Book 1- Paradise

Brick walked through New Haven at sunset, feeling the day's heat leech out of sand. Buildings spanned above him, haphazardly stacked wherever the construction could bear the weight, dark against the purpling sky. The townsfolk had built upward rather than out to make the town easier to defend against wildlife and bandits, which Brick liked just fine. It made for a shorter walk home when he was piss drunk and stumbling, like now.

From somewhere in the shadows came a shrill adolescent laugh. The sound made Brick's lip curl. He recognized it immediately as the earmark of teenage cruelty, which, in his experience, was usually directed toward dogs. He paused in the road, head cocked, listening for the source of the laughter.

He followed it into a nearby alley and squinted into the darkness between the buildings. Teenagers stood in a semi-circle, their aggression plain from the way they stood and poked and wheedled. But the target of their aggression was not a dog, as Brick had thought. They had a girl backed against the tin siding of a building- just a skinny, stray mutt of a girl.

"Fuck you," she snarled. Her hand was balled in a tight fist. Something silver dangled through her fingers and flashed in the dying light.

"Hey, if you wanna, we'd be happy to oblige," a gangling boy leered. They all laughed at that; even the one girl in the gang let out a big, overblown bray. Brick guessed that the gangling wise-ass was their leader.

The young girl grinned. "You virgins wouldn't know what to do with me."

She couldn't have been older than thirteen. Brick chuckled, quietly enough that the kids didn't hear him, but the girl's eyes flicked up to meet his.

Around the circle, teenagers exclaimed and elbowed each other. The gangling kid's face flushed red and he straightened up, so he ceased to be gangling and became an imposing, angry youth who towered over the lone girl. Brick tensed. The boy grabbed her wrist and wrenched it up. His other hand pried at her white knuckled fingers. She tried to jerk away, but the boy was twice her size and held her tight. Brick stepped into the mouth of the alley.

"Hey!" he called out.

The teenagers turned to gawk at him. They must be shitting themselves right now, Brick thought. He knew how he looked: his massive frame silhouetted in the alleyway, with shoulders so wide that he had to shimmy sideways past a jutting pipe, his face a mangled map of scars. The bullies gaped at him, eyes wide. But the stray mutt, the girl...she only glared.

"Ged'off her," he said.

"You drunk, old man?" The gangling boy jeered. Only the whites of his eyes, bright in the gloom, betrayed his fear.

"Might be," Brick chuckled, as he came to a stop before the ringleader. "Could still kick the shit out of you, ya' little piece of-"

He hadn't noticed the kid's hand creeping into his pocket, or the girl's warning look. The boy's narrow wrist darted out, pale in the moonlight, and Brick caught it just before the blade would have connected with his gut. His massive hand closed around the boy's smaller one and was slashed by the knife's edge. Warmth filled his palm.

Shit, that was close. Brick hadn't equipped his energy shield tonight. He'd half expected to stumble back to Mordecai's apartment instead of his own and hadn't wanted to forget it there.

Brick's animal, which had been dozing, drugged by booze and familiar territory, stirred. Shush, he told it automatically. He wouldn't need to cower behind its red hide tonight. He could take care of this business on his own. His uninjured hand shot up, and he brought his fist down on the side of the gangling kid's head, sending him sprawling into the dirt.

Brick's palm stung like a sonofabitch as the knife slid out. He hissed and shook his hand, spattering the girl with blood, but she didn't flinch. The other teenagers stepped back as their boss fell. On the ground, the gangling boy groaned, and Brick kicked him in the ribs.

"Get outt'a here, already. What're you waiting for?" he said to the cowering bullies.

They seemed to wake up. They looked around and, finding the same terrified expression mirrored on the other's faces, and their leader indisposed, they scurried past Brick with sidelong, worried glances. As the last boy went by, Brick faked like he was going to punch him. The boy yelped. Brick laughed, and turned his attention to the small, unafraid girl. She wiped her cheek with her wrist, smearing the blood across her dark skin. With the sunset caught in her eyes, they seemed to glow red, and her short, kinky hair stuck out like smoke. She looked like a girl full of fire.

