A/N: For Maevemauvaise. I hope you have a lovely, lovely birthday and I want to thank you so very much for all of the support and inspiration you give me.
I wanted to write you a collection of fairy tales, but then I remembered how many lovely and talented people there are in our fandom, so I recruited them to create lovely things for you as well. So this is just one of many.
A/N 2: I have… problems with Sleeping Beauty, but I wanted to see if I could make it into something I liked, and I hope it's something that you love.
A/N 3: So… a futuristic sci-fi retelling, with a verse similar to Firefly/Serenity/Star Wars. Obviously AU. End notes include translations. I do NOT speak Chinese/Mandarin and relied entirely on Google translate. My apologies if anything is horribly wrong.
A/N 4: A HUGE thanks to Ro for beta reading this for me.
Pairings: 3x5, background: 3x4, 1x3, 3x6, 1x6
Warnings: angst, language, sexy times
Sleeping Beauty
"I'm telling you what I saw," Duo said, voice that of a patient man who, after repeating himself for the hundredth time, was finally growing weary.
The old, grizzled spacer sitting across from the young man, however, sneered and shook his head.
"No, what you're telling me is that you're full of shit and you need to be kicked so hard you're put to rest with your dead Mam."
Trowa sighed, and he finished off the last of his drink. He knew, from too much experience, what would happen next.
He had taken a seat over at the bar, to watch their backs, while Duo and the spacer sat down in a dark booth to conduct business. He was close enough to overhear everything that wasn't whispered, far enough away that it wasn't obvious he was the lookout.
The deal, which had started off with a misunderstanding and had only gone downhill fast from there, had been one that neither he nor Duo wanted a part in. It had been a favor, this whole damn thing, a favor and then a bargain and he and Duo had done this sort of thing before, had been forced to put aside their preferences and do something unpleasant.
Of course, it was strange. Those times usually resulted in situations like this one - Duo picking a fight with some hulking brute of a man who, odds usually ran, was friends with at least half of the patrons in the bar.
Trowa fished a few creds out of his pocket and deposited them on the bar counter before turning around to see - yep, there it was.
Duo leapt across the booth table, grabbed the old spacer's filthy shirt, and snarled into his face.
"What'd you say about me Mam?"
"That she's dead," the spacer spat right into Duo's face, "and probably better off for it! Miserable ji nu that -"
It was the last thing the spacer would say coherently for quite a while, judging by the damage Duo inflicted on his mouth and jaw.
Trowa sighed and watched as Duo proceeded to very thoroughly beat the piss out of a man three times his size, and he waited for someone to come to the spacer's aid.
Five. Four.
Trowa checked his pockets, loosed the strap on his gun holsters, adjusted his knives.
Three. Two. One.
No one moved to intervene.
In fact, no one moved at all.
Trowa looked away from the mess Duo was making and at the rest of the completely still bar.
Shit.
"Duo."
His partner hauled back and delivered another punch that sent a spatter of blood across the filthy bar floor.
"Duo," he repeated, louder and more forcefully when his partner didn't bother to look up.
When that still didn't work, Trowa took a few, slow, cautious steps towards him and shoved Duo off of the man with his boot.
Duo glared up at him, then followed Trowa's gaze towards the front of the bar.
"Wǒ cào," he said, and wiped his face with the back of his right hand, smearing blood on it, before he stood up. "We are so fucking fucked."
Trowa could only nod in agreement.
It appeared that a small army had flooded into the bar, fanning out at the entrance and moving to block all of the escape routes that Trowa had mentally noted when he and Duo first walked into the bar two hours ago. They were decked out in shiny new body armor, and they held their very heavy duty assault weapons as if they knew how to use them.
They weren't colonial MPs. That would have been one thing - an annoying thing, but something he and Duo could have gotten out of.
Instead, stamped onto the left shoulders of their armor, these men wore the crossed scimitars of the Winner Organization.
"You two," one of them stepped forward, his face as bland as a prefab building and his eyes as cold as space, "come with us."
"Well, I dunno," Duo drawled. He bent down and picked up the spacer's work kerchief and started to clean his hands. "I kind of have a date with your sister in a bit, and I'd hate to make her wait. Then again, if I'm a bad boy she'll probably spank me, and I dunno if you've ever been spanked by your sister but -"
Trowa could only roll his eyes when the man shoved the butt of his gun into Duo's stomach and his partner doubled over in pain.
