Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
Title: Tomorrow and Yesterday
Author: Feygan
Contact: Feygan@darkgesture.zzn.com
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Xena/Hercules/Buffy/Angel
Pairing: Ares/Joxer, Cupid/Strife, Xander/Spike
Status: WIP
Disclaimer: I do not own Xena: Warrior Princess, Hercules: the Legendary Journeys, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, or Angel.
Warning: nothing much yet
Summary: The Earth is dying, and since humans are leaving for different
worlds, most of the gods are going to. Ares and Joxer, with their family,
are leaving behind everything they have ever known and heading toward a new
future. Along the way, Joxer remembers the man he used to be and how he met
and fell in love with the God of War.
Website: http://darkgesture.angelcities.com/fanfiction.htm
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--TOMORROW--
A club in some random city. The music was loud and the press of undulating
bodies crushing against him, stifling the life out of him.
Sometimes he was driven by an overwhelming need to be alone, and at other
times he wanted to feel living people around him. It was when the loneliness
became too much that he went to clubs and bars and house parties, inviting
himself into any place where there were people that he could pretend he was
one of.
Tonight he was in a club amusingly named the Sword of Ares. He'd thought the
name was funny, some weird omen beckoning him on.
Dressed in black sim-leather pants, a gunmetal gray mesh shirt, and
spaceboots, he pushed his way through the crush of people toward the bar. He
needed something to drink, then maybe he would dance with one of the
too-enthusiastic partiers.
He liked how they all tried so hard to be cold and aloof, playing at a
cynicism they didn't really feel. They were in their twenties and early
thirties, they had their whole lives before them. They were all so young,
and even though they wanted so badly to be jaded, they were just children in
dress up, playing the role of youths born to a future of dystopian
desolation. Never mind that most of them had never had a day of hunger, or
that they had been given everything they had ever needed or could want. They
hadn't had to fight every single day just to survive. The biggest hardship
they had to face was having their favorite vurt game be all sold out when
they went to the store, or suffering the tragedy of having someone else show
up wearing the same shirt as them.
"Hey, what's your name?" a girl with overly teased hair yelled, pressing
close against him as he tried to catch the bartender's attention. He could
feel her breasts rubbing against his upper arm, the lust hardened nubs of
her nipples trying to entice him into stupidity.
He gave her a cold-eyed look. She was a child, having used makeup and lots
of hairspray to trick her way past the bouncers. She couldn't have been more
than fifteen, though the abuse she was putting her skin through would have
her looking forty before she was twenty-five.
He could almost smell the sex on her. She was on the prowl, looking for
someone with a car and a full wallet. If she wasn't a prostitute yet, it was
only a matter of time.
"Why don't you go home? I don't mess around with jailbait," he said.
She shot him a hurt look before slinking back off through the crowd.
"Bastard," he heard her mutter when she thought he couldn't hear.
He watched her ass as it disappeared into the distance, then turned back
around. The bartender had wandered over and was handling the people next to
him.
"What do you want?" the guy asked, barely glancing at him.
"I'll have a Jet Fuel," he said.
"Comin' up."
With the cool plastic in his hand, he leaned against the bar so his lower
back was pressed against the edge. It was a pleasant pressure against him,
resting between the ridges of his spine.
He gazed off into the crowd of dancing humans and almost wished that he was
one of them. It had been so long since he'd even been mortal, and even
longer since he'd been human.
Back when he was young he had never imagined that his life would turn out
like this. He'd been the klutzy screwup, more likely to fall on his face in
a fight then become a god someday. Yet here he was, nearly four thousand
years later.
Things had advanced so much, humans developing technologies far beyond
anything he'd ever dreamed of. Sometimes he looked around and didn't
recognize the world anymore. This wasn't the place where he'd been born, not
anymore.
Humans flew around encased in metal. Shuttles launched themselves to the
stations and moon bases everyday, and people boarded colony ships toward
planets where they hoped they could have a better future than Earth
currently offered.
The world was dying, and it was the saddest thing he had ever known. Soon he
knew that he would have to leave too. He would board a shuttle pretending to
be human, make his way onto one of those *starships*, and disappear toward
someplace strange.
He knew he was lucky. He wasn't like Gaia and some of the nature gods, tied
to the Earth, forever unable to leave it as it died around them. He was a
god that only needed humans to acknowledge the ideals that he represented to
exist, and it didn't matter where they lived or how. Any world where humans
lived, a part of him was there too, sustaining him no matter the distance.
His physical body was presently on Earth, but it was only for a little while
longer. He was planning on leaving in a couple of weeks, when he could
finally force himself to go. It was just so hard to leave the planet where
he'd been born, the only home he'd ever known. But he couldn't stay.
The Earth had been polluted past the point of no return. The ozone layer was
nearly gone, the air was a deadly poison to breathe, and nearly all the
plants and animals had long since died out. Humans lived in dome-encased
cities of plasticrete, plastisteel, and synthetic metal alloys. They lived
on vat grown synthetic protein and vegetables gathered from hydroponic
gardens.
