Post by Dr. Drakken on Apr 6, 2009 17:54:17 GMT -5
Title: Bridges Burned
Summary: No one told Shego the world could be so lonely, but even the Supreme One can't have it all. When the world isn't enough, it's best to burn the bridges you've made and blaze a new trail. But is it possible for someone so far gone? One-shot. D/S. AU.
Rating: PG-13 for violence, language, and suicide.
----
The world was hers. All her subjects lived in awe and fear of her. The Supreme One had all she could ever want. All anyone could ever want. Respect. Wealth. Power. And yet, as time wore on, the elation of taking over the world was gone. It had, in fact, disappeared altogether some time ago and now, it took more to feel anything. She was harsher with her servants in order to feel any sadistic satisfaction. She was stricter on taxes to get more money in hopes the wealth would bring with it joy. Her vices, her addictions, increased with hopes that more strange and wonderful substances and activities would bring about a euphoric high. Nothing worked. No emotion came. The Supreme One was just… numb. And she didn’t even realize it.
How could she know? It had been such a slow process, gradual. So slow that it escaped her notice that she was increasing everything to get the same satisfaction. She didn’t even know until she looked back to see the bridges she’d burned. And, of course, she hadn’t meant to look back. Who would have wanted to? After all, the Supreme One was happy. She had to be.
It began when Drakken, her idiot bodyguard, flubbed up. It had not been a serious error by any reasonable person’s standards. A small boy—the son of a palace slave—had been caught stealing food from the kitchens, and yet Drakken had let the boy go. Oh, the Supreme One was angry, yes. But not very until…
“The boy was practically skin and bones! He was starving! Even you aren’t heartless enough to ignore that simple fact!”
Zap!
Drakken’s shock-collar illuminated with voltage and he flinched. “Listen to me, please, Shego…”
ZAP!
Again, the collar lit up, but this time brighter. Drakken yelped in pain and fell to the ground, writhing in pain.
“I have listened to your pathetic--” ZAP! “—ineffectual--” ZAP! “—excuses!” ZAP!
And for a moment, the Supreme One felt it—that heady rush of satisfaction of knowing that she had such control over people that they could be reduced to this—this!—a blubbering mass of blue flesh, physically altered to placate her desires and needs, curled at her feet, whimpering. Drakken’s cries fell on stony ears. Now that there wasn’t a current running through the collar, he clutched his neck and moaned.
“Hmph.” The Supreme One smirked and folded her arms, looking down at him. “Get up, you imbecile.”
Drakken looked up and for a moment, their eyes met. And there was no denying what the Supreme One saw in Drakken’s eyes. Sadness and pain, yes, but there was disappointment in those doleful black eyes. Disappointment? It was something the Supreme One simply could not understand from him, of all people. He should understand. This world had been their dream. And she’d single-handedly achieved it. Envy she could understand, but disappointment…? And as she stared into his eyes, the Supreme One’s surprise played out on her features—something her emotions had not done in years. Like a premonition of what might have been, the Supreme One saw a clear vision of what Drakken had wanted for himself, for her, for them. Two thrones, not one but two. A kingdom not constricted by martial rule, but something resembling a benevolent dictatorship… an absolute monarchy? Was that possible? In Drakken’s eyes, she saw the pain of unrequited love—a look she’d almost forgotten existed and a look that she knew hinted at emotional scarring far worse than the black ring around his neck. And the look of betrayal he shot her was that of a man who’d just caught his lover with another in their bed. It was as though she was living out his dreams—their dreams—without him. The Supreme One’s face spasmed.
“Just kill me,” Drakken said hoarsely, breaking the silence. “Do it. Kill me!”
The remote in the Supreme One’s hand fell to the ground. “I- I can’t.”
“Fine time to grow a heart,” Drakken said bitterly. His breath was ragged. “Kill me now. Consider it mercy.”
“I can’t.”
“Consider it revenge, then.”
“No… I can’t kill you…”
“Why? What’s stopping you?”
“I already have.” A rueful smile played on the Supreme One’s lips. “I’ve already killed you. Your hopes… your dreams… I’ve taken them all away.”
“And my heart and my soul and my body…. Just take my life as well. Kill me now! I don’t want to live…!”
