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. Translations at end.
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- Part 2
There was something soothing about space. The silence, the cold. The knowledge that the universe was hardly aware of his existence.
Trowa felt insignificant and overlooked, and it was comforting. Strange, that, and he didn't care to think too much on why that was the case, but after his audience with Quatre two days ago, Trowa was more than happy to be ignored by forces more powerful than himself.
He was also very damn grateful to be doing EVA work, rigging the UV reflective panels on the ship's hull to deflect any InterForce scans into the Scythe's cargo hold.
It was habit, more than need, since Quatre had so thoughtfully put their gear into storage when he seized their ship.
There was a static buzz in Trowa's ear, and then a beleaguered sigh.
"I swear to fuck, Tro, I'm going to cut these bastards' throats in their sleep."
It was Duo, frustrated and on edge and, as the pilot, unable to do the EVA work that Trowa had tasked himself with. It was an escape - from the twelve Maganacs who seemed to be operating under orders to make this trip as unpleasant as possible for both Duo and Trowa - and, to an extent, from Duo.
His partner, who had routinely picked fights with the Mags back when they had willingly worked for Quatre, seemed to be challenging himself to be even more surly, even more repellent than the Mags serving as their escort.
Duo might dream of cutting their throats, but Trowa was dreaming of just getting himself put under custody when they passed the InterForce checkpoint in a few hours.
It was cowardly, and only a half-formed thought, but it was there all the same.
Trowa wasn't cut out for this - wasn't strong enough or inclined enough to have his sister held up as a hostage to ensure his good behavior.
It was, Trowa knew, his own damn fault in the first place. For ever trusting Quatre enough to whisper stories of his childhood with the circus to the blond haired man late at night as they curled together. It had been Trowa's fault for thinking there were two sides to Quatre - the lover and the malevolent lord of L4. His fault, for not realizing that they were the same side, that Quatre used sex and tenderness the same way he used a scimitar or a golf club. Tools to take apart his opposition and get his way, no more and no less.
For years, Trowa had even been such a tool, doing Quatre's bidding and convincing himself that it didn't matter - that the people Quatre crushed either had it coming or would have found themselves dead another way in any case. It had taken the Mariemaia incident to make Trowa realize how blind he had been, how complicit he himself was in Quatre's foul deeds.
After that, after an innocent girl was murdered in her bed and her family mowed down like rabid animals, Trowa and Duo had cut their ties with Quatre, had bartered for their freedom and swore to both Quatre and themselves that their paths would never cross again.
Until now.
Damn Howard.
Damn Duo for attracting attention with that bar fight.
Damn-
Trowa suddenly realized that there was every chance that they had been set up, that Quatre had rigged the deal in the first place, had probably paid off the grizzled spacer to be insulting to Duo so that he would start a brawl.
As far-fetched as it seemed, it was something Quatre had done before, and when the stakes were this high - possession of the fabled Nataku - Trowa was willing to bet Quatre had gone to the effort to ensure that Duo and Trowa wandered across his path again.
Bastard.
"Look, Tro, I've been thinking-"
"I thought we talked about how dangerous that was," Trowa said, grunting a little as he maneuvered the last of the UV panels into place.
"You're a fucking riot, man. So listen, I've got the Maggies busy securing everything and welding the smuggler's holds shut so we've got a few minutes of secure comms."
Trowa swallowed. He knew what Duo was going to say next. You didn't work with someone for twelve years, didn't depend on them for your very survival, and not learn how they thought, the twists and turns their brain took.
"He's not letting us walk out of this, even if we bring back this qí yán fèn tǔ yěship."
"I know."
"So what… we just going to kneel down and bare our throats for him?"
"No."
Finished with the UV panels, Trowa started to slowly move back towards the airlock. He took a detour, though, and bumped his helmeted head against the cockpit viewport.
Duo jumped and fell out of the pilot's chair, and Trowa couldn't help but smirk.