The only hope for humanity was to find new worlds on which to live, and
plans had been in effect for hundreds of years. The first twelve unmanned
planeform ships had been launched two hundred and fifty years ago, and more
ships had been sent off in the interim.
The colony ships leaving Earth and the solar system far behind them would
take decades to reach the nearest inhabitable planet, and the System
Governors could only hope that it had been planeformed into a Terra-class
environment before the first colonists reached it. The other colony worlds
would still be awhile to ready for human habitation.
Still, the first ships were already on their way toward the new colony,
named Eden.
"What are you thinking?" a husky voice growled into his ear.
He turned with a half smile. "Thinking about you and me living on Eden." He
set his cup on the bar behind him and slipped his arms around his lover,
pulling him close, nuzzling into his neck. "It'll be a whole new world for
us, a fresh start far away from all the memories here."
"And that damn Hercules is on the list for the sixteenth immigration wave.
By the time he reaches Eden, we'll already have passed on toward Rivendell."
He shook his head. "I still can't believe they named it that."
"At least they stopped trying to genetically engineer hobbits and elves."
Ares laughed. "Don't think you fool me, Joxer. At the time you were
desperate to have some hobbits of your own. I remember when the original
movies came out... you watched them so many times the machine broke."
Joxer smirked, stroking his lover's arm. "You were just jealous of my crush
on Legolas. That was an elf that needed to be fucked."
Standing together at the bar, for all they were surrounded by crowds of
dancing, loud-talking people, the gods of War and Peace could have been
alone.
After a few minutes, when the laughter and jokes had all drained away, Joxer
cuddled himself closer against Ares. "I'm going to miss this world," he
whispered, knowing that even if it was too soft for mortal ears, his lover
would hear.
"I am too," Ares said, pulling him closer against him. "It'll be all right
though. Even though everything's going to be different from anything we've
ever known, we'll still have each other."
"We'll have to set up a new pantheon though," Joxer said. "It can't be as
easy as the old stories made it out to be."
Zeus was one of the gods that wasn't going to be able to leave Earth. He was
God of the Sky, as well as King of the Gods, which kept him from ever being
able to leave. Because of her marriage to him, which had been sealed in the
old ways, Hera was trapped as well. She was still raging about it, blaming
him for trapping her on a dying world with all the humans leaving them far
behind. But with the King and Queen having to stay behind, a new leadership
would have to be set up.
"Don't worry about it," Ares said. "We'll have the whole voyage to think and
plan in. The children will help us too."
"We have to make sure and remind Cupid and Strife, Xander and Spike, and
Alemada of the launch times. They're so irresponsible that they might get
themselves left behind."
Ares quirked his lips. "They're children, love, it's how they're supposed to
be."
"Be that as it may, I don't want to have to deal with you going on a rampage
when we're halfway there because we accidentally left Xander behind, all
right? You know you have a bad case of overprotective dad syndrome, so don't
even try and play my concerns off as nothing."
Ares grinned and pressed a hard kiss against Joxer's forehead. "And some
people wonder why I love you so much."
"It's because I think of the things you forget to worry about, that's why."
"You should have been Jewish, you know that, right?"
"You want I should hit you?" Joxer half-joked, though a part of him kind of
wanted to lay a smack across that perfect face.
Ares seemed to know what he was thinking, as he always did. "No, not really.
Come on," he stepped away from the bar, pulling Joxer by the hand. "This is
one of our last days on Earth. Let's spend it dancing and enjoying
ourselves. These days aren't ever going to come again, you know."
"I know." Joxer wrapped his arms around his husband. "The world is dying.
Let's party like we're going to live."
"That's a good idea. I want to spend my last minutes on Earth with you."
Swaying across the dance floor, slower than the raging beat of the music
demanded, Joxer laid his cheek against Ares' chest, nestling the top of his
head under his husband's chin.
He could feel Ares' heartbeat through his skin and it was a comfort. For his
entire life Ares had been the center of everything he'd done, and to have
him so close always made Joxer feel as though a missing part of himself had
been returned.
Ares made him feel safe.
* * *
Thrusting deep into Strife's body, Cupid's wings fluttered over them both,
fanning cool air across their furiously sweating flesh. He grunted out words
with each pump of his hips. "Oh gods, I love you!" he panted, licking
Strife's thigh.
Strife groaned and writhed beneath him, his legs hooked over Cupid's
shoulders. His toes wriggled along with the rest of his body as he ground
himself up against his husband. "Cupie! Cupie! CUPIE!"
"Ahhh... Stri-IFE!" Cupid came hard, his pelvis thrusting maniacally. Strife
was so tight around him, milking his cock, wringing him dry. He collapsed
across his lover with a last groan of completion, slipping out of Strife's
tight passage.
Strife moaned and unhooked his legs, letting them fall loose where they
wanted. He wrapped his arms around Cupid, pressing a kiss against Cupid's
forehead. "Even after all this time, it's still good with you."
