Into the Woods, Act I

by Cassima

Pairings: Too lengthy to list; besides, that would spoil my fun.

Warnings: Het, yaoi, loose women, loose men, Shakespeare bastardization, Relena bashing, Heero bashing, Trowa bashing--actually, a lot of people get bashed in some way, shape, or form.

Based on: Ol' Will's Midsummer Night's Dream. Very heavily, but yet not so much.

Disclaimer: Forgive me, Will... Forgive me, O Great Gundam Dudes... for I have not bought these boys, but merely hold them illegally until they are forced out of my cold, dead, stubby fingers.

No offense meant to: The dead poet guy with lots of plays, "I love Lucy" show, "The X-Files", "Batman", "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon", "South Park", and "Scary Movie"... actually, I do mean offense to "Scary Movie". That wasn't scary at all.

Christian: "Love... Love is a many splendored thing. Love lifts you up when you're feeling down; all you need is love!"

Satine: "Please, don't start that again."

--"Elephant Love Medley", Moullin Rouge

I.i

Treize, General and ruler of Athens, the capital of Oz's newly acquired territory, smiled to himself as he looked around the palace--his palace. Finally, after long last, Dreken, the former occupant, had croaked, and--under Treize's direct supervision--the castle had been tastefully redecorated in marble and gold. In fact, his betrothal celebration last month had featured a large bonfire where they'd had the privilege--and intense pleasure, in Treize's case--of burning the plaid curtains and rather hideous chairs Dreken had left behind.

Treize was pleased with his new kingdom; the peasants weren't revolting--well, not in the sense of revolution--and the most nifty roses grew in his personal gardens. Everything was going so well! "Lady Une," he said to his fiancée, "things are going so well."

She gave him a stony look; evidently, she was the Colonel at the moment.

He coughed, and picked up the other side of the awkward conversation as well. "Yes, only two days until our wedding..." There was an uncomfortable silence in the room.

"Treize!" a voice suddenly bellowed into the nearly-empty throne room, luckily ending the dreadful conversation. Well, as well as the old geezer could bellow; the oxygen tank he carted around with him always freaked the General out. The strange binocular-like glasses didn't help, either.

"Dr. J," Treize greeted, relieved to see someone new who would hold their part in the conversation. "How are you doing?"

"Miserable, but that's not why I'm here," the doctor grumbled, and Trieze began to re-think his position on Dr. J's presence. "The reason I'm here is because--stand up, boy--because of this ungrateful brat of mine."

Quatre rolled his eyes. "But, Dr. J--"

"Quiet, boy!" Dr. J snapped. "Now, as I was saying... my boy Quatre has my permission to marry Heero--Yuy, get over here--and Heero's consented to the marriage. Now, stand up, Nanashi."

As the third young man with a large heap of bangs piled over one eye obediently stood up next to Quatre, the blond boy bristled at the doctor. "Okay, first of all, his name is Trowa, Dr. J--"

"Shut up, boy; I'm talking to the General."

Treize struggled to hide a sigh as the blond young man blew at his bangs in frustration. The other two young men merely stood like statues on the floor.

"This boy," Dr. J continued, pointing to the one with the strange comb-over, "has stolen my Zero-system and used it to mess with his head! Now, they think they want to go get married--married! What about my choices?! What about Heero?!"

"If you love him so much," Quatre remarked pointedly, "maybe you should marry him yourself."

Everyone in the room looked vaguely repulsed by that idea, even the Colonel and the stoic Trowa and Heero. Actually, especially Heero.

"Don't be ridiculous, boy. G would never go for a threesome," Dr. J told him, unperturbed.

The repulsion in the room grew to seriously disturbed levels.

Treize coughed, trying to clear his mind of the horrible image of Dr. J and Professor G in bed together, their old, wrinkly, sweaty bodies twining around each other as they grunted and--"By Athenian law," Treize said loudly, moving on, "children have to marry who their parents choose."

"He's not my father!" Quatre cried.

"Heero's not that bad," Treize said, still uncomfortable with the thought of the two old guys getting it on. "He's very... stoic..."

"So's Trowa!" Quatre said, clutching the boy's arm in his defense.

"Well, Heero is..." He looked back and forth between the two candidates for Quatre's hand. "Honestly, they're virtually the same. If not for the bangs, I wouldn't be able to tell the difference between the two." Treize sighed. "Does it really matter?"

"Well, it's the principle of the thing," Quatre said. "Besides, Trowa and I are in love."

