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regonym expressed interest. Really, all you have to do is ask! Comment if you want me to post Chapter Three. I wrote this a while back and am not really editing it, just posting it, so it's not taking writing time away from Lee or anything.
Title: A Matter For the Goddess, OR, Babysitter of Themyscira!
Fandom: JLA/Teen Titans
Summary: Alternate universe. After the events of Infinite Crisis, Wonder Woman took Wonder Girl (Cassie Sandsmark) back to Themyscira to recover from the Crisis and from the death of Superboy (Conner Kent). Four years later, Cassie has built a life for herself on Themyscira. When Diana, still acting as Wonder Woman, brings back a homeless waif to Cassie's adopted home, Cassie is furious, until drastic action by Queen Hippolyta forces her into a closer understanding of her visitor's demons.
Rating: R for language and concepts.
Prologue
Chapter One
CHAPTER TWO
The royal council sort of degenerated after that. Diana was screaming at her mother, and several of the Amazons started arguing back and forth about precedent and men and the ancient laws. None of it mattered, anyway– the goddess would make her decision once she arrived, and that would be that– but they were making a lot of noise, and I have trouble understanding such high-frequency Greek. In the middle of it all, Ian looked ready to faint. Without thinking, I hurried to him and put an arm around him. He was about a foot taller than me, but so skinny I could steady him without any kind of super strength at all.
"It's okay," I said to him, and started to add "don't be scared," but wasn't sure how I felt about saying something like that when he'd actually be compelled to obey. Instead I gave him a quick reassuring squeeze while I tried to remember the word Hippolyta had used for foundling and the word Diana had used for bitch, strung words together mentally, and produced at the top of my lungs, "Diana, stop bitching and comfort your foundling!"
All of the Amazons fell silent at once, staring at me. I found myself supporting most of Ian's weight as Diana hurried over to us.
"Ian, it's all right," she said softly in English, steadying him. He was white as a sheet, and clung to her as if she were his mother. "In seven days, the goddess will visit this island, and we'll get this all sorted out. I'm sure she'll be understanding. And in the meantime, Cassie will take good care of you, won't you, Cassie?"
"Sure," I said. "It's okay, Ian. Don't worr– I mean, nothing to worry about. We'll stick together. How's America? I haven't been back there for a few years."
"Increasingly totalitarian," he said weakly, and I was startled into a grin. "But the Sox did finally win the Series."
"That I did hear about," I said, as Diana gently peeled off his clinging hands. "We'll get along, kid."
"I have to go, Ian," said Diana softly.
He looked up at her pleadingly. "Right now?"
"I'm afraid so," she said, "before I say something to my mother that I will regret later. You are in good hands, dear child." She kissed him tenderly on the forehead.
"Come on, Diana," I said in an undertone. "You bring the kid to a crazy mythical island, at least show him around a little before you take off."
"You do it," she said, and then in Greek, with a cold look at her mother, "It is you he must obey."
"On second thought," I said quickly, "have a nice flight."
I didn't know what to do with him, so I finally just took him to work with me, hoping my little apprentice, Anthea, wouldn't be there. Yeah, I've got an apprentice-- I've been here that long, now. Yeah, she's a head taller than me, even though she's only fifteen. I can still call her "little". It's not the size that counts, it's what you do with it.
It took me a while after I moved here to find what Diana referred to as a "vocation." The way I saw it, I'd already retired from my vocation; I was more looking for a day job. Either way, Diana thought it would help to have something constructive to do-- take my mind off Conner, give me a place in the community, all that. Keep me out of her hair was what she meant. There's plenty to do around here-- farming, spinning, weaving, sewing, smithing, all the pre-Industrial Age good stuff. We don't miss the internal combustion engine, not with Amazon strength to burn. But I'm not much with the domestic arts, and I stayed in Diana's hair for a while, and in her bed.
I ended up being pretty good at pottery. Yeah, it sounds hokey, but it works for me; it's like making mud pies, but mud pies other people actually want to buy. I've got a gentle, firm touch, an easy dance-floor rhythm on the wheel, and I wedge clay like nobody's business. I have the angriest arms on Paradise Island.
