Part One

There are two tragedies in life. One is not to get your heart's desire. The other is to get it—George Bernard Shaw

"Furry, check," and with that the list he started half as a joke and half in seriousness as a rejected nerdy teenager was done—well, almost. The list had come about when he had been sitting at home on a Friday night after a girl he'd asked to freshman formal had turned him down in front of the entire lunch room. It was mortifying. He came home to his mother who had taken one look at his face and went to make his favorite dinner and his father who suggested they play a quick round of D & D and didn't mention a thing.

Later that night he decided he had enough of their opinions, enough of trying to fit into their "meaningless consumer driven lives" (10 Things I Hate About You), and just enough. Forget Heather, he spent the rest of the weekend making a list of all the girls he wanted to sleep with. Some of the suggestions were revenge motivated (see, 45. former cheerleader who has gotten fat; 12. a girl named Heather); some were boring and unimaginative (see, 89. a blue eyed girl; 128. the clichéd waitress); some were a bit out there or imaginative (72. a furry; 132. someone you seduced with no words); and some were just plain geeky (96. a comic book author; 84. a girl who bested you in battle). And now only one girl remained—a girl he has long since given up on finding.

On that long ago Monday after Heather had publicly humiliated him, he came to school a changed man. Or, if not changed per se, at least no longer hiding his geeky self under a thin veneer of Gap khakis, conservative Doc Martens and sweaters with a crisp button up. One could say the list was one of the best things that happened to him. Away went the khakis and out came the utility kilts; away went those brown matte Doc Martens and out came the crazy combat boots, and away went those sweaters and in came every geeky tee-shirt he could find. Hilariously, once he had given up caring for the adoration of the masses it came to him. High school wasn't much better (though he did manage to close the deal with the actual Heather before graduation) but college was his buffet.

In fact, Fawkes had to hand it to his 14 year old self. Once he had that list he enjoyed himself immensely. He wasn't heartless though; he worked hard so that all the ladies on the list had an unforgettable night followed by a casual breakfast that he had perfected down to an art. After breakfast he returned home to journal the good times and then never thought of them again.

Well, until Codex that was. By the time he had slept with her most of his conquests knew not to call the next day—he was there for sex not to have them fall in love with him. Apparently she missed the memo and called him, and even after the blow off called him again (and instead of finding her persistence stalker-ish, he found it kind of adorable which was troublesome).

She was utterly crazy, but that "non-deductible business meeting" had him intrigued. He'd never met someone who tied herself in such knots. It was worth the trip and slight bending of his rules to see her again. And oh was it worth it, she didn't do a particularly good job of convincing him that he should date her. There were no offers of an intimate variety only an appeal to his good nature and brownies. Normally he would have definitely blown her off, but it had been a long time since someone had begged him to help just because. So, while he may have only caved once he heard there was turmoil in her guild, the leader of a guild called the Axis of Anarchy had a bit of a reputation to maintain, he might have given in even without that.

After all, in the hundreds of woman he'd slept with he'd never gone on a second date with any of them. Maybe being a faux-boyfriend would give him the experience points without actually having the experience of a clingy woman.

And, she did smell good.

After a surprisingly fun dinner where he got to torment Codex (and watch her try to make everything right again—always a fun task) and after a kiss that got him nowhere (which was surprisingly odd, he was quite a good kisser—he'd leveled that) . Anarchy asked for, nay demanded that he let Venom catch him with Panda girl. After all, anarchy is simply an opposition to the arbitrary rule of self-elected usurpers outside the Individual (Henry Appelton) and he was quite an Individual.

Since they weren't actually dating there was no reason not to take Jeanette home (clichéd waitress ftw) and no reason not to check off the penultimate item on his list—the furry. Without there being any reason to be the loyal boyfriend and with no bribe of intimacy he saw nothing wrong with it. And yet, there was the smallest twinge as he went back to panda girl's place that it wasn't her lips he wanted and even in all her exotic furry goodness there was something missing.

And that twinge worried him because he certainly didn't care what she thought or love anyone. Except those cats—he f'ing loved those LOLcats and their bad grammar.