"Better than good," Cupid gasped out. "It just keeps getting better and
better every time with you. I love you more and more every day."
"I love you too." Strife stroked a hand over Cupid's wings, liking how they
ruffled under his touch. "It's hard to believe it wasn't always like this."
"Yeah, I can't really remember why we weren't together from the very
beginning though," Cupid said.
Strife snorted. "The answer's really simple, lover. We were both clueless
assholes at first. Then there was that whole era of stupidity... and her
name was Psyche."
Cupid smacked Strife's arm. "I explained the whole hitting myself with my
own arrow thing. And besides, she was Bliss' mother."
"Ow!" Strife complained, rubbing the pink palm print rising on his milk-pale
skin. "I'm sensitive, you know."
"Oh, poor baby, let me kiss it and make it all better," Cupid bent his head
to press a kiss against Strife's upper arm.
"While you're kissing the ouchies, I've noticed a real swelling problem that
could use some of your attention," Strife said, smirking.
Cupid rolled his eyes at him. "I thought we just handled that a few minutes
ago."
"It came back." Strife stuck his lower lip out in a melodramatic pout, his
eyes dancing with mirth. "I've gone out of remission. Guess I need to make
another emission. So what are we gonna do about my problem, *doctor*."
Cupid grinned a little. "Same thing we do every night, Strifey. Try to take
over the world... I mean, screw like bunnies."
"Heh. Like music to my ears, baby."
"Rowr!"
Strife giggled.
* * *
Like a slender flame, pale flesh wrapped in black leather that most of the
people around him would have been horrified to realize had come from a real
cow, Spike made an enticing figure. He drew attention to him, seducing the
writhing bodies that pressed against him, slipping and sliding across his
back and shoulders. He didn't seem to notice any of them, existing in a
world all his own as he swayed his hips to the music. There was a
seductively mischievous smirk curling his lips as he stared off into the
crowd, completely ignoring all those that tried to capture his attention.
He was waiting for one specific person to come, the only one in this day
and age that could ever touch his heart. The one that he loved beyond all
definition of reason and sanity.
"Just as beautiful as ever, *William*," a voice husked into his ear and
arms wrapped around his waist, a chest pressing against his back. Hands
slid down his firm stomach so rogue fingertips could brush against his
groin, teasing him through his skintight pants.
Spike groaned softly, deep in his throat, shifting his stance to offer more
of himself to that teasing touch. "Why do you always do this to me when
we're around other people?" he asked, even though they both knew he loved
this side of Xander and always had.
There was the feel of a shrug. "It's fun. I like the thought of you
someday losing control and throwing me down on the floor, fucking me in
front of all these watching eyes, making me *scream* until I come." A warm
tongue licked Spike's ear. "It makes me hot."
Spike groaned. "God, you are such a bastard!" He whirled around and threw
himself against Xander, burrowing close.
"But you love me anyway," Xander said, wrapping his arms tight around
Spike, pressing them together. Spike shivered, liking the feel of Xander's
hard erection pressed against his stomach; the only thing better would have
been if they could have met groin to groin. It was another reason to curse
their disparity in heights.
"Er, pet, let's go back and shag," Spike groaned, pressing his face into
the crook of Xander's neck, breathing in that warm, cinnamon-sugar scent.
It made him think of freshly baked cinnamon buns, lightly toasted on the
outside, moist bready chewiness on the inside waiting for his teeth to bite
through.
Xander's laughter vibrated through him. He gently pushed Spike away.
"Sorry, *pet*, but not gonna happen. Tonight is one of our last on Earth.
We're going to dance and have as much fun as we can. We have to pack a
million years worth of memories into our heads in a couple of nights. We
leave in fifteen days. We can have as much sex as we want during the
voyage. Hell, if we wanted, we could spend the whole trip rubbing ourselves
raw. So let's dance."
Spike pouted for a minute, then let Xander lead him out onto the dance
floor.
With Xander so close against him, Spike was happy, as he had been from the
first moment he'd realized that he loved the "human." At first, he had
refused to let himself feel drawn to Xander, but time and closeness to him
had melted his resistance.
Spike knew that his old self would have been disgusted with him. He was
whipped and he knew it, but it didn't matter. He had Xander and that was
the most important thing.
He had Xander forever.
* * *
Xander could feel Spike thinking about him. It made a warm flush spread
across his skin, almost liquid in its sensuality.
With his hands on Spike's narrow hips, he swayed his own body to the music.
"The ocean is blue,
the night is dark,
my heart is alone
until I hear your voice.
I lie-- staring up at a sky
so blue-- it's like something out of a dream
of you.
I know-- I won't ever be alone,
as long as I can be with you.
Will you be there now
when I get home?
Will we share the skies
or will we be alone?
The stars shine down
as I say goodnight,
and I hold you close,
and I hug you tight.
"Will you be there now
when I get home?
Will you be there now
or will I be alone?
I hold you close to my heart,
I will never let you go.
