Disclaimer: The only thing I own is the story idea and only some of the witty remarks. I own so little; so please don't steal.

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Before one reaches enlightenment, one is in a state of samsara, or the cycle of rebirth.

[=]

The marketplace is dirty; the ground is unpaved, and animals roam freely through the legs of patrons. Children run amok regardless of business. Flies congregate toward rotting fruit, toward fresh meat, circling around a grimy pig's head. It is because it is the center of the common people that they come, the different lifestyle that makes it so different.

"This place is neat," Ralph says, his eyes wide as they have ever been, taking in his surroundings. The boy lives next door, is just starting to grow up and grow wiser. Having money has not made him ignorant of the plight of peasants, and reading about them has only prompted his curiosity. His parents are consumed with work pertaining to adults; the only one he knows around his age is Jack, so it is Jack he asks to accompany him on a trip to the village square.

"If you say so." Jack is sixteen, older by two years, much older than Ralph, who has both parents. He has inherited the estate, the house, the grounds, the responsibilities. He is learned in law to keep the property from unsavory hands. He knows what to say when to say it to keep friends and enemies. He is smart enough to know not to mettle with common folk affairs, but he is not smart enough to know how to say no to a persistent face. He only hopes the outing will be over soon.

He is painfully aware of how they stand out; his red hair and Ralph's shocking blonde are beacons in the midst of browns and darks. Villager and cityfolk clothes are simple and ordinary; their clothes give them aware to be wealthy, affluent, educated. They are simply too colorful to exist in a world of monochrome. Ralph does not know this. He does not know many things.

Ralph wants to see everything. He does not care if he soils his clothes trying to play with the children, who stare at him and marvel at the sight of the fortunate. He takes Jack to the stalls along the street, making easy talk with the vendors who easily see that this is not a bad child. Ralph buys a wood carving of a giraffe and a simple stone necklace with faded blue glass. Jack looks on, says nothing.

"You don't like it here," Ralph says simply, gnawing on a stubborn piece of dried meat. He offers Jack a taste and the redhead grimaces slightly at the strong spices. "You think you're better than them."

"You can't ignore the family you were born into," Jack replies coolly, sidestepping a black unidentifiable mass on the ground. Ralph ponders this, the meat in his mouth bobbing up and down as he nibbles. While they attract looks of wonder and contempt, no one dares to do anything about it. Ralph smiles at a girl selling flowers, who smiles back. He offers her a coin for a flower, half crumpled and missing a couple petals.

"They're just trying to survive, just like us," Ralph says, threading the stem through a buttonhole in his shirt.

There is a racket up ahead, but neither boy seem interested. They are about to reach the center of the marketplace, where the most people are congregated. Suddenly, the people part as a small boy runs through, pushing gently to create a path. His skin is a dark tan and the metal adornments on his clothing say that he is a gypsy. The gypsies live on the outskirts of the city, dancing and telling fortunes to the villagers for a living. They have traveled for a while, nomads that they are, but they have settled in local region for some time. While they are not on the level of the common house servant, they are hardly much better than the ordinary farmer.

"Make way, please!" he calls, glancing behind his shoulder to see a pair of burly men calling to him and looking quite menacing. "Excuse me!"

Turning back around forward, he collides into Jack and Ralph, a tiny weight that makes them stumble back slightly. "Get out of the way! Oh…" Seeing as Ralph and Jack are rooted to the spot in surprise, the boy pushes them farther from the center of the city and drags them with him as he runs. Ralph instantly catches on and runs with him, although Jack looks back at the men. They do not look happy, and this boy is a gypsy. Taking those two in account, along with the package the boy is clutching, he can deduce that this gypsy is also a thief.

"Hold," he tells the boy, who glances at him with dark eyes. "You can't run away if you've taken that." He points to the package. "That's stealing."

"Hush up!" Ralph calls, before the boy can say anything. "Over here!"

Taking a sharp turn around a building, they squeeze into an alleyway, stepping over sewer rats and bags of abandoned garbage. Ralph pushes the boy next to a particularly big bag of trash and sits down on the wet ground next to him. Jack reluctantly kneels, looking out to the street as the two men on the chase run by them.

"That was close!" Ralph says triumphantly. "Good thing we had me!"

The gypsy boy looks at him, then at Jack. His loose hold on the package reveals he does not view them as threats. "Who are you two?" he asks, curiosity getting the better of his sudden shyness. Although he looks wary, his eyes tell a different story - he is mischievous, and if they don't look out, Jack is aware, they'll have their pockets picked too.

"My name's Ralph," Ralph says proudly. "This bore here is Jack. Why were those guys chasing you?"

The boy looks at him, before pulling the package closer. "They got mad at me for taking this," he says.

"You stole it," Jack insists. The boy turns to him indignantly.