Tears flowed freely down both Drakken’s cheeks as he wept openly. And the Supreme One felt something she hadn’t in a long time—decades. The stirrings of pity swelled in her chest and her whole body ached with sadness. And for the moment, the Supreme One ceased to exist and it was only Shego standing there with Drakken. She knelt beside him and picked up the remote. He smiled a knowing smile, waiting for her to end it and instead, Shego cut off the power to the shock collar. It fell off Drakken’s neck with a thud to reveal burn scars in various states of healing—red, black, and white—ringing his neck. And she began to do something she hadn’t in even longer. Shego cried. Together, they lay on the floor in tears and not touching, not speaking, but wanting desperately to, for what seemed like hours.
“I’m so… so… so sorry,” she whispered, reaching to touch his face.
Drakken turned his head away. “Sorry doesn’t heal these… doesn’t end it.”
“I know.”
“It didn’t have to be this way.”
“It still doesn’t have to end this way.”
Drakken looked at her, bloodshot eyes meeting bloodshot eyes. “Yes it does. We’ve both become monsters and there’s no abdicating… no turning back time. We can’t just turn back time, Shego…”
“Yes, we can. We can fix things… We can…”
“No, we can’t. We can not. You don’t understand…”
“You don’t understand! I still have the…”
“You can. You can, if you want. And if you do, I’ll see you in the past and neither of us will remember this conversation… this world. But if you don’t….” Click. He’d put his collar back on. “I’ll see you on the other side.”
“Dr. D! Please don’t leave me!”
ZAP!
He hit the button and his collar illuminated for one last time. And Shego took his body—genetically altered and muscularly grotesque—into her arms and rocked him, sobbing, murmuring his name, moaning words of apology, kissing his scars, for the rest of the night. And at the dawn’s light, she kissed his clammy brow and lifted the Tempus Simia from its hallowed spot. She had to set things right. And she would have to start where it all began—she had to stop the Supreme One from giving her past self the idea of single-handed world domination. Otherwise, this was the ending she was doomed to know forever—numbness ending in tragedy. And whatever she’d felt back then about or for Drakken, whatever agenda she’d had to conquer the world, did not matter in this world. She had to set things right.
She released the ancient relic and it fell to the ground with a deafening smash. If she’d fixed things, Shego would never know the difference. If she’d unraveled the very fabric of time, she’d never see its consequences. All she saw was darkness.
Summary: No one told Shego the world could be so lonely, but even the Supreme One can't have it all. When the world isn't enough, it's best to burn the bridges you've made and blaze a new trail. But is it possible for someone so far gone? One-shot. D/S. AU.
Rating: PG-13 for violence, language, and suicide.
----
The world was hers. All her subjects lived in awe and fear of her. The Supreme One had all she could ever want. All anyone could ever want. Respect. Wealth. Power. And yet, as time wore on, the elation of taking over the world was gone. It had, in fact, disappeared altogether some time ago and now, it took more to feel anything. She was harsher with her servants in order to feel any sadistic satisfaction. She was stricter on taxes to get more money in hopes the wealth would bring with it joy. Her vices, her addictions, increased with hopes that more strange and wonderful substances and activities would bring about a euphoric high. Nothing worked. No emotion came. The Supreme One was just… numb. And she didn’t even realize it.
How could she know? It had been such a slow process, gradual. So slow that it escaped her notice that she was increasing everything to get the same satisfaction. She didn’t even know until she looked back to see the bridges she’d burned. And, of course, she hadn’t meant to look back. Who would have wanted to? After all, the Supreme One was happy. She had to be.
It began when Drakken, her idiot bodyguard, flubbed up. It had not been a serious error by any reasonable person’s standards. A small boy—the son of a palace slave—had been caught stealing food from the kitchens, and yet Drakken had let the boy go. Oh, the Supreme One was angry, yes. But not very until…
“The boy was practically skin and bones! He was starving! Even you aren’t heartless enough to ignore that simple fact!”
Zap!
Drakken’s shock-collar illuminated with voltage and he flinched. “Listen to me, please, Shego…”
ZAP!
Again, the collar lit up, but this time brighter. Drakken yelped in pain and fell to the ground, writhing in pain.
“I have listened to your pathetic--” ZAP! “—ineffectual--” ZAP! “—excuses!” ZAP!
And for a moment, the Supreme One felt it—that heady rush of satisfaction of knowing that she had such control over people that they could be reduced to this—this!—a blubbering mass of blue flesh, physically altered to placate her desires and needs, curled at her feet, whimpering. Drakken’s cries fell on stony ears. Now that there wasn’t a current running through the collar, he clutched his neck and moaned.
