Faith in the Moon

Story: Poisonous Orchids

2012-02-17T01:29:00.000-08:00

Poisonous Orchids

by Nix Winter

Dedication: The Gardner, written for her birthday.

The Orion Palace sat central to the world, the heart of the world with whispers and dreams all swirled through the halls as if it were a great cocktail, intoxicating and probably not good for a person in the long run. Hosting the founding convention of the Civic , both blessing the endeavor and trimming it like a bonsai, President Orion saw to it that all the people whose input or approval she needed were present.

And so it was that for the first time since South Africa that Felix was both on Earth and near all the other pilots, the people he'd known in the war. Taller than he'd been then, his hair trimmed neater, his suit made of the finest wool, the finest designs, cut and tailored for his lean and demanding form alone, he felt as if he only barely had any stain from his actions during the war.

Trevor had smiled at him, and Felix had smiled back, a slight twinge of might have been sparkling in the air between them. Jody was a medical student now and had declined to attend the conference. He said he felt he had little to offer.

Alin had joined Preventers. He was loud and boisterous, like some midnight orchid in a garden of pink and proper roses, an orchid that would poison anyone foolish enough to get too close. There was a dark and dangerous wildness in that man's soul.

With the meetings finished for the day, Felix found himself in quiet room over looking the gardens, a cup of chai held in deceptively delicate fingers. In the calm of the room, he sipped the fullness of spice and heat in his chai, felt in control of his part of the world. His father's company in hand, the wars settled and likely to stay that way for the foreseeable future, he could turn his attention to his own future.

He wanted love.

He wanted children.

He wanted to corral the wild nature of the universe, so that it would purr when he petted it.

He sipped his chai, imagined dark hair sliding through his fingers, felt heat around his cock, disembodied and unclaimed this heat he wanted. Passion was a gift from Allah, giving men and women the gift of children. He brushed the smooth porcelain of his cup over his lower lip, imagining a kiss could be dark twilight.

The door's latch clicked, drawing his attention towards the white and gold door, to the woman leaning against the door, her lips parted as if they were only just barely not screaming or crying out. She wore a Preventer uniform. The dark blue of the skirt circled her legs which were long and paler, curved like an athlete, but slender and definitely female. Both her hands pressed to the expensive and antique wood of the door. Her dark, amethyst tinted hair framed her face.

Felix gestured to tea pot, the additional cup. "What's wrong?"

"There was some situation in town," she started as she pushed herself away from the door. "A ferry capsized and Sam just had to go and help. He and St. Grenis think they can do anything. It's like they think they have to save everyone! They're reckless."

"I'm sure they are using skills that will be greatly needed," Felix said, not sure why he felt as irritated as he did. "Come, have tea with me."

"Sam is an idiot," she hissed. After another movement, she crossed to the other wing back chair. She slumped her knees together, arms crossing her knees. "How can he not know how valuable he is to peace?"

Creamy chai swirled against the delicate porcelain, complaining just a little against the confines of teapot's spout. "Do you think he's worse than St. Grenis? I'm sure they both enjoyed the opportunity to get out of the palace. I believe St. Grenis called it stuffy."

"What would he know?" Elisha snapped. "He's a child still. He probably thought diving into bomb infested waters would be fun."

Felix sipped his chai. "What do you think would be better?"

"There are people who are paid and trained for that kind of work. Sam is a mecha pilot and St. Grenis is a mechanic. Neither of them should be out getting in people's way. I want someone like you, someone who wants a family, to watch the sun set and wake up ready for the next day. I want children. I want a father for my children who won't end up with his molecules spread out over the Martian desolation."

"A lover with a death wish is less than ideal," Felix agreed, thinking whoever got the black orchid that was St. Grenis would be unfortunate. "I also want children. You have the most beautiful hair, like midnight."

She set her tea down, unzipped her Preventer coat a bit, revealing the firm curve of her breasts. "I want a lover who will be there for me."

His heart beat a little faster. Licking the slightest bit of sweet from his lip, he set his chai down. Slender fingers then pulled his tie loser. "A man would be incredibly lucky to have an intelligent and skilled woman to be the mother of his children, to stand beside him in a dangerous world."

"I want to be that kind of lucky," she said, slipping out of her jacket.

"You are beautiful, Elisha. Any man who didn't desire you more than air, has no right to claim his manhood," Felix said, quoting, possibly badly translating an ancient proverb.

She toed off her shoes, leaned back in the chair. "Prove it to me."

He stood, eyes never leaving hers. "I have nothing to prove."

War had scorched them both, distorted time so that there was now sometimes and little else. They were not poisonous orchids, but wild roses no rail to cling to.

She lunged, throwing herself into arms waiting to catch her. Her fingers ran through his golden hair, hair like sunlight. For a moment his decorum whispered to him about marriage, about orchids, and forever, but now always outweighs forever when tomorrow is fragile as good wishes. Now pulled him down on her, he leaned into her kiss, his tongue taking her mouth, knowing her as if knowing were owning.

In his own kind of reckless, he unfastened her skirt, slipped it down away from the firm curves of her waist, her tight ass. She was brilliant, brave, beautiful, loyal, rational, and everything that would make a wonderful mother and wife. He swept her into his arms and carried her to the bedroom part of his suite.

Her arms held around his neck, drawing her close enough to kiss his neck, his ear, to pull at his shirt with her teeth. "Make love to me," she begged, her need to connect coloring her voice, making it deep and pleading.

Reverently he laid her on the huge bed, his hand sliding out from under her legs to caress up the inside of her leg, over the silkiness of her pantyhose, to the wetness between her legs. Still kissing her, he pressed his hand to that moisture, as if its welcome could soak into his skin, mark him as hers and make now closer to forever. He slipped back, toed of his polished shoes, unfastened his belt and pants, dropping them along with his white silk boxers. He was as golden below as everywhere on his body. Wearing just his socks and shirt, he slipped his fingers under her pantyhose, pulled the form fitting wrapping down, revealing lean body, midnight black curls.

Her approval was a low rumble at the back of her throat as she scooted up on the bed a little.

The pantyhose falling to the floor, he followed her on to the bed, crawling between her spread legs. His fingers skimmed over her slick flower, a finger tracing along the edge of one labia, then he dove in, licking and suckling her clit, the sweet honey of her desire.

"Oh hell," she groaned, her hands in his hair. "Yes! Felix! Give me a baby! Give me family!"

Hands on her thighs, he guided her a little bit farther apart, needing her to obey him, to submit and he focused on her pearl, licking, rocking his tongue over the top, pushing the hood back.

"Please, Felix," she begged, "No condoms, just you and me."

With a growl he surged forward, feeling her leg come up beside him, guiding and holding him. She lay back, her hands still in his hair, near his face as he kissed her, the intensity of it demanding forever, demanding all the things they both wanted from the world. As he slid into her, parted her heat and silk, became part of her, he groaned into the kiss, giving her what he'd never given anyone else, what he could never give any god damn wild orchid.

Nature, deeper than civilization, than planning wrapped her around him, He thrust, rocking against her swollen clit, in her hot body, but his mind was all white, all instinct and the power of nature. Every stroke felt as if heaven had swallowed him whole. She thrust against him, dancing with him, and they cried, clawed to stay there in that moment, Preventer tan against CEO crisp white, holding to what they could while what they couldn't defied control.

When they came, the pleasure squeezed them both, wringing them to cries, to the fragility of fabric and meaning. He delivered inside of her, heat splashing up into her body, half of life that defied war, defied the death they'd both brought and feared. She bit him, through the expensive cloth of his shirt and he cried out, his sweat soaking into her shoulder along with his tears. A whole life lived in those moments, her arms around him, caressing him, his strong arms holding her, and they had a whole life together, the good days and the bad, forgiveness and redemption, the understanding that a person would do what they had to do to live, even if they didn't know what living actually meant.

The fancy clock chimed the first stroke of midnight then, ticking off that now had moved into then. She rolled up, out of his arms, and reached for her pantyhose. "They're still not back."

Felix curled up next to her, his hand pressing against her bare belly, imagining the beginnings of life. "They're okay. If something had happened to them, someone would have brought me the news."

She laid her hand over his, a tender hopeful touch. "If it were a boy, what would you name it?"

"Hadrian," Felix said without hesitation. "And a girl?"

"Aya."

"You love him, don't you? Sam Toren."

"Yes, but it's no different for you."

Felix flopped back on the bed, an arm over his eyes, one bare leg bent. "It's everything different for me."

"He is a little out of control," she said and she didn't have to say if she meant Sam or St. Grenis. It was true for both of them. She turned then, reached out a hand to him. "I love you too."

He took her hand accepting her love with a tender and gentle smile, knowing in his empathetic way that she did love him, but not in a wild orchid kind of way, just a sweet warm honey kind of way. "I'll always be there for you. Call on me for anything, El."

She squeezed his hand. The ancient clock that had once belonged to kings chimed the last stroke of midnight.

Me.. attempting Shakespeare

2012-02-12T17:23:00.001-08:00

Fic: The God of Death 1/?

2012-02-10T18:35:00.001-08:00

The God of Death 1/?

by Pinkwhirlwind

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing

Mud squished under Duo's boots. Rain and mud splashed as his knee hit. Torrential rains soaked his braid almost before he hit, turned his clothes into a cold echo of his hurt, but they hid his tears. He ran then, familiar ruin - he'd been running all his life, leaving misery where ever he stopped long enough to cast a shadow. Vaulting a wooden rail fence, he left his lover's farm, left his stupid ideas of acceptance and warmth, of being wanted.

The town surrounding the farm, streets and normal people between him and his ship, he ran past them, dodging and jumping, through traffic, around cars, a comfortable stride that took him into the space port. He'd left his id and travel bag at his lover's house, so it took him extra time to get through security. He half feared that his lover would block him from getting to his ship. No one stopped him though, just checked his identity and let him through.

He was shaking when he got to the Wraith, his fingers barely able to type in the entry code. When his inner hatch slipped open, he realized he was leaning on it, as he tumbled to the floor of his ship. Still covered in mud and unforgiving rain, he covered the back of his head with his arms and lay face down on his floor sobbing.

There were only so many excuses he could make for himself. There was so much he didn't know! He didn't know it because no one had been responsible for him when he was young and small, not that being nineteen made him old and powerful. The texture on the metal floor bit into his knees, through the soaked cotton of his pants as he tried to get up onto his knees. Balance abandoned him and he fell over on his side, drew his knees to his chest, sobbing and crying loudly. His cries made his jaw ache, locking him in some permanent wail. He rocked there, on the floor, hands in his hair. He had offered everything he had to buy his lover's heart.

He hadn't cried over his lost eyes, that very intimate part of him that had disappeared as if they didn't have any more value than the rest of him. He wailed for the burned skin and the months spent mostly along, the years before that where he'd never belonged, where his best chance of belonging was to be the bad guy in children's games or the grown up's weapon.

His head hit the metal floor, lightly banging in a rhythmic pattern and the memory of her kiss, warm and inviting fueled the music of flesh against metal because now he knew what it was to kiss someone he wanted to share everything will and never would. Rage and jealousy burned more than the memory of acid as he heard his lover's words about her father. He wanted the unlove of a father rather than eating out of a trash can.

He'd probably come from two people fucking, maybe fucking for money, maybe some guy fucking as some woman cried... he didn't know, but there couldn't have been a good match or a contract, no clan to see that a contract was honored. He screamed, even though he had no breath to give sound to the scream as he watched Solo stop breathing.

His lover didn't think he was worth a contract... he wasn't. His head hit harder. Then he was laying in the barn loft with the little kitten sitting in his hand speaking in it's cat language.. then it was dead, it's body shriveling in his hand, decaying with the sweet smell of L2 alleys. He found his breath, yelling in Clan, that he'd kill them, kill the Alliance, kill Oz... kill them all! He was the God of Death and he was going to rain it down on them.

