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ded_n_berried - All Will Love Me and Despair

LOST GIRL - BO/LAUREN

All Will Love Me and Despair

ded_n_berried

Title: All Will Love Me and Despair

Author: ded_n_berried

Rating: PG

Fandom/Pairing: Lost Girl, Bo/Lauren

Spoilers: Up to S01E13

Word Count: 1,126

Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for–profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.

Summary: Future AU, post Fae clan wars, Bo and Lauren have taken some drastic measures to ensure peace.

All Will Love Me and Despair

ded_n_berried

I wake from a siege dream of angry voices closing in, fists pounding on doors, hinges giving way. Fear bites down and my heart lurches until I remember what is real, and where I am – in the dark tower of our downtown nowhere winter stronghold, wrapped in a warm tangle of sheets.

I focus my breathing (inhale for eight, hold for four, exhale across seven) and bring my pulse under control.

Beside me, Bo sleeps face down in the center of the bed, choking her pillow in a half–nelson lock. Slumbering by her, Dyson smiles from the depths of some imagined wilderness. Thrall dreams are vivid, and his wolf runs free in the hours just before dawn.

The bedside clock glows 5 a.m. Top of the hour, time for the changeover. In the basement ten floors down, the signal generators swap out. One shuts off and another whirs to life, broadcasting the orders of the day, the orders of every day, for the citizens of Earth:

‘Remember that you are loved… Do unto others as you would have done unto you… Make love, not war… Be kind, rewind…’ Etcetera, etcetera. My personal favorite? ‘Don’t start none, won’t be none.’

Even when it comes to worldwide emotional manipulation, Bo likes to keep it simple. Fitting, though, because the whole process from impetus to implementation has been stunningly easy.

Like so many revolutions, ours began with a late night lab accident. As I engineered aural stimuli for a comatose Light Fae elder, Bo crept up behind me and whispered something filthy. The condenser mic picked up her voice and my theta wave monitor instantly spiked.

An intuitive leap led to a causal connection, which spurred experiments and a few trial runs with Bo’s voice buried in the audio track of a television show. Frequency modifications took time (the logistical snarl of adjusting megahertz ratios for conversion to phone, television, radio, computer speakers), but once we secured the satellite uplinks and sent those first signals flying, the impact was rapid and astonishing.

Crime rates plummeted. National tensions eased. Optimism surged. The stock indexes rose like they were mainlining Viagra.

Chi, as it turns out, can be manipulated by triggering theta waves. Though they amount to little more than carefully calibrated vibrations in the air, Bo’s camouflaged words can now move armies, sway the hearts of millions.

It is, quite frankly, terrifying. The first time Bo saw one of her direct suggestions come to fruition (in a news flash about the repeal of anti–gay laws in Uganda), she literally threw up.

Some people don’t manifest theta waves and are naturally resistant to the vibrations, but those few who question such positive societal changes are drowned out by the many who welcome them. Numerous overjoyed believers herald the ‘kindness epidemic’ as a sign of end times, proclaiming that the kingdom of God is at hand. Bo, however, has shown no delusions of divinity.

I don’t believe she’s cut out to be a goddess. She has no ambition to enslave mankind. I doubt she would have even tried this if Kenzi had survived the clan war. Feeling powerless, failing to save her friend from senseless and random violence… well, it changed Bo, made her more accepting of drastic remedies.

Dyson tried to stop us early on, though it played like token resistance. Without his Blood King to serve, he was a wolf without a country. He barely fought the Thrall; it’s probably as close as he’ll get to feeling real love for Bo again. He stays close, feeds her and protects her, and yet Dyson’s eyes are empty. His old smug defiance is gone. There are days when I actually miss it.

Despite Dyson’s initial accusations of ‘insanity,’ we’ve pressed ahead and stayed the course. We are well aware that this is crazy. We’re employing mystical energy, science, and technology to wash brains on a global scale. It’s the most beautiful clandestine coercion the world has ever known, and it’s doomed to fail.

The doubters, the resistant, someday they will discover the signals buried in everything from Fox News broadcasts to Tamil language reruns of Seinfeld, and our fortress of cards will shake apart. My hope is that when it’s over, humans and Fae alike will remember The Great Thrall as a time of peace and prosperity. I hope they won’t judge us too harshly.

Of course, I’m fooling myself. They’re going to kill us for this, over and over and over again. All we can do is bury the signal deep, spread the message wide, and pray for time. Bo gets stronger every day. Maybe if we hold out long enough, she’ll be strong enough to fight off fate. She’s so potent already that it’s hard to imagine what she’ll be like after another month, another season, another year…

Bo turns and presses against me; she’s awake now, and watchful. Her arm snakes across my stomach, and a sigh curls through my hair. Her lips touch my ear and she whispers, “I love you.”

I know she means it. The most powerful being alive doesn’t need to lie. “You say that to everyone,” I reply.

She snickers and gives me a pinch. “Over a billion served, baby. Make the coffee?”

She’s smiling. Impish. Cuter than hell. I grumble a little and stretch my arms. “Do I have a choice in the matter?”

Bo fingers the Koushang pendant, warm against my skin, strung on a chain so delicate it could snap with a harsh thought.

“You could refuse me,” she observes, “but I wouldn’t recommend it.”

I blink stupidly until her stern face crumbles into laughter and she pushes me out of bed. When I get to the kitchen and realize we’re out of coffee, I grab the truck keys, suit up against the weather, and head for the nearest grocery store. If I’m back within fifteen minutes or so, it shouldn’t be an issue.

On the drive, I listen to the radio and clutch the Koushang talisman in my gloved fist. For the first time since this all began, I feel an urge to snap the chain, to roll down the window and hurl my free will out into the blinding snow. But I can’t do it.

It’s heavy, what we’ve done, and I won’t leave Bo to carry the responsibility alone. I’ll make the goddamned coffee. I’ll keep the signal generators running and keep us moving from backwater to boondock as the world freezes and melts and greens sweeter each season. I’ll love her as best I can until the day they find us, when angry voices ring out and fists pound and our doors shake off the hinges.

Some people just aren’t cut out for white picket fences.

~ ~ ~