" Desperado,

Why don't you come to your senses?

You've been out riding fences, for so long now"

Dawn, with fingertips of rose was calling together all the art needed for a new day and an impressive morn. Cascades of delicate light blue light rolled in waves over pinkened dunes. Across the horizon, light played with cloud in long billows of amber and bronzing shafts of gold sunlight. All in all, the morning promised a hopeful day.

Well, at least beyond the Land of The Black Sands.

Mozenrath watched wistfully from his precarious seat on his balcony rail, from where he could see his entire city. His entire city… a state of bruised, ominous clouds and ever-distant growls of thunder.

Mozenrath wasn't a morning person, but he hadn't slept but off and on, restless and itching for more than the conversation of a simpering eel companion and stoic walls. His breathing was tight in his chest.

Carefully, he scrambled with as much dignity as he could muster down from his perch. He traversed idly into his shadowed room, impassionedly throwing open his wardrobe doors, seeing few, select items of tasteless worth, plus copies of his usual outfits. He leaned heavily on one arm, braced in the doorway;

Hey, if it works.

He moodily pulled the skin beneath his eye down, grimacing at his reflection in the vanity mirror on his fine dark oak desk.

His eyes wandered down to his rumpled clothes, wrinkled to hell and back from sleeping in them. Xerxes slid out of the unmade bed sleepily, peering with heavy eyes at his master, yawning to expose sharp canines. He started, with dogged loyalty, to expose himself to the cold morning air and fly to his master's side, when Mozenrath stopped him.

"It's fine Xerxes." He tossed off his shirt, letting it land on Xerxes' head. "I'm just going to take a shower."

Xerxes shook the shirt off his head and watched Mozenrath leave, and satisfied everything was ok, laid his head back down.

"Oh you're a hard one
I know that you got your reasons
These things that are pleasin' you
Can hurt you somehow"

Mozenrath inhaled sharply as the cold water hit him, knowing he had jumped the gun and didn't give it enough time to heat. Nevertheless, he forced himself in the black marble mausoleum, a reflection of what Destane thought a shower should be.

His back arched and his teeth grit, but he bore it silently.

Like he did everything else. Yes, he thought bitterly, when he didn't duck his head and mind his P's and Q's around Destane, he was shot down. Mercilessly. With Scorn.

For showing the least bit of backbone. For showing the least bit of independence, for the least bit of self-interest. His back slid on the wet tile, and he stared at the running faucet head, screaming and hissing.

His fists slammed back, his insides churning with fury. Everyone else was allowed to get what they wanted out of life! They were allowed to get their chance, their time, and their happiness! He has tried, so many times, and always, the world got in the way.

He looked sadly over his scrubbed raw shoulder and onto the pooling floor, not really seeing it as he admitted to himself,

He did find happiness at one point. Or did he? Was Ahhmal, was that brief time with him really all he had been working for?

He thunked his head back; he was doubting Ahhmal. But who was to blame for the way things turned out? For some time, he comforted himself by the safe assumption that Destane was indeed the bastard he was, and that he constructed the way Mozenrath's life went down the drain. His mother frustrated him, sickened him, because it seemed to him she did nothing to help. But she hasn't spoke or seen him in enough time for her to be a moot point. For some reason, his fury towards Ahhmal for betraying him, if that's indeed what he did, as he wasn't sure of anything anymore, turned to self-hate. Something had to cause Ahhmal to do what he did, to go to Shasta when there was someone else.

He knew it was cliché to think it must have been him, but Allah be damned, wouldn't that just fit? He had no experience with relationships, and he certainty didn't fight the natural attraction to his magical damning as much as he should have. It was he that killed Ahhmal; he knew that. But it was an accident!

"It was an accident!"

His enraged shout echoed throughout the small room. He was breathing hard, and looked down to see the water had flooded the shower bottom and had seeped to cover the whole bathroom in two inches of misplaced water. He could hear the dull thud of Xerxes and consequently the mamlucks ramming the door to get to him. He sighed and grabbed a towel.

What was causing all of this, his mind worked on as he used his gauntlet to clean up the mess, all of this disorder, this chaos and second-guessing? He was perfectly fine living a lie, pursuing magical gain and disregarding any other human life. He could drink away his problems should they bubble to the surface, and that was enough.

Aladdin.

Aladdin; the balance of his life and the disruption. He was a mess of jumbled memories, everything gone wrong and failed attempts at setting it right, and it seemed Aladdin was damn determined to expose everything Mozenrath was. He was responsible for so many deaths. He was scarred, any trait of being the descendent of Mirage the cat incarnate ripped away. He was scarred internally; scars that festered as every year in solitude crept by, wearing away his will to stop it.