"I didn't! It was just sitting on the side of the table and they weren't looking. If it was really that important, they'd be more careful! It's like anything people just leave outside their house. If they really didn't want people to take it, they wouldn't leave it unattended!" He tossed his head. "It wasn't my fault!"

"If it's not yours and you take it without consent, you've stolen it," Jack maintains.

The boy stands up, the metal bangles on his clothes clattering as they knock against each other. This boy is nothing special; perhaps not over eleven, he looks unsuspecting in ragged clothes with a lush white sash tied around his waist and over a shoulder, the noisy bangles attached. But he can be formidable, even when he is wrong. "Like you haven't stolen anything in your life!" he says. "Everyone knows the rich stole land from the poor and that's why they're so better off!"

Jack is about to retort something nasty when Ralph leaps in. "Don't worry about him, he's just a guy who doesn't know what he's talking about," the blonde says quickly, seating the spirited gypsy down. "Why don't you open it and see what's inside? I've wanted to know ever since you showed it to us!"

Shooting a glare over at Jack, the boy fumbles with the string tied around the brown package and unwraps the paper to reveal intricate jewelry; metal bracelets and exquisite, colorful beads. They are not the tacky jewelry the gypsies wear when they perform in the square, Jack is certain. It is obvious to whoever watches that they are stolen. But Ralph does not seem to know, or care, even. "Pretty!" he shouts, reaching for the elaborate beaded jade necklace. He tries it on his neck as the gypsy slides on the metal bands, much too big to fit on his small wrists. He stands and claps his hands to a sudden beat, the metal clattering noisily.

Gypsies, Jack is told, can do anything; they can fix anything, they can grow anything, they can foretell like no one's business. Villagers dislike them for these jack-of-all-trades abilities, claiming it steals business. But gypsies are not ambitious, or they would have taken over the market already. They are too carefree and loyal to the road to be tied to any market. But this boy is a dancer. It is clear by the way he moves, the way he steps and how he shimmies as if he is made of water. Ralph is clapping along, taken completely by the show, but Jack is careful. He has heard stories of gypsies seducing victims with their dances, only to leave them unconscious and stripped of all possessions. So far, there have been no reports in this city yet, but now could be a good a time as any to begin.

The boy locks eyes with him, and Jack knows why; their recent clash of ideals has marked him as a target. Clearly, he is too high-strung and self-important for this gypsy to leave him alone. The boy dances up to him, humming a tune that is unfamiliar to the redhead, who has heard many musical pieces before. Ralph laughs and eggs him on; the boy twirls on his heel and suddenly has his hands on Jack's shoulders and is leaning down to…

"Oy, get off!" The boy laughs and easily deflects the motion, not tripping in the slightest as he dances away, turning so the sash with the bangles (probably stolen, Jack thinks meanly) flares up. Ralph glances over at Jack and raises his eyebrows before standing up and bowing, a grin on his face. The boy laughs, a tinkling sound like the bangles, before taking Ralph's hand and easing into a fast foxtrot.

It seems the sayings are true; gypsies do know how to do anything.

"You dance better than all the girls I've danced with!" Ralph laughs, turning the boy around. A look of realization dawns on his face and he stops for a moment, with the boy dipped down. "I don't even know your name!"

"Simon," the boy laughs, and the two continue their improvised dance as Jack grumbles to himself. When the two are finally done with their silly dance, they sit down and talk as if they have been friends all this time. Jack wants to leave, but Ralph will probably not go willingly.

"Where do you live?" Ralph asks.

"Outskirts of town."

"If you dance, what do your parents do?"

For a moment, the smile on Simon's face fades. He looks down at the crumpled paper from the package and pokes it with his shoe. "They're dead. They caught the sickness a couple years back."

Ralph looks at Jack over the boy's head and gives him the pointed just like you look. "So you live by yourself? That's not safe!"

"There's another boy who doesn't have parents," Simon mumbles, suddenly withdrawing within himself. "He makes sure I'm okay."

"Where is he?"

Simon looks up at Ralph. "He told me not to come here today 'cause it's the harvest festival and there was going to be a lot of people who would see if I took things. Gypsies aren't allowed in the square during market time because they all think we'll take things." He glances at Jack with a defensive look in his eyes. "But I didn't want to stay at the camp. No one teaches me new dances during festivals and all the adults are busy."

"Are you happy?" Ralph asks. "At the gypsy camp, I mean."

"I don't know. We're all close-knit but no one pays attention to kids except their parents. Roger's getting older so he can't spend too much time with me anymore." Simon sighs and rests his head on his knees. "It's a little lonely," he admits.

Ralph looks at Jack again, and the redhead has known Ralph enough to know this look is dangerous. He opens his mouth but Ralph beats him to the punch. "Guess what? This loser here doesn't have any parents either. He lives in a big house all by himself! I bet you could go stay with him, if you wanted!"

Simon looks up at Jack too, a frown on his face. "Why would I want to stay with Jack?"

