Author's Notes: I don't own anything. The song's by Smile Empty Soul, "Who I Am" . Might be a bit OOC for a lot of the boys. Specially Wuffie and Heero. But the point is that attitudes are changing, so... I hope I'm not ragged on too much for that... Other than that! I hope you enjoy! Leave lots of reviews! Thanks!
Rating: PG. Minor… MINOR violence. Just mention of battles, but nothing major. No mention of shonen ai or yaoi stuff, this wasn't meant for any of that.
Summary: This is a tribute to the G-boys. They're all separated on different missions and they're thinking about loneliness and friendship and whether soldiers can have friends. This is a real come-together fic.
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Band of Brothers
Another night again
Another journey without friends
A solo mission. Heero slapped his laptop closed and shut his eyes. In all honesty, he liked solos best. He didn't have to worry about the others getting in his way—or worse, if someone got hurt. Solos were often nastier, bloodier, and more dangerous—which is why he generally accepted them, but they were usually the shortest missions, and he was glad for that. Even the Perfect Soldier got tired of his job once in a while.
Heero was barely out of his teens. Now, at dusk in December, dressed in only a jacket and his patented green tank top and spandex shorts, he rested atop a hill overlooking an Oz base of operations. He'd been instructed only to scout out, and report back, but the higher-ups had sent him, because they knew that there was a great risk involved in any scout being caught—this base was well-guarded, even Heero himself was impressed with the security.
Scouting jobs had their bonuses—like a dramatic increase in survival rate. But one of the major drawbacks was the immense boredom. Heero didn't like having time on his hands. He found himself pondering his life, why he was created, and where his life was taking him. It was then that he realized that, though he and the other four Gundam pilots often shared safe houses—sometimes even for months at a time, he did not have anyone to call a friend. He wasn't even sure what the word 'friend' actually meant. He contemplated his life as a machine, and realized that there had to be more to himself. Looking over his body, his eyes fell to rest on his hands. In his lifetime, those hands had killed many people, held many weapons—some designed especially for him—and saved many lives. Certainly machines weren't capable of everything he'd done… Certainly machines weren't capable of doubt, of loneliness.
Loneliness…
Heero's mind hit the nail on the head. As much as he enjoyed the exhilaration of war and battle, he missed the quiet bantering between people he'd seen in parks and at Relena's parties. He missed being a normal human being. Heero Yuy needed a best friend.
Another fight to wish away the loneliness I live
Duo woke from his nap to find the safe house as empty as the box of donuts he'd left on the kitchen counter that afternoon. 'Heero must have been called off again. Great. Another week and a half of snow and silence.' He thought glumly. A frown slid across the violet eyed youth's features as he slumped down on the couch in the living area. He didn't bother flicking on the TV, as was his usual habit, only stared at the black screen in memory and wonder.
Christmas would be coming around soon. He remembered back when he was a child, how the nuns would let the children eat junk food and stay up an hour later than usual. But there was no Santa in the orphanage, only Jesus. Neither of which, he didn't particularly believe in. He also remembered that Christmastime was the time when they'd all get their hair cut, something he always dreaded. The boy on the couch picked up his mane and grimaced in memory. He liked it just the way it was; leave it alone, he always figured.
The other three pilots had been called away earlier, into battles across the galaxy. They wouldn't be back before the first of the year—if then. Sometimes, Duo and Heero would just come and join them. Duo's grimace soured further, he hated these times the worst. The self-proclaimed God-of-Death was a chipper, outgoing, fun-loving guy, and when there was no one around to joke with, boredom was his middle name. It didn't help that the people in the town didn't speak to any of them—unless it was absolutely necessary. Something about them looking dangerous. Duo shook his head. 'Dangerous, indeed.' He thought, 'dangerously close to losing my mind if I don't find something to do to distract myself until someone gets back.'
The tall American stood from the couch and wondered in a small circle once before heading back into his bedroom. He was off to begin his own private battle against loneliness and boredom.
Another circus show
Trowa sighed and threw his hat onto the bed in the tent he called his dressing room. He didn't work at the circus anymore, and he had certainly gained his memory back, at least, he'd thought he had, but the job was undercover, and this was a profession he was used to, so he accepted. With only a week until Christmas, Trowa's crowd was pouring in, and he was the star. But during the day, when all of the other acrobats and dancers and lion tamers were sleeping and practicing, Trowa was gathering information or battling Oz soldiers amid stars.
