Desert Rose

a LOSH fanfic by Katzedecimal

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Brainiac 5 stared at the two grins guarding the room's only door. They were nasty; they were plotting something. He folded his arms and glared at them, "I'm sure you both have an excellent reason for this idiotic behaviour. I can't wait to hear it."

"You can't get married like that!"

"It's my formal uniform, Lyle. Besides, Coluan marriage rites do not require a clothing standard. I could wear a burlap bag if I wished."

Lyle ignored this. "Now, we both said no to the disco tux with the flared pants and the hang-glider collar. It was just too gauche, besides you'd need, y'know, actual shoulders to pull it off." He opened a wardrobe and started pulling clothes out and flinging them to Rond, "I was thinking the poet shirt, the brocade waistcoat, the leather boots, y'know, sort of a swashbuckler sort of thing."

Rond was shaking out the garments and trying to keep a straight face. Querl was looking for the nearest exit. "I think he can pull it off, yes," Rond said, holding the shirt up appraisingly.

"C'mon, Brainy, at least try it on. No frompy hat, I promise."

Querl took the clothes gingerly, as though expecting them to jump. They weren't his usual colours, not his usual cloth and certainly not his usual cut. Outside of his uniforms, he tended to choose garments for functionality, not appearance. If he wore these in the lab, they'd be acidized in no time. "It's a Coluan rite, there's just the six of us and even that is overkill. Who's even going to see this?"

Lyle blinked innocently, "Doesn't Laurel count?" Querl muttered something dark.

"Besides," Rond smirked. He was standing beside the window, overlooking the courtyard, "They're setting up for the banquet to celebrate the ordination. You might as well look your best."

Querl saw that they weren't going to let him weasel out of it. "Okay, okay," he sighed, and went to change. Admittedly, the new clothes fit him perfectly and they were very comfortable and soft, not what he normally associated with formal wear. I can only imagine how ridiculous I must look, he thought as he stepped out.

Lyle had changed into a sharp suit of Italian design, with knife creased slacks and a double-breasted nipped-waist jacket. Rond wore a Mandarin-styled suit with a standing collar. He finally tore his eyes off Lyle long enough to look at Brainy, "Wow."

The poet shirt of bronze silk draped softly, the collar rippling down Querl's chest and spilling over the gold-embroidered royal blue waistcoat. Lyle twitched a few of the shirt laces open, revealing a teasing hint of green man-cleavage. He adjusted the way the belt sat on Querl's hips, drawing attention to... the way the soft trousers fit. They tucked into the suede calf-height boots that finished the picture. "What do you think, Rond?"

Rond walked several slow circles around Querl, eyeing him up and down. "I'd do him," he announced finally, "I don't think he'll clash with Laurel, either." Querl scowled at him, then scowled further at the snap of Lyle's holocam.

"Perfect! It'll be in shreds in no time," Lyle grinned. He popped the chip into the reader and handed it to Querl. He studied it first with suspicion, then mild interest. It did look moderately... acceptable. "Whaddya think? Should we drag him off to the hitching post?"

"What 'hitching post?'" Querl objected as he was firmly escorted out, "It's a Coluan rite! It's six words, two witnesses! We're allowing for four but it's not necessary!" He looked up and realized he was being led into the Abbess's office, "Oh no..."

The little creature's eyes twinkled as she looked at him, "Ah, the dread pirate Brainiac arrives." Querl shot her a Look, then looked up to see Lar entering, dressed in a silk noil shirt and soft pants.

"How'd it go? Much trouble?" Lyle asked him.

"Yeah, we had to hold her down and pour her into it. It was worth it, though, and it's a thousand times better than any of the monstrosities Ayla was suggesting."

Querl felt sympathy for his beloved - these people were conspiring against them. Then he looked around as voices approached. "..told you idiots, I didn't want this!" "It's not going to last seven days, Sis, and we made sure you can use the dress again." "For what?!" "I dunno, maybe he'll get ordained." The door opened and Kent stepped through, grinning widely. Querl shook his head; they should've got Ultra Boy to witness, instead. The next moment, a soft thump breaking the silence might have been his jaw hitting the floor.