Maybe he was a little put out that she wasn't putting out. Maybe he just wanted to see what contortions Cyd would go through. Silly girl needed to learn to not care so much what others thought. What made the Axis great was their stance of never backing down to anything but what benefitted their individual parts. He had thought Tink got the AoA spirit but she caved in the end of the gooey Knight of Good and their feel good friendship philosophy. How bourgeois.

And so he figured they were done, he'd either blown her cover or she'd survived. Either way it didn't much matter. He could finish her entry in his journal and get back to the rest of his life. Fawkes contemplated making a new list, but that seemed a bit pedantic. No reason to limit himself to his imagination, why not see what the world provided? And yet, he wasn't quite in it. And yet, the ending of his list of awesome had felt almost task like. And yet, there was still this strange appeal.

And perhaps it was that strange appeal that made him open instead of just delete the in game message from Zaboo.

To: Fawkes

From: Zaboo

Subject: A quest so you can haz victory!

"For anything worth having one must pay the price and the price is always work"—John Burroughs

I thought you'd appreciate a quote. Quoted'd. It might seem like the Ice Giant has you pinned down with their vicious icicle attack and his little Ice Priestess Zombies are pwn'ing you with their stealthy zombie attacks. (or, um, maybe that's just me) but this is just a momentary distraction on your way to sweet Codex loot.

In short, I'm the plucky sidekick and you are the hero in the ballad of Codex and Fawkes. I implore you to come with and redouble your efforts to win our lady's hand. Accept this quest and the firestorm shall rain down on the Ice Giants and crazy Ice Priestesses and you shall conquer!

-Z

Team Cawkes FTW!

First, what the hell was Team Cawkes? Second, how did the little man know of his love for the LOLs. Third, sneaky Zaboo cutting off the quotation there...ignoring the rest of it which talks of love, self-sacrifice and the so called "gold of real service". Fourth, he wasn't actually considering it, was he? Damn, he was.

To: Zaboo

From: Fawkes

Re: A quest so you can haz victory!

WTF*ck.

There, short and not-so-sweet. His calling card. That should get him off the hook.

To: Fawkes

From: Zaboo

Re: A quest so you can haz victory!

In my role as super supportive Codex BFF, I must facilitate your reunion. In my search to understand women I found out that the rakish rogue is always redeemed by his one true love. I am a super friend and so I must reunite you (reunited'd).

Meet me at Codex's in an hour. Bring flowers (Cosmo says girls like those!).

-Z

Team Cawkes FTW!

What was up with the Knight of Good? He certainly didn't try to reunite his guild members with their one-night stand/fake relationships/exes. Otherwise he'd have to try to get new guildie Riley back with the crazy little man. He didn't try to fix broken hearts. He may have slightly let of Bruiser after the divorce but that was because he didn't want a beat down. And he didn't offer romantic pointers—as if he needed that, he'd pulled far more girls than Zaboo dreamed of.

And yet, his list was pretty much done (and as done as he thought it would be) and this was something slightly new and interesting. He'd certainly never lived in a soap opera before. There was something almost 1950s-esque about how their guild seemed to care about each other. The Axis stayed together because they were the best and they stayed on top. In the dark corners of the night he admitted that if the Axis would have been in the Knights of Good's place they would have broken apart under their rival guild's pressure and that made them interesting...made her interesting. Made him wonder if she could complete his list.

Interesting was such a curious word. Fawkes couldn't explain how she got under his skin. Better to see how this role played out. Though, if he was bringing flowers they certainly weren't going to be roses.

A memory fired across his synapses and there it was—marigolds. Back in the Victorian era they meant grief or despair...and she certain had caused him enough grief (his one night stands were supposed to be destinations not journeys) and the sheer naivety and hope in the Knights of Good caused him despair it reminded Fawkes far too much of himself back before he became his BAMF self.

Ignoring the fact that he'd never brought a girl flowers of any type and against his better judgment he actually did meet Zaboo at Codex's house with his somewhat bedraggled looking marigolds in hand. Funny story actually, the florist didn't actually have marigolds. First the florist tried to say that camellias (longing and beauty) were marigolds and then tried to push calla lilies (magnificent beauty) off on him. He was a renaissance man, an epicurean, a master at his craft. He could tell when something wasn't a marigold.

Luckily the garden across the street had some marigolds that had seen better days and some sweet talking later to the near sided sweet old woman about the "thought that counted" and how "marigolds were her favorite" and he charmed the flowers away from got him some marigolds that had seen better days.