Sitting down after the hat, Trowa ran his fingers through his hair, and sighed a heavy sigh. He hated extensive missions. Especially ones where he was separated from his fellow Gundam pilots. Over the years he'd worked with them, he'd grown attached to their somewhat unusual bond, and now that they were all separated, he found himself battling for control of his consciousness. He was used to having at least Quatre or Wufei along on the missions as a partner or backup. But they were both off fighting in battles of their own; these were times when the Gundam pilots were in heavy demand. And while he was thinking on them, he guessed that Heero had been called away too, leaving Duo alone at the safe house. Deathscythe had undergone heavy damage in Duo's last battle, and both he and the Gundam made it out barely intact. Now the God-of-Death was commanded to recover and have the Gundam fixed by the experts. Trowa grinned. He knew well that leaving Duo alone was torture on the poor guy. Last time, they found him sitting in the floor talking to himself.
But the Heavyarms pilot had work to do, so he stood and sighed and finished changing and left for his Gundam for another grueling battle.
Another face that I don't know
Wufei groaned inwardly and shook the dignitaries' hands. Being an escort was not his cup of tea, but he was acting as a spy at an expensive party thrown by a General in the Oz army. He needed to find out where certain things were heading, where certain armies were being held, were prisoners were, and whether or not there was a plan of attack, and all of this through quiet conversation and polite smiles. 'Injustice', he thought brutally biting his lower lip to keep from spitting out an insult to lord so-and-so from who knows where so told him he looked constipated. Wufei was not constipated. Wufei was bored. Wufei was anxious to get this crap job over with, insulted that he got stuck with it in the first place, as this was usually something left up to the Preventers or someone, and get back to the safe house to rest until the New Year.
Retreating into himself when he was finally released from his date, he found himself a corner and watched the proceedings disinterestedly. He found himself thinking about his past, and what lead him to becoming a Gundam pilot. He found himself thinking about his wife. 'A truly brave woman.' He thought, dignified that she gave her life for a cause she believed in. From his wife, his thoughts trickled down over the other four pilots, each in succession. There was Heero, probably on a mission of his own, blowing something up or killing someone who's pleading for him not to. That guy had what it took to be a soldier. For the most part, he and Heero never spoke much, mostly because Heero never spoke, but they never seemed to have a problem with one another, either.
Then, there was Duo. Wufei shut his eyes and grimaced. Duo could be handled in small intervals. The Damn American just never shut up long enough for anyone to get a word in edgewise. And when he found the candy Quatre had hidden, he'd be hyper for days straight. Wufie'd usually lock himself in his room during those periods. But strangely, then, the Chinese man smiled. He supposed Duo's company wouldn't be bad—not bad at all—compared to the bunch of losers he was with tonight.
Trowa and Quatre were similar and different, for Wufei, but they always came as a pair. Trowa was the strong silent type, much like Wufei himself—until someone riled up his anger. And Quatre was the exact opposite, while he wasn't like Duo in the level of annoyance; he was very outgoing, openhearted, and chatty. Those two were very good friends, and Wufei couldn't figure out why—but he supposed he didn't need a reason.
Wufei wasn't a fan of Christmas. The Chinese don't really celebrate the holiday. But he was in favor of sleeping for a while, and hanging out with the guys he'd known for what had seemed like forever. If he hadn't known better, he'd swear that they'd grown up together. He turned his attention back to the crowd of people as the General took the podium and prepared to speak—show time.
Another night of people asking what I have to give
Quatre spent every moment he could in his room. He hated going home. But for the mission he was assigned to, it was necessary. His father was ill, anyway, and he had wanted to see him, perhaps for the last time—but dealing with an insane amount of sisters, it was just too much for the blonde.
Quatre was transferring documents from the capitol of one country to a secure location in another. He'd done this several times, and his family had always supported him in his line of work, but when his father fell ill, all hell broke loose in his house hold.
Suddenly, he was being asked for money and permission and advice. He was being told secrets and facts about girls he never needed to know from them. He didn't know what to do, he knew nothing about running his father's household, let alone 40 something women, over a hundred servants and god knows who else. He was a simple youth, he didn't want the complications his father was unwillingly putting on him. All he wanted was to be back in his bed or playing cards with the guys watching TV and laughing with Duo—why was he thinking about the other pilots?