"I could have taken care of them myself," she growled.

"Don't be a cliché, kid," Brick said.

He plucked the trinket out of her unsuspecting hand and held it up to view in the last strip of light falling into the alley. The girl gasped and jumped to grab it back, but Brick held the object out of her reach. The chain twisted slowly in his grasp, flashing in the light, and he studied the single pendant. His breath caught.

"Where'd you get this?"

"None of your business," the girl hissed, and clawed at him like a feral cat. He shoved her away absently, smearing her with blood from his injured hand.

"Listen, kid, you better tell me. I saved your ass."

She glared up at him. "I have a gun. I saved up for it myself, bought it from the machine. I...I could'a shot them, if I had to."

Brick shook his head. "What were you gonna tell their folks? 'You don' understand, lady, they tried to steal my necklace, so I had to murder your boys.' That's dumb. You can't fix all your problems with guns." The irony of the claim was not lost on Brick, who'd killed more men than he could count. The girl hesitated, then sighed.

"If I tell you, will you give it back?"

Brick shrugged. "Maybe."

Another pause, but she really had no choice.

"It was my mom's. I don't know where she got it. Why do you care, anyway?"

Brick held up the necklace around his own neck, showing her the key that hung from it, the perfect twin of the one he still dangled out of her reach. Of course, there was no way for him to check the lock that the keys belonged to. That was on another world, light years away from Pandora. The girl's eyes, now brown in the shadows, widened.

"Is it the same one? Do they open something good? Worth credits?"

Brick snorted. "Nah, no creds. Forget it."

"Okay, give it back then. I'll find out myself," she said, and leaped for it again, but fell short by a couple feet. Brick balled up the chain in his fist.

"Sorry, kid. I gotta keep it."

"What?" the girl cried. "You said-"

"I said 'maybe', and it turns out that I need it. So bug off." He swung his arms down to his sides, one huge hand still clenched tightly around the key. The girl looked like she might cry for a moment, but then her gaze turned steely.

"I'll get it back," she spat. "I'll find you."

Brick's shoulders rolled in another seismic shrug. "You prob'ly will. It's a small town."

He turned and lumbered off, feeling the girl's eyes burning holes in the back of his neck. He was halfway to Mordecai's apartment when he remembered that his first impression of the girl had been that of a stray dog, and wondered if she was so attached to the necklace because her mother was dead. Pandora was full of orphans. Even in a town like New Haven, protected by the Crimson Raiders - Brick included - didn't guarantee safety on such a dangerous border planet.

Brick realized, finally, that he should have waited around the corner and followed the girl. If her mother was alive, he could have asked her about the necklace. The key was his first lead to finding his sister since he'd arrived on the planet two years ago, and he'd already blown it. Fuck, oh well. She said she'd find me. Brick stretched his wounded hand. It was burning up, and throbbed when he moved it.

Outside Mordecai's apartment, Brick paused to string the new key onto his necklace. It slid down to rest beside his own key and Priscilla's paw. He fumbled with it for a moment, nearly dropped it through the slatted stairs, but caught it. He hung it back around his neck.

Mordecai's lights were out, which was no surprise. His friend acted just like a bird, in respect; he slept when the sun went down and woke with the first light. Brick cracked open his door without knocking. The hinges creaked as the door swung inward. Mordecai never got around to oiling them, and claimed that it was because he liked to hear anyone creeping in. Brick knew that he would be awake now, listening from the bedroom.

A screech made Brick jump. Bloodwing swooped down at him from the rafters. He held up a hand automatically to swat her away, but there was no need, because she veered up as she recognized him. Flapping, she came to rest on the windowsill behind Brick, and glared as though he'd intended to make a fool of her. He stuck his tongue out at the bird.

