The Bible's a pretty fantastic book. Don't get me wrong, I'm no bible-humping maniac. A lot of people like it, hell; it's still the number one best seller, even in these sick, twisted days. Most people like it because it gives them "the word of God," others like that it gives them some sort of divine structure or instruction. Like some sort of friggin' supernatural mission outline or something. Well, I think that's bullshit, but who am I to judge? As far as I'm concerned, the book was written by a bunch of drunk guys sitting around a fire-pit making up stories… Hey! Prove to me that it isn't! I never said they weren't good stories, I just said they were stories! But I forgive them for all the lame laws and rules… Why? Well, it so happens that those drunken guys could write some seriously good poetry. Screw Levticus and Numbers… But the Psalms... God are they beautiful. Heero's in Psalms did you know?

Psalm 18, verses 33 and 34:

"He makes my feet like the feet of a deer,

He enables me to stand on great heights

He trains my hands for battle,

My arms can bend a bow of bronze."

Somehow, Heero is completely acceptable as a Kind David figure… I wonder if that makes me Jonathan? I don't know. It's friggin' weird how well that describes him… my arms can bend a bow of bronze…now that's just uncanny.

Not that Heero's the only one the book applies to, in a creepy way, oh no. Psalms are handy little sons-a-bitches.

So, this one day, Quatre was feeling kinda bummed. He told me he wondered sometimes if he'd ever be clean, that he hated seeing his pretty reflection each morning because it was so deceptive. Now, I'm at peace with what happened, but it did take me awhile. So, I told him I knew what he was going through. Then, I did what was probably the worst thing I could have done to a distressed little Muslim. Yeah. I summed up his sorrow with a psalm. What can I say; Asaph had the right idea when it came to guilt. I felt pretty bad though, I didn't think poor Q would ever stop crying.

"Surely in vain have I kept my heart pure.

In vain have I washed my hands in innocence.

All day long I have been plagued,

Still, I am punished every morning."

That's uh, the 73rd psalm. Lines like…13 and 14. He insisted that it actually made him feel better, that I understood, and that he could cry about it. The next day, he was feeling better. Go figure. And he looked good, like an angel, really. Let me tell you, Trowa certainly noticed. I think he was giving him some time to get over the whole war thing… but now, they're practically inseparable. It's good for the both of them. Trowa's even started to talk more… not much more.

We had a talk about it the other day… it was a bit one sided, as you may imagine. But his explanation was pretty damn good. I told him that I talk to make up for silence… he said, very eloquently, that silence didn't exist… that everything speaks in its own way, animals, trees, plants, people. Maybe without words, but they still speak. Immediately, I found more cumbersome words spilling from my mouth. These words not mine, but belonging to David once more:

"The heavens declare the glory of God;

The skies proclaim the work of his hands.

Day after day they pour forth speech,

Night after night they display knowledge.

There is no speech or language

where their voice is not heard.

Their voice goes out into all the earth,

Their words to the end of the world."

Trowa, not surprisingly, was struck silent. "Psalm 19," I explained sheepishly. He clapped me on the shoulder… I think the first and only time he's ever touched me… nodded, and walked away. But somehow, since then, things have been a little less tense between Trowa and I, not that they were ever bad, but now we have some sort of understanding.

I suppose we all share an understanding, the five of us. Only we know what it's like to have the world… no, the universe… on our shoulders and to drop it. In our own ways, we've disappointed ourselves and our worlds in the worst possible ways. I like to think that what we did… the people we've killed, the strife we've caused… that it's forgiven. In bouts of guilt I repeat what I remember of Psalm 32:

"Blessed is he whose transgressions are forgiven;

Whose sins are covered.

Blessed is the man whose sin the Lord does not count against him,

And in whose spirit is no deceit…

…Then I acknowledged my sin to you,

And did not cover my iniquity.

I said 'I will confess my transgressions the Lord'

And you forgave the guilt of my sin."

So, in other words… I know what I did… I know why I did it… and I guess, God's okay with it, according to the book. Of course, guilt and debt were never really my issues, per say. 'Fei's kinda got a monopoly on the justice and duty around here. He's not as messed up as some people might want to think. Matter of fact, David's got something to say about his type too:

"For the Lord is righteous,

He loves justice,

And these upright men shall see His face."

11:7, book of Psalms yet again. I've never told WuFei about that particular passage. I think maybe I should someday, when we're alone. That's rare though. We're all pretty busy and he doesn't live with us. Someday though, I'm going to explain it to him…as a matter of fact, I might mention the 41st one too, when I finally talk to him.

"Blessed is he who has regard for the weak.

The Lord delivers him in times of trouble,"

I don't know if it applies the right way, but he certainly does… regard… the weak. Weakness is a funny thing when you're sleeping with a guy who can bend steel with his bare hands. Now, I've always been considered small, but being frail was never an option. I don't know if lacking frailness makes me any stronger, probably not. In either case, I found out that I'm not any match for Heero. Even fighting my hardest I can't get out of his grip when he wants me there. Secretly, I hope he doesn't know that I was trying to get loose. If he ever found out, he might think that I'm unwilling… entirely untrue. After all… I love him… not that I've ever told him directly.

Yeah, I know, we could die tomorrow and it'd be horrible if one of us died and the other never knew… blah blah blah… that's what Quatre said when he found out. But I explained to him that it has been said… just, not in plain English. Heero told me "Aishiteru," one night, and I responded with this:

"Set me as a seal upon your heart,

As a seal upon your arm

For love is strong as death.

Many waters cannot quench love,

And neither can floods drown it."

Song of Solomon chapter eight verses six and eight. I explained to him… Once he found out that it really meant what he had been saying all along: "Aishiteru," (Which, after further research I learned does not simply mean "I love you," but "I love you and will continue to forever," nice huh?) he gave me one of his smiles. Neither of us have ever spoken the English words "I love you," they seem too fake. He uses his way, his translation, his meaning… I use mine. Although for a few moments he did think that I wanted us to wear tattoos on our arms… God do I love him.

So, for a bunch of blaspheming, murderous sodomites, we aren't so bad. And according to the book it doesn't matter… after all,

"For Dust thou art… and to Dust thou shalt return."

I guess that means we're the same in the end.