Laurel swept in. She wore a sleeveless gown of lipstick-red taffeta. The shoulder-strapped bodice hugged her curves smoothly to the waist, where the skirt belled out and fell in draped folds to the floor. A long train trailed after her. She stopped and stared at Querl, as transfixed by him as he was by her.

He reached out and she met his hand palm to palm, linking their fingers. It's like they took all the beauty and tenderness that he's been hiding all these years, and brought it up to the surface, Laurel thought. She didn't know what he saw when he gazed at her like this, with that unbreakable intensity. She only hoped he kept seeing it.

He reached up to cup her cheek. The only woman he'd ever loved was gazing at him with her heart in her eyes and it was everything he never knew he'd wanted. He prayed desperately that he wouldn't sprock it up with his inexperience and his heavy-handedness. He stroked her cheek tenderly, oblivious to everything around them, oblivious to the thickening silence that stretched out. At this moment, they were the only two people in the universe...

"Mawwiage. Mawwiage is what bwings us... togevvah... today."

Querl's forehead dipped forward and thunked into Laurel's shoulder. "No. Oh no. No no no no no. You do not know that! It is inconceivable for you to know that! It's over a thousand years old! It's not even the same language!" He turned and stared at the Abbess, who was grinning like an apple doll, "How can you possibly know that?!"

"Know what?" Lyle asked, baffled.

"It's from his favorite movie," the Abbess twinkled.

"How do you know that?! He doesn't know that!" Querl spun and pointed at Rond, who shrugged, just as puzzled as Lyle.

"I didn't know you had a favorite movie, either," Lyle said.

"Of course you don't. Nobody in this room knows! But somehow Raisin Mother Clare here found out!" The Abbess giggled, clearly unoffended by her new nickname. "What are you even doing here? It's not necessary! The Coluan marriage rite does not require any sort of officiator, only two witnesses! Nor does it require any ridiculously unfunctional garments! ...not that my bride doesn't look mesmerising. But it's not necessary! We didn't want all of this! It's just six words and two witnesses! - that's all!"

"And wuv.. twue wuv... will fowwow you... fowevah."

Querl buried his face in his palm as the rest of the company broke up laughing. He glared at the Abbess with narrowed eyes, clearly sorting through his options for revenge. Slowly, the realisation dawned, "I can't even defend myself. There's nothing I can threaten her with!" The Abbess's high-pitched giggle overrode the laughter.

"Six words, you said?"

Querl gave her another Look, "Ah, that would be your subtle way of saying get on with it."

"The food's gonna get cold," Kent chimed in. Laurel thumped him. Querl rolled his eyes and shook his head. Then he took Laurel's hands and looked up into her eyes.

Coluese, as Lyle had observed many times, was a remarkably Spartan language. It disliked excess verbiage and cut meaning down to the quick. Compared with most languages in the U.P, it had few words for emotions and limited ways of describing emotional states. It was a language for logic and calculation. That said, it had its poetic moments, and the marriage rite was one of them. The words declared the three things the speaker could not live without: In Interlac they were translated as You, my blood, and my breath.

Querl's voice was rough as he spoke them. Tears quivered on Laurel's lashes. When she spoke, it was in her native Daxamite tongue, then the tears spilled over. Strictly speaking, the kiss wasn't part of the Coluan ceremony either, but neither of them felt like objecting.

"Tenzil's been having a blast. He's really pulled out all the stops!"

"They all have. I don't think the convent cooks get very many chances to shine."

"Neither does Tenzil. Where are they, anyways? I thought they were just going to catch a breather or something!"

"Or something," Chameleon smirked.

Ayla and Violet exchanged a glance then looked at Cham, "You know something we don't know?"

"Yup. And you're about to find out -- Look, here they come."

"Where? I don't see... Ohhh, my, what a gorgeous dress! Ohmigod, look at Brainy!"