"You are not right in the fucking head, Barton," Duo muttered angrily as he righted himself and ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more than usual.
"The problem is, I can only think of two solutions," Duo sighed. He put his booted feet up on the console, away from anything critical, and folded his hands behind his head. "One, we get ourselves a nice vacation courtesy of the InterForce. But that means Q will have Hilde and Cathy butchered, and then he'll come for us - so I'm not a fan of that one."
"Me either," Trowa agreed, having already discarded the possibility.
"The other option is we go in, we get the Nataku, and we get InterForce to burn us down on the way out. You and me still end up dead, probably, but maybe he'd let Cathy and Hilde live."
"Maybe. He might be irritated with us for having the audacity to get ourselves killed and take it out on them."
Duo muttered a curse under his breath.
"Yeah," he agreed with a sigh, "not to mention - I'm not quite ready to die yet, and I sure as hell don't want to go out at the other end of some IF canon."
Neither did Trowa.
"Tro, remember that guy Rubens?"
It seemed like a change in subject, and Trowa frowned for a moment as he tried to remember the man.
"One eye? Sold us that shitty converter?"
"Yeah, him. You remember how he lost his other eye?"
Trowa honestly didn't. Duo had some kind of magic gift for getting people to tell him their life stories, but Trowa tended to either tune them out or simply walk away when he knew that Duo and whatever drunk he happened to be chatting up weren't going to end up at each other's throats.
"He was a Sweeper, yanno."
"Yes. I remember the tattoo - on his cheek. It was like he was asking for InterForce to arrest him."
"Tell me about it. 'Course, then there's you, who for reasons passing my understanding decided to get the damn thing done on your scrawny ass and-"
"Rubens?" Trowa interrupted one of Duo's favorite and oft-repeated rants.
He saw Duo grin at him through the viewport.
"So, Rubens. He was looting around in the old L5 Debris Cluster, came across this cache on one of the intact colonies - thought he'd landed himself a nice, fat retirement fund."
"But?"
"But the cache was rigged, booby-trapped to high fuck, and Rubens lost an eye, his first mate, and any chance at getting whatever treasure was in the cache."
Trowa frowned.
Duo would not have brought this story up without a good reason.
"You think the Nataku is going to be booby-trapped?"
"I mean… if it's the Changs' last hope or whatever, wouldn't it be?"
Trowa nodded, then realized Duo probably couldn't see the gesture.
"I think there's a good chance of that."
"Right. So I'm thinking, you know, if a few of the Maggies happened to, er, stumble upon some traps and tragically die - s'not our fault, is it?"
"Chang traps or Maxwell traps?"
Duo grinned, and even through Trowa's helmet and the viewport, he could see the malice in the expression.
"Well, who's to say?" He shrugged. "So I figure we off a few that way, then, outbound, a few more of the fucks die because of a - a coolant leak or some shit. It's a two hundred year old ship - those kinds of things are bound to happen, right?"
"Right," Trowa agreed, as Duo's plan started to unfold. "And when we get back to the L4 Sector - Quatre will have to come out to us. He's not going to risk docking this ship and having his IF toadies realize what it is."
"Exactly. I'm sure he keeps them well bribed, but even the dumbest IF chánchú is going to know he needs to alert his superiors if an ancient Chang warship shows up."
"So we arrange for Quatre to go the way of his Mags, and then we-"
"Have ourselves a goddamned treasure ship, Tro."
It was, Trowa had to admit, a damn good idea.
"He's got to have thought of it, though," Trowa said. "He knows us. He knows we're going to try to get out of this."
"I thought of that too," Duo agreed. Through the comm, Trowa could hear a loud thud, and Duo turned to glare at the closed door of the cockpit. He scowled. "I think our buddies want in. So I'll make this quick. Worse comes to worse, you and I evac to Scythe and just blow the Nataku up, killing our golden demon in the process. It doesn't leave us rich and powerful, but it leaves us alive."
"I'll take alive over rich and powerful any day," Trowa agreed, as Duo got up and started to walk towards the door.