"I would let you stay with me, but my mom might not say yes. But Jack's got nothing to do! And he liked your dance, right?" Ralph elbows him with a suggestive smirk. "You liked it, right?"

"What are you talking about?" Jack snaps, feeling his face heat up. He will not be like Ralph. He is the responsible adult in the house. He cannot be going around feeling soft to whoever dances sweetly.

"See?" Simon turns away, obsolete in keeping his eyes on Ralph. "I should have known that a rich man's heart has no room for charity."

"What?" It was just a provocation. Simon just wanted to get him riled up. "What do you mean by that?"

"It's exactly how it sounds," Simon says, snapping his head so his dark eyes flash to Jack. "You live all by yourself, so you must think you're king of the house! Well, I don't want to live in a place where you think you're better than me. And you probably would try and have control over me! No way!"

"That's not…!" Jack feels the anger bubbling, fueled more by Ralph's amused expression. He makes a motion to grab at the boy when tall shadows invade their alley. The two bulky men are back, and they have found their prey.

"Boy!" Simon has no time to scamper away when the men grab him and pull him to his feet. One has a cudgel in his hand, while the other has a dagger in a hilt around his waist. "The festival and its celebrants have no tolerance for petty thieves!"

"Let him go!" Ralph shouts, standing up. While the necklace Simon stole is still around his neck, the men do not call him out on it; clearly, he has more power than they do. But they will not be bossed around by a boy who thinks himself a hero; they are still adults, after all. "If you want the necklace and stuff, have it back!" He takes the necklace from his neck and throws it back into the paper, which he hands to the men. They take it, but the one with the dagger keeps his hold on Simon's arm.

"The punishment for thieves during festivals, when everyone is off guard, is death," he sings, as Simon winces at the tightening grip. "Not even your pretty face can save you, not if you live with a bunch of degenerates who cannot fight to save you at all!"

"They're not degenerates!" Simon shouts, but cries out when the men pull him into the street. "Let go of me!"

"Stop!" Ralph tries again, but Jack rises to his feet and collects himself to his fullest height. Instantly, he looks older and the men stop. It is Jack's voice who carries more weight.

"Let go of him. He's from my house."

"From your house?" the dagger man asks skeptically, eying Jack's pale skin and light hair. The man with the cudgel grunts with agreement.

"He's a stable hand. I heard he had escaped early this morning. Probably decided to muck around the festival area, right?" Simon looks at him incredulously for a moment before nodding and playing his part. "Let him go. I will decide the punishment. For now, I will give you back your stolen goods and a little reimbursement for your trouble." He knows the men are wondering why they were found huddled together in an alley and answers this while grabbing Simon, who is released reluctantly by the dagger man. "I was trying to get him to tell me who he had taken the package from without attracting too much attention." Slipping the bracelets off Simon's wrists, he hands them back to the men with a couple gold coins. "Apologize."

Simon skirts behind Jack, clutching at his shirt. "Sorry," he says, sounding meek but looking begrudgingly at the men from behind the folds of fabric. The men collect their rightful belongings and shoot a look at Jack.

"Take better care of your whelp," cudgel says, looking dismissively at them as they walk away. "We don't want to deal with any more of their thieving kind, no matter where they come from."

Jack feels Simon tense behind him and puts a hand on the boy's head in warning. Ralph comes up next to them and sticks his tongue out at the retreating men's backs. "What jerks," he says, before turning to the other two with a wide grin. "But that's that! Did you hear that, Simon? You're living with Jack now!"

"I never said that," Jack sputters, letting go of Simon, who darts up in front of him. "I just didn't think it was fair for a child to be killed for something so little as stealing…!"

"That's not what you said at first," Simon reminds him with a coy smile. "And they weren't going to kill me. They won't waste money on an executioner over a kid like me."

"Jack can be real nice when he's not being a jerk!" Ralph adds.

"Stop making fun of me." Jack clears his throat. "But…it seems that you'll be up to trouble if you stay here. If…if you want to, you can stay with me. For the good of society." He couldn't afford to take in every stray he saw, but he could raise this young one to be respectable and law-abiding. He had no interest in the boy otherwise.

Simon sneaks a peek at Ralph, who is silent (he knows not to push Jack or else Simon might not have a chance!). He gives the gypsy boy a small nod, unnoticed by Jack. "Alright," he says, "I'll come home with you. But only because you'll be lonely all by yourself!"

"Hmph. Say more like that and I'll reconsider." He acts as if he doesn't notice the way Simon snakes his hand into his and how Ralph nods knowingly at him. For now, he will take it one step at a time on this new path. Everything will go smoothly if he takes it slow.

[=]

Nataraja – Hindu god of dance; danced the dance of death for Brahma to bring about a new world

Brahma – god of creation

Note: Note the fail not-India AU. I shouldn't be AU-ing. I shouldn't be 3-shoting. STOP ME.