“Hmph.” The Supreme One smirked and folded her arms, looking down at him. “Get up, you imbecile.”
Drakken looked up and for a moment, their eyes met. And there was no denying what the Supreme One saw in Drakken’s eyes. Sadness and pain, yes, but there was disappointment in those doleful black eyes. Disappointment? It was something the Supreme One simply could not understand from him, of all people. He should understand. This world had been their dream. And she’d single-handedly achieved it. Envy she could understand, but disappointment…? And as she stared into his eyes, the Supreme One’s surprise played out on her features—something her emotions had not done in years. Like a premonition of what might have been, the Supreme One saw a clear vision of what Drakken had wanted for himself, for her, for them. Two thrones, not one but two. A kingdom not constricted by martial rule, but something resembling a benevolent dictatorship… an absolute monarchy? Was that possible? In Drakken’s eyes, she saw the pain of unrequited love—a look she’d almost forgotten existed and a look that she knew hinted at emotional scarring far worse than the black ring around his neck. And the look of betrayal he shot her was that of a man who’d just caught his lover with another in their bed. It was as though she was living out his dreams—their dreams—without him. The Supreme One’s face spasmed.
“Just kill me,” Drakken said hoarsely, breaking the silence. “Do it. Kill me!”
The remote in the Supreme One’s hand fell to the ground. “I- I can’t.”
“Fine time to grow a heart,” Drakken said bitterly. His breath was ragged. “Kill me now. Consider it mercy.”
“I can’t.”
“Consider it revenge, then.”
“No… I can’t kill you…”
“Why? What’s stopping you?”
“I already have.” A rueful smile played on the Supreme One’s lips. “I’ve already killed you. Your hopes… your dreams… I’ve taken them all away.”
“And my heart and my soul and my body…. Just take my life as well. Kill me now! I don’t want to live…!”
Tears flowed freely down both Drakken’s cheeks as he wept openly. And the Supreme One felt something she hadn’t in a long time—decades. The stirrings of pity swelled in her chest and her whole body ached with sadness. And for the moment, the Supreme One ceased to exist and it was only Shego standing there with Drakken. She knelt beside him and picked up the remote. He smiled a knowing smile, waiting for her to end it and instead, Shego cut off the power to the shock collar. It fell off Drakken’s neck with a thud to reveal burn scars in various states of healing—red, black, and white—ringing his neck. And she began to do something she hadn’t in even longer. Shego cried. Together, they lay on the floor in tears and not touching, not speaking, but wanting desperately to, for what seemed like hours.
“I’m so… so… so sorry,” she whispered, reaching to touch his face.
Drakken turned his head away. “Sorry doesn’t heal these… doesn’t end it.”
“I know.”
“It didn’t have to be this way.”
“It still doesn’t have to end this way.”
Drakken looked at her, bloodshot eyes meeting bloodshot eyes. “Yes it does. We’ve both become monsters and there’s no abdicating… no turning back time. We can’t just turn back time, Shego…”
“Yes, we can. We can fix things… We can…”
“No, we can’t. We can not. You don’t understand…”
“You don’t understand! I still have the…”
“You can. You can, if you want. And if you do, I’ll see you in the past and neither of us will remember this conversation… this world. But if you don’t….” Click. He’d put his collar back on. “I’ll see you on the other side.”
“Dr. D! Please don’t leave me!”
ZAP!
He hit the button and his collar illuminated for one last time. And Shego took his body—genetically altered and muscularly grotesque—into her arms and rocked him, sobbing, murmuring his name, moaning words of apology, kissing his scars, for the rest of the night. And at the dawn’s light, she kissed his clammy brow and lifted the Tempus Simia from its hallowed spot. She had to set things right. And she would have to start where it all began—she had to stop the Supreme One from giving her past self the idea of single-handed world domination. Otherwise, this was the ending she was doomed to know forever—numbness ending in tragedy. And whatever she’d felt back then about or for Drakken, whatever agenda she’d had to conquer the world, did not matter in this world. She had to set things right.
She released the ancient relic and it fell to the ground with a deafening smash. If she’d fixed things, Shego would never know the difference. If she’d unraveled the very fabric of time, she’d never see its consequences. All she saw was darkness.
