Disclaimer:I don't own the characters of Lost Girl, I'm just playing with them.
Takes place from the beginning of 2x20. My twist on the true champion and the mystery behind Dyson's cuff.
Dyson stood in the decrepit doorway, hunched over with the weight of his impending doom. His breathing was long and laboured. He was going to reveal his secret and the world that he had carefully built around himself for centuries would come tumbling down. They'd never look at him the same way; the Ash would tremble at the revelation and Trick…would he ever forgive him? Through years of deceit and through the visage of friendship, he had fooled Trick. His head was a dangerous place to be as a multitude of fantastical thoughts vied for dominance. Dyson had consulted the wolf spirit and it was made clear that this fight was his and his alone.
Straightening up to his towering height, he took a deep breath and walked through the doors of the Dal heading for Trick's quarters. Suddenly his ears were assaulted by voices, some familiar and some puzzling. The closer he managed to walk, the more anxious his senses made him. Dyson's back arched in readiness as he struggled to keep his wolf restrained. His steps were steady yet unsure. Finally he reached the steps and descended them with stealth. Arriving at the foot of the stairs his presence startled everyone. They were all there; Kensi, Hale, Trick, Ciara, Lauren and finally Bo. He had been gone several days and he knew his return would be greeted with mixed emotions.
Kensi was the first to respond. Her face lit up and the sight of her D-man, "D-man…you're safe and you're here. Way to scare a girl. Glad you're home." Her little frame wrapped itself around the wolfman.
"Thanks Kens…" he responded with his sexy baritone voice, fiercely hugging her back. They exchanged a look. He had seen that look before. There had been trouble and he hadn't been around when they needed him the most. He had let them down. Regret and remorse filled his senses. Dyson released her slowly as he looked apologetically at everyone.
Angrily, Bo looked away towards Lauren who gave Dyson a condescending smirk, You blew it. She's mine now. Again Dyson kept his rage at bay, knowing he had lost his rights to Bo. He looked over to Hale, but Hale ignored his partner and returned to the icepack that was nursing his jaw. It hurt Dyson seeing his 'pack' turning on him. However when he turned to Ciara, she smiled giving him an understanding nod. She had known him the longest and she understood. Maybe the only ally left. He returned her nod. But it was Trick that shattered the intensity of the room.
"Where have you been, Dyson? We have been trying to get a hold of you," accused Trick glaring at his friend and feeling somewhat betrayed by his absence.
"Licking his wounds," slurred Hale, "and leaving his partner to clean up mess after mess…ALONE!"
Keeping his eyes trained on Trick, he placed a comforting hand on Hale's shoulder. Hale pulled away. Dyson's eyes turned to Hale, "Sorry man…I needed to regroup…I needed guidance."
Reapplying the ice to his jaw, Hale's voice was muffled, "Hope it was worth it…worth more than your friends man…your actions an' your 'tude…not cool." His head hung low too hurt to look at his partner. Dyson clenched his jaw, lifted his saddened eyes and tried to find an ally but they looked away except for Trick, who stood like an aggrieved father.
"I need to talk to you," whispered Dyson, feeling lost and isolated; his pack had turned their backs on him.
"Ok…talk," Trick spat out.
Dyson drew breath and exhaled slowly, averting the attention he was now getting, "Privately." He started towards the den. The alpha male in him didn't like backing down and he wrestled to keep control.
After Dyson's pained departure, the rest of the pack looked at Trick.
"Do you want me outside the door? Just in case," suggested Bo, feeling hurt and indignant all at once. It wasn't often she had the moral high ground over Dyson.
Trick managed a hesitant smile, "No…Dyson is many things and we might all be angry with him at the moment but I trust him...I trust him with my life. Why don't you all go home, rest up and we'll reconvene later."
They all nodded and paired off on their way out of the Dal.
Dyson was waiting patiently, sitting wide legged, elbows on knees and head in hands. He understood their reticence and their anger; but he couldn't find it in his heart to truly care about what they thought at this very moment. He was missing a vital part of himself and he was a mess. He felt like walking away but he just couldn't.