On an Oz base, his seventeen year old self eyed two guards. He held a blade in either hand, a crazed look in his eyes, a grin on his face that should have spoken of danger and insanity to them. They held their arms out trying to herd him, corner him, like he was an animal, some dangerous stupid thing than they could intimidate. The dots didn't all connect, but his blade sliced through meat, red and fresh. Blood splashed. His eyes opened and he didn't know if he were seeing the blood of memory or if his vision had actually gone red.

He wasn't good enough to touch cats or his lover. No one would contract with him. Clan might let him contract to a child, but how could he? How could he every look a small human in the face knowing he'd saddled them with genes like his? A history like his?

"Computer."

"Ready."

"Run program, Yuy-idiot."

"Running program, Yuy-idiot."

Heero's voice snapped, "Maxwell, what the hell are you doing? You've beaten your head against the floor and now you're bleeding. Do you know how much damage you've done to your hair?"

"I want to die."

"You're an idiot," Yuy said, a perfectly believable 3D representation of Heero squatted down by Duo. "You're as valuable as anyone else. No one has any right to live more than you. Re-set your eyes. Didn't you say you wanted to Ceres?"

Duo forced himself to sit up. "I kill everything good."

"You are dealing with substantial trauma, but you don't kill everything. You didn't kill any of us, did you?"

"Maybe. I want a cat. Do you think a cat could love me?"

"Cats are a symbiotic species with humans. I think a cat would be a good idea."

"Do you think a human could love me?"

"How would I know? Do I look human to you?"

"Yeah," Duo said, wishing his head didn't hurt like a bitch. "Give me painkiller."

The Heero image reached out and touched Duo's arm, triggering the release of painkiller from subcutaneous implants.

"You won't leave me, right?"

"I am with you everywhere you go," the Heero program said.

"Good," Duo pushed up to his feet, shaky, blood drying in his hair. "We'll go to Ceres. Do you think I'm dumb?"

"Probably," the Heero program said.

Duo sniffed back tears, limped towards his control rig. He jumped on, slipped his hadns into the controls. The system connected with his nervous system. "Tower, this is Wraith, requesting departure clearance."

"Wraith this is Tower, departure clearance pending system's clearance."

"Wraith acknowledges." He turned, the rig responding to his movements.

"Wraith, this is Tower. Your system is showing as partially impaired."

"Tower, this is Wraith. I'll depart under auto pilot. The impairment is temporary."

"Wraith, this is Tower. Departure approved."

As Wraith disengaged from the colony, dropping down into the darkness of space, Duo felt... safe. He'd just stay the hell away from people. The God of Death didn't belong near other living creatures.

Pic: Amaranth

2012-02-08T02:03:00.000-08:00

Fic: Michael for ShadowsFaith

2012-02-06T21:08:00.000-08:00

Art by Max, Michael is copyright to Shadowsfaith

Pastel sketch

2012-02-06T15:16:00.000-08:00

Pic: Cupcake of Death

2012-02-05T17:41:00.000-08:00

I don't own Gundam Wing, of course :) This is Duo from my story Cupcake of Death. One of these days I'll be a really good artist, but this was just quick and it makes me happy for now.

Max

This one actually goes with the story.

Duo liked this one better.

The Wraith

2012-02-05T01:43:00.000-08:00

Fic: Cupcake of Death

2012-02-02T01:42:00.001-08:00

Cupcake of Death
by Pinkwhirlwind

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, alas.

Warnings: War time, Duo is hurt and depressed, kind and gentle Heero. These two might be in my Dangerous Valentines arc, so someday they become lovers, devoted lovers.

The parking lot was dark. Duo didn't care if there was ever sunlight again. He wasn't going to see it. Collar turned up on his coat, shoulders hunched, he limped from where the bus had let him off. One of his fingers was dislocated. He needed to fix it, but he didn't want to. He would and he knew it was only going to get worse the longer the swelling went on.

Fuck.

It could wait though. Making it up the stairs to the apartment he was sharing with Heero hurt. With every step, every ache, words came back to him.

He ought to be glad. The guards hadn't recognized him. They thought he was a whore, a street whore. They hadn't wanted him that way. He hadn't wanted them probably worse than they hadn't wanted him. What they had wanted was to prove that they were badder and stronger than he was.

Considering that he'd just planted surveillance equipment in multiple key locations on their base, he didn't want to leave bodies around to make anyone suspicious... so he begged. One of his eyes was so black it won't open. His side hurt. His leg hurt so badly he had to pause half way up the stairs to get the nerve to go up the rest of the way. The finger... that was just the cherry. One of the bastards had deliberately pulled it until he screamed that he was a dirty street whore.

In a couple weeks, when they had the data they wanted, Duo was going to show them that he way, way worse than a whore. A whore wasn't going to kill them into little bitty bits. But... he was dirty. He was a street shit. He was worthless. No one gave a shit what happened to him. He was alone. His death wasn't going to bother anyone except for whoever had to clean it up. Tears had way too much salt in them.

Finally he made it to the top of the stairs, struggled to get his key out, let himself in and just wanted to lay down. Maybe Heero won't be home to see him so ... ruined. Maybe he was going to be that lucky.

The key turned. The door opened. The scent of warmed up beef stew rations hit him like temptation from the devil. "Heero?"

"Eh." Heero said. The only light on in the small studio came from the kitchen, where Heero had been, and was now making an aura around him. "You like beef, don't you?"

Duo closed the door behind him, quiet as a rat stealing bread. His left hand rested painfully in his pocket. Head down, hiding the black eye, he said, "Yeah."

"I heard you coming up the stairs."

"I'm sorry."

"You're late."

"Sorry," Duo growled and limped towards the tiny bathroom. They'd blacked out the window, so they could turn the light on without sharing with the neighbors.

"Hn."

Duo left the door open. It creaked when moved and there was no point. He could stare at the ruin of his face without Heero caring. God, he looked awful. His mouth looked like he'd had an allergic reaction, probably to the blood that was drying from the bloody nose or to the the busted lips that actually caused the swelling. With the back of his hand he fought against the tears running down, stinging over scrapes where his face had hit the pavement.

The very last thing he expected was to see Heero step up behind him. For a moment they both studied Duo's face in the decrepit hotel mirror, then Duo's chin dropped to his chest.

Heero's hand came up under his chin, lifted his face until they were both looking in the mirror again. "You did good."

Duo blinked, more tears fell. "Why?"

"You succeed in your mission and you are here alive."

"They... they..."

Heero's steady gaze never waved, no emotion, no condemnation, no revulsion touched those blue eyes.

"They made me say I was a dirty street whore. I don't lie, Heero."

"Are you a dirty street whore?"

"Maybe," Duo whispered.

Heero's strong hand reached into Duo's pocket to his injured hand. Duo hissed in pain, but Heero's other arm blocked his exit. "Let me look."

"I can take care of myself!"

"We both know that," Heero said firmly as he guided Duo around so he was sitting on the toilet.

Duo didn't fight as Heero pulled his hand out, considered it. He peeled his green shirt over his head. "It's clean. Bite down."

"Shit. Do we have to?"

"It'll only be worse tomorrow."

Duo grunted and shoved shirt in his mouth. He looked away.

With one hand Heero held his hand firmly, but gently. With the other he jerked the finger back into place.

Duo woke up on the bed. It hadn't been his turn to sleep on the small single bed. Oddly, he felt a lot better. "Heero?"

"I iced your face and gave you pain killers."

Duo rolled onto his side, flexed his fingers. The swelling was gone, even if it was a little sore still. "I passed out."

"Hn."

"You eat that beef stew?"

"No."

Heero kept typing on the program he was writing. After a bit, Duo sat up, decided not to question why he was naked. He trusted Heero. If he were sore in places he hadn't been, he really wouldn't care. His jaw moved back and forth, thinking, watching Heero. It took him a few minutes to find the word he was looking for. Beautiful.

Those blue eyes turned on him watching him with an openness, no threats, just an open interest. "You should eat."

"Why?"

"Because I need you to be strong."

Duo pushed himself up, still favoring his tortured hand, not at all surprised that he wasn't sore in any new places. The bowl of stew was in the small refrigerator. There was also a small cupcake, a black cupcake. Duo took both out, shoved the stew in the microwave. The cupcake was frosted in black, a small red heart on the top. He leaned against the door frame, held the cupcake up. "Death cake?"

"Yesterday was the 730th day since I met you. It is customary in America to buy gifts of love for those you love on anniversaries. You are American. I am honoring your customs."

Blue and violet eyes locked as Duo very slowly licked black frosting and the little heart into his mouth. Heero's mouth flicked into the very tiniest of smiles, the first smile Duo had ever seen from him. Duo grinned brilliantly as suddenly the world was full of light.

It was the best cupcake he'd ever had.

It was as close as a kiss as he was likely to get.

My Kin

2012-02-01T19:04:00.001-08:00

Walking home from the bank today, I walked by a poor dead ratly. It reminded me of when I was religious (Wiccan) and how then I would have cared for his soul and tended the body. I had walked several paces... when I turned and went back. The soul had never been important. There is no soul. The shabby echo that the rat's life had left behind still required respect though. There had been life. The rat was my kin. Far in the past, our shared ancestor longed for life the same as that rat, the same as I. I nudged the fading echo of his life under the ivy, to the gentle whispers of transformation.

I realized then that I am kin to the sky, to the ocean, to the tall trees reaching high, their branches stealing light before it hits those lives below them. I am star dust with enough snark to love the sky and want to dance among the stars.

J.J. Massa cover... Art and Soul

2012-01-31T19:51:00.001-08:00

New cover for J.J. Massa, draft form

2012-01-29T02:08:00.001-08:00

The Moon

2012-01-25T22:29:00.000-08:00

Watching a documentary on the moon, on H2. Did you know that if we didn't have the moon, our day would be six hours longer and we'd be very different creatures? And that we always see the light side of the moon because the moon has a synchronistic orbit! Someday the moon will slip away from us.. a couple of inches a year. We really have to get off Earth, get out into space, adapt to a larger environment.

Comic: No Really! Don't Drink the Koolaid!

2012-01-24T21:17:00.000-08:00

This little story follows Don't Drink the Koolaid. Duo was injured badly protecting Heero's twin sister... that he didn't know he had... he prevented a civil war too... but he got hurt pretty badly. In this story, Heero is a medical student who is totally willing to use cutting edge medicine on Duo to heal him. Duo... is Duo and a confused and hallucinating Duo... probably not as helpful.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or Donald Duck

Pinkwhirlwind

Teaser for The Wicked Red

2012-01-24T13:04:00.000-08:00

Simone Dubois had picked his higher power from a vision he'd had, a hallucination maybe, when he'd been doing one of the dumbest things he'd ever done. His plan hadn't worked, but the vision of the beautiful red headed man had sent him to the hospital to get actual help, had saved his life, and in the five years, two months, and sixteen days since, he'd convinced himself that his drug induced vision had just been pretty myth. He was never going to meet the man who'd found him, told him to go to the hospital, told him in a very sharp British accent that he was an utter fool if he let life slip away. Posh red headed gay boys with violet eyes and melting honey British accents didn't frequent the worst parts of town where the best of intentions crushed up against unbending self hate and the garbage compactor of poverty and the criminal justice system.

"Simone?" Robert asked impatiently. "You're in the weeds, man."

"Crap!" Simone grinned crookedly, apologetically. "I'll catch up."

Where the maybe fifteen people standing at his bar had come from, he wasn't really sure, but it was probably a safe bet that they had already told him what drinks they wanted. He grinned charmingly, tossed the glass he'd been polishing up so that it spun three times and came back down into his hand elegantly.

One of the customers leaning on his bar, eyes narrowed in annoyance was a regular, so Simone wiggled his eyebrows. "White Russian?"

The pink haired man softened a little. "If it's not too much trouble."

Simone winked, drink already half poured. "Sorry about that, Rin."