"Exactly. Now get your ass in here before I kill these bastards."
-o-
"Freighter 007181, hold at your current position and identify yourself."
The voice was clipped with military precision, and Trowa could imagine that the soldier who went with the voice was equally bland and curt.
Duo, sitting in the pilot's chair again, licked his lips and smirked. No doubt he was thinking of something witty to say that would probably result in all of them having to go through quarantine clearance as a punishment. At least, that had been the result of his last attempt to be funny when queried by the IF.
"Don't even try it."
A heavy hand landed on Duo's shoulder, as forceful as the voice that delivered the warning, and Duo turned to glare up at Rashid, the leader of their Mags escort.
The man knew Duo well - had been happy to beat him to a pulp on several previous occasions, and Duo was no doubt remembering those as he angrily shrugged off Rashid's hand.
Duo flipped the comms switch.
"This is Freighter 007181, registered as Death's Scythe."
There was a pause while the IF looked them up.
"You don't have clearance to approach the Belt. It was revoked last year by the Governor of Mars."
Duo rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, listen, that was just a little misunderstanding and I've sent the Governor flowers and candy, and I'm pretty sure he doesn't want me shot on sight anymore. How's about we-"
"Death's Scythe, come to the following heading and prepare to be boarded," a familiar voice broke in.
Duo sighed, the force of his exhaled breath ruffling his bangs.
"Will do, Captain Tight Ass."
It was Trowa's turn to roll his eyes. He closed the comms for Duo and shook his head.
"Captain Tight Ass?"
"I know. Not as good as Lieutenant Icy Cock, but I wanted to, you know, show respect for his promotion."
Rashid, standing behind them, was clearly at a loss, and Trowa felt no need to enlighten him.
The man who had interrupted Duo's attempts to sweet talk his way past the IF checkpoint was Heero Yuy, an old acquaintance of theirs.
On their first meeting, Duo had shot the IF officer several times. On their second, he had rescued him from certain death. When Trowa had first met him, a few years later, he had also saved Heero's life, albeit in vastly different circumstances. While Heero's debt to Duo had been paid off long ago - and his patience expired - Heero still owed Trowa.
"Hope you Maggies have all of your papers in order," Duo said as he spun around and got out of his chair. "'Cuz Captain Death Glare is a stickler for that kind of thing."
Duo walked past them, and Trowa followed him down to the airlock and waited.
It wasn't long before a warning klaxon started to blare, until Duo rolled his eyes and slapped at the nearest wall control unit. A moment later and there was a pressurized hiss as the airlock doors slid open to reveal an IF boarding party.
There were seven of them - a squad of troopers and Heero Yuy himself, the perfect picture of military composure with the exception of his eternally mussed hair.
"Search the ship. Seize any cargo or passengers who aren't on the manifest."
Duo grinned.
"Captain Anal Retentive, are you suggesting that I would try to smuggle something past you and the mighty IF?"
Heero flicked his gaze over at Duo, then focused his attention entirely on Trowa.
"Barton."
"Yuy."
Duo rolled his eyes.
"For fuck's sake, don't go getting sentimental in front of me."
Trowa saw Heero's lips twitch ever so slightly before the other man restrained himself.
"I have a few questions for you, if you would care to accompany me?" Heero gestured to the airlock and the IF boarding shuttle.
Rashid made a noise of complaint, and Heero arched an eyebrow at him.
"An invitation I can certainly extend to everyone aboard," he said smoothly, "but then I would have to take all of you into custody and impound this ship until further notice."
Rashid looked homicidal, but he lowered his gaze and shook his head in the negative.
Heero gestured again, and Trowa preceded him into the airlock.
"You two kids have fun. And don't do anything I wouldn't do!" Duo called after them.
Heero muttered something under his breath.
"Hm?" Trowa had to smirk.
"I can't believe you put up with him," Heero said, but Trowa was certain that had not been what he had first muttered.