Trick stood at the doorway and looked at Dyson with a concerned brow. He had known Dyson for centuries. He regarded their friendship as one of the most precious things in his life. Dyson was like a son to him. This…worried him. He trudged down the few stairs, heavier than normal, alerting Dyson to his arrival. Dyson didn't move. Trick stopped in front of him, "Dyson?"
Lifting his head but keeping his focus down he said huskily, "Pull up a chair and pour us a glass of that scotch you keep hidden in that moldy old cupboard."
Trick didn't waste time, "That serious is it?"
"Aye, it is," he answered exposing his Scottish roots.
The amber fluid filled the glasses that both Fae held, "Dyson I know you, and I know this is more than Bo, or the Norn…what is it, friend?"
Dyson took a swig and sat back, looking at Trick, "I've kept things from you."
Trick tilted his head slightly, "We all have our secrets, Dyson."
Dyson nodded, "But this…this I should have told you."
"So speak then. Tell me and release the burden that's weighing so hard on your shoulders…" pleaded Trick.
"With everything that's being happening, I was lost and I needed some guidance… so I went looking for answers," Dyson was suddenly interrupted.
"Did you find your answers?" asked Trick intrigued by Dyson's vagueness.
"Yes. More than I had hoped for…especially about the Garuda," continued Dyson uncertain as how to reveal the rest to Trick.
"Dyson we know how to defeat the Garuda," said Trick impatiently, "with the Naga's venom. There is no other way."
Dyson finally lifted his heavy eyes and stared straight at Trick, "There is another way. It will save the Ash and it will keep Bo and the others safe."
Trick was surprised and skeptical, "I've researched and hunted down every thread of information there exists Dyson and there is nothing more."
"There is one other that can destroy the Garuda." Trick's eyes widened. Dyson took a breath and the words spilled out, "The Rí mactíre."
Trick froze. His breath hitched in his throat as he glared at Dyson, "The Wolf King! Dyson, you of all Fae should know that the true Rí mactíre relinquished the title and hasn't been seen since. This is your lore. You should know. The Wolf king who sits on the throne does not possess the elemental powers that are bestowed to the true heir. He cannot help regardless what the spirit says."
Dyson shifted uncomfortably in his seat, motioning Trick for another drink. Trick hesitated. Dyson was wasting his time and he needed to be elsewhere doing something productive. Dyson's lupine eyes fixed onto Trick. He reluctantly refilled Dyson's glass. "What if he can be found?" he said huskily.
"We don't have time for a treasure hunt." Trick stood up and started to pace. "He could be anywhere…he might no longer be part of this world or he might simply not care. He turned his back on his people so what makes you think he'd help…no…no there are too many variables Dyson for this late in the fight. We have a plan and we stick with it." He stopped and looked at the weary man sitting in his reading chair then quietly said, "Go home Dyson."
Dyson had expected such a reaction so it hadn't fazed him at all. Suddenly Trick saw that familiar glint of mischief in Dyson's eyes as he smirked. Trick moved closer to Dyson as anger raged through his body, "Dyson enough. Either give me something tangible or go home. We don't have time for games."
Dyson didn't flinch nor did he answer. Trick saw Dyson's left hand go to his right wrist where he wore a leather cuff. He slowly released the clasp and it fell. Dyson turned his wrist and slowly looked up at Trick. Dyson heard a gasp of shock as Trick's eyes scanned the mark on Dyson's wrist. Trick's hands grabbed Dyson's hand and wrist, trying to rub off the mark but failing to do so.
Trick's eyes were as wide as saucers and filled to the brim with unshed tears, "No…YOU?"
Dyson nodded, "I'm sorry I never told you. I had my reasons."
"Reasons? Reasons?" yelled Trick throwing his hands up and pacing the floor. "Do you know the impact of keeping this secret from our world, Dyson? The tragedies that could've been avoided…the people you've deceived."
Trick watched Dyson carefully and saw hundreds of years of tortuous pain suddenly appear of his face, etched deep and solid. Trick was angry but despite the revelation, he knew Dyson. They had fought together. They held each other's confidence and this was no less than Trick's own charade. His anger abated. "Tell me everything Dyson," said Trick pulling the adjacent chair closer to Dyson, trying to reach out to his friend..
Dyson looked at Trick briefly feeling the sting of shame. "It all began…" started Dyson.