Drinks poured then, fast, flying, a bottle in each hand, cocky grin soliciting orders and controlling the crowd as if he were meant for this. His showmanship drew the little red head. Simone was a beautiful bartender, tall, blond, green eyes, and the confidence of an accomplished stage magician. His eyes never completely left the shy little red head and when the red head made it to the bar, the rest of the people waiting for drinks might as well have been an old black and white movie.
"Hello," Simone said, a bar towel in one hand, both hands on the counter and every ounce of charm he could muster in his smile. "What can I get for you?"
The red head cleared his throat, neatly manicured fingers laced together as he stared at Simone with the confusion of seeing an exotic wild cat close up for the first time. "Well, you see, the gentleman that was with and I, we had a disagreement. My phone came to an unfortunate end and now I need to call a taxi, but I can't find the pay phone."

"I'll take you home," Simone offered.

"Thank you," Red said politely, "I've had quite enough date for the evening."
A flash of uncertainty, of vulnerability went through Simone. Neither of them broke eye contact. Without breaking eye contact, Simone mixed a green apple martini... and pushed it across the bar. "You haven't been on a date with me and I've been waiting for you for five years. I'll be off work in a couple hours. Then I'll take you anywhere you want and in the mean time, food and drinks are on me." At the end of that overly serious, Simone grinned, a childish and infectious grin. He held out his hand. "I'm Simone Dubois. Tell me your name?"
Alex reluctantly reached out and shook Simone's hand, but once their hands connected his face relaxed and a very slight blush lit up his cheeks. "I'm Alex de Graffe."

"I'm very happy to meet you Alex de Graffe. What do you drink?"

"Usually just a little wine. What is this thing," Alex asked, just as reluctantly pulling his hand back as he stared down at the neon green apple martini, "that you've given me?"

"Green apple martini. They're good. You like champagne?"

Alex lifted the martini, sipped it, chewed at the edge of his lip, then took another sip. "Why on Earth are you offering me champagne. I've no intention of paying or tipping."

Simone propped an elbow on the counter, stared into the most utterly beautiful twilight eyes. "That's okay. Like I said. It's on me."

"I also will not be having sex with you." Alex sipped the martini, eyes narrowing, but not looking away.

"It's a couple hours till I get off work. You might like me better by then."
"I shall tell your boss that you're being inappropriate with a patron." Alex threatened without emotion, testing, watching.

Simone's grin grew crooked and he gestured towards Robert, who was managing the growing crowd of drink seekers by himself. Robert frowned furiously, pointed the bottle of rum in his left hand at Simone and grimaced. "I'm keeping all your tips for the night."

"That's my boss. He's my partner in crime. He knows you're the only one whose ever caused this kind of insanity in me."

"What are your tips likely to be for a night?"

"It's Friday," Simone hedged, "If it's good tonight, I might pull $800 in tips."
"Is that a lot of money to you," Alex asked, some of the not under poured martini beginning to hit him.

"It's not nothing," Simone allowed. "Look, this isn't something I normally do. It's just... you're special."

"What are you basing that on? My unusual coloring? Do you have a fetish for violet eyes, Mr. Dubois?"

"And if I do?" Simone asked, not sure that he didn't. He pulled a menu from under the bar. "Pick something, please? I'll get that champagne. Let me help Robbie catch up and I'll be back. Just don't leave."

"How can that possibly be so important to you," Alex asked. Dressed in a suit more appropriate for a museum than a gay night club, silk tie, un-calloused and manicured finger tips caressing his martini, he looked more out of place than a Renoir in a poster shop.

"It just is."

Pic: Letters to Heero 6

2012-01-23T11:06:00.000-08:00

Okay... the next chapter isn't done and I have got to original bit I'm doing done first, but I really wanted to do this pic Duo. Anyone surprised that in Duo's mind, he's both Pan and Hook? And he might be feeling a little bit of anger.

Fic: Don't Drink the Koolaid 3/3

2011-12-19T02:54:00.001-08:00

Don't Drink the Koolaid 3/?

by Max aka Pink Whirlwind

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing.

Warnings: violence, Duo rage, Duo torture, enough shift in tech that it might be a little AU

Time... he'd been in hell for centuries now. His back burned like fireworks, nerves flaring everywhere the whip had wrapped around him, flaring nerves with pain that would flash and echo with other strips and he had no idea how long each one hurt or if they'd ever stop.

The father had gone.

That was important.

The father wasn't real.

The devil keeping him company had wrapped his braid around his throat like a scarf. His head ached. He was dry, unable to cry, not sweating. Everything had gone so wrong.

"I promised," Duo said, head tilted back so he could get the thick mass of hot hair away from his neck.

"Yes," the devil said sweetly. "Tell me what you promised? I'll give you something good if you do."

He wondered how his lips could feel like they were going to catch fire. "I promised Heero that I won't kill anyone I didn't have to."

"But you have killed?"

"Yeah," Duo said. Had, have, will the differences really lost any distinct meanings. "He's gonna be a doctor."

"See, now that's a good boy. Repentance gets you rewards," the devil said.

The reward was ice cold, plastered against his belly. He jerked, vision going white. The convulsion shook him, but he didn't mind, he just really wasn't there.

<><>

One level up, in another very secure sell, though not as hideously unpleasant environmentally. The single occupant sat meditating on a thick circular. She wore a simple pale green kimono, her long dark hair fanning out around her. "Hello, Renar."

"Your majesty," he said with disgust. "Did you sign the renunciation papers?"

"No," she said, her breathing completely undisturbed.

"I'm going to find your brat. When I do, I'm going to bring her before the parliament and you will be denounced. The leadership of this country will return to my branch of the family."

"If you release me and the boy whose screams keep polluting this space, you will live at least through tomorrow."

Prince Renar's jaw tightened, his fists clenched, his hair stood up and vibrated as if he could turn his whole being into a weapon that would ruin his self-righteous cousin. "He's going to keep screaming. We're not going to let him die, Ash. He's going to keep screaming and begging. I'll flay the skin off of him and print new skin for him. I think he's maybe seventeen. He's got the most beautiful violet eyes. Just sign the papers. You can take him and go back to the United States. I'm sure he'll tell you where your baby is that way. I'm sorry about killing your lover. She really did look just like a man. Ash, I know you don't like this. I don't to hurt you, Ash, but I was meant to rule this country and I will."

"Love exists in within and I will always be with my love and my child, but there are many lives depending on the leadership of this country. The Palace will retain no personal wealth. This country has suffered from years of wars. I will heal this land and protect my people."

"You can't heal anything! You're a socialist and a theocrat! You can heal nothing!"

"You have violated the law. You can heal nothing. I have foreseen your death and my only regret is that the one who kills you shall grieve for it."

Rage obliterated reason. The back of his fist hit the side of her head, sending her sliding several feet across the floor. "Who did you see attempting to hurt me, you lying whore?"

She lifted up just enough, her kimono covering her paralyzed legs. She covered her bleeding mouth and smiled gently at him. "Why does it matter? There must be so many."

Duo's screams started again, echoing up into the Queen's cell which was designed as a sound chamber.

"Just sign the papers, Ash. You can't save the country, but you can save that boy who did everything he could to save your daughter and you can save your daughter. That ought to be enough."

"HEEEEROOOOOOOO," Duo's scream was blood red, reverberating in the small room.

<><>

"I require a private suite," Heero said coldly to the steward. He wore a navy blazer, white shirt, matching tie and slacks. He looked like a medical student or a business man, certainly not a freelance vigilante about to take on a whole country if need be.

"Of course, sir," the steward said, leaning Heero down a hall and away from the small seating area, away from the several passengers who had preceded him. "The suite is fully stocked with any and all items Mr. Winner thought might be useful to you, sir. We ask that you remain in your seat, within the safety webbing until we have completed the climb."

Heero's nose twitched. He didn't expect they could accelerate fast enough to make that an issue for him. He'd been on one of Duo's modded L2 skidders once when that had been an issue, but he expected that his lover had been showing off for him. He'd even managed to look smug and contrite at the same time over the broken nose and arm that had resulted. The memory left Heero smiling softly. "Noted. We should depart now."

"Very shortly, sir. We are waiting on two further passengers."

"Now. Unless their passage was paid for by Mr. Winner, now would be better. You will be compensated, either competently or memorably, depending on how quickly I reach my destination."

"I understand, sir," the steward said with an elegant bow. "Mr. Winner's patronage is highly prized."

Heero mimicked the highest status men he'd been rubbing elbows with. "As it should be."

The shuttled began to taxi within moments.Heero hadn't even had time to pull out the micro lathe he'd brought. He needed new, specialty, probably non-lethal weapons.

<><>

The woman was graceful, wearing a dark blue Chinese coat with broad sleeves, and black gi pants. "Your Highness," she said respectfully, palms pressed together as she bowed.

Renar sighed, looked up from his computer, from the resource allocation contracts he'd been reviewing. "Do not tell me that damn American is dead."

"No, Your Highness," the woman said, still holding her bows. "It is believed that the Palace is under attack."

"Don't be an idiot," he spat. "The generals are detained, her army disbanded. The Palace is held by my personal guard. I don't care if peasants are storming the walls. Soon enough I'll have them all chained to a workspace in a factory, providing wealth for our nation. If we kill a few of them, it bares me no mind."

"Twenty-seven of your personal guard no longer are transmitting life signs. No other disturbance is detected, but it is very likely that either American or Preventer Special Forces are attempting to recover the detained agent."

"So he's not dead yet," Renar said with a small. "Send out an alert that we should be looking for some spooks. There are five thousand skilled soldiers in my personal guard. Find out if there are intruders or a fast acting ebola, but don't bother me with trivial things."

"Yes, Highness," the woman said, backing away, still bowed.

"Idiots," he mumbled under his breath.

<><>

Trowa stepped quietly up behind his target, grabbed the back of his head, his chin, and sent him into the Great Dark before his next breath. The three of them moved deeper into the palace. Having read Wufei's report, the obvious conclusion was that the palace had already experienced a coup d'etat. Trowa didn't think the soldiers they were neutralizing were fully invested in their mission. They certainly weren't as effective as they should have been.

Quatre knelt on one knee, a code breaking device connected to the security system blocking their path to the next objective.

Trowa guarded both Heero and Quatre. Heero scanned a different tablet. "O2 is detained on level 4. He has been under interrogation for 56 hours. General Suzuki is on the same level. We should extract Duo, stay out of the local politics."

Quatre retracted his connectors. "Duo was firmly in support of the established government."

Heero did not know why Duo would be concerned about the government of a small Asian country, but he did not doubt Quatre's information.

All of them wore black tactical gear, boots that could kick through most doors and helmets with face shields that provided information about the environment that went way beyond what a human eye, even Heero's eyes, could gather. "Duo first, or he may not be alive to care about the government."

Trowa and Quatre both nodded very slightly, movements that Heero couldn't see, but that their connected helmet systems represented as affirmation on the interior of his face shield.

Quatre opened the door and the three of them slipped through. The blond carried only a single 9mm, but empath or not, he rarely missed his targets. His mate carried two 45mm guns, custom made with built in silencers. Heero's twin weapons shot darts, his own design with gundanium tips and enough vitamin enhanced sedative to lay out an enraged opponent. They had promised they won't kill and he knew he would if it was the difference between saving or losing Duo, but he would try with all his will to leave everyone alive.

<><><>

Duo swayed, too dehydrated to be nauseous, but with a rising clarity. The demon tormenting him didn't really know what he was doing. The demon had smacked a hydration pack on him, but it wasn't nearly enough. Duo smiled.

"What's so funny you little bastard, uh? Getting to like being whipped? You're a kinky little dick, aren't you?" The demon leered, smirking, his face really close to Duo's, until he reached out and grabbed Duo's crotch.

Panic and raged mixed with pain. The demon looked like a demon, red face, fangs, black ash eyes. Duo jerked back and for just a second he was eleven again, detained by Alliance troops, death in the air. After 56 hours he was no longer the same size he was when they'd forced the cuffs on him. His right arm pulled free. The left cuff released as soon as the connection to the right broke. Time distorted. He grabbed the cuffs with both now free hands and smacked them down on the demon's head. "Don't touch me there," he screamed.