Quatre pulled his thoughts away from them for a moment and wondered about his relations. Could he call them friends? Had they been together that long? The often fought side by side; he'd come to the relief of them when they needed him, and vice versa—isn't that what friends do? It wasn't like soldiers to speak of friendship, especially when there was a war to be fought, because they all knew the dangers of one of them not returning. But had their relationships unconsciously become friendships? Quatre found himself grinning at the possibility.
I thought that I would drown
But it's okay right now
Heero shut his eyes and leaned up against the tree, positive that he was out of sight of the security at the compound. He'd reported all he could, and now he was told to sit and wait for confirmation of either mission complete or commence destruction. Knowing the feed wouldn't come through till early morning; he climbed a tree and nestled down into a thick area of branches that hadn't been buried in snow. Making himself warm and as comfortable as possible, he'd allowed himself the luxury of a few hours of sleep.
But sleep never came. Instead he found himself evaluating each of the other pilots in turn. First there was Duo, the incessant chatter was annoying to Wufei, whose temper could be chaotic at times, but to the others, and even to Heero himself, the noise was comforting after spending so long hearing nothing but gunfire and mixed telecom communication feeds. The stupidly happy Shinigami served to brighten the atmosphere of the entire safe house, Heero thought. Trowa was next, with his silent strength, and his voice of truth. He usually only spoke when there was a fight between the others and the main idea was missed. He kept people's heads together enough to get things accomplished. He was also extremely trustworthy, Heero decided, but he didn't understand exactly how or why. Quatre was the exact opposite of Trowa. Subtle and chatty, outgoing, but somewhat shallow in his thoughts. He was concerned only with that everyone was alright and happy. He and Duo were mere shades apart in personality. Wufei was the parent figure. Cool and aloof, proud and distant. He was traditionally Chinese in his nature, but at the same time, if one knew how, one could get him to loosen himself up enough to really enjoy his fiery personality.
Several hours passed in this manner, and Heero eventually heard the soft beep of the feed. "Mission accepted." He said his famous four-syllable death warrant and headed toward the base. The feed had said that intelligence had observed that security was reduced at certain times. The time to attack was now. And Heero was going for it.
No one knows the way I feel a part of me I have to fight
Buried somewhere deep beneath my skin
Duo shifted from one foot to the other back and fourth in the kitchen while scrambling eggs. It was 3:45 in the morning, but he couldn't sleep, and he figured it was close enough to breakfast for eggs to count. Turning for the salt and pepper, he reached behind him to the table, but dropped the condiments to the floor when a sudden spark of pain ripped up his side. "Damnit!" he shouted, and leapt about the kitchen, frying pan and eggs forgotten, clutching at his side and wincing. "This is the part about fighting I hate the most. Somebody should have figured out by now, human beings weren't cut out for this war stuff." He muttered gingerly scooping the salt and pepper from the floor and placing it on the counter. He turned the stove off, but left the eggs there, half-scrambled. He suddenly wasn't in the mood to eat anymore.
Wufei piloted Nataku back toward the safe house. He left the party early because he got the feeling that someone recognized him, and that's all he needed, and before he knew it, there were several Oz suits headed his way. "Injustice" he thought, angrily, spinning around to face him, and then charging the group of seven or eight mobile suits chasing after him. This was a battle he didn't have time for. He saw this as pointless death—unnecessary combat, senseless. They should have left him alone. He wasn't bothering anyone. He didn't learn anything important anyway—not what the Preventers were hoping for, at least. Pulling down his visor, he prepared to meet the men whose lives were already forfeit.
Heero cleaned the base easily. Gathered up the information files and downloaded the documents his superiors were missing onto discs. This was almost too easy. Tomorrow, when the regular shift arrives, Heero knew that they would be astounded to find out that they'd been wiped out. No base ever expects to be found, let alone smeared across the landscape by a single teenager. The Perfect Soldier often wondered how pointless this was, really—how futile it was to kill the men in these bases. Oftentimes, he was killing civilians too, normal people who were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Whatever made that right? He thought back to the little girl and the dog he met in the park—how useless it had been—her death. Heero supposed that perhaps the title of Perfect wasn't the best one for him. Perhaps the title Murderer was.