Will you be there now
or will I be alone?"
Xander placed his lips next to Spike's ear and whispered the words to the
song along with the band. He could feel his lover's shiver of delight.
"Say goodnight, my dear,
say goodnight, my dear,
as the stars in the sky shine down on me.
I lie-- staring upward at a sky
velvet dark-- shining with the children of the night.
Say goodnight, my dear,
say goodnight, my dear,
I lie with the stars in the sky shining down on me."
Xander leaned closer against Spike, slipping his hands to the small of
Spike's back, pulling him tight against him. His tongue flicked out against
Spike's ear with every break in the song.
His voice was husky as he sang/spoke.
"Will you be there now
when I get home?
Will you be there now
or will I be alone?
The sky is dark,
the sea is blue,
will you be there now
when I get home?
Will you be there now
or will I be a-lone?"
With the last words, Xander's voice fell to nothing and his hands slid down
to cup Spike's ass through his pants, the round cheeks snug against his
palms. "I love how you feel," he murmured.
Spike laughed and nibbled at his neck. "You taste so warm all the time,"
Spike said just for Xander. "I don't know what I'd be without you, but I
don't think it'd be anything good."
"I know what you'd be," Xander said. "You'd still be the Big Bad trying to
kill and eat anything that crossed your path."
"I was angry when I found out what you did to me, pet," Spike said, pulling
away enough to look right into Xander's eyes. Their faces were barely an
inch apart, but it felt like forever to Xander's starving flesh. He wanted
to consume Spike, to pull him so deep inside that they melted into one
being. It was how he always felt around Spike... hungry.
"I never wanted to hurt you," Xander said. "When you hated me, it hurt me
more than you can ever know."
"It doesn't matter now." Spike reached up to push a lock of Xander's hair
back off his forehead. "I was mad then to find out how much you manipulated
my life, but now I wouldn't have it any other way. It doesn't matter. None
of it does. This is the way our lives were supposed to go."
Xander smiled brightly, though there were shadows in his eyes. "Do you
still miss her?" he couldn't help asking, then wished he could take it back.
He really didn't want to know the answer. He didn't want to find out that
Spike was still pining after his lost love, that he was only second best yet
again.
Spike shook his head, his hair flopping a little. "I haven't missed her
since she died, not any of them. I may have *thought* I loved Dru and then
Buffy, but it wasn't the kind of thing that was ever going to last, not like
what I have with you. I *love* you, I *lusted* after them.
"I'll be with you until the end of time, Alexander Harris. When all the
suns fall in upon themselves and become nothing but dust on the cosmic
winds, I will still be with you." Spike pressed his lips against Xander's,
his tongue flicking out until Xander opened his mouth and let him in, then
their tongues tangled together, fighting but not fighting. Spike clutched
Xander to him as they kissed deeply, ignoring the crowd of people around
them.
Sometimes Xander felt so much sadness that it took all his strength to keep
from crying, but as long as he was with Spike he always felt as though he'd
been made complete. He didn't have to feel the pain of the world as long as
Spike was there to support and steady him in his endeavors.
Xander moved even closer against Spike, running his hands up and down
Spike's back, finally slipping his hands into the back of Spike's pants to
caress his bare flesh. Spike refused to wear underwear, and Xander was
always grateful.
Spike murmured something deep in his throat, but it was muffled by Xander's
tongue in his mouth. He ground his pelvis against Xander until Xander slid
a leg between Spike's, giving him something solid to rub against. Spike
made a pleased sound.
*I can't believe we're doing this... again*, Xander thought. After their
last bout of public sex they'd vowed to behave, though it wasn't really like
they'd had a choice. Ares had been standing over them with a bullwhip in
one hand and a cheese grater in the other. Xander hadn't wanted to ask what
the cheese grater was for, had just promised that he wasn't going to give
any mortals a free show. Yet here they were, once again making out in the
midst of a crowd of mortals.
*It's all Spike's fault*, Xander thought with a mental nod. *He's a born
exhibitionist, plus he likes getting in trouble. He's* such *the Big Bad*.
Xander knew he should push Spike away and stop this before it started, but
he didn't really want to. This was supposed to be their night to say
good-bye to Earth and everything they'd ever known, but it looked like they
were going to be spending all their time having sex instead. It was a good
thing they still had two weeks to do all the stuff on his list.
Xander groaned as Spike's clever fingers unsealed his pants and slipped
inside. All the while, their tongues still slid against each other, and
Spike still humped his legs. It was good to have a lover that could
multitask.
Having to deal with the darker sides of humanity every single day was a
hard Duty, one that he had never truly enjoyed. But as long as he had Spike
with him, Xander could face everything that came his way and still manage to
smile.
Spike was his strength, the only thing that stood between him and complete
despair. It was because of Spike that Xander was able to keep going day in
and day out while wallowing in the filth humans continued to spew. Begging
for forgiveness for their sins while they kept on doing the same old things,
thinking that just saying they were sorry would make everything all right.