He hit the floor with both feet, thick metal cuffs held in each hand. The demon staggered back, bright blood running down his now paler face, but Duo didn't process the color change. "You will not touch me!" Using the cuffs like clubs, he forced the demon back, followed the vile creature to the floor. "You will not touch me! You," he screamed, having abandoned the cuffs in favor of his own fists which he used as punctuation, "Will. Not. Touch. Me!"

Hands and strong arms hooked around his and jerked him off the demon. His scream was pure rage, but neither of those holding him gave him the slightest leverage. Holding him off the ground, he kicked and snarled. "Don't touch me! Don't fucking touch me!"

The new demons talked calmly to him, holding him without hitting him, but he knew it was just a trick! "I'm going to kill you! All of you!"

Cool fingers touched his bare bruised chest. A sense of calm soaked into him, ruining the rage that was keeping him together. "NO! Don't touch me!"

The calm kept coming, soaking through rage, then over the panic. Duo sagged, sobbing, now utterly defenseless and ruined, violated in the past, re-violated in the present and he just wanted to die. "Kill me then, just kill me!"

One of the demons let him go, but the other new demon pulled him close, both arms going around him with a terrifying gentleness. "Duo," the demon soothed. "I'm Heero. I'm here."

"No," Duo groaned, trying to push away, "I haven't saved your sister yet."

Heero kept hold of Duo. The lights came up in the room. The air conditioning turned on. "I only care about you," Heero said, lowering them both to the floor. "Only you. I'm so sorry I ever gave you any other idea. If you don't want me to be a doctor, I won't be. Tell me, anything you want, that's what I want."

Exhausted, laying back against Heero's strong arm, as Heero caressed his face, Duo sighed. "You really are Heero, aren't you? I didn't want to come home till I could show you that I am a good detective, good at what I do. I found your family, your bio family. you have a twin sister."

"Will you come home with me?"

"Yeah. If you want me."

"I want nothing more." The whole exchange had taken less than a minute. Time Quatre used to check back into the palace's computer system, while Trowa guarded them both.

"Entire plan is changed," Quatre said urgently, "The general is free already. Renar is dead."

"I killed him," a voice from the door said, a voice that sounded very much like Heero's voice, just not as deep.

Heero leaned over Duo, shielding him, blue eyes glaring. Trowa took position between the doctor, computer expert, and the woman in a power chair who didn't look nearly as dangerous as instinct said she was.

"Who are you," Trowa demanded.

"I am a simple person who just wishes to see my country safe, my people healed. I foresaw your arrival. I wish to see all of you safe and to see Duo healed. Were it not for his strength of will, the country would have been lost."

"She's yur twin sister," Duo wheezed. "Heero, you better fix me. It'd be shitty to die like this."

"You're not going to die," Ash and Heero said at the same time. He glared at her. She smiled.

"Okay," Duo breathed, safe in Heero's arms, he let himself slip back into unconsciousness.

<><>

Duo took a long breath, found it didn't hurt, then took another. That was the worst dream he'd ever had. He shuddered, pulled the blankets closer and decided that he would get up.. he'd get dressed for Heero's damn dinner thing and not make an ass out of himself. Even if the blankets he clutched weren't the same as their blankets at home, it made more sense than being separated from Heero for months, finding out Heero had a twin, and a niece, literally going to hell - up, gonna get up, go to dinner, not make an ass of himself. That sounded like a really good plan.

Laughter bubbled in from a room that wasn't their one room apartment. Duo opened his eyes, narrowed them, and wondered where in the hell he as that had gilt wainscoting and velvet drapes on the four poster bed. "Heero!"

Footsteps sprinted, and there was Heero, wearing a blue tee shirt and black slacks, and a red and white santa cap.

Duo sat up, pulled the covers to his chin, tears pooling in his eyes. "I've gone insane."

"No," Heero said, moving to the bed, reaching for Duo's hands, "No! We're still in the palace. Ash provided me with excellent medical equipment and you had too severe internal injuries to do well with a flight out, so we stayed. It's Christmas. You and I have adopted Ebony. I am biologically close enough to Ash that I can claim paternity. I couldn't wake you from the medical coma until today. Merry Christmas. I hope you're not angry with me."

Duo held out a hand, smiling very slightly. "You are an arrogant, self assured, over cocking bastard, but I love you more than I love anything else in the universe and I dno't want you to change even a little."

"Good," Heero said, giving Duo's hand a squeeze before pulling him close. "I don't know if I could change, but I'd try if you asked me to. It is Christmas, which I'm told was an important American holiday. Everyone is here. Even Wufei. There is to be dinner and presents."

"Did I kill the demon?"

"No. He will be fine, though he is being tried for sedition and war crimes. He needed hours of surgery to reconstruct his face. Do you understand that I love you completely and nothing is as important to me as you?"

"Yeah," Duo hedged. "I don't understand why."

"I shall invest time and energy into demonstrating why."

"Are you coming," Ebony asked, peeking around the door. "Come on Mr. Duo. There are lots of veggies!"

"Okay! Okay," Duo said, grinning, faking it a bit as he held Heero's hand very tight.

She ran off, laughing happily.

"I didn't get you anything."

"You got me biological family and a daughter. Wait till you see what I got you."

"What'd you get me," Duo said, feeling more relaxed, more interested.

"Let's get you dressed and you'll just have to wait and see like everyone else."

Duo's eyes narrowed with the challenge. Heero distracted him by leaning in to kiss him, their first kiss in months, sweeter and warmer than either of them could have imagined. "Okay, that was a great present."

<><>

Note:

Let me know if you'd like to see an epilogue.

Poem: The Duet Fantastic

2011-12-18T22:58:00.000-08:00

The Duet Fantastic
by Max

The Queen and His Knight
Satin and leather clad
Roam without fright
defeating traditions sad

His Majesty, The Queen
beguiling voice of honey
commands wisdom to be seen
With a smile utterly sunny

In his footsteps equality grows
His song rises with the sun
His beauty eclipses foes
graceful curves and gestures stun

Beautiful Queen invulnerable
protected by a fierce Knight
In supple leather black - will unbreakable
her blade made of reason and moonlight

They assail citadels of oppression
sweet wisdom with unbendable reason
Equality is not a question
The Queen and his Knight unbeaten

Fic: The Price of Dreams

2011-12-14T02:06:00.000-08:00

Title: The Price of Dreams

Disclaimer: It goes without saying that I don't own GW, Lokie, or the court of the fairy Queen.
Note: I intend to expand this and make it original... and hopefully much scarier.

Once upon a time.. in an alternative universe, Heero Yuy thought had never met Duo... Instead, he lived in London in the year 1603. He was the horse master to a powerful lord and he was very good at what he did. He was a powerful man, strong and devoted to his duty.

He was told to marry and he did. He loved his wife as much as he could and he loved his baby even more... the baby had violet eyes and soft brown hair and he felt as if this daughter were his true child. He swore to everything he found holy that he would protect his family from all threats.

When the child turned three years old, Heero woke with a very bad feeling, as if some shadow were coming over his house.

His wife told him was being very silly though... he had work to do.. he was to accompany the Lord into the city to see new horses, to help him buy them and he shouldn't be so silly over a child's 3rd birthday. She'd hardly know the difference between one day or another... but Heero had a very, very bad feeling.

As he left the house... he smelled lilacs... but there were no lilacs in season.. it was impossible. All of his horses were in a very bad mood and he soon lost himself in his work. It wasn't possible that he was hearing violin music.. in the stables...

Work gave him a sanctuary from his growing and unnamed fears. A few minutes before the Lord was to arrive, he paused to wash his face, change his shirt, get a drink of water... and he would have sworn... by anything that was holy or unholy... that he saw the shadow of a violinist... a woman with a long braid that swirled in shadow when he lunged out the door to catch the joker... but there was no one there, not even the servants... who seemed to be all off doing some important thing far from his home and the stables.

The rest of the day was the greatest of irritation for him. His lord was wroth with him, the horses on auction were all little better than cart horses, he saw no less than four black cats, one of which had violet eyes... it was impossible and he began to wonder if someone had bewitched him. So he did what any man would do. He got an ale.

Then, feeling slightly guilty, he went and bought his daughter, Helen, a length of cloth for a new dress and his wife, Rose, a new basket. Feeling a little better, and silly at himself for jumping at impossible shadows, he passed by a slender violinist who played on the street... with that long dark braid, but his hat pulled low of his eyes. Heero felt even better... as he must have seen this violinist at some point.. it had just been his imagination... He threw a couple of coins into the minstrel's tin. He intended to keep walking, but the man caught his hand. "I'll read your fortune."

The man's voice was sweeter than his playing had been, deep and mellow, warm honey and sage. Heero drew his hand back, shaking his head. "A man's fortune has nothing to do with chance and everything to do with what he works towards."

"Tell me then, gentle sir," the man said, hat still pulled over his eyes, "What work can you do to stave back the hands of the Reaper? What do you think you can buy life with? A man may not know whose eye he may have caught."

Heero's fist doubled up, ready to give just reward to the gypsy man's insolence! How dare such a one lay hand on an Englishman and then give threats against a man's family!?

The violinist was gone though, no more substantial than London fog... utterly gone, but Heero's coin lay on the walk, glittering silver against dirt. A sense of dread wrapped cold around him as he picked up his coin. Helen! Rose!

Astride his horse, a great grey stallion with hooves that could smash armor, he leaned into the rush, urging his mount on, eating the road as he raced home.

The fae offer no logic nor reason when they come to claim their own and no pity to spare.

Coldness and midnight clung to him like pitch, seeping into his bones as he raced, growling at his gray to reach longer with his stride, to move with all that he had.

Candle and fire light burned warm and welcoming in the window of his home as he approached. The drive was long and wide, built for bringing in horses and mending the Lord's great carriage, but it had never felt so long as when Heero leaned forward, feet in the stirrups, body forward over the gray's neck as if that could get them there faster.

Then the light flicked and was no more.

Shaking, he had no breath to scream, no reason left understand that his wife had probably just extinguished the light for the night. He slide from his saddle, knees too exhausted to stand at first. On his hands and knees, he crept towards his door, one hand pulling his dagger free.

Violin music floated in the dark of the night, a sad and mournful tune.

Pulling himself to his feet, Heero pushed the unlatched door open. The very faint sliver of the moon left no light inside the cottage. The last of its strength was to glimmer over Heero's blade.

‎"Rose," he called quietly, echos of war that he thought he'd put far behind him calling him into deadly caution now. "Rose."

‎"She sleeps," the voice of warm honey and sage said, "I can give you gifts, Heero."

The lamp by the window, which was always kept burning until he got home was still hot and it took only a little blowing on it to bring it to life. Blade in one hand, light in the other, Heero glared at the daring Gypsy man, but now... he was more a devil, with ears rising to points above his silky dark hair and a sheen of unnatural beauty to face. He sat on the kitchen table, feet tucked under his thighs, violin across his lap. "What are you? What have you done to Helen and Rose?"

The violinist jumped down from the table with cat like grace, bow in one hand, violin in the other. "I am Her Majesty's fiddler, baring the blood of Loki, ageless and completely unafraid of your blade, gentle sir." The man smiled, a gentle and tender smile that reached into Heero in ways that should not be possible, not with a demon, not with a man.

‎"Get thee behind me Satan!" Heero moved to try to get the creature away from his beloved daughter and wife.

Duo sighed, smirked. "But I shall give you a gift. You don't want your daughter carried off by the Wild Hunt, do you?"

"You will never touch my daughter!" Heero growled, now between his family and the strangely familiar man. "I will never let you harm her."

Bow still in his hand, Duo touched his chest and looked slightly mortified. "I don't want to harm her and really the court doesn't either, but she bares the blood of Loki as well. Come now, you remember the 'dream' we had under the Oak three years ago? You remember how your wife grew with child when you returned home? I know you haven't forgotten."

Heero made the sign of the cross. "My sins are my own! You shall not touch her. I will burn for my unholy desires, if I must, but you will not have her!"