In the twelve years that he and Duo had been working together, he had never seen Duo exhibit tact, never seen him back down from a fight, never seen him know when to shut up.
The guards were rough as they pulled Duo and Trowa's hands behind their backs and secured them.
By the time they had been pushed into the back of a security van, Duo was sporting a bloody lip and Trowa was struggling to keep his left eye open.
"Just like old times, eh?" Duo asked, grinning despite the pain, and somehow managing to lounge on the thin metal bench.
Trowa shook his head. He sincerely hoped it wasn't like old times.
Old times meant back alley stabbings, drug dealing, slave trading, government espionage and dead friends.
-o-
It was almost exactly like Trowa remembered it being.
A high-walled compound that encompassed acres of parks and gardens, fountains - all done in the old Terran style, all with complete disregard to colonial regulations or the people starving just a few kilometers away.
Maganac guards and servants moved about, some with purpose, some with leisure.
As Duo and Trowa, still restrained, were led through the compound, Trowa idly noted that there were fewer blonde haired, blue eyed women roaming the halls. He wondered just how many had been killed in the five years since he had last been here.
They were led into a huge room, modelled, Trowa remembered being told, after the Hall of Mirrors in some long-destroyed Terran palace.
There wasn't a dais or a throne, but there might as well have been.
Instead, there was a lone figure, a slim, young man with sandy hair and open features that were the antithesis of his devious mind, standing at the opposite end of the hall and, ridiculously, practicing putting on a small artificial patch of grass.
Duo and Trowa were shoved down on to their knees a meter away from the green, and Trowa winced as his kneecaps encountered the unforgiving Terran imported marble.
The blond man didn't bother to look up. He simply lined up his club and then slowly, effortlessly, sank the put.
"Are we supposed to be intimidated?" Duo asked. He turned to Trowa. "Are you intimidated? Because I'm not."
Duo stopped talking when the blond man lifted the club and jabbed it into his throat.
"I would say it's a pleasure to see you again, Duo, but I know how you feel about lies." The blond man turned to Trowa then, and he smiled with genuine warmth. "On the other hand, seeing you again, Trowa, is a treat I couldn't even begin to think of."
Trowa swallowed and kept silent. He had learned, the hard way, that silence was the best way to deal with the man.
Beside him, Duo coughed several times and then offered up a smirk.
"Well, that's because you're a small-minded bastard, Quatre," Duo said in a tone that suggested he was giving the other man a compliment.
Quatre pursed his lips, and it was clear he was debating whether or not to inflict even more damage with the club.
Instead, after a pause, he swung the club up onto his shoulder and tapped the leather grip thoughtfully.
"As I recall, when the two of you left my employ we had a bargain."
Even Duo remained silent now, the ice in Quatre's tone a clear warning.
"The two of you would never enter my territory again, and I wouldn't bother to have you killed. That was the deal, was it not?"
It was. And that had been the reason neither Duo nor Trowa had wanted to take on their most recent cargo and sell it in the first place. But Howard had asked them to, and Duo treated the old spacer like the father who hadn't abandoned him in a trash bin and would, quite literally, face his own death to help the old man out.
"Well, the thing is -" Duo began, but Quatre narrowed his eyes and Duo, having also learned the hard way just how little Quatre was amused by him, faltered.
"Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you two right now."
Duo opened his mouth, no doubt to deliver some cutting last words, but Trowa glared at him.
Quatre, amused at the interplay, smirked and arched an eyebrow at Trowa, inviting him to speak up.
"You already have a reason," Trowa said, unwilling to play this game. "If you didn't, Duo and I would be corpses in an alley already."
Quatre gave an irritated sigh. "Trowa…" He was practically whining, and anyone who didn't know him, anyone who hadn't been spattered with blood while standing beside him as Quatre methodically severed the limbs from a junkie who owed him money, would assume he was just a spoiled brat who was irritated at not getting his way.
But both Duo and Trowa knew that he was a spoiled brat capable of incomprehensibly cruel acts. Not the kind of brat you wanted to have irritated at you.
Even Duo, who spent nearly every second of his life defying death and the odds, remained still and silent.
Quatre swung the club and Trowa flinched, but the club missed both of them, hitting the fake turf with enough force that the entire piece shifted.
"Yes, well, of course you are correct," Quatre said with a scowl. "I would be willing to let the two of you live in exchange for a small favor."
Duo snorted derisively.
"Is this the kind of small favor that means we almost die or like, do you want me to run to the corner store and grab you some Arak?"
