you know ... the scary thing is, i went through all my fics (woot! like i have so many or something) trying to find something to post here and damned if near all of them don't have R or XXX ratings. jeez, me bad. anyways .. this is the cleanest of the lot and probably the most psychological. maybe - hard to tell. this was actually NinjaSam's idea, but she was sweet and let me write it because she LURVES me! ____________________________________ Mirror (Wall of the World) It's quiet up here. Against the horizon there's a line of black. I've been up here watching the sun fall for hours now, sliding down the wall of the world. Only just starting to lose itself, drowning silently beneath the mirror of ocean and cloud. A breeze is picking up, coldly curious at my bare arms but I haven't gone inside. It smells like rain. Somebody else could be sitting right beside me, seeing the same things I'm seeing and I can just imagine them finally turning to me. Isn't it gorgeous, they'd say. It's so peaceful here. Peace. Not something you get just from looking at something pretty and thinking ... that's beautiful. Sun and water and me on this roof, looking out over all of it like I orchestrated the event. His eyes were brown. I've been trained to perfect recall, you know, among other things they perfect me for. Brown, and not the light haze that in certain lights looks green. These were solid nuggets of earth, a secret deepness. Black curly hair, a darker complexion than mine although that isn't hard. I'd even say he's a bit younger than me, but I'd have to have seen his hands better to tell for sure. Only saw him for a minute though, a portrait of a boy framed in wire mesh. There and then - gone. Swallowed into the adults that walked him out of the training arena. Or perhaps he was the one to walk out and they had to follow. Who's to say? The effect was the same regardless of intention. I don't know if he saw me. Crouched in the ventilation duct, painting my own portrait of a boy in darkness. If I was him, I would like to think I would have seen me. I don't know though. I could be fooling myself that I'm better. Sit here, watch the sun and the quiet and the setting sky. Because I'm thinking, like they trained me to think. To pull fact, thought, intuition, knowledge... pull it out of the air to hold in my hand and say - this is a truth. Even though I can't see it. Even though all I have is a snapshot of a boy that I do not know, in a place that isn't mine, surrounded by men that dwarfed him. The knowledge that says they're training him to be me. If I fail, he will be me. A me with brown eyes and curly hair and hands that might or might not be smaller than mine. You'd think it's peaceful up here, wouldn't you? Just the sky and the cold air, and the sun melting into red wax on a mirror. Extrapolation is a good word. It says if there is one, then there are others. One for each of us, and probably more. Splinter cells they're called - separated so that a failure in one does not compromise the series. I would think at least triple redundancy, but I do not yet know enough about their absolute requirements to say with any certainty. It is an interesting problem, with complex variables. Which of the many traits we have are the most important? Blinding reflexes, flexible strength, exquisite dexterity. Analytical, logical thought. Interpolative, intuitive reasoning processes. Spatial perceptions, conceptualizations. How many have what is necessary, in the degree to which they must be present? Much, much less than one percent of the population. Of that very small number, how many are children young enough to be used? And of those, how many have parents that love them, and refuse to give them up? There's a better than even chance that ISO is just taking them. It's a cold thought, but logical. Utterly, correctly logical. If I fail... if I die, will my cell die with me? The viable culture they have built around me, to support me in what I must do. Could the boy with the brown eyes step into my place, into my cell, and survive? Unlikely in the extreme. The worst diseases are caused when the body attacks itself. I know my scores. I know how the others test as well. It is important, they say, for me to know how the others operate, what their strengths and weaknesses are, what mine are. Our scores... are beyond good. We all regularily register off the charts but I had to dig to find that out. That part, they were not willing to share. On the basis of those results, through the filter of my perceptions, then we are the alpha team. It is likely that the boy I saw is the beta leader. With his brown eyes and black hair and the straightness of his back. Because even with scores off the edge of the map they still plan for the moment when I will fail and my cell splinters around me. A noise to my right, a mouse scratching catches my attention. When the trap door swings open I'm not surprised, even though it makes a hard sound in the silence around me. Don't have to look over to know who they've sent to bring me down from my perch. I've been up here for a long time. They're probably worried. "Ken. It's time to come in, it's getting late. Dinner will be on the table soon." "Yes, Hakase. I'll be right there." Don't move though. There's still a sliver of sun left, a red smear on the mirror. There's a hesitation on his part. Deliberate? Who knows. But I file it away. I can feel him staring out where I am looking, perhaps trying to see what I see. Yet when he speaks, his voice is neutral. "Come inside, Ken. There's a storm coming." Look at the line of darkness against the horizon, it's cool fingers reaching out across the distance to touch my hair. The air smells like rain. "Yes Hakase. I know."