It made Xander so tired with them all that without Spike to bolster him up,
he would have given up on humans a long time ago.
It was only because of Spike that humans still had the chance for
redemption.
Arching his back as Spike tugged on his erection, Xander closed his eyes
tight and gave himself over completely to that touch. His hands rose
against his will, slipping up over Spike's hips, up his waist, up his chest,
up over the smooth expanse of his neck, up the sides of his face, and up to
tangle in that soft, lightly curly hair. He gripped tight fists in Spike's
hair and thrust his pelvis forward, offering himself up to his lover's
touch.
Xander could still remember a time when Spike's hair was stiff with gel and
brittle from constant dyeing. Grown out to its natural color and soft
nature, Xander loved to knot his fingers in it, to tug gently as Spike
sucked him off.
A lot had changed in their lives, but a lot had stayed the same. Even
acting kinder and gentler, Spike was still himself and always would be,
which was why Xander had loved him for longer than *Spike* had been Spike.
"I love you," Xander groaned as he came, not even caring about having
stained his new pants.
Spike sucked on his neck, nibbling lightly with his teeth. "You say the
best things when you come. Now come here," his voice lowered to a growl.
Xander didn't object as Spike pulled him down to the floor, both completely
ignoring the people that hurriedly got out of their way. Xander didn't say
anything as Spike ripped open the front of his shirt and began tugging down
his pants; he just laid back and let Spike do whatever he wanted.
"Fuck me," Spike whispered, kneeling over him. "Fuck me in front of all
these people."
"Perv," Xander said, grinning.
Spike gripped the hem of his own shirt and pulled it up over his head.
"You can't call me a perv until we finish having sex, luv, so let's go. I
want to ride you while the world watches."
"All right." Xander grabbed Spike by the upper arms, pulling him down on
top of him.
* * *
Still tangled in Strife's limbs and the sweat knotted sheets, Cupid
suddenly chuckled.
"What's so funny?" Strife asked, still breathing hard. They'd just
finished another round of the sexual Olympics. Both had won gold medals.
Cupid turned his head to look at him, a smirk twisting his lips. "Looks
like little brother is getting frisky with the Spike."
"So? They're about as horny as you and me," Strife said, snorting through
his nose at the thought of anyone being as amorous as they were. He was
sprawled out across the bed, his limbs thrown out every which way. His
spent cock was still trying to twitch itself upright. He felt a little
proud of it, the brave thing. 'Never give up, never surrender,' that was
his cock's motto.
"Yeah, but it's been awhile since Xander and Spike have had sex in the
middle of a packed club," Cupid said. "Too bad they didn't realize that
someone had a vid-cam. Looks like Xander's gonna be the star of yet another
porn movie. Dad's gonna be so pissed. He told Xander no more exhibition
shows, *especially* ones mortals can capture on camera."
"Ooh, looks like we better get a copy to add to our collection," Strife
said, rubbing his hands together. "We've got the whole set of Spike and
Xander sexing it up. It's about time they came out with the next
installment."
Cupid laughed. "I can't wait 'til Dad finds out, and you know Daddy Jox is
going to have some things to say about it too."
"Unc's just too overprotective about Xander," Strife said, shaking his
head. "Xander's thousands of years old, but Unc still treats him like a
young godling and probably always will."
"At least with Xander and Alemada around Dad leaves me alone sometimes."
"Yeah, but it's when he leaves you alone that you get yourself into
trouble. Remember Psyche?"
Cupid sighed. "Are you going to keep bringing her up forever? The thing
between her and me was like forever ago."
"Yeah, but as long as I keep reminding you about her, you won't repeat that
same mistake," Strife said logically, though there was a hard glint in his
eyes that he didn't bother to explain. Even after all these years, he was
still angry over the whole Cupid marrying Psyche thing, though he loved
Bliss like his very own son.
Cupid understood that what he'd done had hurt Strife a lot and that Strife
was never going to forget that pain, but sometimes he wished things could be
different, even though he knew he didn't deserve it. What he'd done had
been mean and cruel, designed solely to hurt his lover.
Shooting himself with his own arrow hadn't been completely an accident. On
some level he had wanted to hurt Strife, so he'd done it by falling in love
with someone else, a beautiful girl that was everything Strife could never
be. Too bad she was also a bitch, and once she had her claws in Cupid she'd
refused to let go, no matter how much it had hurt everyone around them.
Cupid had apologized a million times for the Psyche fiasco, but knew that a
part of Strife would never forgive him, because he didn't even forgive
himself. Strife had always been so vulnerable, and he'd taken advantage of
that to hurt him, and Cupid was more sorry about that than he could ever
say. For the rest of his life Cupid would regret the act of anger that had
had him "accidentally" shoot himself with his own arrow. And no matter how
happy they were now, in the back of his mind Cupid was always keeping a
careful watch on himself that he never felt that kind of hurtful anger
again, because he refused to be the source of Strife's pain.
Not ever again.
--TOMORROW--
Leaving Earth was harder than Joxer had ever thought it was going to be.