And yet there Aladdin was, saving the day on both sides of the field this time, and Allah forbid, turning down cuddle time with his princess to socialize with him.

What was happening?

His interest in life from normal pursuits of happiness changed after Morbia. He thought he had desired the usual things, power, wealth and leverage over others. But what were they really…distractions? But the more and more Aladdin penetrated his life, he lost passion in anything once more, at least what he used to when they were enemies.

I mean, he thought furiously as he scrubbed his hair dry, what was the point?

He had decided long ago that he'd never be happy, he'd just survive, he was too stubborn to die, he wouldn't let the world beat him at that. But Allah, he was actually happy when he was spending time with Aladdin.

He shuddered, knowing the implications that could bring.

"Don't you draw the queen of diamonds boy
She'll beat you if she's able
You know the queen of hearts is always your best bet"

He wandered into his room, his face suddenly turning into one of righteous cynicism as he jerked black slacks and a blue long sleeve on.

He could imagine how even thinking along the lines of that with Aladdin would turn out:

" Oh my God, you're gay?"

One more reason for the hero to be disgusted against him, one more reason for the hero to pick up his shinning shield and charge in like some modern day Gabriel to hack down him, the demon.

He paused, looking around the now empty bedroom, noting the freshly made bed.

That wasn't right. I mean, Mozenrath admitted to himself, Aladdin already knew he preferred males, he had seen into his memories.

Why hadn't he said anything?

His mind chewed on the same echoing question as he made his way to the throne room, his feet guiding him more than his downcast gaze. Finally, he decided that was irrelevant, there was nothing to read from Aladdin not pointing out his sexual preference. Maybe he just hadn't gotten round to it.

What was more poignant was that Aladdin was straight. He was the poster child for heterosexuality, Mozenrath thought contemptuously. He had the beautiful girlfriend, and all assured cockiness/innocence combination that screamed "I'm into girls", and therefore would be justifiably disturbed to know that Mozenrath…

Wait, did he like him like that?

Mozenrath groaned, holding his head in his hands as he sank to his throne seat.

"Now it seems to me some fine things
Have been laid upon your table
But you only want the ones that you can't get"

He breathed out, closing his eyes as he cast his head back, systematically going through every memory for a clue.

His skin heated as he remembered how carefully the bandages around his slit wrists were done, how uncharacteristically attentive Aladdin was to his health, how warm their interactions during the night Aladdin stayed in his Citadel. Aladdin was the one who put him in his bed after their first memory swap and he had passed out, he had to be! Aladdin had come to the Citadel many a time without any reason at all.

So maybe there wasn't a cold chance in hell Aladdin reciprocated his feelings exactly the way Mozenrath would have preferred, but he was sure he had something close to the hero's friendship.

Now did he want it? Did he need it?

"What are you waiting for Mozenrath?" the sorcerer asked himself, realizing he had wandered aimlessly into the drawing room off the entrance hall. He pressed his forehead against the cold glass.

Ahhmal was gone. There was no way to get him back. Was that what was holding him back all these years, holding him back from even giving him a chance to pursue anyone else?

And then Mozenrath knew.

It was.

"Desperado, oh, you ain't gettin' no younger
Your pain and your hunger, they're drivin' you home"

Mozenrath first looked at his hands, pale, and slipped the gauntlet away, wincing at the discomfort and self-disgust triggered by exposing his skeleton hand.

He was tired, in body, in mind, in experience and will. He was life-worn, battle-worn, and love-worn. He was older than Aladdin, and older than his skin. He had been dragged through Purgatory in a hand basket, and shambled around to tell the tale.

Something was telling him he couldn't wait for the permission of a ghost to continue living his life.

Second, he looked around at the Citadel, taking in the cold walls, drab, dusty wall hangings, and air of stale death. His stomach cramped and his core yearned.

He looked back out the window, straining to catch a fuller glimpse of the sun.

He threw open his doors, ignoring protesting tendons in his arms, ignoring the groans of his world-weary body.

That's when he caught sight of a telltale purple streak in the sky, tasseled and gold and bestride by Agrabah's finest.

"And freedom, oh freedom well, that's just some people talkin'
Your prison is walking through this world all alone"

Aladdin was tired, and Mozenrath easily identified he hadn't slept. But Aladdin laughed as he stumbled off Carpet, looking up at Mozenrath with a quality of heartbreaking timidity. He was unsure, and it showed in how he addressed the stunned sorcerer.