Now what's wrong with XXX or rated R? I'm almost embarrassed to say that I've come(no pun) to love the Gatchaman Ken/Joe slash stories and I'm a big fan of the Berg/Joe stories by Ennien and others.

Originally posted by tampitt Now what's wrong with XXX or rated R? I'm almost embarrassed to say that I've come(no pun) to love the Gatchaman Ken/Joe slash stories and I'm a big fan of the Berg/Joe stories by Ennien and others.

grin .. absolutely nothing! but was trying to be sensitive.

Ive seen your site, and I liked your fics. This is a good character one.

thanks Tengu! i think it's amazing some of the stuff you come up with for your fics - i mean, wow! am not sure whether i should wear a hazmat suit everytime i read, or just sit in the rafters and cheer. seems like 70% of all fanfic writing out there is romantic sap (of which i am seriously guilty most of the time) but you're coming up with stuff buried in old Greek myths and pieces written from the point of vew of the dog (0.o) - you have a massive imagination Tengu - keep writing!

Romance makes me puke too

aww, I like romance but I also enjoy the more adult too

Where are your fanfics located? DOn't think i've come across any before and I'm running out.

www.birdgo.com grin .. wear shades. NinjaSam swears a lot.

Thats not my fics! many are on the archive here, some on terrriannes site (havent the link) still others on Clubhouse le fanfics. But be warned...they are somewhat individualistic.

Why not add them up? Oh and by the way people if you know of any good sites just add them to our link directory

Lyon, I confess to being a sappy romantic but it does not stop me loving the more adult or stories from other perspectives. I am just to soppy to write them I hope to read fics from you and Tengu for a long time coming

NinjaSam swears a lot.

Splutter!!!!!! There you go with the pots and kettles again, Miz Lyon!!

Okay, that's it, here's a swear free, heterosexual story starring Jun and Ken that only has very brief naughty stuff with no graphic description. Yes, I CAN do it. Happy??? REBOUND The first rumble of approaching thunder woke her right before four a.m. She was instantly aware, eyes wide in the deep shadows of the room, blood beating a staccato tempo in her veins. It wasn't the thunder - she'd faced far worse in her life than the mere heavens clashing in anger over her head. It was that the sound still reminded her subconscious too sharply of other, more unnatural things. Distant gunfire, armored tanks, the vibrations of a monster mecha rolling over the ground. It's over, she reminded herself - breathing deeply, letting the tension bleed away. You don't have to worry about that any more. She wondered suddenly if she was the only one, or whether the thunder ever woke him up, too, poised for battle in the bleak chill before dawn. She turned her head to see, and sighed with quiet disappointment. The pillow beside her was empty. He was gone again. She touched her fingertips lightly to the indentations that lingered in the sheets, the faded cotton still shaped around the memory of his body. Still faintly warm - he hadn't been gone long. Maybe he didn't really leave this time, she thought, hope rising. Maybe he's just restless, can't sleep. She reached out with her trained awareness for some trace of sound or movement, but heard nothing that didn't belong to the storm outside. Maybe he was downstairs. She hesitated for a moment, listening to the hiss of the rain as it hit the street outside her window. Then she swung her long legs over the side of the bed, pushed her feet into slippers and pulled an old chenille robe around her slender body. Shivering slightly in the damp chill of the air, she padded quietly out into the hallway toward the stairs. A powerful streak of lightning lit up the bar as she entered, washing the room in its harsh blue-white glare for a brief moment before the darkness snapped back again. The momentary illumination made it starkly clear that the room was empty. Trying to swallow the disappointment that burned at the back of her eyes, she pulled the robe more tightly around herself and crossed to the bar. Hot cocoa, she decided. That always helped her get back to sleep. She poured the milk into the pan and turned on the flame under it, staring down with unseeing eyes as she stirred. Damn him, she thought suddenly, fiercely. This is not the way it's supposed to be. The war was over. Katse was dead, Sosai X gone without a trace. This was it, the beginning of the rest of their lives - the happily ever after that none of them had seriously thought they'd see. The happily ever after that she still clung to, even now, despite the slowly growing awareness deep inside her that it wasn't turning out the way she so badly wanted it to. The thunder made her jump a little, close enough now for the vibrations to make the windows rattle. She turned back to look across the room, watching black rain pour from the sky and remembering. It had been a night just like this only a few months ago when he'd come to her for the first time. She'd been sleeping when the sound of the car woke her, a different timbre from the steady thrum of the rain on the roof and the high pitched whistle of the wind. It was the first night she'd spent in her own bed since they'd returned from Cross Karakoram, victors in the final battle but too numb with grief to care. Despite the exhausted depths of her sleep, she had awakened almost as swiftly that night as she had done tonight, knowing with unerring instinct that he was there, and that he had come to her because something was wrong. She slipped out of bed, the quilt wrapped around her like a rustling shroud as she moved to the window and stared down into the street below. Watched him park crooked against the curb, climb unsteadily out of the car. She couldn't tell if he was drunk or ill or just simply too far gone past his last reserves of strength to function any more. At first it seemed like he was going to come straight up to the door, but then he hesitated, standing in the street in front of the car, staring up at the building. His shoulders slumped and he sank down slowly on the hood in the icy, pouring rain. He looked as if he'd found the end of the world and couldn't figure out why it wouldn't let him just step off into oblivion. A fist clamped shut around her heart, squeezing so painfully that she ground her knuckles against her breastbone to ease the pressure. She ran out of the room, down the stairs, across the darkened bar. Fumbled with the locks, finally pushed open the door and burst out into the street, gasping as the freezing rain soaked her to the skin in seconds. "Ken!" she called frantically. "Ken!" He raised his head slowly, looking at her with dull, bloodshot eyes. The fist squeezed again around her heart, making her breath catch. She took his hands. "Ken, come inside," she said. "Now." For a moment she didn't know if he even heard her, let alone understood what she was saying. But at long last he nodded, and let her pull him to his feet and lead him inside. She felt the hard trembling begin in his muscles as they crossed the threshold. His skin was like ice, and she realized he must have been wandering around out there in the cold and rain long enough to make him a candidate for exposure. She helped him up the stairs and, ignoring his mumbled protests, pushed him into the shower and turned on the hot water full blast. When he tried to resist she did the only thing she could think of, she wrapped her arms around his shaking body and held on as tightly as she could. (continued in next post)