For Quatre the battle was over. The information had been delivered safely, and he'd bid his father a farewell. He was heading back toward the safe house, anxious to see if anyone was left there, perhaps to play a game of poker, when he suddenly caught a feed: "…ammo… damnit… where…gun—m –lots…you –eed 'em?" it said. Garbled, but Quatre's interest was piqued. The voice sounded very familiar, a soft, quiet, low drone—Trowa! The pacifist in Quatre was squelched in a heartbeat as he headed toward the feed's location. Helping his friend was of top priority. Sometimes, the blonde supposed, it is necessary to fight.
Trowa was out of ammo again. He'd been fighting for two days straight; his cover had been blown when he'd slept through his show and now it was up to him to ward off the small army that wanted to take up residence in the city below him. One Gundam was all that stood between them, and now, it looked like they had the upper hand. He began to send out for backup, hoping that perhaps one of the other pilots was in the area. The channel he was using was one only the Gundam pilots used, but he wasn't even sure he could get through, with as much damage as his suit had taken. It wasn't until the clicking and sputtering replied that he realized that the cavalry was on its way.
"—Owa! –Atra! I'm on …way!" the call was excited, as the blonde's voice tended to be, when he was racing into battle to help out, and Trowa was glad for it. Heavyarms could use the strength it still possessed in its body to plow the road for Quatre—give him a straight shot to the heaviest concentration of suits. Powering up, he heard the hum of the Gundam Sandrock behind him, and he grinned, forcing his own forward, bowling into several and destroying the smaller suits that charged at him.
Quatre raced in behind him, guns blazing, and leveled the masses easily.
The emptiness in me is faded
And I can see my life is waiting
Now I know I'm living for who I am
Now I know I'm living for who I am
Soon there was nothing left but the two Gundams and two very tired but very appreciative pilots. "Good to see you, Quatre." Trowa said, quietly over his com.
Quatre's face appeared and he was smiling. "You too, Trowa, I was hoping I'd run into someone along the way. I've been thinking about you guys since I left the safe house."
"Mhmm." Trowa agreed.
"I just hope everyone makes it back alright this time too." Quatre continued, and geared up his suit, "Let's get going. I bet Duo's lost his mind by now." He grinned, and Trowa smirked, and the two headed back to the safe house together.
Duo finally took the pills the doctor had prescribed for him and settled himself on the couch. It was late morning by this time and he decided to see if there was anything on television. Clicking on the TV, the news made him grin. "Oz soldiers met defeat today outside Mt. Capernaum at the hands of two Gundam pilots." The chipper news reporter said. She went on to say something about the city remaining safe, but Duo was too excited to care. He knew that Trowa and either Quatre or Wufei would be joining him before long. It was great to feel like a normal guy—to feel like family—brothers—were coming home for the holidays. He didn't bother to change the channel, but he wasn't watching any more, when the drugs kicked in, he just leaned his head back, and dozed.
The fire grows inside
The feeling cannot be denied
Heero returned from headquarters early, handing in the things he had collected, he was informed that nearby, one of his fellow pilots was being attacked. Heero seemed disinterested, as usual to the office secretary, but inside himself, his stomach turned, something had happened to him on that hillside—he began to think of those guys as family, and he knew that losing one of them—any of them—was not a loss he was willing to accept.
Slinging himself into Wing Zero, he turned on his com system and his locater devices. It was Wufei, and not an hour away. The battle wasn't planned, that was for sure, and Wufei was being slaughtered but a menagerie of Oz soldiers and other members of the opposing force. His suit hadn't been stocked with ammunition prior to his mission because it wasn't supposed to require battle. Heero growled, and took off after Nataku's pilot.
For the first time, Heero recognized anger in himself—rage even—at the thought of Wufei dying at the hands of Oz soldiers. The Perfect Soldier who was trained to feel nothing felt a growing anger, a white hot flame growing behind his eyes and exploding in his brain that would not be sated. He called to Wufei who sounded surprised to hear from him, and told him that he'd be there shortly.
And everywhere I turn the size of guys they push me
Wufei was almost out of gunfire. Nataku had taken the worst beating in her life. He was a good pilot. He knew that. But these men were too strong and too many. They were out for blood.
Then from nowhere, Wing Zero contacts him—on his way. 'Why is Yuy helping me?' Wufei wondered, but inside, he was grateful for the assistance. He probably would never admit it aloud, but he was grateful.