"They look like they just got married," Violet gasped. Cham grinned and nodded. "They did?! They got married?!"

"And they didn't invite us?!"

"They got married?? Ohmigod!!"

"They what?!"

"Lovely," Querl sighed, "Only one thing in the Legion can travel faster than XS and that's gossip."

Laurel nodded, "The head table's on the other side of the courtyard; we may have to fight our way through."

"Or we could run in the other direction and hop the threshold back to Legion World while everyone's distracted," Querl suggested. Laurel laughed and they started working their way through the sea of squealing well-wishers.

"Well I think it's wonderful. Congratulations, Brainy, you must be so happy," Tinya beamed.

He smiled, "I am, actually. Happier than I ever thought I could be."

"That's not saying much," Gates snarked. Querl did not dignify that with a response.

Triad bounced up - all three of her - and spontaneously hugged him, squealing "OoooOOOOoooo I'm soooo happy for you!!"

"Gmmphf!" Querl flailed under the bouncy sea of Carggites.

"Married! OMG!!" "So does he have to leave the Legion now?" "Don't be ridiculous! What an idea! Who'd have a rule like that?!"

"Mmf...can't...breathe...!" The Triads giggled and fluttered away, leaving Querl gasping, only to be glomped next by Ayla.

It took thirty minutes to cross from one end of the courtyard to the other, partly because people kept standing on the train of Laurel's dress. Querl clawed his way to the head table and collapsed into his chair, gasping theatrically. Laurel yanked her train out from under a monk, bunched it over her arm and ran to join him.

"I don't see what the fuss is all about," said Gates, materializing near Querl's shoulder, "So you're mated. Big deal. You mammals overblow everything."

"Well, Gates, at least we won't be having in excess of five thousand offspring," Querl replied archly, "Not in one birthing, anyway." Laurel choked on her wine and the Triads fell about laughing, having the mental image of poor Laurel bloated up like a termite queen.

"Who's your groom?" said an impish voice by Laurel's ear.

She spun around and beamed, "Sister Areala!" She reached up and hugged the other woman. "Congratulations! I hear you're being bumped up!"

"Yeah, you're not going to get rid of me that easily. I'm going with you." They hugged again excitedly. "So this is the Wonder Boy?"

Laurel looped her arm around Querl and drew him over, ducking her cheek against his head, "This is him. This is Querl Dox. Honey, this is Sister Areala. We trained together."

"Hello."

"Hiya! You joining us?"

"Alas no. I am not nosy enough to be a nun," Querl deadpanned.

Sister Areala laughed, then looked around, "Oh, looks like they're about to serve dinner. Congratulations, you two! And you, Reverend Mother!" Laughing, she ducked Laurel's good-natured thump and scampered away.

After supper, Querl sat back comfortably, sipping a liqueur and chatting with his close friends.

"Where's Laurel?" Lyle asked.

Querl shook his head, "She said she wanted to get changed. I don't suppose I can blame her - that dress looks magnificent but did not look comfortable."

"Kent must've gone to help her out of it?"

"I suppose."

The whine of a sound amplifier drew their attention and they turned to see M'Onel stepping out onto the dias. "Um.. hi," he began. The field focussed on his voice and threw it out to the back reaches of the courtyard. "Hello. On Daxam, when we have something major to celebrate, like an ordination or a wedding.. or both... we traditionally hire a dancer to come and lead us in the festivities. Daxamites don't usually dance off-world, because most people see the costumes and the dancer's movements, and .. well, they miss the point. Daxamite professional dance is about unity with the music, with the musicians, and with other dancers, although unfortunately we won't be seeing that tonight. It's not traditional for a bride to dance at her own wedding, but we really don't have another choice."

Lyle and Imra both looked puzzled. Imra leaned towards Querl and asked, "Do you know what's going on?"

His eyes were shining and his face was alight with wonder. "She's going to dance," he whispered almost reverently.

Imra blinked, surprised, "Laurel dances?"