REBOUND (continued) After a while, as the steam rose around them in thick clouds in the tiny room, his frozen rigidity began to thaw. She felt his arms go around her and hold her against him just as tightly as she was holding him. When he began to shake again, she realized with a shock that he was crying, face buried in her long, soaking black hair, fingers gripping her hard enough to leave bruises. "Oh, Juney, Juney, I killed him, I killed him, I killed Joe..." "Shhhh," she said automatically, one hand wrapping around his head, the other stroking his back as if he were Jinpei awakened from a nightmare. "No, you didn't...you didn't...it's going to be all right..." "No," he said, his voice raw and bleeding. "Nothing's ever going to be all right again, not ever..." She lifted her head, staring at him, unable to hold back the tidal flow of her own tears. "Ken," she whispered. He kissed her then, savagely, pushing her against the tiled wall of the shower. She wound her arms tightly around his neck, still crying, feeling him tear away her clothes until his hands found flesh and she arched into him with a soft cry, mouth opened against his. There was nothing gentle about him now, his hands and mouth hot and hard and demanding, but she had rehearsed this moment a thousand times in her dreams and she was more than ready for him. It was perfect, even like this - just as perfect as she had always known it would be. When it was over he refused to let her go, arms like steel around her trembling body. She put her fingers over his mouth to forestall the apology she knew was coming. "Sssh," she whispered, 'Don't..." He stilled, then, as though the last of his strength was finally all spent, allowing her to turn off the water and towel them both dry. She led him quietly to her bedroom and he lay down beside her, gathering her wordlessly back into his arms, holding her head against his chest. She fell into a deep, dreamless sleep with the sound of his heartbeat echoing the pain and joy in hers. "Shimatta!" The milk boiled over with a loud hissing sound, snapping her back to the dark cold of the bar even as she reflexively jerked the pan away from the flame. It wasn't until she had run water into the pot and lifted a hand to brush away the hair that had fallen into her eyes that she realized that the memory had made her cry. Damn him. The pan forgotten, she sank into a chair beside the bar, wiping ineffectually at the tears that wouldn't stop flowing. What was happening to her? She wasn't like this. She was tough, strong, resourceful - Nambu had frequently called her the best problem-solver on the team. As a child she had survived years on the streets, keeping both herself and Jinpei alive and well long before the doctor had found and adopted them. She was beginning to loathe this unsure, insecure, unhappy woman she was becoming. She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and hugging herself into a tight ball. It had been so good between them, in the beginning. Ken hadn't wanted to let her out of his sight at first, following her around wherever she went, reaching out to touch and hold her as if needing to reassure himself that she wasn't going to disappear into thin air and leave him alone. She had high hopes for their future in those early days, lying wrapped in his arms after making love, dreaming of all the things they could do and be now that the war was over and their lives were for the first time truly their own. Even Ken himself seemed to be making plans, talking about cleaning up the airfield, reviving his flagging mail business, maybe buying more planes and even opening a flying school. She loved him so much, she was so focused on her own happiness, she didn't want to see that the hope in his words never once reached his eyes. There were dark shadows in those eyes permanently now, and he sometimes went a long time without speaking, just staring into space. He'd leave in the middle of the night and sometimes not come back for hours, or days. He would never say where he'd been or what he'd been doing. In the beginning she had asked him what was wrong, but he just got that distant look on his face and shook his head, and talked about something else. Everything's okay, he would say. Everything's fine. But she knew, now that she was forcing herself to take the blinders off and really see. He was getting worse, not better, and something inside him just wasn't healing. She remembered, suddenly, how he had looked during those awful first few days after their return from the Himalayas. While the world celebrated their victory over Galactor, the Kagaku Ninja Tai endured a grueling round of debriefing - three endless days of repeating themselves in conference room after conference room, their audience changing although their words didn't. Telling them over and over again how they won the war. And lost Joe. She had been unable to take her eyes off Ken during the debriefings, deeply worried at how very pale he was, that bruised, numb look in his eyes. He was taking it harder than any of them, harder than even she had thought he would. He had never faltered, his voice had never cracked, but she bled inside herself for every word he spoke because she knew what it was costing him to answer those questions, over and over. To keep telling them the same hideous truth - that the second in command of the Kagaku Ninja Tai had lain shot to pieces on the scrubby, bloodstained grass of Cross Karakoram, and that it had been by the orders of his commander that the team had left him behind to die. Just once he had looked at her, across the cold gray steel of the conference table, and in all her years she had never seen so much pain in one person's eyes. He still looked like that, every time she looked at him, every single day. The rest of them were slowly letting go, still mourning, but getting stronger and moving on with their lives. She had thought him the strongest of them all...so why wasn't he? Lightning seared the walls again, the stink of ozone washing across her as her eyes suddenly went wide. Oh, God. "Oh, Juney, Juney, I killed him, I killed him, I killed Joe..." It was all so desperately clear now, what she hadn't seen before. What she hadn't wanted to see before. Joe. She shivered, feeling him all around her now, his dark brooding energy crackling off the walls, so like the storm that raged outside. She stood up, clenching her fists. "I won't let you take him, Joe," she whispered. "I won't let him die for you." For a moment as she left, she thought she heard the deep rumble of his laughter. She paused with her fingers touching the door handle, turning. But it was only thunder. # # # # #