"Ian," I said, once I had him back at the mercifully empty studio, and stopped to think. I wasn't going to say Look or even Listen. No imperatives. "I have to talk to you."
"Okay," he said, looking up at me nervously. I knew he didn't remember the giving-orders thing, so he was probably nervous because I'd been so bitchy about taking him on in the first place. I really didn't want to drop the bombshell I was about to, but I guessed it was better than him finding out the hard way, again.
"Queen Hippolyta-- the scary lady back there?" I took a breath. "She worked this Amazon mojo on you. Well, on both of us. It's-- the thing is, if I tell you to do anything, you have to do it."
"I will," he said quickly. "I won't be any trouble, I promise. I'm really grateful you're doing this. And if there's anything you need me to do, I'll do it."
"Thanks. But, uh, that's not what I meant. I meant she put this-- binding-- on us. It means that you have to do as I say. Everything I say. You don't have a choice. You'll just do it, whether you want to or not."
"I don't think I understand," he said carefully, not looking at me. "I'm sorry."
"No, I'm sorry. I-- um, I'm just going to show you. Okay?"
"Okay," he said warily.
"Hop up and down on one foot," I said.
He did it.
"Okay, stop. Sit back down."
"Jesus fucking Christ," he said, looking like he'd seen a ghost as he automatically obeyed.
"I know." I bit my lip. "It happened earlier, and I accidentally made you do a couple of things, but then– well, this is kind of messed up, Ian, but you were really upset, and I said 'Forget about it.' I was just trying to– but you actually did forget about it."
"What did you make me do before?" he asked swiftly, as if it mattered. I guessed to him it did.
"You knelt down and kissed the ground," I said neutrally. "Then you spun around. And then you– forgot."
He sat silently, taking this in.
"Ian, I'm sorry," I said, and I really was. The look on his face was horrible. "I didn't-- mean for this to happen. But it did, and we've got to live with each other for the next seven days, so let's try and make it work, okay? I'll try really hard not to– to tell you to do anything."
He nodded, still white, and looked down at his hands, which were shaking. I was thinking it was lucky I'd never been given to the kind of invasively bouncy orders that some people bark at you constantly. Cheer up. Don't worry. Think good thoughts. Smile! Ian didn't look much like he wanted to do any of those things.
"I'm sorry," I said again awkwardly. "Diana– she just doesn't think, sometimes."
He shrugged and looked up, unconsciously squaring his shoulders. "Not like I was doing so great on my own. At least here I don't think I'm going to get killed."
"You want to tell me about that?" I asked, aware I was trying to fill the silence. "Diana said you were in trouble with a guy named Rob."
"To put it mildly," he said, looking down at his hands again.
"Yeah. Tell me– I mean– only if you want to."
He smiled briefly. "Thanks. Diana used that glowy gold rope thing of hers on me when she asked. Never talked so much without stopping in my life."
"She used the lasso on you?" I demanded, shocked.
"Well, I wasn't talking. I didn't know who the hell she was, and I didn't want to get her in trouble, if– yeah, it's funny, isn't it? There's really not much to tell. Never knew my dad, mom died when I was ten, ran away from my fosters when I was fourteen, and Rob picked me off the street, gave me a roof and a bed and a needle full of smack, and till two weeks ago he was my daddy and my dealer and my pimp and whatever else you're probably thinking. I waited till my eighteenth birthday to break for it. Wasn't going to get sent back to foster care. A couple of my foster dads made Rob look like Mary fucking Poppins. Went through detox, got back on the street, and heard from a few– acquaintances– that Rob was looking for me. Pretty intently."
"Cause he wants to make sure you're okay, right?" I said dryly, and he looked up at me quickly to check if I really was that dumb, his mouth twisting in half a smile when he saw I wasn't. Not quite. I didn't really feel much like joking.
"Happy birthday," I said finally, and then, as he peered at me curiously, "I mean, two weeks ago. Happy eighteenth. I'm twenty."
He nodded without smiling.
"So," I said awkwardly, "are you, uh... gay?"