Duo actually looked offended, his jaw shifting side-to-side for a moment. "The only way to save her is to give yourself to the Wild Hunt. You will never be free of Underhill and if you think my touch is unholy you're as innocent as the driven snow."

"What must I do?" Heero asked. Helen woke slightly, her pudgy hand reaching out to take hold of Heero's hand where it reached to protect her. He was fast enough to know that if he were carried to Hell he would never see his baby again, never hear her laugh, never see her grow into a strong and happy woman. Hot tears slipped free when he blinked. "I will do anything to protect her. If I am taken to Hell, who will protect her?"

‎"I will watch over her," Duo promised. It was an easy promise to make as she was his daughter as well. He unfastened his short cloak, held it out Heero. "Cover her with this and they will not see her and will take you instead. If you do so there will be no turning back, not matter what you see or what fearful events take place."

Heero nodded, took the cloak which was light as spider silk. He kissed his daughter's forehead, wiped away his tear that hit her cheek, then hide her under the devilish cloak.

Almost as soon as he'd done that, the most calamitous roar filled the cottage, roaring as if a great war party rushed past. He felt strong hands grab him, ripe him off his feet and he screamed, but there was no air in in the spectral train of the Wild Hunt, not until he was completely pulled within. Held in the powerful arms a warrior who was tall and slender with silver hair that waved like a pennant behind him, he saw only the tiniest flicker of lights coming back on in his cottage, the startled cry of his baby, then he passed through the veil separating mortals from the world of the immortal fae....

And thus did Heero Yuy leave the land of the living and dying to live for many centuries in the court of the Fairy Queen.

Fic: Don't Drink the Koolaid 2/?

2011-12-13T18:57:00.001-08:00

Don't Drink the Koolaid 2
by Pink Whirlwind

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing

The first part of this story is here: http://www.faithinthemoon.com/2011/09/doujin-dont-drink-koolaid-1.html

It's comic and I'm so not the best artist.

Chapter Two

Every morning Heero woke and reached out for Duo. Duo hadn't been there since that disastrous party at the college.

Duo was still mad.

It had been three and a half months. Heero opened his eyes, stared at Duo's unused pillow, caressed the soft cotton pillowcase. "I'm sorry. I was an ass. Come home."

Somewhere in the space that humans traveled in, Duo traveled. It had been a Tuesday, that party, the last time he saw Duo. This was a Tuesday. Heero reached out, gripped the pillow, drew it slowly closer, buried his face in it and sobbed.

Duo will come home.

"I love you."

That was all there was. It was for love of Duo that Heero dried his face, got up, showered, and went to class. Back during the wars, when he'd healed Duo, stitches put into flesh so far outside the bounds of law that the action reached right around into respecting humanity rather than law. As he'd pursued his studies he'd come to hope that most of his actions over the course of his life had been about respecting humanity. Duo had seen that potential in him first and if Duo couldn't see it anymore than Heero didn't know if he could see it either, so he brushed his teeth, ate a planned amount of calories, watered Duo's ivy plant, and knew in all of him that could know anything that Duo would come home and when he did Heero would always listen to him and always treat him as if he was the most valuable instance in all the universe.

Because he was.

Heero's phone lit up. "Incoming call from Trowa Winner."

"Answer," Heero said, sipping his coffee as he polished off the last of his oatmeal.

"Channel 3," Trowa said calmly.

"Turn on video feed, channel 3," Heero said, while facing the small flat screen display attached to the cabinet door. The screen fired up to a commercial. "What am I looking for?"

"A group demanding independence for their country is claiming to have captured an Agent Death of the Preventers. They're calling him a spy and saying that his entry into their country is an act of hostility."

The video feed was set to display subtitles, but the newscaster was saying pretty much the same thing. Commander Une came on, explained that she couldn't possibly reveal information about Preventer operations, but at no time would Preventers ever take hostile or aggressive action towards anyone.

"Confirmation," Heero asked, knowing that Trowa won't have contacted him if he hadn't had proof that the captured agent was Duo.

"Intercepted communiques from Une advising Peacecraft that the mission was successful and that there had been causalities, of which 02 was unconfirmed."

Heero's eyes narrowed, acid rose in his throat. The wars were over. Une and Relena had no right to use the title 02. "I will extract him," Heero promised.

"We're coming with you. Wufei is unable to assist. He is injured, but he has supplied the probable location."

"He was with Duo. He's a Preventer. Why is he here without Duo?"

"I don't know," Trowa said. "When we get Duo back, we'll ask him."

"What in hell were they doing down there," Heero complained, knowing that Trowa had no answers. "I don't want to fight any more."

"You can be medical only," Trowa offered.

"I will fight," Heero said softly, hands on the counter, head hanging. "If Duo's hurt, I'm going to kill them."

"We will pursue this with reason," Trowa said firmly. "Quatre has secured you a seat on the fastest flight to Mailane. We will provide weapons and armor. Flight leaves in fifteen minutes."

"Acknowledged."

Heero ended the call then typed a hasty cc'ed message to all his professors and study mates that he as unable to attend class duo to pressing personal matters, would return at the soonest opportunity. By the time he'd finished that he'd crossed the room, selected his clothes and formed ideas of effective weaponry that would suit his ideals, and initiated a call to Une.

"Yuy," she answered already on the defensive. "He said to tell you that he'll be home when he can."

"I have watched the news," Heero said in the least patronizing tone he could manage. "If he dies or suffers serious injury and you get in my way or I find that you or Relena are responsible for his capture or that you did not do everything to protect him - I will kill you."

"You're threatening the government, Yuy."

"I'm not."

"You just threatened to kill either me or President Relena."

"That was not a threat," Heero said. "You should have known that putting him at risk would put you at risk. If you're not smart enough to know that, you're not smart enough to run the government. Even my death will not prevent punitive measures from going into effect. When he returns and he wants to pursue law enforcement, you and she would do well to remember this conversation."

"I will not tolerate threats!"

"You should be grateful for the warning. Most people don't see what's coming to kill them and get the courtesy of a warning. The people who took my early life wanted a weapon. If Duo dies, then that's all I'll be. If he lives, then I am an asset."

"I don't want Duo to die," she growled, exasperated. "He went in with a team. Chang was the team leader. It was covert. They were simply supposed to disrupt an international human trafficking organization, recover any victims, if possible. Duo's the one that brought the mission to us. Your boy is a little demon, just so you know. Stone cold vigilante - if he was anyone else I'd be calling him a god damn serial killer. To be perfectly honest, you two deserve each other, you murderous little bastards. If the palace in Mailane is holding him, which I find highly surprising, he'll probably have killed the god damned palace guard before you and that psychopath Barton gets down there!"

"You're not fit to lead if you think that Duo is either that effective or that murderous. Duo doesn't kill unless he has to."

"Don't give me that shit. Do you think there is anyone with the balls or resources to frame your boy for eighteen murders over the course of two days?"
"If Duo said he didn't do them, he didn't do them. You should look for another suspect."

"He had motive. He was trying to find the daughter of a friend of his. I guess his new boyfriend wasn't as durable as you."

There was not enough numb in all the world to keep that blow from touching the tender shoots of Heero's humanity. "You are unfit to lead." He closed the call.

Duo had not left him, but he didn't know why Duo hadn't come to him for help. In the very back of his mind, his conscious whispered, "Because you were an asshole."

<><>

Duo Maxwell was not a child. Maybe he'd never been a child. Shirtless, wearing only grey and black camo mission pants, he hung from mag cuffs that stretched from his wrists half way up to his elbows. Arms stretched above his head, the balls of his feet just barely reached the hot cement floor. Sweat ran down over the hard curves of his body, between his shoulder blades, down a well defined spine, down over straining pecs, the rock hard cuts of his stomach, into damp and clinging pants. Duo let his head fall back, braid reaching down beyond his ass. "No."

"Now, Mr. Maxwell," Prince Renar said calmly. Surrounded by small fluttering enviro bots, the beautiful prince did not feel the heat raging in the cell. He was blond as snow with eyes like ice, just blue by reflection somehow. "The child is my niece. How could I possibly mean her any harm?"

"You killed her father," Duo pointed out.

"I did no such thing," Renar purred. "From what I understand you did."

"I didn't," Duo screamed. Heat and dehydration spun his awareness. Heero stood by a pool, dressed so ... so very upper class, so far away from anything that Duo could ever hope for. This horrified look twisted Heero's face. "Don't kill him!"

"You did it. Don't you remember? You murdered him. You're a murderer. You need to redeem yourself a little by confessing and telling me where the girl was taken. Just admit that there was a girl and she is the child of the Queen."

Duo still floated in the hallucination of Heero and the pool... but he wasn't sure which he wanted more Heero or the pool. "Water."

"You'd like that, won't you? Murderers don't get water in hell, Duo." The speaker this time was dressed as a Catholic priest.

"Father Maxwell?"

"That's my son," the 'priest' comforted. "Confess your sins, my son."

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It is one year since my last Confession. I accuse myself of the following sins. I have lain with my lover outside of marriage sixty-two times. I have masturbated enough. I dropped out of school. I cheated at pool and poker and dice. I beat some guy's ass because he insulted Heero. I didn't call Heero for three months. Father, I think I killed some people."

"What people, my son," the priest asked gently.

"Father, please, may I have water?"

"After your confession, my son," the priest said, "Did you kill Richard Grace in a jealous rage because he still loved his wife? He was married to Queen Ash, upon whom he fathered a daughter named Ebony, is that not true? You must confess in order to receive forgiveness, my son."

Swaying, half conscious, Duo licked parched lips, tried to get firmer footing on the ground. "Ebony."

"That's right my son, do the right thing. Tell us about Ebony. Did you kill her?"

Ebony, a girl of eight, with long dark hair and a pink bunny plush that she carried, blue eyes... she had dark blue eyes - like Heero. God, Heero was going to be so pissed. "Heero, I'm sorry."

"Do you think more of Heero than you do of God, my son?"

Duo stopped trying to stand, just let himself hang for a moment. It was the day that he and Heero had moved into their tiny apartment. Heero's laughter was like medicine and Duo had taken his task of making Heero laugh to heart. Funny faces had been the prize of the day until Heero caught him and pulled him into a kiss that left no room for laughter. He'd promised to go to school that day. The tears that ran down his cheeks felt cold against heated skin and he wished he'd been able to keep that promise. Heero held him though, wrapped loving arms around him and he couldn't hear the lying priest, couldn't betray the little girl with Heero's eyes. "Genetics. Heero's cousin."

"Oh he's beyond," Renar snapped. "Doktor, see that he stays in hell. Come 'Father', let us go and visit our other guest."

How many steps to the door? Duo tried to listen to their steps. He counted five before the living fire of taser whip wrapped around his waist. Somebody sure had a thing for screaming.

Fic: A Pistol, a Condom, and a Soda Pop

2011-12-11T04:01:00.001-08:00

A pistol, a condom, and a soda pop
by Pink Whirlwind

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Inspired by this pic: http://th01.deviantart.net/fs51/300W/i/2009/279/f/7/Zeon_Motivational_Poster_3_by_spikerommel.jpg

Duo whirled the wrench around, settled it on his shoulder as he surveyed the engine he'd put back in the jeep. Braid tucked into the back of his grey tee-shirt, jeans and tee-shirt alike smeared with good old fashioned engine sludge, he looked every bit as proud as he felt. Blow'in shit up was fun, but puttin it back together was better. After the wars, he was going get a garage of his own, with an apartment over the place and a room for him, and one for Heero too.

Humming to himself, he grabbed up a rag, cleaned off the wrench before putting it back.

"Hey, kid," the owner of the garage called out. "I got burgers. You eat meat, don't you? You get that carburetor sorted out?"

Duo took a deep breath, let the big wrench drop back into place on the wall with a small clang. "Yeah, carburetor's all fixed. I kinda went a little bit farther."

"I know I was gone a while. Thanks for watching the shop for me, Mac."