"Whatever," Treize said, "but by law you have to marry who your father picks out for you, or I get to kill you in a horrendously unfair duel where you get a hotdog to defend yourself, and I get many sharp pointy knives."

"He's not my father!" Quatre yelled again. "We're not even related!"

"Well, you could become a nun, I suppose..." the General said thoughtfully.

"I'm not a girl!" He pouted, glaring at Treize.

Treize cleared his throat. "Forget I said that. Now, um, b--*other* boys," he stumbled, turning his attention to Trowa and Heero, "What do you have to say about this..." He waved his hand towards them.

"He's mine," Heero said, not even looking at Quatre.

"I... see." Treize lifted an eyebrow.

"I work with lions." Trowa's expression never changed.

"Fascinating." Treize templed his fingers in front on him while attempting to suppress a sweatdrop. Quatre had hearts in his eyes. "But, erm, about this marriage thing--"

"Look, Quatre," Heero said suddenly, looking over to his betrothed. "Just think it over, okay? I'm not that bad a find."

"You stay out of this, Yuy," Quatre snarled, turning his wrath upon the Japanese boy.

"Whatever, then," Treize said, wondering if that was a smirk on Trowa's face. "You have until the next full moon, and if you're not married to Heero by then, I get to have my duel. And, frankly, no one ever picks the duel, so I'd really appreciate it if you could just remember how much I crave a nice fight..."

"Dismissed," Une intoned.

"I wasn't done yet!" Treize protested.

She glared at him, and he cleared his throat again. "Um, yes. Dismissed." He had no idea what he was supposed to be talking about now; it was going to be a long wait for the wedding.

"Trowa, what are we going to do?" Quatre cried, pacing back and forth in Trowa's room. "That old bastard won't leave me alone." He whirled around to pace the other way, waving his arms around. "We don't even look alike!"

"Calm down, Quatre... you're getting red in the face."

"I am not marrying Heero. He's a cold-hearted son of a--"

"He's not that bad," Trowa contested, feeling uncomfortable. He and Heero were an awful lot alike.

"Oh, Trowa," the blond finally wailed, stopping in his tracks. "What are we going to do?"

"I don't know," he replied, and pushed himself away from the wall he'd been leaning on to walk over to his lover. "We'll think of something."

"I don't want to lose you," Quatre whispered, eyes large.

"I'll never leave you," Trowa promised, raising a hand to run it lightly through the other's hair. "Never."

They stood like that for a long moment, staring into each other's eyes.

"Let's run away," Quatre said suddenly. "We can head over to Sanq, get married, and settle down in a peaceful little village."

"..."

"Or," Quatre amended, rolling his eyes, "we could just find a traveling circus and join."

"I like lions," Trowa repeated.

"Yes, yes, you and your lions, wonderful--"

"But I like you more."

Quatre gaped for a moment before pulling the taller boy into a desperate hug. "Oh, Trowa! You're so wonderful!" He leaned away again, but gave his lover's hand a tight squeeze before letting go. "We'll leave tonight," he said, beginning to pace again. "I'll have to pack lightly, so I'll bring three of my pink shirts and only two of my vests, and--"

A knock on the door saved Trowa from having to respond to this, and Quatre quickly hid in the closet as Trowa went to open the door.

"Hi, Trowa!" the girl at the door said with a smile. "Have you seen Quatre? I was looking for him, but his father said he hadn't seen him since the conference with Treize, and--"

"He's not my father!" Quatre yelled from the closet before stalking out.

Relena raised an eyebrow. "Quatre, it's too late to come out of the closet. You haven't been in since you were six."

Quatre flushed. "Hey!" Before he could get properly worked up over it, though, he noticed the sad look in her eyes. "Relena, is something wrong?"

She sighed, and the smile drifted off her face. "Oh, it's just Heero. He keeps saying he's in love with you, and I guess it's finally getting a teensy bit on my nerves. I wish I could be a boy. Maybe he'd like me then."

"There's nothing wrong with being a girl," Quatre told her gently. "In fact, I've often wished--" he broke off suddenly, perhaps belatedly realizing the inappropriateness of the comment.

Relena never noticed. "He quotes back to me everything you say, and he told me I should wear more pink if I want to be attractive, because of your stupid shirts!"

Quatre shrugged. "I like pink."

She indicated her outfit. "I'm wearing pink! Everything I own is pink! My horse is pink!"

"I've been meaning to ask you about that," Trowa said.

"I'm not encouraging him. I told him to take a long walk off a short bridge." Quatre scratched his head, confused.