Quatre's eyes narrowed, and his fingers tightened on the grip of the club, but Duo just continued to look curious.
But Trowa was thinking back to what Quatre had already said - about not even thinking to see Trowa again. So it was Duo Quatre was after. That, at least, explained why Quatre hadn't started to beat him with the club.
"What do you know about Nataku?"
Duo shrugged. "Whatever shit pathetic old spacers dream about when they're drunk. It's a fucking myth."
But Quatre only arched an eyebrow, questioning Duo's claim. Duo frowned and turned to Trowa.
"Right?" He asked, clearly looking for backup.
Trowa had certainly thought so before now, but Quatre was so still, so watchful, that he was starting to doubt it.
"What?" Trowa asked. Knowing Quatre, he would drag this out as long as he could. The man had achieved so much, at such a young age, that nearly everything in his life bored him. Trowa refused to become an amusement for the man who had once been his employer, once been his lover.
Quatre turned away from them, casually pacing, idly swinging the club like a pendulum.
"For centuries, the Chang clan had complete control over the L5 cluster. Then, two hundred years ago, that all ended."
"Funny how a plague wiping out seven billion people will do that," Duo muttered.
Quatre ignored the interruption, but Trowa saw the way Duo's eyes darkened, saw him thinking back to his own childhood, to the plague that had wiped out everyone he knew.
"Everything the Chang clan possessed was lost - looters, deteriorating Hab systems, fires, micrometeorites - within weeks, the wealth of the Changs had vanished, as well as all of their knowledge. Except, of course, for the Nataku."
"You really believe the Changs loaded all of their wealth and knowledge onto a ship and set it roaming the System, waiting for someone to find it and re-establish their supremacy?" Trowa found it hard to believe. He had always thought it was a fairy tale - a spacer's fantasy. He found it impossible that Quatre would put any stock in it.
"I know they did."
That made Duo rock back on his heels, made Trowa's eyes narrow.
How was the question neither of them wanted to ask.
"My family, you know, had dealings with the Changs as far back as when we both lived on Terra. Always in competition. Even in space." Quatre shrugged. "We finally figured out how to defeat them, but we hadn't counted on their preparations for such an event."
"You bastard."
Duo was on his feet and hurling himself at Quatre before any of the guards could move.
He was on his back, spitting out a tooth and groaning, before Trowa could intercede.
Quatre grimaced at the blood on the end of the golf club.
"I didn't unleash the plague, Duo. It was two hundred years ago." Quatre paused and then shrugged. "Of course, I would have." Quatre rubbed the bloody club on Duo's shirt until it was clean again.
So Quatre believed in - knew - the Nataku. And he wanted Duo.
"You know where she is."
"I know where she is rumored to be," Quatre corrected.
"And you want me to get her for you?" Duo asked. Trowa was surprised. It wasn't that he thought Duo was stupid - he was brilliant, and had proven it time and time again - but he hadn't thought Duo was thinking of much of anything besides murdering Quatre. "No way. You can fuck right off."
Quatre sighed, and gave Trowa a long-suffering look.
Trowa offered him a what can you do shrug.
Quatre's lips quirked upwards and despite everything, despite the pain and the fear and the years apart, Trowa felt a familiar tug. He looked away.
"Oddly enough, I had anticipated you saying that. Relena."
Trowa frowned. He didn't recognize the word, and he knew a fair amount of Arabic - knew enough Mandarin and German and French to get by as well.
A moment later, a blonde woman walked into the hall. She was not, Trowa knew instantly, one of Quatre's sisters.
It wasn't just that her features were different - her hair a few shades darker, her eyes too, her bone structure stronger - but she was dressed in a way that Quatre's sisters never would be. She was dressed like a ji nu, her clothing sheer silk that left no curve of her slim body hidden.
She was, aesthetically, quite beautiful. But the firm set to her jaw, the fire in her eyes, and the defiant set of her shoulders made Trowa wonder just how long she had been employed as a bed warmer for Quatre, made him wonder just how willing she was.
"Those individuals, where do they live again?" Quatre asked, his voice casual while he ran a hand through the woman's loose hair.
She closed her eyes, and Trowa knew he wasn't imagining the revulsion on her face.
"Hilde Schbeiker owns a junkshop in the L2 cluster, on M235X. She lives in an apartment above the shop, on Sunrise Ave and 257th street. She goes to the Eastern Supplies grocery two blocks away every Wednesday, and -"
"Stop," Duo hissed. He was back on his feet, but he made no move to attack Quatre again.