"Marigolds?"

"Might I remind you that you were the one that asked me here for your epic love-quest"

"Right, so here's the plan, I'm going to soften her up with emotional support, mudmasks and popcorn. Then when she expresses sadness I'll pull back the curtain and voila! You'll be there."

"Wait..she doesn't know I'm coming over," that almost stopped him right there. This charade had come quite close to him actually appearing that he wanted her back. That he wanted her. That he, dare he say, loved her? A shudder ran through him, love should be avoided, if at all possible (The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy).

"Dude, don't worry. I've mapped her biorhythms and don't think it should take more you know 47 to 85 minutes to have her realize she is missing you. She's in her emotional cycle now."

That sounded oddly creepy when he thought about it.

But then this whole venture seemed to have taken a left at normal and ventured into the absurd. There he sat on Codex's couch, a couch he didn't sit on that night of passionate monkey sex listening to Zaboo comfort her. What was he doing here? He wasn't raiding, he wasn't on any plot. What was it about this girl that made him, even jokingly, even as a random quest, even as a new experience bring flowers. She lowered his boundaries and raised his hopes and it made him feel downright sour, he didn't care what she thought he never had. Before he could work himself up into lather and leave he remembered something that had tickled his brain earlier. Marigolds meant grief and despair but they also meant affection. Even if she wouldn't get it, he couldn't have her get that meaning.

This would not do. Outside he ran and pulled up the worst looking bunch of dead flowers straight from the ground he could find roots and all. They were in one of those planters and probably hadn't been watered in month. This was perfect.

He blamed his melancholy and interest in her on the list. His interest in her was just the side effect of the end of an era, the last gasp of the last item on a list he made when he was 14. Who knew what they wanted at 14 anyway.

Zaboo had told him to listen for his cue, but sitting so softly and listening had a disastrous side effect. He heard her. He heard the girl talk and, try as he did to guard against it stirred something in him...something that had started when she had made her appeal to Tink to come back over their chat channel. She could take him down in a fight, she could band together her guildies, and she could go toe to toe with him when he pushed, but yet she still was squishy. He hated it. And yet, "love and hate are two sides of the same blade," (Jacqueline Carey). Apparently, she had actually cared for him, it wasn't just for her guild or for the game.

So it was a bit off guard he heard the cue and took his place beyond the door and waited for his cue.

"Well, that went well," Fawkes drawled as he quirked his eyebrow.

"She's just upset now maybe something more personal than flowers. Sweet love renew they force!—Sonnet 56"

"Are you stealing my thing? Because they say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery (American proverb), but I'm not really feeling flattered right now."

Truth be told, he was feeling a bit hurt. Had he become Heather? In his rush to avoid attachment and not care what other people had thought had he gone too far? The look in her eyes when she had seen him had been the tiniest bit of hope—until she saw the flowers and then she steeled herself waiting for the ego and emotional blow she seemed to expect. And if she just would have broken, her spell over him would have been over but she just kept going even though it hurt. Damn finishing the list; damn her sweet smell; and damn her bad poker face and expressive eyes.

He got home and logged onto the Game...the Game where he was a king among men. Where he rode his mighty mastodon across the Hinterland Plains.

"Where the F*ck were you. I was busy in the dungeons getting gang...," Bruiser trailed off into a thread of increasingly vulgar and increasingly impossible anatomical suggestions.

"If you complain one more time about that mud dragon I'll open and turn on my oven and fall out of my wheelchair so I can't move from in front of it." Venom spat cutting his tirade short.

And with that he cut the somewhat disastrous meeting out of his mind and got down to the world where up was up and down was down and everything bend perfectly to his will. Several hours and several levels of the dungeon later he was feeling back to normal and confident he could ignore that twinge whenever he saw a healing spell and ignore that pang every time a flash of red hair came across the screen.

"OMG! We have to go and mock them. The Knights of Good are holding a festival of the sea festival at that tacky Cheesybeards—their outfits are so not period accurate."

"After Fawkes-gate it'll be anarchy!" Riley smirked.

And even though he had no desire to go, Riley had invoked a challenge he couldn't avoid. It'll be anarchy indeed. But just what kind of anarchy he hadn't decided yet.

7