"Baboso,what are you doing here? You scared the shit out of Blood," Mordecai groaned, and slouched against the hall doorway.

His dreads fell loose across his shoulders, and he wore an oversize gray tank-top over blue boxers. He yawned and scratched under the hem of his shirt, and for a second Brick caught a glimpse of the thin trail of dark hair that ran up to his navel. He swallowed.

"Sorry to bug ya'. I had a little accident."

When he held up his bloody hand, he could hear Mordecai's sharp intake of breath from all the way across the room. Brick had not, in fact, come here because of the injury. That was just an excuse. His feet had plotted to carry him to Mordecai's apartment before the shit went down in the alley, and maybe even before he drank too much during movie night at Lilith's, because it was just easier if his head wasn't screwed on tight. Without letting himself think about it, he'd come for the other thing.

But now Brick really did need to get his hand taken care of. It hurt to hell. The kid's knife had been a dirty, jagged piece of garbage, and the wound already throbbed with the sick heat of infection. Mordecai led him down the hall to the bathroom. The place was a mess. His toilet never worked, not in the two months since he moved in, and he'd opted not to deal with it, instead using Brick's next door.

Brown water ran out of the tap for a full minute before it was clear enough for Brick to thrust his hand under. The chipped white sink turned red as it filled with blood. Brick looked away as Mordecai poured a capful of peroxide over the gash.

"I'm not gonna waste a kit on this scratch," he said. "How'd it happen, anyway?"

"Kid stabbed me."

"What? Who stabbed you?" Mordecai asked while he rubbed ointment on the cut. It must have been some of Doctor Zed's miracle crap after all, because it itched maddeningly for a moment as the torn tissue knitted itself back together. Still, Mordecai wrapped a bandage tightly around the hand to keep out infection while the ointment finished its work overnight.

"Just some kid. Don't worry, I punched his lights out."

"You punched his lights out?" Mordecai repeated, alarmed.

"What, is there an echo in here? He had it comin', Mordy! He and his pussy gang had a girl cornered, and he stabbed me. I thought you'd care more about that."

"I care. You know I care. I'm just worried about the brat's mommy busting down my door in the morning, looking for the brute who rearranged her son's face. Did you at least get him home safe?"

"Uh..." Actually, Brick had forgotten about him. The kid was probably still lying in the alley.

Mordecai raised an eyebrow. He had beautiful eyebrows- strong, clear and expressive, with long eyelashes, too. Brick thought it was a shame that he nearly always hid them behind goggles. After too long of a pause, Mordecai sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Oh well. You're done, by the way."

He prodded Brick's palm, and it didn't hurt where his finger pressed against the bandage. The touch transported Brick, just for a moment, to the memory of a kiss placed on the bunched lines of his palm. He shivered.

"You staying the night?" Mordecai asked.

"Yeah. It was hard enough to get here. 'm pretty drunk." Although the worst of his buzz had disappeared in the alley, parted by the steel through his hand.

Mordecai waved a hand across his nose, the universal gesture for something smelling bad. "I can tell from your breath. But...your apartment is just across the way."

"You wan' me to go, then?"

They stared at each other for a long moment, daring the other to say it first. Let's just do it, Brick thought. You know you want to. The bathroom is small, but not that small. Not so small that you have to press up against me, breathing on my neck. But he didn't say anything. Mordecai looked away.

"Nah, you can stay. I..." he cleared his throat. "You know how I sleep, though."

He meant naked. It was a lie, and Brick knew it. He had been sleeping before Brick got there, wearing that preposterously large tanktop, which Brick now recognized as his own, left on some previous occasion, and a pair of boxers. Mordecai only slept naked when Brick was over. It was a ridiculously thin guise, but it made them both feel better, so where was the harm?

Men can only go so long without sex. Mordecai said that over a year ago, the first time he and Brick had fooled around, to convince him, or to convince himself. As long as they didn't kiss...as long as it was just sex...