Trowa felt a little silly, still on his knees, so he pushed away his guard and rose. He walked over to Duo and stood beside him.
He knew how much Hilde meant to Duo - more than Howard did. More than Trowa did. Quatre knew it too.
He gave them a triumphant little smirk.
"So, I'm sure you will advise Ms. Schbeiker to move elsewhere, but that will have to wait until after your little jaunt to the Asteroid Belt."
And that, Trowa couldn't help but think, would be the other shoe dropping.
Because, despite Quatre's choice of words, getting to the Asteroid Belt, much less piloting through it, would take damn near a miracle.
Or Trowa and Duo.
Duo, the best damn pilot Trowa had ever known, could probably fly through the Belt in a tin can and still make record time. That wasn't the problem.
The problem was the Interdiction Force, set up by the Terran government, that controlled access to the Belt and the valuable mining fields.
And Trowa just happened to know a captain in the InterForce, a captain who ran one of the checkpoints and owed Trowa his life.
He narrowed his eyes, but Quatre just waved a hand lazily.
"Yes, yes, of course I know where your sister is, and what name she is performing under. Catherine Bloom? Not terribly clever. Though it does have a certain ring to it. Now, can I trust you two boys to do my bidding, or do I need to have Hilde and Catherine brought to me to ensure your good behaviour?"
"If you touch a fucking hair on Hilde's head, I will -"
"You will what, Duo? Try to avenge her and fail, as you have on so many other occasions when you try to protect your little family? Don't waste my time with your pathetic threats. You might be clever, you might have a mouth as fast as your hands on a control panel, but do not presume to think you can ever say anything that will intimidate me. You barely even manage to amuse me."
Quatre turned cold, knowing eyes on Trowa.
"I trust you to keep him in line. I want that ship and I want that treasure. I will send an escort of Maganacs with you."
"An escort?" Trowa sneered. "How many?"
"A dozen. In case there is heavy lifting."
"Did you just call me fat? Tro, I think he just called me fat."
Duo's equilibrium seemed to be back, Quatre's cutting words seeming to remind him of just how much was at stake here, how formidable their opponent.
"Or maybe he called you fat," Duo mused, looking over Trowa. "You have put on a stone or two since we worked for him. You think Trowa's fat, Q? You really think it's going to take twelve men to shove our bodies into the airlock as soon as I get that ship out of the Belt?"
Quatre just blinked and twined a finger into the woman's hair and tugged.
She winced, and Trowa saw her fists clench.
"You have one week."
"One week?!" Duo exploded. "It'll take two days just to get to the Belt! Who knows how long we'll be drifting in there looking for this ghost ship."
"I will make sure you have the list of likely coordinates. And I am not an idiot. I know that you, Duo, can get from here to the Belt in thirty-six hours."
Duo scowled, clearly pissed at having been caught out.
"What do we get out of this?" Trowa demanded, speaking up and causing both Duo and Quatre to look surprised.
"You get to live. And so do Cathy and Hilde."
Trowa shook his head. "That's not enough. We're turning over the greatest fortune in the System to you - a way to completely change how humans live - and all we get is our lives? No. I want more."
Duo's jaw dropped, but Quatre sighed.
"Of course you do. How much?"
"Ten percent."
Quatre let out a harsh bark of laughter.
"Ten percent? Is that all? Oh, learn to dream a little bigger, Trowa."
Trowa narrowed his eyes.
"You taught me how to be a realist, Quatre. If I said anything higher than that, you would have laughed and talked it lower. I'm saying ten percent now and I'm saying that's not negotiable. You want to kill us? Go ahead. But I'm guessing you've already lost a few men to the Belt, already lost a few million creds bribing InterForce and it hasn't gotten you anywhere. You need Duo and you need me. So don't pretend that it's you doing us a favor."
Quatre stared at him, tried to stare him down, but Trowa refused to budge. Refused to look away.
"Ten percent," Quatre agreed. "My men will escort you to your ship. It has already been refueled and I've emptied your cargo hold so that you will be able to fly faster."
Duo made a sound but, thankfully, he didn't have a retort to offer up.
"One week," Quatre repeated. "One week, and then I kill them and if I have to track down the two of you, death will be the farthest thing from my mind and the only thing on yours."
-o-
Ji bu: prostitute
Wǒ cào: Holy Shit!