"Not particularly," he said, lifting an eyebrow. "Why, are you?"
"Not particularly," I said, smiling.
He nodded again. "I sort of thought you and Diana might be–"
"No, no," I said. "I mean, not any more. She kind of, um, took care of me for a while-- she brought me here, just like she did you, you know. But I'm not doing the romance thing right now. Had enough of that on the mainland."
"Is it really all women on the island?" he asked. "Except me?"
"Yep."
"Nice," he said sincerely.
I squinted at him. "If you're thinking this is your own personal porn palace, it's not. We don't have giant soft-focus orgies in the royal hall, and if we did, you definitely wouldn't be invited."
"I didn't mean that," he said quickly. "I like women. I mean, I don't just mean– I liked my mom. She was nice. And I haven't exactly had great experiences with men."
"Have you had great experiences with women?" I asked curiously. "I mean, other than your mom?" I blinked. "Wow, that came out wrong."
He actually smiled, and I realized what first thinking he was a girl, then the shock of it all, and maybe the misery and fear and pain that had been all over his face, had kept me from realizing before: that Ian was a very, very good-looking young man.
"No," he said. "Not yet."
We both jumped as Anthea banged into the studio, breathless and wired, her cheeks hot from running, and skidded to a halt, staring at Ian.
"What are you doing here?" I asked her, irritated.
"I work here," she said defensively, starting to circle Ian at a cautious distance. "Is he really male?"
"Ignore her," I told Ian, whose gaze slipped off her instantly and fell to his lap. I bit back a curse. A binding of obedience, all right, but this was ridiculous. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean– pay attention to whatever you like."
He looked up at her, maybe only to reassure himself that he could. She's a pretty thing. Dark and sloe-eyed, clear-skinned and strong. She stared back at him, fascinated.
"Can I see him naked?" she asked.
"He is not an animal!" I snapped, and Ian flinched, hard. I'm five foot two. I wasn't even yelling at him. It made me want to kill someone, though I wasn't sure if my choice would be Hippolyta or this Rob character. "Ian, I'm sorry, I'm not mad at you, she's just being stupid." I wondered if I'd ever utter another sentence to the guy that didn't contain the words I'm sorry.
He gave me a quick smile, like he was laughing at himself for being so skittish, and I felt a little better. Anthea was walking closer to him, and he sat very still.
"What should I do?" he asked me quietly. "What does she want?"
"Anthea, stop that. You're fine, Ian. Get away from him." The constant switching back and forth between languages– and trying so scrupulously to avoid imperatives with Ian while scolding Anthea like the sugar-hyped two-year-old she was acting– was making me dizzy.
Anthea sulkily went to the table where the wedged clay lay covered with a wet cloth and twisted herself off a chunk. "What will he do here, Cassandra? Among the Amazons?"
"Mind his own business," I said.
She stuck out her tongue at me as she dipped her hands in slip and began kicking sulkily at the wheel.
"So," said Ian tentatively. "Diana– brought you here?"
I fidgeted. "Long story."
"I'm told I've got a week," he said, examining his fingers.
"Okay," I said. "I'll tell it, but not now. Anthea's fidgety enough as it is without me launching into a long story in English."
"Fair enough," he said, still not looking up at me. "Can I ask something else? What did she say to make you snap like that? Your eyes practically shot sparks."
I blushed, embarrassed. "Um. She's– well, she's lived on this island her whole life, so she's never seen a man before. She asked– she wanted to see you naked."
He blushed too, to my surprise, and looked up quickly. "Thanks. For not... for..."
"Christ, Ian." I was appalled. "You think I'd do that to you?"
"Wouldn't be the first time," he said with studied nonchalance.
I swallowed, trying to banish the mental image of a scared, skinny kid (fifteen, sixteen, seventeen) being stripped for curious strangers. Somehow I doubted, too, that they'd all been as pretty and young and... well, female... as Anthea. Not that that would have made it much better.
"I'm not Rob," I told him firmly.