Boarding a ship to leave everything they had ever known behind. It was a
terrifying prospect.
He clutched Ares' hand with nervous fingers as the passed from the shuttle
through the ship's airlock. The taste of recycled air on his tongue only
made him more nervous as it confirmed the reality of the situation. They
were really saying good-bye to Earth, probably forever.
"Don't be scared," Ares leaned down to whisper in his ear.
Joxer shivered at the puff of warm breath across his fear-hot skin. He
looked up at his husband. "I can't help it. I never thought our lives were
going to be like this. When I was still mortal, I never dreamed I would
ever be allowed close to you, much less that we would marry and I would
become a god. Now... now we're leaving the world and everything else
behind. It's sad."
Ares squeezed Joxer's hand. "At least we're together." He gestured behind
him. "And we have our family with us. This world has held many memories
for us, and we get to keep them no matter where we go. It's going to be all
right, I promise."
Joxer smiled tremulously. "I know. I'm just being silly and weird. I
know there's no reason for me to be scared, but I can't help it, because
we're heading out into the unknown and anything could happen out there.
There could even be other gods that won't like us trespassing in their
territory. I'm tired of fighting all the time, Ares, just to be together.
I've gotten used to the quiet of you and me."
"Me too." Ares smirked at him suddenly. "And even if I have to kill
everyone in the entire universe, we *are* going to have some peace and quiet
for once. No more Mom and Dad popping in to give us trouble. No more
Hercules causing headaches with his stupid muscle-bound mission to save the
human race from me. It'll be just us and our family--a whole new pantheon
with no interference. It seems like heaven."
"Warmonger," Joxer murmured fondly.
Ares wrapped an arm around Joxer's shoulder. "That's why we get along so
well. I provide the excitement, you provide the quiet down. We're two
halves of one whole, and there's nothing to be afraid of out there. We've
beaten everything that's been thrown at us, and it's not like we're going to
stop fighting now. The odds are on our side."
Joxer sighed. "I hope so."
They were quickly processed and shown to their cabins, which they had been
extremely lucky to get, even as cramped as they were.
It didn't matter that they were gods to the Colonization Commission, or the
Double-C as it was widely known as. On the manifest they and the rest of
their family were just another set of colonists, though the specialized
skills they were listed as possessing and the golden handshake Ares had
shared with the project Commissioner had assured the three couples and
Alemada each private quarters. Less fortunate immigrants were quartered
below decks in dormitory stalls with barely enough room to lay down.
Ares told the children that they would meet up later; he would call them.
He wanted to be alone with Joxer as they faced this new strangeness. He
didn't want to say anything, but he was scared too. He'd had longer to
become set in his ways on Earth, and now it was all going to be different.
Changing into one-piece sleepsuits, Ares and Joxer both climbed onto the
bunk where they held each other tightly, waiting quietly for what was to
come. Both had words they might have said, but it just seemed easier to
remain silent; it was calmer.
When the voice came over the com system announcing the completion of the
preflight checks, Joxer's body went stiff. He closed his eyes tight shut
and held on to Ares with panicked strength.
"*All right folks, we've left Earth orbit and are approaching our safe zone
in five, four, three, two,* one. *Okay, everything's steady and ready, so
brace yourselves for the pretty colors, 'cause the FTL-engine is coming
online...* now!"
It seemed as though time sped up and slowed down at the same time. With
godly perception, it felt as though Joxer was both moving with the ship,
watching the ship from outside, and was already waiting on the other end for
his body to catch up. Brilliant colors flowed around him and through him
and he felt like he was going to either vomit or pass out from the pure
unadulterated pleasure of traveling faster-than-light.
It seemed as though Ares' arms were sinking into his flesh. With almost
painfully slow movements, he turned his head to look at his lover. The God
of War gazed back, his eyes burning with a fierce light that was somehow
comforting.
It seemed to take forever as Joxer lifted his lips in a smile. He could
feel every particle of air around him. Ares was close against him, but felt
extremely far away at the same time.
"*I... lo-ve... yo-o-ou*," Ares said, his lips moving so slow.
Joxer let his mouth answer as the colors blazed so bright they pulled him
away, back and back. His body was moving forward, but his mind... it
drifted through the wells of memory back to the beginning, back to before
the children were born, back to before he was a god, back to before he was
immortal, back to before he was anything but a bumbling fool.
Somehow he knew that he could keep his mind from drifting, but right now it
didn't seem to matter, and he *wanted* to remember all that had happened.
He wanted to go back to when his life had truly begun... when he'd met Ares
and fallen in love.
==YESTERDAY==
On a grassy hilltop a skinny boy played pretend. He probably should
have been too old for his game at fourteen, but he didn't really care
what anyone else thought.
Waving around the bent, dull-edged sword and wearing armor he had
made himself, he kept up a running commentary of everything he did.
"...and Joxer the Mighty faced down the rampaging centaur. He was not
afraid of anything, and his bravery was renowned throughout the land.