The Oz generals thought they had it made until they saw Heero arrive behind Wufei. They knew the mobile suit's reputation, as well as its operator. Heero let a round fly, and half the opposition fell from the force of the impact. The others that were left standing retreated at once, knowing better than to mess with the Perfect Soldier.
Everything was quiet for a moment, as the two stared at the carnage that surrounded them. Both of them knew quite well that Wufei might have lain among them if it hadn't have been for Heero. Neither of them would admit to it, for different reasons.
And all has fallen down
But it's okay right now
"Chang." Heero called over the com, looking into the screen coolly, wanting to know that things were ok, but not wanting him to know that he was worried about him.
"Yuy." There was a small tone of appreciation in his voice. A slight tremble that let Heero know the other man was grateful. It takes great pride to accept help from another person, and even greater pride to admit it, and Heero knew that Wufei was a proud man. And that's all that passed between them—verbally. They turned their suits back toward the safe house simultaneously, and headed back toward their home.
It was late afternoon when Duo woke up again, and his stomach was growling furiously at him. Then again, his stomach was always growling. Sliding from the couch, he made his way back to the kitchen and tossed the cold half-cooked eggs into the garbage and washed out the frying pan. "Well, Trowa and Quatre…or Wufei will be back sooner or later. I suppose it might be nice if I had lunch made, huh?" he said to himself, grinning and tying an apron around himself. If there was one thing Duo was good at, it was cooking, so he figured, why not make a welcome-back-glad-you're-not-dead meal? He went to the pantry, and pulled out several ingredients, keeping himself busy.
No one knows the way I feel a part of me I have to fight
Buried somewhere deep beneath my skin
The emptiness in me is faded
And I can see my life is waiting
Now I know I'm living for who I am
Quatre and Trowa landed their suits and inspected the damage. Heavyarms would be out of commission for a while. But, Trowa was somehow just fine with that. Quatre joined him in his inspection, and when they were through, they began the long walk together back toward the safe house. They were in the home stretch now, soon it was a hot shower and a long nap for the both of them.
"Trowa," Quatre broke the silence after a long time. "Have you ever thought about being a normal person? About what that would be like?"
The taller man nodded. "Mhmm. I was thinking about it today, before the fighting." He said, softly.
"I guess only normal people have friends, huh?" Quatre asked, sounding very much like a young child, asking his father a very serious question.
Trowa looked at him a moment but then disagreed. "I think we can have friends. I think we are friends." He said, stopping in mid-step.
Quatre grinned broadly, that was what he was hoping for. "I guess war isn't all bad, is it. I mean. Look at the five of us. We're all soldiers, but, I think we're all friends, in a way too." Quatre continued, but Trowa didn't respond. "I think it happened without us even realizing it. Just, all of a sudden, we realized we needed the others, to… not be lonely anymore."
Trowa smiled, and nodded, indeed. The pilots did need one another. It was lucky that the two of them were just beginning to understand the threads of friendship. Hopefully, the others would come around soon.
And everything seems great and everyone is fake
No one really knows you
Heero dared not break radio silence as he flew back to the safe house with Wufei. But there was a lot running through his mind. Most of the thoughts were questions to himself—things he didn't understand, feelings he didn't comprehend. Like anger, why did he get so angry that Wufei was being attacked? He'd been in many fights before. All of the Gundam pilots had. And worry. Worry was an emotion that Wufei would call a weakness. But he had worried for the Chinese man's safety. He was beginning to understand that even though he thought he understood what it meant to be a soldier, he didn't know what it meant to be Heero Yuy.
Wufei shifted in his seat uncomfortably. The com was open, but no one was saying anything. And he couldn't think of one word. "Thank you" crossed his mind several times, but Wufei was much too proud for that, and besides, he knew Yuy knew he was appreciative. It was the first time in a long time that they'd fought together, but it was the first time that Heero had outright rescued him. He went back to contemplating friendships, and he wondered if soldiers could have friendships like normal people. Before he knew it, radio silence had been broken.
Look into their eyes
Rip off your disguise
Let them see the real you
"Yuy." Heero nearly fainted.
"Hai." He responded dryly.
"Do… do you think… soldiers have normal relations with people?" Wufei was contemplative. He almost sounded as if he wasn't entirely there.