"Yeah," he said, looking down again, and I couldn't quite read his tone. "I noticed."
regonym expressed interest. Really, all you have to do is ask! Comment if you want me to post Chapter Three. I wrote this a while back and am not really editing it, just posting it, so it's not taking writing time away from Lee or anything.Title: A Matter For the Goddess, OR, Babysitter of Themyscira!
Fandom: JLA/Teen Titans
Summary: Alternate universe. After the events of Infinite Crisis, Wonder Woman took Wonder Girl (Cassie Sandsmark) back to Themyscira to recover from the Crisis and from the death of Superboy (Conner Kent). Four years later, Cassie has built a life for herself on Themyscira. When Diana, still acting as Wonder Woman, brings back a homeless waif to Cassie's adopted home, Cassie is furious, until drastic action by Queen Hippolyta forces her into a closer understanding of her visitor's demons.
Rating: R for language and concepts.
Prologue
Chapter One
CHAPTER TWO
The royal council sort of degenerated after that. Diana was screaming at her mother, and several of the Amazons started arguing back and forth about precedent and men and the ancient laws. None of it mattered, anyway– the goddess would make her decision once she arrived, and that would be that– but they were making a lot of noise, and I have trouble understanding such high-frequency Greek. In the middle of it all, Ian looked ready to faint. Without thinking, I hurried to him and put an arm around him. He was about a foot taller than me, but so skinny I could steady him without any kind of super strength at all.
"It's okay," I said to him, and started to add "don't be scared," but wasn't sure how I felt about saying something like that when he'd actually be compelled to obey. Instead I gave him a quick reassuring squeeze while I tried to remember the word Hippolyta had used for foundling and the word Diana had used for bitch, strung words together mentally, and produced at the top of my lungs, "Diana, stop bitching and comfort your foundling!"
All of the Amazons fell silent at once, staring at me. I found myself supporting most of Ian's weight as Diana hurried over to us.
"Ian, it's all right," she said softly in English, steadying him. He was white as a sheet, and clung to her as if she were his mother. "In seven days, the goddess will visit this island, and we'll get this all sorted out. I'm sure she'll be understanding. And in the meantime, Cassie will take good care of you, won't you, Cassie?"
"Sure," I said. "It's okay, Ian. Don't worr– I mean, nothing to worry about. We'll stick together. How's America? I haven't been back there for a few years."
"Increasingly totalitarian," he said weakly, and I was startled into a grin. "But the Sox did finally win the Series."
"That I did hear about," I said, as Diana gently peeled off his clinging hands. "We'll get along, kid."
"I have to go, Ian," said Diana softly.
He looked up at her pleadingly. "Right now?"
"I'm afraid so," she said, "before I say something to my mother that I will regret later. You are in good hands, dear child." She kissed him tenderly on the forehead.
"Come on, Diana," I said in an undertone. "You bring the kid to a crazy mythical island, at least show him around a little before you take off."
"You do it," she said, and then in Greek, with a cold look at her mother, "It is you he must obey."
"On second thought," I said quickly, "have a nice flight."
I didn't know what to do with him, so I finally just took him to work with me, hoping my little apprentice, Anthea, wouldn't be there. Yeah, I've got an apprentice-- I've been here that long, now. Yeah, she's a head taller than me, even though she's only fifteen. I can still call her "little". It's not the size that counts, it's what you do with it.
It took me a while after I moved here to find what Diana referred to as a "vocation." The way I saw it, I'd already retired from my vocation; I was more looking for a day job. Either way, Diana thought it would help to have something constructive to do-- take my mind off Conner, give me a place in the community, all that. Keep me out of her hair was what she meant. There's plenty to do around here-- farming, spinning, weaving, sewing, smithing, all the pre-Industrial Age good stuff. We don't miss the internal combustion engine, not with Amazon strength to burn. But I'm not much with the domestic arts, and I stayed in Diana's hair for a while, and in her bed.
I ended up being pretty good at pottery. Yeah, it sounds hokey, but it works for me; it's like making mud pies, but mud pies other people actually want to buy. I've got a gentle, firm touch, an easy dance-floor rhythm on the wheel, and I wedge clay like nobody's business. I have the angriest arms on Paradise Island.