Duo caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror over the sink as he washed his hands, violet eyes looking way older than fifteen, the faintest hint of black eye lingering from his last formal mission. "Thanks for letting me. Six hours ain't really all that long. I could stay a couple days, you know, if you wanted."

"Come eat, uh? I really got to get that jeep put back together."

"Uh, about that," Duo said, hands clean now.

"Oh damn, Mac, tell me you didn't fuck around with the jeep?"

"So you brought me burgers?" Duo grinned. He plopped down in the spare chair by the little dining room table that had been in the garage way too long to ever find a place in a house again. "Pop too?"

"Greedy little bastard," Alfred teased, as he nodded. He reached into the grocery bag, pulled out a couple of orange sodas with the long necks between his fingers. "Fries, and a vit pack too. I picked up some cash to pay you for watching my place here. You know, you could stay on for a while, Mac. I could teach you how to work with engines. We could maybe find some family."

While Alfred talked, Duo had sucked down the first burger and was making hungry eyes at the other one. Alfred pushed it across the table to him.

"So - you're from one of the colonies right?"

"L2." Duo allowed, a quarter way through the second burger. "No family."

"How'd you get to Earth," Alfred asked.

Duo grabbed enough fries to make a very solid mouthful, violet eyes narrowing. "Stowed away," he mumbled. It was true. Stowing away did start him on the path to Earth. "Like my privacy, you know?"

"Mac, it's a dangerous world right now. I get that. You can have your privacy and you can stay on a bit. I had a son once. Damn fool went off and joined the Alliance."

"I'm sorry," Duo said, meaning all the Alliance people he'd sent into the afterlife.

Alfred sat down, took a few fries. "So you screwed around with my jeep?"

"Yup." Duo opened one of the pops and when Alfred looked in the jeep's direction he put the second in his knapsack. "Fixed a button starter."

"Oh baby boy, why waste all that time? That thing ain't going to be running any time soon. The cylinders need to be rebored. I'll show you how to do that."

"Um," Duo said, letting his soda linger. "I like engines."

"Good," Alfred smiled. "It's a real good job skill. You done any school?"

"Some."

"The school here, it ain't too picky about IDs and stuff."

The temptation to trust this old man was like sweet shadowy fairies lingering by the lakeside, telling tales of magical swords. Fairies weren't real and the only person he had half a hope of expecting anything good from was Heero, well, maybe the other pilots. Trusting Heero wasn't rational, but Duo couldn't stop himself anyway. "Yeah, school's not really my thing."

"So let me see what you did to my poor old jeep." Alfred gave another smile, gentle and encouraging.

"I couldn't find the keys," Duo admitted. "I hotwired it, to make sure it worked, before I put in the button ignition. Got the button switch off the broken music player in the back"

Alfred's eyes went wide.

"Sorry."

The temptation to trust Alfred was really pretty strong and that could only lead to bad things. While Alfred was over checking out his jeep, which turned over and purred like a cat with a pet cow, Duo grabbed up the rest of the fries, shifted his pack over one shoulder and made for the door.

Madelyn, the lady who ran the cafe in town, came scrambling through the door. "Fred! There's a mobile suit! He says all the girls in town have to come to the base or he's going to destroy the town."

Like a shadow Duo had already melted away out of sight.

"What do you say, Madelyn? Did anyone call the base to complain?"

"The signals are all jammed! I can't let him my Annie!" Fred gripped her shoulder, his expression one of frustration, building grief. "He can have the town then. We'll all make a run for it."

Duo stepped forward, just a little. "You all don't have a suit here in town?"

"Oh," Alfred said, eyebrows arching up, "You mean do we keep a spare contraband leo lying around under the park?"

"Yeah."

"No, of course not, you fool."

"Do they do this often? Shake the town down and all?"

"Mac, you'll come with us. We'll have to make a run for it."

Duo's cheeks filled with air for a moment. "He's a predator. His buddies are going to back him up. He's not asking yer girls out for a picnic."

"What are we going to do," Madelyn wailed.

Pulling his jacket out of his pack, Duo's mind went to work. "Okay, here's what we're gonna do. I count about seventy-five people in this town, but the highway is right there. Once you get on the high way and get like twenty km out, they're not gonna hunt you down. I'm gonna distract'im, slow'im down if I can."

Both of them were looking at him as if he'd grown horns, but he finished fastening up his coat, rather hoping that they weren't noticing that it was both kevlar and singed by beam canon. His jaw shifted to the side, self consciously, as he pulled out a hefty fifty mm handgun. He chambered a bullet then gave both of them an ear-to-ear smile. "I'm not a boy scout, but always prepared."

Pale as snow, Madelyn turned to look at Alfred. "Who is he?"

Alfred made a dismissive wave. "He's Mac. He's been working here with me a bit. Now, boy, put that toy away, will you?"

"He's a little off then?"

"Oh I'm more than a little off," Duo agreed. He took a step out, assessed the leo standing expectantly at the end of the short little town. "When this bastard doesn't get home, people are going to come looking for it. Don't count on the fact that he's probably out without permission to help any of you. Go! What are you still standing here for?"

Alfred reached for Duo's arm, but missed when Duo side stepped. "You're going to take on a leo with a pistol?!"

"I haven't finished the plan yet," Duo admitted, "So you're wasting very good escape time."

Duo ran down the street until he was nearly at the feet of the leo, then aimed up at him, "Asshole! I got something for you!"

The leo shifted, its camera aiming down at him. He felt nothing as he aimed at the giant mecha, only logic, only the Shinigami will to kill his enemy. Duo licked his upper lip, then shouted, "You like little girls, pig?"

As if he were no more than a bug, the leo lifted a foot the size of a small car, moving to stomp him. Duo waited till the last minute, then hit the ground, rolled behind the leo. If he had any luck, the pilot might think he'd squashed him already, at least for a moment. His bag swung from one shoulder and he spun, holstering his pistol in the holster he'd sewn into the inside the back of his jacket. From inside his pack, he pulled something that looked like a pistol, but with a large round mesh at the end. Holding that in his left hand he fired and the mesh at the leo's shoulder.

A moment later, the mesh having attached with a very firm electromagnetic connection, he triggered it to retract, which carried him rapidly up towards the back of the leo's neck. The leo's pilot, realizing that the bug he'd tried to squash wasn't under his food, spun. The lift line was still long enough to give Duo some lift, nearly smashing him into a three story building. Running along the wall, his boots broke a window, but with a jump, he made it to solid wall again and pushed off hard, his lift line still contracting.

Whatever possessed the pilot, Duo didn't know, but the jackass turned on his beam saber and took off the top of the building, totally trumping the window Duo had taken out. Tucked up on the guy's shoulder, a foot braced on shoulder joint and his back against neck weaponry. It wasn't a stable position and it wasn't going to last long. Fishing around in his pack, he really didn't have a lot. His coat, his pistol, a hundred rounds of ammo, a black marker, two condoms, and an extra orange pop. Lips pursed, he grabbed the marker, blackened the bottle of pop as quick as he could, then repositioned his lift line so that he'd have something to hold onto as he scrambled up onto the head of the thrashing leo. He knew from experience that there were few things worse than not knowing what your enemy was up, fearing that your enemy might actually have some reasonable reason for thinking the could win an encounter with you, but you just didn't know what it was. Duo grinned, liking his still forming plan even more. After all, what kind of fool takes on a mobile suit with a pistol?

Sitting on the leo's head, lift line attached and wrapped around one leg as an anchor point, Duo opened his pop, took a long swig, then tore open a condom with his teeth, pulled the non-lubricated rubber sheath down over the pop bottle until it sealed, blackened the edges with the pen again, then shook the crap out of it. Fizz foaming and boiling in the bottle, pushing the thin rubber cap in to strange shapes, the bottle could have held all kinds of things from new corrosive acids to bio toxins of the worst kind. Grinning ear-to-ear, Duo leaned over and held his prize in front of the leo's camera system. He let his arm sway, as if he weren't steady and was trying get really good aim. He was careful to make sure that he and his pistol weren't visible to the camera.

Biting his lip, he willed his plan to work.

Then the leo's pilot, really irritated and possibly over confident opened his hatch to climb out and dislodge his attacker. Duo used a single round, right between the man's eyes, sending him tumbling off and towards the dirt road below. Duo released his lift line, swung over and dropped into the cock pit. The hatched closed behind him. Brilliant pilot had left himself logged in and everything. It was going to be a good day! Maybe he could completely save the town!

He scooped up the man he'd just killed, and walked off towards the lake, trying his best not to do any more damage to the little town or its people. By the time he got to the lake, he'd written a decent suicide note, explaining that he couldn't bring himself to mis use civilians and he couldn't live with the things he'd done. This note got sent to everyone in the man's command, including Khushrenada. That done, Duo pillaged any useful things, a few battery packs, the data of the base the leo had come from, and a kind of dusty med kit, then sent the leo and its pilot into the lake.

Feeling very pleased with himself, he wandered back to the highway. Waiting gave him nothing at all to do with the adrenaline he'd built up being Shinigami. He wished with all his might that he didn't know that the man he'd just killed had had brown eyes and a heart tattooed on the side of his neck. Those were details he didn't need.

He got a ride. He chattered about nothing. The woman driving gave him a bible, a bottle of water, and chocolate meal replacement bar. He was grateful for all three. She told him he was too young to be wandering around by himself. He totally agreed that it was a very dangerous world.

At the next town though, he used her phone, which she'd driven off without. He hoped she had insurance on it. He hadn't planned on seeing the others for a while. Nothing he'd done that day had been that out of the ordinary, but he wanted their company anyway. So he dialed into their message system, got a coded message telling him where the current safe house was, left the coded confirmation that told who ever was watching the system that he hadn't been coerced into contacting them. Before he could throw the phone away though, a text came through.

"This phone is your location?"

"Yes," he replied, a faint tempting hope wishing that Heero was going to come pick him up.

"Proceed one mile north, supermarket, green van."

"Okay," he agreed, just enough playful that he wasn't going to give Heero the acknowledged that he knew his sometimes lover wanted.

He took off at a fast paced walk, not a run, just a very urgent walk. The van was utterly inconspicuous and he kind of hoped it wasn't the safe house. He really wanted a shower, even if you can't wash brown eyes off. The side door opened. He hopped in.

Trowa was driving. Quatre in the front passenger seat, though the seat was turned around to face them. A chess board was set up and he and Heero were playing. Duo flopped down, utterly content in the moment to just go wherever they were going.

Where they were going turned out to be a little house on the edge of town. Wufei was there and looking very frustrated. The house smelled like noodles, homemade noodles from scratch and that made the war so far away.

"Did you get them?"

"Yes," Trowa said, passing the bag of groceries to Wufei.

"It smells delicious," Quatre said, hope in his voice.

"Hn."

"You have no idea how difficult this has been. I'm not really a cook."

"Then you shouldn't have volunteered," Trowa said, holding his hand out for Quatre.

"We're going to be here for a couple of months. We will die if we live on instant ramen and soda pop! Maxwell, you look like shit! Did you hit your face against a wall?"

"Leo, actually," Duo admitted, flopping down again, this time on the couch next to Heero. "You think you've had a bad day! I took out a leo with a pistol, a condom, and a bottle of pop."

Wufei rolled his eyes. "Idiot."

Heero lifted one hand from his keyboard, ran the back of his hand over Duo's cheek, then went back to writing the program he'd been working on.

This was home. Duo smiled contentedly, snuggled down on the couch, his head against Heero's knee and drifted off to sleep, only blue eyes in his thoughts. Home.

Universal Rights

2011-12-10T14:42:00.001-08:00

One of the things I hate the most is being told to be quiet.

When I was a kid, the environment was very dangerous and silence about pretty much everything was the safest path.

One of the things I'd really like in my adult life is to find a group to belong to. I want belonging with a deep hunger.

I'll never have it.

Recently Hillary Clinton gave a speech advocating for universal human rights. It was a particularly splendid speech. Even Trans people were mentioned, women, disabled people... pretty much everyone was mentioned, but the focus of the speech was on Gay people.

Recently I've had lots of hopes of belonging to the trans community.

