Title: The Book of Nenene

Disclaimer: I don't own them. Not now, not ever.

A/N: This is not the sort of thing I usually write, but really, R.O.D. is swimming in subtext. Sometimes it's hardly even subtext at all. Anyway, this was begging to be written, so I did. Enjoy!

Maggie liked to think of Nenene as a book. Something long and complex, with plots and subplots and convolutions. She knew some people never read further than the "fuck off" that served as the title. But some did, and found the girl, the strong woman, the amazing writer.

Maggie liked to think that she'd read more of Nenene than anyone else. (She didn't think anyone else knew about the place inside her elbow that, when kissed, provoked funny little noises.) Yes, she'd read pretty far into Nenene. She didn't know everything yet— Nenene was complex, and Maggie was a slow reader— and anyway, whenever it seemed that she'd reached the end, there turned out to be appendixes. Or apocrypha. Or sequels. And she had to read those too, because Nenene let her, and because she loved reading and Nenene best in the world, almost equally, and together, it was heaven.