"Ian," I said, once I had him back at the mercifully empty studio, and stopped to think. I wasn't going to say Look or even Listen. No imperatives. "I have to talk to you."
"Okay," he said, looking up at me nervously. I knew he didn't remember the giving-orders thing, so he was probably nervous because I'd been so bitchy about taking him on in the first place. I really didn't want to drop the bombshell I was about to, but I guessed it was better than him finding out the hard way, again.
"Queen Hippolyta-- the scary lady back there?" I took a breath. "She worked this Amazon mojo on you. Well, on both of us. It's-- the thing is, if I tell you to do anything, you have to do it."
"I will," he said quickly. "I won't be any trouble, I promise. I'm really grateful you're doing this. And if there's anything you need me to do, I'll do it."
"Thanks. But, uh, that's not what I meant. I meant she put this-- binding-- on us. It means that you have to do as I say. Everything I say. You don't have a choice. You'll just do it, whether you want to or not."
"I don't think I understand," he said carefully, not looking at me. "I'm sorry."
"No, I'm sorry. I-- um, I'm just going to show you. Okay?"
"Okay," he said warily.
"Hop up and down on one foot," I said.
He did it.
"Okay, stop. Sit back down."
"Jesus fucking Christ," he said, looking like he'd seen a ghost as he automatically obeyed.
"I know." I bit my lip. "It happened earlier, and I accidentally made you do a couple of things, but then– well, this is kind of messed up, Ian, but you were really upset, and I said 'Forget about it.' I was just trying to– but you actually did forget about it."
"What did you make me do before?" he asked swiftly, as if it mattered. I guessed to him it did.
"You knelt down and kissed the ground," I said neutrally. "Then you spun around. And then you– forgot."
He sat silently, taking this in.
"Ian, I'm sorry," I said, and I really was. The look on his face was horrible. "I didn't-- mean for this to happen. But it did, and we've got to live with each other for the next seven days, so let's try and make it work, okay? I'll try really hard not to– to tell you to do anything."
He nodded, still white, and looked down at his hands, which were shaking. I was thinking it was lucky I'd never been given to the kind of invasively bouncy orders that some people bark at you constantly. Cheer up. Don't worry. Think good thoughts. Smile! Ian didn't look much like he wanted to do any of those things.
"I'm sorry," I said again awkwardly. "Diana– she just doesn't think, sometimes."
He shrugged and looked up, unconsciously squaring his shoulders. "Not like I was doing so great on my own. At least here I don't think I'm going to get killed."
"You want to tell me about that?" I asked, aware I was trying to fill the silence. "Diana said you were in trouble with a guy named Rob."
"To put it mildly," he said, looking down at his hands again.
"Yeah. Tell me– I mean– only if you want to."
He smiled briefly. "Thanks. Diana used that glowy gold rope thing of hers on me when she asked. Never talked so much without stopping in my life."
"She used the lasso on you?" I demanded, shocked.
"Well, I wasn't talking. I didn't know who the hell she was, and I didn't want to get her in trouble, if– yeah, it's funny, isn't it? There's really not much to tell. Never knew my dad, mom died when I was ten, ran away from my fosters when I was fourteen, and Rob picked me off the street, gave me a roof and a bed and a needle full of smack, and till two weeks ago he was my daddy and my dealer and my pimp and whatever else you're probably thinking. I waited till my eighteenth birthday to break for it. Wasn't going to get sent back to foster care. A couple of my foster dads made Rob look like Mary fucking Poppins. Went through detox, got back on the street, and heard from a few– acquaintances– that Rob was looking for me. Pretty intently."
"Cause he wants to make sure you're okay, right?" I said dryly, and he looked up at me quickly to check if I really was that dumb, his mouth twisting in half a smile when he saw I wasn't. Not quite. I didn't really feel much like joking.
"Happy birthday," I said finally, and then, as he peered at me curiously, "I mean, two weeks ago. Happy eighteenth. I'm twenty."
He nodded without smiling.
"So," I said awkwardly, "are you, uh... gay?"