"Me either," Trowa agreed.
He let Heero take the lead as soon as they were back on the boarding shuttle. Heero took him to what was clearly an interrogation room.
Trowa arched an eyebrow.
"There's nowhere else private. It's also the only place where I can scrub the security feed before it gets archived."
Trowa nodded in understanding and appreciation.
They were very different men - Heero operating within the law and Trowa as far outside of it as he could manage - but they respected each other.
"It's been awhile," Trowa said. He sat on the edge of the table, unsure of what, exactly, Heero wanted from him.
Heero looked just as uncertain. He ran a hand through his hair and nodded.
"I thought you were due for a rotation on Terra."
"I was. I turned it down."
Trowa arched an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you've grown attached to the dullest job in the IF?"
Heero snorted. "Hardly. This is the most interesting thing that's happened in seven months."
And Heero didn't even know the half of it.
Trowa nodded in sympathy.
Heero let out a slow breath and he stepped closer, fitting his body between Trowa's legs.
Oh.
Trowa pulled him closer, using Heero's tie as leverage.
Heero smirked but he allowed it, angled his head so that their lips fit together with familiar precision.
Heero nipped at Trowa's lip, just this side of painful, and there wasn't much after that that could be considered precise.
They were a little frantic, fumbling with clasps and zippers, hands too cold as they encountered hot flesh, teeth and lips everywhere.
After, while Heero tried to right his thoroughly disheveled uniform and Trowa lay on his back on the table, his flushed cheek pressed against the cold, hard surface, Trowa was struck with the deeply uncomfortable realization that Heero had missed him.
He swallowed hard, the urge to run away making his heart race. But there was nowhere to run.
So, he drew in a deep breath and tried to channel Duo, a man who seemed capable of running away without even taking a single step.
"I hope you weren't planning on treating Duo and the rest of my crew to this kind of interrogation. I doubt your uniform would survive it."
Heero, in the process of shoving his dress shirt back into the waist of his trousers, stopped to stare at him.
Trowa could see the hurt, the flash of anger, and then the professional facade slid into place and Heero nodded.
"I thought you and Duo were done making Belt runs. After the incident with the Governor."
"We thought so too," Trowa said with a sigh, as he sat up.
"Then why are you here?"
Trowa sighed, and he ran a hand through his hair.
"A favor, for an old friend." Trowa paused, and he contemplated what a monumental asshole he was. "Speaking of favors."
Heero ruthlessly tightened his tie and refused to meet Trowa's gaze.
"What do you need?"
"To get through the checkpoint - and back out again in a few days. We're picking up an old freighter, some damned antique that Duo promised to look over. I think it's probably a pile of junk, but it's docked with one of the mining satellites, and-"
"Which one?"
"X44M," Trowa lied easily. It was always so easy. Especially with Heero, who had only ever wanted to believe him.
"Is that all?"
"No. I… I need you to see if my sister is safe. My sister and Hilde Schbeiker."
"Duo's-"
"They ended things, but he's still… you know how he is."
Heero scowled. "Why wouldn't they be safe?"
Trowa shrugged one shoulder.
"We live in dangerous times."
"Trowa-"
"I can't be him, Heero."
"What?" The other man's eyebrows were drawn together in anger and confusion.
Trowa sighed and he got to his feet, using his height to put more distance between them.
"I can't be the man you want me to be, Heero. I can't- I am only ever going to be the merc who uses you. I'm only ever going to be good for a quick fuck and a lot of regrets."
"You really think that? You really think you're worth so little?"
Trowa snorted. "I know I am. I'm not like you, Heero. I don't have a cause, I don't have a past or a future and I'm not stupid enough to think I deserve one."
Heero glared at him, and it was clear he wanted to say something. Hell, from the way his fists were clenched, he probably wanted to attempt to beat some sense into Trowa.
"You need to let me go."
-o-
Translations:
qí yán fèn tǔ yě: Piece of shit
Chánchú: toad