but he didn't. Instead he just gave her a slight smile. "I can help with that bath. Come on," he hopped off the bed and held out his hand for her to take.
It took her a moment of thought but with a smile she took his outstretched hand uncurling herself from the pillow and slipped out from under the sheet which had, up until this point, covered her bottom half. To his surprise she was actually wearing what looked to be a pair of rather loose fitting shorts. Also to his surprise, and dismay, as soon as her feet hit the floor she slammed to her knees howling in pain.
"What?" He dropped to his own knees in front of her wondering what was wrong.
She just whimpered as she pointed down at her feet. He saw, for the first time, that her right ankle was so purple it was nearing on black and her feet were so cut up he was surprised she could even put any weight on them to begin with. He didn't speak as he slipped an arm under her knees using his other arm as a brace against her back. She wrapped her own arms around him instinctively and he scooped her up off the floor. He would never say anything to her but she felt a hell of a lot heavier than she had been in the past and was heavier than she looked.
"Sorry for being heavy, I've put on a little weight since the last time we saw one another." She whispered as if she had read his mind. Simon laid her head on his shoulder. He didn't blame her, for trying to get comfortable when her whole body must have been throbbing.
He chuckled as he passed through the door into the bathroom. He set on her the wooden backed chair that happened to be used as a towel and dirty clothes rack most days. Today it happened to be cleared off, which was rare. He heard her hiss as she settled herself and kneeled in front of her. "You aren't that heavy, trust me Simone."
Her grin might have been weak but it was still teasing as she shoved at him. She had little strength and her touch was like that of a butterfly landing on his finger. "Thanks for the compliment you oaf." She finished with a slight laugh.
He let out a whoop of laughter, glad to see that the past wasn't affecting her personality and that she was nearly exactly as she was all that time ago. "Haven't changed much have you Moe?"
"Nope," she popped the 'p' with a giggle that ended in a cough which had her doubling over and wrapping her arms around her mid-section. "Gods," she cried out before biting down on her lip to prevent the wail that wanted to erupt.
Seeing nothing else to do but run her a warm bath, he stood up and went to the tub. It took a total of ten minutes of silence for the water to get to a level that would completely cover Simone's body. He turned back to find her sitting straight up once more, her eyes sparkling with such pain it nearly hurt him. He couldn't heal her, that was for her body to do and he knew it would be rather fast, a couple of weeks at the most. He did, however, know someone who might be able to help a little bit. "Do you need help?" He pointed to the tub while he asked.
"Get me to the edge where I have something to grab onto and I'm pretty sure I can do it myself." She tried to give him a reassuring smile but it came out as more of a grimace.
He nodded, helped her to her feet causing her to hiss with each step as he walked her to the edge of the tub. At least she was able to walk mostly on her own. She stood by the edge and looked at him. "Towels?" He grabbed a large, clean black towel from under his sink and laid it on the chair she had once been sitting in. He then moved the chair to beside the tub. "Thanks," she said softly and shifted from one foot to the other. He watched her stiffen at the weight distribution but she didn't make any other noise as he stood there.
She turned around and slipped off the shirt, well aware that he was still in the bathroom. She heard his intake of breath as the sight of her wounds and the colourful bruises that dotted, more like splattered, her back. She knew what it must look like and what he might have been thinking. She had been through the ringer and she wasn't telling him why. She knew it was annoying him, Dyson never did well with having secrets kept from him.
"You don't need to stay," even to herself her voice sounded as if it were breaking, like she was going to cry again. She actually knew she would, as soon as he was gone and she was alone in the soothing water. She also had a feeling he would call one of the Fae doctors to come take a look at her. "Go Dyson," she gave the order in such a manner that she clenched her jaw waiting for him to remind her that he had always been above her in the hierarchy.
She didn't hear a response, just heard his retreating foot steps and the creaking of the door being slightly shut behind him. Giving a sigh of relief she allowed a single tear to slip down her cheek as she slowly pushed off the stolen shorts and attempted to step into the water. Her right ankle almost gave out underneath her and she would have fallen if it weren't for the fact that she had known it was going to happen. She managed to catch herself and sit on the edge of the tub, pulling her legs carefully over the edge so that instead of her feet being on the tile flooring they were in the tub of water. Once she got that done she simply slipped down into the warm water and sighed with blessed relief.
Simone ducked under the water, holding her breath for several seconds before popping herself back up and pushing her hair back. It felt good to get the dirt and blood and grime off. Of course her stomach chose that moment to announce that it too wanted to be sated as well. "I know," she murmured to her belly trying to quell the pain of hunger as it competed to push out the other pain she was feeling.
Trying to just relax, she tilted her head back and closed her tired eyes. The two hours or so of sleep she had gotten in Dyson's bed hadn't been nearly enough time for her body to feel as energized and rested as it should have. She knew it would take several days of long hours of rest until she was finally back in her fighting form.
She didn't want to impose on Dyson anymore than she had to however. Though this meeting had been rather nice and civil she knew that the past would eventually rear its ugly head, it always did. She hoped that maybe for whatever little time she was in his home they could remain kind to one another and never bring up the one thing that had separated them so long ago. She just wanted to spend the time with him though she knew it would never make up for the time they had spent apart. But their friendship had been strong before and nothing could break that bond, at least she hoped so.
She wasn't even sure if he wanted her here. He was helpful, yes, but that didn't mean he wanted to keep her as a guest until she was finally back to normal. He was his own person, had his own life and career and most likely a mate by this point or at least a girlfriend of sorts. He had always been kind to her yet she knew time could change feelings like that. While the bond of friendship might still be there that didn't mean he cared for her the same way he had when they were younger.
As her mind raced with all the thoughts she felt herself begin to cry. Her life was so screwed up. She thought she had escaped that past. She had felt for nearly four decades that her life was finally becoming normal, that she didn't have to run and hide anymore. Yet here she was being pursued once more, pursued for the crimes she had committed even if those crimes were justified. She knew that they wouldn't stop until she was dead at their hands or executed by one of the side's hands following a trial. She just wanted to be normal with a life that wasn't so messed up. She just wanted peace and at this point death was looking to be the only answer.
NO! Her mind screeched quite loudly, shocking her. She would not die, death was never the answer. Death was not something she wanted to go through having been the one to inflict it as well as someone who had seen far to many deaths over her lifetime. She would not bow under, she would not give up. She had to keep fighting. This was why she was here instead of running again. She was going to stand her ground and face her past. It seemed to be the only way for her to survive.
Questions? Comments? Concerns? Please Review!
A/N: I forgot to mention that if you want to know what Simone looks like you can either Google Holland Roden or look at my profile, there is a link to what she looks like as well as her wolf...yes I know so uncreative of me to have Simone the same Fae race as Dyson but you'll probably understand after this and the next chapter, well partially understand. It plays a vital role for my plot that they be the same race and know one another...yeah...so don't call me uncreative please!
Oh and to clarify encase anyone was wondering I am well aware that Bo's test ended in the middle of the day. This is set later in the evening, well really late that evening anyways. So yeah...just thought I'd clear that up encase anyone was wondering.