"Hey Mozenrath", he smiled in an effort to break the ice, and getting no reply, rubbed the back of his neck in an additional effort to keep his nerve up.

"Hey, you..you woudn't be interested in a road trip, would you?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, its stupid, and I don't blame if you…But if you want, I was thinking you could hang out in Agrabah for awhile, not just for a day. You could get some clothes and stuff up, I mean I think I've got a place for you to stay."

Aladdin shifted his weight from foot to foot as he waited for an answer, gauging with lightening nerves Mozenrath reaction, regretting the words that tumbled out of his mouth already.

"I mean, its better than here, isn't it?" he pointed back through the open, heavy doors.

Mozenrath, unconsciously, followed his finger and looked back into the dark womb of negligent mother Citadel.

He knew what Aladdin was implicating, he knew that the repercussions could be disastrous, and domino effect far from what he could ever imagine. He knew that going with the warm-smiled Aladdin, giving in to the encouraging nod of his head, would be an investment he could not take back.

So, onto Agrabah, or back into the Citadel?

"Don't your feet get cold in the winter time?
The sky won't snow and the sun won't shine
It's hard to tell the night time from the day"

The wind lightly dragged across Mozenrath's face as he fought not to look down at the sand rushing past in a blur.

Aladdin cast an amused eye at the shabby little sling-together Mozenrath had hastily shoved some belongings in.

"Travel light, don't you Mozenrath? And here I was thinking Carpet would have to carry along a whole wardrobe."

Mozenrath flashed Aladdin a toothy smile,

"I'll be going shopping, of course."

Aladdin laughed.

Mozenrath groaned, feeling every jolt of the blasted rug as they sped towards Agrabah, Aladdin chatting lightly beside him, but finally realizing Mozenrath needed to sort out his emotions.

Mozenrath instead busies himself with one last gaze at his city, the city of angels and walking corpses, of bitter memories and stewing grudges against the world.

No, no more second-guessing.

"You're loosin' all your highs and lows
Ain't it funny how the feeling goes away?"

The gates shimmered into view as they came up upon them.

"You know", Aladdin commented to Mozenrath without taking his eyes from those gates, "We might have to fight our way in, not too many people are happy about…well, they wouldn't be." He grinned. "Has the old blood lust kicked in?" He nodded towards Mozenrath's gauntlet.

Mozenrath's brow furrowed. Why did it seem so less glamorous now? He hardly ever used his magic, if it wasn't for fighting Aladdin, what was it for?

He laughed sarcastically to himself.

What a time to realize that.

"Desperado, why don't you come to your senses?
Come down from your fences, open the gate"

If curious looks were being aimed up at the airborne pair, they were too high up to notice. Mozenrath bemusedly noticed they weren't heading towards the palace anymore, if they ever were. They changed directions drastically, skimming over the poorer parts of the city, down drabber lanes and crumbling buildings. He looked curiously to Aladdin for answers.

Aladdin smiled, refusing eye contact against.

"Well, for now, we can't exactly get you a room at the Agrabah's Ritz."

Then Mozenrath started to remember as they landed in front of a partially closed doorway. No, he was getting de JA vu, of a certain Morbia slum, of a Mama Shima and Aladdin's twin it seemed, Ahhmal.

No, Ahhmal was rougher looking, shaggier, stubble barely there on his chin. He was older too, while Aladdin was still youngish looking. Aladdin was a honey tan, while Ahhmal was a dark, dusty tan. While Ahhmal grinned roguishly, Aladdin smiled impishly.

Mozenrath shook the thoughts from his head as he realized they had finished climbing the stairs, then it struck him.

It was Aladdin's hovel, the very makeshift he had invaded the first time they met.

He flushed, suddenly out of his element, and turned to Aladdin for an explanation

"It may be rainin', but there's a rainbow above you
You better let somebody love you, before it's too late"

Aladdin seemed embarrassed too. " It's not what you're used to, I know, and it's no palace. You can use your magic, I guess, to make it better for you. This will have to do until I figure out something, I haven't really run this by Jasmine…"

No, Mozenrath realized, Aladdin seemed ashamed.

He quickly took control of the situation.

"No," he said briskly, tossing his stuff down, "It's fine."

Aladdin looked at him in obvious bewilderment.

"Really, it is."

The pair stood there, almost awkward, arms hanging at their sides, until Aladdin grinned.

"Right," he said nodding, he turned to go, "I'm just going to try and…well you know, Jasmine and the guys and all."

Mozenrath nodded, watching him go.