"I dressed myself in a pink negligee and showed up in his bed, and he tried to throw me out the window. Look," Relena said, whirling on Quatre, "teach me how to be you. I'll cut my hair, I'll get a sex-change, I'll--"

"Relena!" Quatre cried, pulling her hands into his. "Don't do anything drastic! Look, I'll let you in on a secret, okay? Trowa and I are running away to join the circus together. Tonight. We'll be out of your hair, and then you can have Heero all to yourself, alright?"

"Really?" she said with a sniffle.

"Yes," Quatre said, moving to stand next to Trowa and taking his lover's hand. "But you have to promise not to tell."

Relena smiled and nodded. "Quatre, you're the best!"

"We're leaving tonight?" Trowa asked, Quatre's earlier statement finally settling in for permanent residence.

"There's no time to lose!" Quatre cried. "If Dr. J calls me 'boy' or 'son' one more time, I think I may kill him!"

Relena gave Quatre a strange look before smiling. "Okay, Quatre... I'll miss you!" She gave him a hug and a wink before slipping out the door.

"We're leaving tonight?" Trowa frowned. "That doesn't give me much time to say goodbye to the lions."

While Relena walked down the hall, she was holding an internal debate. On one hand, Quatre and Trowa were leaving. Heero would be upset, and she could comfort him! On the other hand, Quatre and Trowa were leaving. Heero would be upset if he found out if she knew and didn't say anything. What was the saying? "Damned if you do, damned if you don't." She pursed her lips. Heero used to love her, before he saw Quatre and went all funny. He still loved her, she was sure, but at the moment, he was... confused.

So, what could she do but chase after him, trying to make him remember how happy they'd been together. With a sigh, she brushed a tear away from her face. Maybe if she dyed her hair brown and braided it into one long braid she'd be more attractive...

Nah. It'd never work. She'd just have to tell him where Quatre and Trowa were going, and hope he'd love her for this.

To a normal brain, this plan made little sense; but Relena, of course, is both blonde and dumb, and allowances must be made.

Resolved, she went looking.

I.ii

"Okay, okay," Sally yelled. "Everybody, shut up!" The group quickly quit jabbering. "So, is everyone here?"

"Exactly who is supposed to be here?" Catherine asked, eyebrow lifted.

"What is she wearing?" Dorothy whispered to Meiran, indicating Catherine's strange tutu.

"And what are we doing here?" Meiran asked, ignoring Dorothy.

"And what's with your eyebrows?" Catherine asked snidely, having overheard the not-that-quiet comment.

"They're fashionable," Dorothy replied snootily. "What's wrong with *your* eyebrows?"

Not wanting to get into that debate just then, Sally cleared he throat and called the attention back to herself. "Ladies, ladies. We're here to do this play for Treize."

"He's a weakling," Meiran snorted.

"Nevertheless, if we do a good job, we get a mobile suit."

"What am I going to do with a mobile suit?" Catherine asked. "I don't have the storage space!"

"You could always make it a showcase for your circus," Hilde suggested.

"Hm..." Catherine considered.

"But, I have the script," Sally interrupted again. "And I'm ready to cast the parts. Okay? Ready?"

"I don't need a script," Dorothy boasted. "I'm wonderful at improvising."

Meiran hid a comment in a cough.

Sally ignored them. "The play is entitled 'The Most Lamentable Comedy, and Most Cruel Death of Pyramus and Thisby.'"

There was a pause.

"I can tell from the title that that is most likely the worst play ever written," Professor G finally spoke up.

"Who's asking you, anyway?" Sally said angrily. "You're just here to impress you little J-sie-poo."

The women all shuddered at the image the two men conjured in their minds.

"No, no, he's right," Hilde agreed when she could speak again.

"Just look at the name," Catherine said. "I mean, Sal, c'mon, it's trash."

"Bad trash." Dorothy nodded her head; her eyebrows bobbed gently.

"Trained monkeys could write better," Meiran declared, grabbed the script from Sally's hand, and set it on fire. "Justice!" she declared, watching the papers curl with flame and collapse to ash on the ground.

The others looked at her strangely, but were interrupted by a wail from Sally.

"That was my script! You burned my script!" She wrung her hands. "Fine, if you think you can do better, you write the script! I wash my hands of this writing crap! We'll meet tonight at the old hollow stump in the forest, and somebody else better have a script for us to use!" Eyes blazing, she stomped off.

Everyone else exchange a glance. "So..." Hilde said after a pause. "Tonight then?"

----> Act II

Cassima is listening.

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