Everyone knows his name, and bad guys beware, for he is a true
*hero*, and he *always* saves the day, and he's never afraid of
*anything*. Joxer the Mighty rights all the wrongs in the world, and
the people love him."
He strutted up and down the hill, absentmindedly pushing his mother's
old pot back up on his head whenever it slipped. In his mind's eye he
was wearing gleaming armor and he was a brave warrior with thousands
of heroic tales written about him. He was a knobby kneed, clumsy
failure stumbling around in a dream world all his own. He was a hero.
He saw a bright flash of color out of the corner of his eye and
whirled around to look at the man that hadn't been there a second ago.
"Hello," he said, "my name is Joxer the Mighty."
The black bearded man quirked his lips at him in amusement. "Is that
so? Well, I'm Ares, God of War." He waited to see how the boy would
respond to that shocking revelation.
Joxer smiled at him brightly. "It's nice to meet you, Ares. Do you
wanna play too?" He gestured at a pile of scrap metal he'd left next
to the pack holding his lunch. "I have an extra set of armor over
there in case one of my brother's wants to play. They won't mind if
you use it. They... they don't play with me anymore anyway."
Ares tried to pretend that he wasn't surprised by how unconcerned
Joxer was about his identity. He'd never had a mortal not care that
he was a god before. When he thought about it, it was actually kind
of refreshing. Joxer was happy to see *him*, not the power and glory
he represented.
"I will play with you," he said seriously.
Joxer grinned. "Good! We'll have so much fun together."
Ares smiled a little, ignoring how strange it felt at first. "I
really think we will have fun together." And it felt like the truth
when he said it.
* * *
Joxer never seemed to care that Ares was the God of War. In the
boy's mind, Ares was just a friend he could always turn to when he was
lonely or afraid. They played like children on their secret hilltop
and all the rest of the world stayed away, until one day...
"Joxer, what the Tartarus are you doing?" a voice demanded.
Joxer turned to look at his brother, a brief guilty expression
crossing his face before disappearing. "Playing with Ares," he said.
Jett looked around. "I don't see anyone," he said. "Have you
finally lost your mind completely? Aren't you a little too old to be
playing your childish game of pretend?"
"I'm not pretending," Joxer said. "I really *was* playing with Ares.
I don't..." He looked around worriedly. "He was here just a moment
ago. I don't know where he went, but he was here."
Jett sneered. "That's what you always used to say when we were
little and I'd catch you playing with your imaginary friends. When
are you going to grow up, Joxer? You should be training to be a
warrior, but instead you completely refuse to grow up. What's the
matter with you, Joxer? When are you going to be a man, huh?"
Joxer had to turn his head away when his eyes filled with tears. He
didn't want his brother to see him cry; it would only make the beating
he knew was coming worse. Jett hated weakness, especially when
someone that wore his face showed it.
Joxer didn't really understand it, but everything he did always
seemed to be wrong, no matter how hard he tried to be what his family
wanted him to be. He was clumsy, he seemed completely incapable of
learning how to use any kind of weapon, and even just the littlest
task was usually far beyond his abilities. Nothing he did ever came
out right, and he knew his family was often justified in their anger
at him, even if it did hurt his feelings more often than not.
"I'm not lying," Joxer said, trying to sound braver than he really was.
"I don't care about that anymore," Jett half-shouted. "I want to
know when you are finally going to grow up, Joxer, that's what I want
to know. When are you going to stop playing and being a child and be
a man? By the Gods, Joxer, you are *my* brother. I expect more from
you than you seem capable of showing. I'm tired of you being the
idiot, Joxer. The world is a hard place, and I'm not always going to
be able to be there to save you, so you're going to have to learn how
to protect yourself. You're too old to play anymore. It's time to
get serious."
Joxer stared down at his bare feet. "He really was here," he said
again, defiantly.
With its usual speed and strength, Jett's punishing fist impacted
with Joxer's stomach. "I said I don't care about that anymore,
stupid," Jett growled, his fist falling with a clean kind of
precision, just enough force to bruise, not break bones. Jett never
really tried to hurt Joxer, was almost gentle with him compared to how
he treated the rest of the world. The only other person Jett was even
as close to careful with was Jayce.
Joxer fell to the ground and curled up into a ball, but otherwise
didn't even try to avoid the kicks and punches. He knew Jett wasn't
going to cause him permanent damage, even if it did hurt to be beaten
by him.
Squeezing his eyes tight shut, Joxer wondered where Ares had gone.
* * *
He didn't really enjoy having to punish Joxer, but he knew it had to
be done. The world was a cruel place toward someone as delicate as
his brother, and he really didn't want Joxer to end up dead, not
because he was too squeamish to do what had to be done. So he set out
to methodically beat the childishness out of Joxer.
In a way, Jett regretted what he had to do. There was something so
sweet about Joxer's playfulness, his complete innocence and naive
trust of the people around him. But Jett knew that to survive Joxer
was going to have to acquire a hard shell around his heart and
feelings. He couldn't just leave himself open to every little thing
anymore. He was too old for that kind of weakness and there were
people out there that would take advantage of him without a single
pause for thought.