"Like something out of a dream." She turned and stared at him - this awe was even more surprising. She exchanged a glance with Lyle, who shrugged, equally baffled.

The music started with a heavy drumbeat, then wove into etherial tones that sounded exotic to their ears. Then Laurel spiralled out. "Ah, that's the costume M'Onel gave her," Querl noted.

"It's gorgeous!" Imra breathed, "But I see what he means about missing the point."

"Grife! It looks like the music's coming from her!" Lyle was impressed.

Querl smirked, "That's the point." He then fell into rapt silence, rivetted as Laurel continued her set in a swirl of burgundy and gold.

"Whoa, cool sword!"

"It's hers. Kent smuggled it out from Daxam," Querl murmured.

Imra was shaking her head, "Is there some trick to that? Something on the edge?"

"No trick. Just balance." Imra glanced at him and grinned, hearing the faint note of "now hush, I'm busy being enthralled" in Querl's voice.

After a few dances, Kent came out carrying his drum. Laurel paused for some water while he set up and M'Onel stepped out onto the dias again. "Uh, this is improvised. They didn't have time to rehearse." Laughter rippled.

"This is what she wanted to do. This is what she loves," Querl whispered, "This is the life the White Triangle took from her."

Kent struck the drum. After a few taps described the rhythm, Laurel took it up on her body, matching him so precisely, it looked like it was she who was making the drumbeats.

"Latent telepathy?"

Querl shook his head again, "No. Just very skilled at reading each other's body language."

"That's one hell of a 'just,'" Lyle said.

By now the crowd was roaring. It was plain that the nuns were as surprised as the Legionnaires, by Laurel's hidden talent. Then, with five final strong punches, the set, and Laurel, were finished. Glowing like the sun, she bowed to her audience, then darted out, closely followed by her brother.

Querl shoved his chair back and got up. "Time to beat a retreat?" Imra smiled and he nodded, "Go. We'll cover for you."

"Thanks, Imra. Lyle?" Querl fixed Lyle with that Look that said "I want a Word with you." Lyle grinned and followed him out of the courtyard and into the halls of the abbey.

After several minutes, Querl stopped and turned to face Lyle. "How long have you been coaching her?"

"What?"

"She never knew me that well when she was in the Legion, and she hasn't visited for years. Yet somehow, she suddenly knows me intimately enough to translate my..." Querl searched for a word then gave up and used Laurel's, "'Brainiac-ese,' among other things. Either she's an uncannily fast and thorough learner, or somebody's been coaching her."

"And you think it's me?"

"Considering your past history of meddling in other couples' affairs, yes."

Lyle grinned but shook his head, "Sorry, Brainy. I can't deny that she was coached, but it wasn't me."

"Then who was it?"

"It was me."

Querl turned around, "Rond?"

Rond smiled, pocketing the holocorder, "Got the whole dance. Including those tears you were trying to hide. Why so surprised? I've known you longer than anyone."

"How long have you been coaching her?"

"Since she left the Legion. I ran into her after she left the lab. She was crying, she told me why, and I told her where the mistakes were. Yours as well as hers. You didn't know you were supposed to talk her out of it or say something that indicated how you felt about her; she didn't know that you'd take her at her word. By the time I went to look for you, you'd left the lab and I couldn't find you in time." Querl winced, regretting. Rond shrugged, "She left, but we kept in touch. I'd tell her how you were doing and wound up explaining all your little eccentricities."

Querl arched an affronted eyebrow, "'Eccentricities?'"

"You're upset?"

"Sprock, no!" Querl blinked, "I just married her, how could I be upset?! I just wanted to.." he blinked back sudden tears, "To thank you..."

Rond reached out and hugged him, tears rolling down his own face. Lyle grinned; Rond always cried at weddings. "You're welcome," Rond said softly, "I was coaching you too, you know."

"I know."

Rond pulled back and gripped Querl's biceps, giving him a light shake, "Now you better live happily ever after, mister, or I'm kicking your green butt into a black hole for being a fraud!"