I am with Firebird. I honestly find all the fanfics utterly delightful for one reason or another... But, my pyche will only allow me to write angst and romance.... Thanks Ninja-Sam. I have read this one before and the sheer volume of angst here makes me one happy puss.

Originally posted by ninja-sam

NinjaSam swears a lot.

Splutter!!!!!! There you go with the pots and kettles again, Miz Lyon!!

hands over a glass of iced liquid julep, Miz Sam?

Originally posted by Lolabella I am with Firebird. I honestly find all the fanfics utterly delightful for one reason or another... But, my pyche will only allow me to write angst and romance.... Thanks Ninja-Sam. I have read this one before and the sheer volume of angst here makes me one happy puss.

you should see some of the RPs. are enough to send one into shivering convulsions if are not careful.

FAAAAALLLLLLOOOUUUUUUTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It was good to reread that one. I do remember reading it somewhere. Maybe on your site? I am definitely still a fic addict.

I'm glad you're a fic addict! If not for fic addicts, what would writers do for an audience...???? Kicks snoring Eagle-Condor heap. Boys, we've got to go to work here. Firebird is waiting!!!

*huggles Sam* YAY!!!!!!!!! more fics!!!!

Okay, guys, Part II of "The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea" is now posted at www.birdgo.com (on the Fiction page). It's too long to post here...the post lengths are too short...

You could post it under the fics section on the portal sammie! Oh Oh! And you could put a link to Birdgo in the link directory too if you like!

...under the fics section on the portal... You realize this is Swahili to me... I didn't even know we could do interdimensional travel from here...

aww The "portal" is the main part of the site or the first page you come to when you type in www.gatchamania.net into your browser The fanfic section and link directory are both on the index menu on the left hand side along with chat etc.

ooh more fics to read *jumps up and down*

The "portal" is the main part of the site or the first page you come to...

Oooh, swanky, I like that much better than "mainpage," even if I do keep expecting to see Federation starships..