"Not particularly," he said, lifting an eyebrow. "Why, are you?"
"Not particularly," I said, smiling.
He nodded again. "I sort of thought you and Diana might be–"
"No, no," I said. "I mean, not any more. She kind of, um, took care of me for a while-- she brought me here, just like she did you, you know. But I'm not doing the romance thing right now. Had enough of that on the mainland."
"Is it really all women on the island?" he asked. "Except me?"
"Yep."
"Nice," he said sincerely.
I squinted at him. "If you're thinking this is your own personal porn palace, it's not. We don't have giant soft-focus orgies in the royal hall, and if we did, you definitely wouldn't be invited."
"I didn't mean that," he said quickly. "I like women. I mean, I don't just mean– I liked my mom. She was nice. And I haven't exactly had great experiences with men."
"Have you had great experiences with women?" I asked curiously. "I mean, other than your mom?" I blinked. "Wow, that came out wrong."
He actually smiled, and I realized what first thinking he was a girl, then the shock of it all, and maybe the misery and fear and pain that had been all over his face, had kept me from realizing before: that Ian was a very, very good-looking young man.
"No," he said. "Not yet."
We both jumped as Anthea banged into the studio, breathless and wired, her cheeks hot from running, and skidded to a halt, staring at Ian.
"What are you doing here?" I asked her, irritated.
"I work here," she said defensively, starting to circle Ian at a cautious distance. "Is he really male?"
"Ignore her," I told Ian, whose gaze slipped off her instantly and fell to his lap. I bit back a curse. A binding of obedience, all right, but this was ridiculous. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean– pay attention to whatever you like."
He looked up at her, maybe only to reassure himself that he could. She's a pretty thing. Dark and sloe-eyed, clear-skinned and strong. She stared back at him, fascinated.
"Can I see him naked?" she asked.
"He is not an animal!" I snapped, and Ian flinched, hard. I'm five foot two. I wasn't even yelling at him. It made me want to kill someone, though I wasn't sure if my choice would be Hippolyta or this Rob character. "Ian, I'm sorry, I'm not mad at you, she's just being stupid." I wondered if I'd ever utter another sentence to the guy that didn't contain the words I'm sorry.
He gave me a quick smile, like he was laughing at himself for being so skittish, and I felt a little better. Anthea was walking closer to him, and he sat very still.
"What should I do?" he asked me quietly. "What does she want?"
"Anthea, stop that. You're fine, Ian. Get away from him." The constant switching back and forth between languages– and trying so scrupulously to avoid imperatives with Ian while scolding Anthea like the sugar-hyped two-year-old she was acting– was making me dizzy.
Anthea sulkily went to the table where the wedged clay lay covered with a wet cloth and twisted herself off a chunk. "What will he do here, Cassandra? Among the Amazons?"
"Mind his own business," I said.
She stuck out her tongue at me as she dipped her hands in slip and began kicking sulkily at the wheel.
"So," said Ian tentatively. "Diana– brought you here?"
I fidgeted. "Long story."
"I'm told I've got a week," he said, examining his fingers.
"Okay," I said. "I'll tell it, but not now. Anthea's fidgety enough as it is without me launching into a long story in English."
"Fair enough," he said, still not looking up at me. "Can I ask something else? What did she say to make you snap like that? Your eyes practically shot sparks."
I blushed, embarrassed. "Um. She's– well, she's lived on this island her whole life, so she's never seen a man before. She asked– she wanted to see you naked."
He blushed too, to my surprise, and looked up quickly. "Thanks. For not... for..."
"Christ, Ian." I was appalled. "You think I'd do that to you?"
"Wouldn't be the first time," he said with studied nonchalance.
I swallowed, trying to banish the mental image of a scared, skinny kid (fifteen, sixteen, seventeen) being stripped for curious strangers. Somehow I doubted, too, that they'd all been as pretty and young and... well, female... as Anthea. Not that that would have made it much better.
"I'm not Rob," I told him firmly.
"Yeah," he said, looking down again, and I couldn't quite read his tone. "I noticed."