Now don't get me wrong... I was born in a body that looks female, but I'm male. I'm going to go through with everything I can to bring my body inline with my identity. That is as deep in my soul as wanting to belong.

So on my FB profile this guy writes about how the overbearing gay agenda is hurting trans people and how Hillary Clinton's speech, which made the argument that in order for any of us to have human rights, human rights must be respected for all people... that that speech was an insult to trans people because they only got mentioned once.

I disagreed with him. He told me to be quite. His friend came in on his side. Someone else said I was self hating.

I said that at least I capitalized the first letter of all my sentences. That was really rather petty of me and the guy's friend was right.. I was being a condescending fuck when I said that.

This infighting though between gay people and trans people.. between 'real trans' people and just cross dressers or queens and kings...

The fact that I've been isolated and withdrawn most of my life... just makes that all seem so very crazy to me. It's like if the Civil Rights movement had broken into Nigerian Americans, Congolese Americans, Liberian Americans... ect. It only serves to further the cause of those that don't like any person with darker skin.

God.

You know... I really thought I could fit in with trans people... with gay people. I am trans. I am gay. Okay, bi... be that as it may. I really thought I'd make friends.

I won't though. I'm just too oddly socialized to fit into any group. I shall be very lucky if I can find one or two people who can put up with me.

I've been quiet enough that I hardly anyone is likely to notice my continued silence. As I obviously don't fit with the trans community that doesn't think universal human rights don't apply to them... and it hurts me too much to be told to be quiet, that I don't understand my own identity, because I don't have the same take as he does.

As I had wanted to be part of this community and I don't know how many people feel the same as that other gentleman does, and it's obvious to me that I am ill suited to community - I would still like the group to consider how much benefit there might be in working together as non-gender-conformative people... or even better... just fighting for universal human rights. There really is much overlap as people fight for the right to express themselves genuinely.

As I wrote this... I realize even more strongly that I don't like to be quiet. I've spent so much of my life being quiet. I've no idea what to do about... I don't know if I'm brave enough to keep talking when no one listens.

Everyone's rights are equally important, including my own.

Max

Edit... and after all that defeatist whining... a friend of mine told me he hoped I didn't think he was just putting up with me and... the world felt much better. :)

Appeal to love and reason

2011-12-09T18:49:00.001-08:00

Okay! All you people on my facebook here... all of you, every single one of you is precious and valuable. All of us deserve care, hope, dignity, respect, basic human rights... we are all so very precious. Life is rare and delicate... so easy to lose.

When I rant against god... It's not that I don't want you to have a god or to feel connected to something beyond yourself. Some gods and religions come with the idea of Original Sin (Okay, really only Christianity comes with that idea)... that tells you that you are covered in sin and unacceptable to god, unworthy of love from the moment you are born. Christianity has a god that kills off populations because they make him angry, kills first born sons as a threat, sends invading armies into other people's lands and tells them to kill everyone, and the way he gets around Original Sin, which he himself set up in the first place, is to kill himself/his son, who had become human... human sacrifice is a crime.

Such a god is not worthy of you. George Bush would make a better god.

You are so much more precious than any god that wants a blood sacrifice. You are beautiful and full of life, creativity and innovation, and you can do anything you want. Few people really want to hurt others.

For life's sake, don't tell little children that they are too sinful and horrible to be looked at by god until they accept Jesus...are washed in the blood of the lamb. Tell them they are precious and they live in a world that they are making.

The world is too crowded for an angry and violent god.

Do no harm.

Prologue to Loving Robin: Jesus and Judas

2011-12-09T17:04:00.001-08:00

Prologue to Loving Robin: Jesus and Judas
by Nix Winter
Copyright 2011, all rights reserved

Note: I cut this bit out of Loving Robin, but it's still interesting and still happened in the past. Maybe I'll expand it and include it as a second story.

Jerusalem
Roughly 30 CE, give or take

There are many kinds of love.

He was tall, straight, smooth dark hair that hung to his shoulders, golden skin, and gentle dark eyes. His robe lay around him in harmony with the warm evening air.

"Judas."

They'd all returned to Jerusalem for Passover. It seemed like half the world had returned to Jerusalem for Passover.

Rome ruled the world, its heel always ready to stamp out freedom. Pulling up a rough cloth cowl, Judas left the garden and stepped into Jesus' room. "Master?"

Jesus closed the door, shutting out the grumbles of those left without. "I have the most hope for you, Judas."

"Master?"

Jesus poured a fragrant thick wine into two thick earthenware goblets. "Drink with me, Judas. I ask a favor you, greater than any gift you've given me on our journey."

"All that I have is yours, Master."

"Drink."

"Will we fight them, the Romans?" Judas said, lifting the rough made goblet, drinking sparingly, unwilling to cloud any moment alone with Jesus. The cowl fell away, pooling around slender shoulders, framing an androgynous face with large dark eyes, smooth flushed lips.

"Not in the way they expect," Jesus said, smiling knowingly, completely above all the petty struggles for life and land. "You will go to the Sanhedrin for me. I must speak with them."

"But Master," Judas hissed, knowing there were secrets that must not be told, ever.

Jesus reached across the table, traced his finger around the rim of Judas' goblet, whispering glittering light. "You are stronger than you think and most able to understand what I shall give you."

"I will go for you, Master, but I don't," Judas whispered, "please don't pay me for doing something I do not want to do."

"Beloved, there will be many things in the coming days you will not like, but I trust that you will come to understand."

"I want to understand, Master."

"Keep this cup with you always, Judas, and we will find each other no matter what paths we may walk."

Judas held the goblet closer then, cherishing it as if it were the most precious of objects. "Let this be my payment then. You know my secrets, Master, all of them."

"I know," Jesus said, smiling tender. "I understand."

Judas sipped the wine, finding it sweeter than it had been. "I love you, with all that I am."

"I know, my Beloved."

<><><>
Calvary
A few days later....

The Romans worship death, or at least the courage to face death. They were the ones that brought death into Jerusalem.

Laughter, haggling, wine, the morning sun, sweat, piss, offers of sexual pleasure, they all swirled around Judas, brushing against cloth that covered skin, but warmed nothing. The goblet never left Judas's hand. Rough texture of unglazed earthen ware pressed into chilled skin as if Judas were no more than a being made of clay to begin with. It was little weapon against the vulgar raging fires of life and the utter disregard for the most beautiful man who bleed only feet away from where Judas crouched.

Shudders wracked Jesus as he lifted himself up against the nail in his feet, straining for breath. Rage, blacker than any storm Judas had ever seen swamped through the soul, smothering. Every living creature that could touch Jesus this way deserved death, raining black fire... the Romans, the Jews, the Greeks!

Hours ground away with cries and laughter, human merriment and human suffering. Judas hated. The cup held so tightly grew to have more mass and reason than Judas did.

"Father, why have you forsaken me," Jesus cried out and the sky went dark across the world. If Jesus had despair, then despair was all that existed.

Judas stared at the rope laying in skinny and scarred hands. Jesus had been the only one who had ever seen Judas, truly seen and yet loved. Distantly Judas knew it was a different day. There were foggy memories of running, of Peter hissing that no one was worth anything now.

Jesus had spoken of love, of a world filled with love. Such a place could not be real. The rope hit the tree branch with a thump and Judas felt gratitude to be alone, to have quiet, such quiet that he could hear rope moving rough over the bark of the tree. There wasn't thinking, just... it was like healing treatment, just a way to stop the blood that would not stop flowing away and leaving his soul bleached. The rope made no sounds against his throat and he wondered for a moment if he were real at all. Standing on the wooden stool he'd brought, he stared down at the scabbed over abrasions on the palm of his hand, where he'd held the cup of life so tightly.

"All the will in the world will not make me alive nor not what I am," he spoke to the air, the last witness to what had been a miserable life, until it had been a marvelous life for a moment, before there had been no joy left to seep into hated skin. "I Judas lived as well as I could. I was born in a woman's body, but I walked a man's path. Being a man did not give me the strength to save the only person who loved me and so as a woman I will die."

The air really didn't care.

The stool cared less as it tipped, perhaps because as a living thing it had died long before. Feet kicked at the stool, then at the air, defiant and demanding recognition even as the air felt nothing, no more than the world had ever felt. The world should have gone dark, as it did when Jesus died, but instead there was light.

Beautiful, reds and greens, violets and blues like the sky, like butterflies brushing against bare skin, lifting a body which had grown too heavy to bear the soul within.

"Beloved," Jesus said very gently, "You must not do this."

The will and the courage, the grief, all intent and planning failed, Judas stood barefoot on the ground and instead of the rope, Jesus' arms wrapped around her. "No, I can not hurt any more! I can not be without you!"

"My love," Jesus whispered, running his fingers over greasy, uncared for hair, "What I see in you is more precious than you can know. I will always love you and always know you and when you can love yourself as I love you, you will come to my home."

Judas leaned back, looking up at a whole and perfect Jesus, at the brilliant light surrounding him. "You're here? You're really here?"

"I am. Guard the cup which I gave you, for it is the cup of life. Guard your life and grow in wisdom, for when I can bring you home with me, I will."

"I want to go now! I love myself! If you can love me, I can love me!" Desperation made the light seem brighter, made his form seem less solid. "I'll do anything!"

"It is not words which will bring you to my home and make it yours. Understand love and the bridge will open." He stepped back even as she clung to him. "You are braver than you know. Be true to yourself, Jude."

Like sunlight on water, but of every color, living... he moved back into the light from which he'd come, back onto the bridge where she could not follow him.

"But I love you!"

"I love you. Love and the bridge will open."

"Jesus!"

But then he was gone. It was late afternoon and both the branch and the rope were broken and useless. Jude picked up the cup, pressed it to her face, against the hot tears that flowed. How could one learn to love in a world filled only with hate?

<><><>
Autricum
900 CE

The Romans had called the town Autricum. Jude had been more than happy to see it become Chartres, to dance with the flow of languages until the Romans were so much a legend that on some days she wondered if she imagined the arrogant Romans, her own people, or even Jesus.

The priest spoke of Jesus, but not the Jesus she'd known. Nearly eight hundred years between then and now, she had no illusions that she could just explain that she knew Jesus and the Holy Grail was sitting in the back room of the mute old tailor's shop. One thing hadn't changed. She still hated them all, but in time, one day, when she least expected it, she knew the bridge would open and Jesus would take her to a better world. With every stitch she put into the gown she sewed, she smiled to herself over the bridge. Then she would be happy!

<><>

Ash had no such grand needs to be happy. On that late spring day, he wanted only one thing really. Leaning against the unevenly whitewashed wall of someone's house, what he really wanted was for his brothers not to catch him.

His mother had told him the story of Joseph and the Coat of Many Colors many times before her death. He had something that was way worse than a coat of many colors. If he'd had a coat or money or anything else he could have given to his brothers he certainly would have done so. What he did have couldn't be taken or given away though.

Tall, slender, with hair like the moonlight and eyes like a clear winter day, a voice that sang like a perfect mass, buying years off of Purgatory, Ash was both a bastard and his father's favorite. His father was mayor of Chartres, as his father and grandfather had been before him. He was a kind and generous man who had five sons. Four of whom had sprung from his wife with greater wits and sharper tongues. The wits in the fifth were hampered by both a beautiful voice and tongue to quick and reckless to safely belong to a bastard.

Normal people who weren't being hunted by the mayor's sons had the good sense to clear away the path so there would be neither witnesses nor aid for the son of a very talented French lady minstrel. In the distance he heard them, laughing, clanging. Their dogs barked and yipped. His brother's had no reason whatsoever to hurry. He groaned and pushed himself along the wall, trailing bright red blood against the flaking paint. His head spun and he prayed that if he could just find someplace safe to hide, he'd be happy with that. If he could just lay down and bleed out quietly without being chewed upon by his brother's dogs, then he'd be happy. Surely God could grant that much!

A rose colored butterfly danced in front of the shuttered window of the tailor and he blinked, arched an eyebrow while squinting with the other eye. Then there was a blue butterfly and a swish of light like a mayday ribbon.