Heero didn't respond right away, because he'd been questioning the same things, but in that moment, he knew that the answer had to be yes. "Hai."
"Friendships with other soldiers?" Wufei went on, asking the question stiffly, as though he were talking to a doctor about a medical disease.
"I think so. But I don't think it happens consciously." Heero said softly. It was the truth, as far as he was concerned.
"Hai." Wufei agreed, and then fell silent again. But that was like most of their conversations. Heero thought their meaning had been established, their status had been upgraded from "fellow Gundam pilot" to "friend" in about seven sentences. They landed their pilots in silence and inspected the damage before heading together toward the safe house.
No one knows the way I feel a part of me I have to fight
Buried somewhere deep beneath my skin
Duo had been cooking all day long, when lunch passed, and no one showed up, he just cooked dinner too. Loneliness had crept into his bones, and he couldn't stand it any longer. He needed company. He was talking to his pots and pans. He'd made everything from Wasabi to baby back ribs. He'd nearly emptied the refridgerator when he heard the first sounds at the front door.
Trowa and Quatre walked in and smelled the great culinary mishmash of stuff Duo had been preparing and their eyes grew wide. The braided pilot was sweating, and panting, but dispite his injuries, he had been on his feet since late morning cooking his heart out.
Quatre hugged him, thankful for the feast, and for his new friend's talents and thoughtfulness. And they all stood in the kitchen nibbling and talking, Quatre telling about his mission, about his family, and even about how he helped Trowa. Between Duo and Quatre, Trowa needn't say anything at all.
The battle for Duo was over, loneliness had lost by a landslide, and now, he could call the two guys standing in the kitchen with him, his friends. He smiled a secret smile, thankful that the war had brought something good into his life.
The emptiness in me is faded
And I can see my life is waiting
Now I know I'm living for who I am
There was a lull in conversation when the backdoor bounced open and Wufei and Heero trudged through it. They stopped immediately, smelling the massive amounts of food waiting for them in the kitchen, and looked at one another with wonder in their eyes.
Quatre skipped into the living room to greet them both with cheerful hugs, and they all ended up in the kitchen, nibbling on Duo's feast. Heero spoke in full sentences, telling the guys about the base, and about finding Wufei, and Wufei chimed in and finished the story—telling the others that he was at this horrible party for Oz officials, and one of them recognized him, and an entire fleet came after him, and Heero showed up at the last minute and basically wiped them out.
Trowa told them about his undercover clown operation, which brought on jibes about his past profession, and how Quatre had helped him defeat the army and save the city. They all complimented Duo on the meal—and later left the dirty dishes in the kitchen for clean up in the morning, and settled themselves around the living area for a game of poker and more chatter about past exploits and experiences.
Heero, for the first time, felt himself smile from the inside out. He knew from that evening on that he wasn't alone in the world—that he wasn't the only one who had to face the things he had. There were four other boys who'd endured just as much, and he was grateful for their company.
Duo was ecstatic to see his adopted family finally come together. He'd known for the longest time that they five were the most similar of all the warriors, and it was up to them to band together as brothers to support one another. Finally, much to his enjoyment, it had happened. Finally, it was good to have a home to come home to.
Trowa smiled silently, basking in the lighthearted nature that permeated the room. It had been a long time since such a happy go lucky feeling had so easily settled in his heart. But now, in the presence of these four guys, his fellow pilots—his friends—he found his home. He found a place to belong, and a place where he knew who he was. It was good to come home.
Quatre had family. A lot of it. But he never had what he wanted. Finally, enjoying the chatter among the pilots, the bantering between his friends and fellow soldiers, he knew that this was where he belonged. This was his second family. His adopted family. Quatre had only sisters by birth, but by war, he had a band of brothers he thanked heaven for every day.
Wufei was in silent appreciation of it all. He knew that the guys seated around him were all good soldiers, and honorable men. He knew that if the need be, he could trust them, and if the time called for it, they would risk their lives to help save his own—Heero had done just that that very day. Wufei felt honored to be sitting among such an elite group of men. He knew in that instant that he would have no problem giving up his own life on account of any one of theirs.
This is what it meant to be a band of brothers. This is what it meant to truly know thyself. This was what it meant to find peace in a time of war.
Now I know I'm living for who I am
© 2005
The Fairy Tale Mistress