Mordecai snapped his fingers. "You really are out of it. You okay?"

Brick blinked. "'m fine. You go ahead, I'll meet you."

That was another rule. They couldn't just take off their clothes and climb into bed together. One of them had to be there first, and the other could come in, as if it were some kind of bizarre accident. Like that made it less gay.

Mordecai slipped out of the bathroom, and Brick counted aloud, quietly, to thirty-Mississippi. He got impatient around twenty-two and dropped the Mississippi, which still left Mordecai plenty of time to get into bed. Brick stripped off his own clothes and abandoned them in a heap on the bathroom floor.

He ducked into the dark bedroom. Mordecai lay on the cot, facing the wall, covered to the waist by a blanket. Silver light slanted through the blinds and fell across his back, illuminating his slender shoulder blades. They rose and fell with the man's even breathing. He'd fallen asleep.

He was fucking beautiful, and it made Brick's heart ache. The rules were stupid. Sometimes he could see it clearly, and it made him want to scream, but the alternative...

He tried to imagine kissing Mordecai on the mouth, tender, teasing, dragging him off to bed, but his animal wouldn't let him. It watched him warily, its bright red gaze driving the thoughts from his mind. Suddenly weary, Brick climbed into bed.

Mordecai hummed dreamily and wriggled against Brick's naked body. Brick brushed the man's hair aside and nuzzled behind his ear, marking him shiver.

"You up?" Brick asked, tickling the hairs on the back of Mordecai's neck, and ran a large hand down his tight stomach. True to his word, Mordecai wore nothing under the blankets, and Brick found him already hard. "Ha! Guess you are."

"Fuck," he breathed, arching automatically into Brick's grip. "It's been awhile."

"Don't gotta explain it to me," Brick said, grinding his own length between Mordecai's thighs. His friend pressed back against him and reached back to touch his side.

"You can fuck me, if you want," Mordecai said, so casually that he might have been remarking on the weather. Brick's gut cramped with an abrupt pang of lust.

"Uh... okay," he said lamely. He'd never got the hang of dirty talk.

Mordecai was much better at that. He moaned into the pillow as Brick screwed him, and sometimes looked over his shoulder, whimpering, 'Más rapido, harder, te necesito, Brick-' It made him crazy, brought him to the edge so quick that he had to think about something else for awhile.

He reached around Mordecai to stroke him, and knew his friend was close too when he said, through gritted teeth, "Te deseo," Quietly, like a secret. He must have thought Brick would believe it to be more sex talk, like harder or faster, but Brick could tell that it meant something else...something almost romantic, definitely outside the rules. It pushed him over the edge, and he cried out against Mordecai's sweaty neck. The smaller man finished shortly after, with a only few more jerks, and swore as he came. Brick held his trembling body close while their heartbeats gradually slowed to normal.

"Thanks," Brick said, feeling like it was a dumb thing to say, but wanting to say something. It didn't matter. Mordecai had already fallen asleep.

In the darkness, Brick pulled away enough to hold up the key on his necklace, inspecting it by the moonlight. Now that he had a closer look, he was certain that the keys were the same, which meant that it must be Amanda's. It had to be. What were the chances that someone beside his missing sister had been here, on the exact same planet where her trail went cold, with the same key?

But where was she, then?

Sleep began to pull him down with inexorable fingers.

"Now I lay me down to sleep," he whispered, barely mouthing the words. "I pray the Lord my soul to keep."

He half-drowsed through the familiar ritual. He prayed every night, a habit forged in the fires of childhood. When he traveled with his friends, it had been a pain to lie awake and count the sets of snores, waiting for everyone to fall asleep so they wouldn't hear him. But he always prayed, every night for the thirty-eight years of his life, even when things got so bad that he felt like there must be no God, even when he'd done things so awful that he hoped there wasn't.

"Amen," he murmured, already slipping out on a tide of dreams.