Energy renewed and he shoved off the wall, staggered across the street and banged on the tailor's door. It would never open. Only a fool would take in the prey of his brothers. Only a fool would listen to stories about butterflies made of light. He was a fool, but he was sure the light surrounded him, held up, at least until the door opened and he fell forward onto his face.

<><>

Jude dragged him into the dark shop, over the dirt floor, then kicked the door closed with way too much energy to avoid attracting attention. He was a stupid, rich barbarian who'd never even spoken a proper language, but in that moment, she hated him less than the men who were hunting him.

What prompted her to take out the grail, she couldn't have explained then and maybe not if she had another hundred years to think about it. Using the grail always ended badly.

"Boy," she growled in Hebrew. "Get up! Get out of my home."

Ash coughed, blood from torn flesh and punctured lungs wet on his lips. Eyes glazing, he reached out to her, trembling fingers to touch her face. "You are the goddess of the moon? You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen. May I have your name?"

"Idiot. You're likely dying and you ask my name?" She'd switched to an awkward French. She let him touch her face. His shaking fingers left streaks of warmth, like he traced life across her isolation. "Give me yours first."
"I am Ash. My life may end today, but what value has a man's life if he has not seen beauty such as you?"

"And if I'm a man, you asshole," Jude growled.

"Then I know why no woman has claimed my heart or passion," he whispered. With the back of his hand, he wiped blood from his mouth. "Death becomes a gift from God for I can never tempt you into sin, as I would be bound to do, should I have lived."

"You're an idiot," Jude said softly, more wishing to believe than she did. "If I could save you, would you keep my secret always and forever? If I shared the greatest treasure with you, would your greedy little heart long for riches and power?"

"The greatest treasure you could give me would be your kiss and I would share it with none."

"And if I am a Jew?"

"Was not Jesus a Jew? I am a bastard who has only a beautiful face and voice. I am made the whore of others. I would that I was a free Jew."

"You are free, Ash," Jude said gently. "Brave, reckless, foolish, and curse me, I can't let you die. Why did you have to come into my home?"

Determination straightened her, leaving nothing of the old woman she'd seemed only moments before. The rough cloth no longer seemed to match her or the long dark hair. The little shop was very small and from under a pile of cloth that might not have been touched in several decades, she pull an old earthenware goblet. Reverently, she dusted it off. The rough texture felt at home in her hand, like an imprint of her own soul made into matter. The decision made, she strode back towards him, scooped water out of a wooden bucket, and growled as she knelt back down by him. "Do not make me regret this, Ash of Chartres." Her grip was all strength as she jerked him up and poured sacred water down his throat.

He sputtered, reached, but she held him, forcing more tepid water into his mouth.
After he swallowed, she let him go, stepped back and made the goblet disappear back into the worthless dross of a life near the bottom.

"Tell me your name," Ash pleaded, now on his knees, the color good in his face, the blood washed away.

"I am Judas Iscariot. That was the Holy Grail. Jesus gave it to me himself. If you tell anyone, I will have to run and I shall regret ever knowing you."

"I shall keep your secrets, Judas, always."

"My friend called me Jude."

fic: Letters to Heero 5/?

2011-12-09T00:28:00.001-08:00

Letters to Heero 5/?
by Pink Whirlwind

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing. Bandai is more likely to have that honor than I. The story that this story crosses over into, which I don't want to spoil, is mostly out of copyright. And god help them both... because Duo's got a very active imagination.

Chapter Five

"Heero," Trowa growled, holding tightly to Heero's arm.

They were all in the medical center. The pod that probably held Duo was in an isolation chamber, a chamber that Heero wanted into as well. "Let go of me, Winner."

"I don't know which of you I fear most," Trowa said, "But Duo won't be happy with me if I let you in there and you get contaminated with whatever parasite is in there with him."

"Quatre's wrong," Heero growled, lips tight. "The sensors only pick up a single human and at very minimally functional levels. We need to get him out of there. I want to be in there! I don't want him to wake up in a glass cage."

Trowa grabbed Heero's other arm, jerked him around, green eyes glaring into blue with an unquestioning authority. "Duo does not want you hurt. You will follow protocol. Acknowledge."

Blinking, utterly caught off guard to be confronted by the carefully modulated words which were designed to take advantage of programing still deep within his psyche, Heero paled. "Acknowledge." He shook Trowa off, stepped back. "What the hell was that, Trowa? If you ever take advantage of me like that again, I will hurt you."

"If you ever devalue your own life I will kick your ass for Duo, because I'm sure he would want that."

Heero's jaw hurt from being so tight, but he gave a curt nod.

"Heero," Quatre said, voice soft and soothing, "We love him as well, you do know that, right? You brought us here. Because of you we found him. He didn't put himself through this so that he could bring us any harm." Quatre reached out and touched Heero's arms. "Trust me?"

"Don't modify my emotions," Heero said, only just barely keeping himself from pulling away.

"I won't," Quatre promised. Quatre's space heart had grown much stronger as he and Trowa had grown closer, though that could just as well have been his own maturation. "Heero, I won't. We're going to help Duo. We're going to get him out of there. I need you to hear what I'm about to tell you."

Heero crossed his arms, blue eyes narrowing. He stood so he could see the chamber holding Duo's pod and both Quatre and Trowa. The urgency and intensity of his need, his guilt over accepting Duo's death, when Duo hadn't been dead then, though he might be now was driving an impending mental break down of all the normalcy he'd build. Adrenaline surged like it had in the war, not warm and hot like some people's, but murderously cold. It felt like the only part of him who had ever been human was the part that loved Duo and he'd kept it alive by keeping Duo's memory alive and in so doing, by accepting Duo's death, he may have actually killed Duo. "Don't talk. Do."

This time it was Trowa's very subtle body language that told Quatre to let it go.

"The good news is that we can't find any parasite, any other life form other than Duo. However, Duo's intelligence has merged with the AI that controls the pod and it's Duo that's preventing the pod from opening. There are two consciousnesses with him. We can pry the metal of the pod open, but there is a possibility of pushing him past this mental adaptation to completely brain death or into irretrievable insanity if we force it open."

"So we don't need the isolation chamber?"

"As long as we keep the whole medical bay a clean space," Quatre allowed.

"I will jack into the AI and get Duo to open the pod," Heero said firmly, feeling more hope, hope that he could save Duo and with that save himself.

Quatre and Trowa looked at each other. Quatre chewed his lip. "Or we could send in another AI that we could take turns controlling, which gives us better odds of reaching him."

"No. I know him best."

Howard entered the room with a swoosh from the air lock that kept the medical bay clean of contaminants from the rest of the ship, and the bay clear from beyond it too. "Yuy, how many times a day you get told you're a selfish asshole?"

It was said cheerfully, with a big grin, and was just confusing enough that Heero had regained his composure enough not to lash out. "Do you have all the equipment we're going to need to interface? I do not want to use an avatar. I want to interface directly."

Quatre danced his fingers across the control pad that manifested at just the right height for him. The isolation chamber dematerialized. "None of us should leave the medical bay, until we know for certain that it's not carrying anything unpleasant."

"We're using an avatar." With a twitch of his nose, Howard set the box of supplies down, dropped down and slid underneath the pod. "Using an avatar leaves Duo in control of the connection, allows him to expel the avatar if he wants to. We have no idea what world he's living in in his mind. The kid was always very creative. The last thing you want to be doing, as you try to get him to come back into and believe in this world we live in - is fight him for dominance in his own mind, Yuy."

Heero's life was carefully crafted to allow him to live without hurting other people or let other people be close enough to hurt him. That Duo had been alive, was possibly still alive, shredded everything he'd built since he'd accepted Duo's death. "I," he started, voice so quiet he really didn't expect anyone else to hear him, "I need to see him."

Quatre's eyes went wide, worry, the echoes of Heero's pain and plummeting dark mood rocking him. "Heero, what happened was not your fault and it is not acceptable for you to stop living."

"I was only alive because of Duo."

"That is not true," Quatre growled with an elegant hostility. "I don't know that you're stable enough to be able to interface with him and provide him grounding to find his way out. There is a darkness within him that is every bit as dark as what's in you."

"Stop." Trowa held up his hands, one palm towards Quatre, one towards Heero. "Heero tell me that you have mission clarity and can provide Duo with rational guideposts to find his way back to reality, in a way that gives him optimal well being and autonomy?"

Heero's face held nearly perfectly still. A likely outcome were that Duo was dead or unreachable, in which case it would be possible to recommit to being Duo's living memorial and resume the life that he'd had. A second possible outcome was that Duo had developed hostilities towards him, in which case a rivalry could be reestablished, providing both parties with reason for being. If Duo were completely wounded and incomprehensible, he could be reminded and healed. "It's the not knowing that's making me unstable. I can deal with any situation, but I can't deal with not knowing. Yes. I have mission clarity."

Quatre's hair literally danced on end, blond ghost fire that Trowa really thought might ignite at any moment. "The wars are over! This is a medical and probably psychological emergency.

"Heero will connect," Trowa decided, "through an avatar. We will set up two avatars and if we think it's warranted, one of us may join you in AI to render assistance. Is that acceptable."

"He was my lover too, you know, in the war," Quatre snapped, arms across his chest.

Trowa's eyes went wide, momentarily as innocent as Dorothy's view of the Emerald City with Quatre wearing wizard gear. "That," he said, paused as he swallowed, "was not helpful."

Arms folded over his chest, chin tucked towards his chest, Heero smirked. "That's interesting. I only new about Trowa."

Trowa's expression went from The Wizard of Oz to Night of the Living Dead in a blink. "It was a very cold night."

The snort shook Quatre and then there was laughter. "I bet it didn't stay that way. Duo is important to all of us, but Heero is probably most important to him, just like Trowa is the most important to me." Quatre held out his hand to Trowa, who slipped his fingers through Quatre's.

"Well," Howard snarked, "if you boys are done comparing your swizzle sticks. Yuy, come, sit down." Heero held up what looked like a wrist cuff with half a hundred jerry rigged wires and network connection points on it. "It's a little big for your swizzle, but we could fit it there if that's what you wanted."

Rolling up his sleeve, Heero took a seat where he could lean against the outer container of Duo's pod. "This is Sweeper work?"

"Of course," Howard said with a grin. "You gonna love it. All the bitching aside. The kid left a lock on the port. Bloody sadistic little bastard, when he wanted to be." Howard closed the cuff around Heero's wrist, but turned Heero's arm over, so his hand was palm up. "Can I have a drop of blood?"

Heero nodded. With a quick touch, Howard used a lancet on Heero's finger, let a drop of blood gather, then touched the drop down on the very small testing surface that Duo had turned into a lock. The wrist cuff woke, physical data connection sent dark lines racing up Heero's arm even as his head tilted back, his eyes dropped shut.

<><>

Heero was entirely sure that his body felt wrong, completely and utterly wrong. Why Duo had a forest overlooking a great wild blue sea, Heero had no idea. He'd expected Duo to be living in a replica of their apartment maybe, maybe on a space ship. They'd always talked about wanting a new ship, something good for long distances.

Duo himself was completely not what Heero had expected either. Violet eyes danced with excitement and and there were blue lines drawn across Duo's cheeks in the worst effort at camo paint ever. His braid had leaves and branches woven in, even though that must be damaging the thick brown mass of hair, which probably hadn't been combed in... a while. He wore ratty brown pants, a shirt that had once been white, button up, old fashioned, no shoes at all, and he floated above the ground, without a shadow.

What might have been most disturbing though was that he was a times the scale that Heero's body was. Heero frowned, very intently, so that Duo would understand just exactly how unacceptable this situation was. He meant to say, "Duo. We should wake up now," but all that came out of his mouth was a mix of angry bee and harp music.

Duo turned slowly, floating with complete comfort. He planted his hands firmly on his hips and grinned. "Tink! Don't be like that! We're gonna get Hook really good this time!"

Angry bee and harp really were not an effective communication medium.