To a world full of predators, Joxer was easy prey. Someday Jett
wasn't going to be there to step in and stop a situation from going
too far, and Joxer was going to die. Jett could practically see the
body, lying all limp and broken, tossed into a pile of refuse to rot.
Jett was not going to let his brother end up like that. He was going
to teach Joxer how to survive, how to be strong enough to protect
himself from *anything*. Whether Joxer liked it or not, he was going
to become a survivor.
He ignored his softer emotions and kept on hitting Joxer until Joxer
finally passed out, then he stopped.
Staring down at Joxer's unconscious form, curled up into a tight
ball, Jett felt tears prick the back of his eyes. He angrily pressed
his lips tight together and willed away his sorrow.
He knew he was killing a special part of his brother, a part that he
loved, but it had to be done. Joxer was too old to act like a child
anymore, they both were. It was time to grow up.
* * *
Ares watched Joxer's "confrontation" with his brother Jett and wanted
so badly to interfere that it was a burning pain in his gut. When
Jett began beating Joxer, Ares wanted to blast the mortal to atoms and
scatter him in the wind, but he restrained himself. He didn't look
away, punished himself by watching every moment of Joxer's pain, but
he didn't step in, did nothing to help Joxer.
The only thing that kept him from marking Jett for a violent death on
some battlefield somewhere was the running commentary flowing through
the man's mind. The god could hear and feel the love and worry Jett
had for Joxer, and he could see why the man felt he had to beat the
uniqueness out of his brother. He could understand, but he didn't
like it.
It hurt him to watch Joxer's pain, even more so since he knew there
was nothing he could do about it. The Fates had decreed that no godly
power could touch Joxer's life until after his twenty-first birthday.
So Ares could come and play with the boy every day that he wanted, he
just couldn't use his powers to make Joxer's life any easier for him.
Ares didn't even know why he was so interested in Joxer's life. The
boy had just caught his attention when he was passing by one day and
he had paused to watch Joxer's strange antics on the hilltop, playing
out the roles of several heroes and villains with a definite flair for
the melodramatic. Ares had thought it was hilarious.
From his first meeting with Joxer, the god and the boy had gotten
along wonderfully. Ares began visiting Joxer several times a week to
play and pretend at being anything other than the God of War. It was
one of the sweetest times in his life, and the most peaceful. Then
the Fates had to interfere, sticking their pointy noses in where they
didn't belong.
They had come to him in his temple, and *ordered* him not to use his
powers to affect Joxer's life in any way. He could still see Joxer,
but in their time together he was to be powerless as any mortal, or
maybe even weaker, since he wasn't allowed to intervene on the boy's
behalf with any of the people around Joxer, not even with a teaching
punch or two.
Even if Joxer was being murdered and Ares was there to stop it, he
had to just watch it happen. The Fates had touched Joxer, and not
even the gods dared interfere with their mandates. No matter how
frustrating it was to watch Joxer be beaten and do nothing to help him.
Standing invisible, the god could only watch helplessly as Joxer was
beaten by his brother Jett. He wanted so bad to step in, but he
wasn't allowed to.
He had never known how hard it was to simply watch.
* * *
When Jett had finished and left, Joxer still lay on the ground. He
could feel the cool green grass pressing against his cheek, but his
back burned with the forming bruises.
As usual, he had woken up alone, his punishment over with by the time
he regained consciousness. He never got to see Jett leave him. He
didn't know why, but that somehow hurt him more than the beating had.
"Ares," he called, sitting up to look around. "Are you all right,
Ares? You weren't scared, were you? Jett wouldn't hurt *you*, I mean,
you're not family. There's no reason to be scared. He won't come
back today."
There was the usual muted flash and Ares stood a few feet away from
him. "What are you talking about?" he demanded. "Your brother can't
hurt me; I'm a god. So why are you worried whether I'm all right or not?"
Joxer shrugged, wincing only just a little. "Jett can be real scary
when he tries. I can understand if you were afraid of him, and that's
why you didn't show yourself. But he really wouldn't have hurt you.
He might have yelled a little, but since he doesn't know you, he
wouldn't have touched you."
There might have been tears in Ares' eyes, though it was hard to tell
with the way he had his face slanted downward. He fell to his knees
next to Joxer and pulled the boy against him, hugging him tight. "I'm
sorry I couldn't help you, Joxer. I wanted to stop him. I wanted to
tell him that I was real, that I'm not just your imaginary friend.
But..." He drew in a deep shuddering breath and didn't say anything
else, just held Joxer close.
It kind of hurt to be held so tightly after a beating, but there was
no way Joxer was going to give up his first hug from Ares. For some
reason, he never wanted it to end. He could be perfectly happy
staying in Ares' arms forever.
"I love you Ares," he said. "You're my best friend."
"I know."
tbc