Disclaimer: DC owns the characters and Kevin Hawkins developed this particular future, but what happens in the story is all my idea and I'll take the raves and the scolds. No other profit is expected, save for respecting my choice as to where and when this piece is reproduced.

Notes: This takes place in Kevin Hawkins’ universe, which is true to the continuity of the Legion books until the "End of an Era". Since the Legion was pardoned for actions they committed since Universo’s frame, there have been a number of changes in the crew. Most of the surviving Legionnaires have returned to active duty, and that includes Dirk Morgna, who was revived by the Dark Circle. His powers and soul are bonded to the body of the woman who loved him and killed him.

The Legion, Jan Arrah decided, was a lot like a complex molecule. Single entities of wildly different properties joined together in a way that was miraculous because it was implausible. When one atom changed, the whole molecule destabilized; and either the bounds between parts were strengthened, or the molecule fragmented into smaller molecules or exploded. The latter seemed the most likely result as he surveyed the Legion members who came together in an informal emergency meeting.

"Something's got to be done," Rokk Krinn repeated. "Just look at poor Loomis."

"'Poor Loomis' deserved it, Polecat," Wave disagreed, allowing a small lock of blue hair to braid itself. "If he tried that move on me instead of Morgna, I'd've done more than singe his face." A blue tendril snaked up to an unbandaged portion of Loomis's cheek and stroked it. "And how are you healing, baby?"

"I agree that Loomis was rude and crude, Wavester, but there are subtler ways to tell a hom 'no'," Mysa insisted as she cracked her gum.

"How would you know? You never tried any of them," Wave jibed back.

Rokk almost responded as well, but Imra placed a gloved hand firmly on his shoulder. "That's not the point," the telepath interjected. "The point is that one of us is hurting to the point where he's affecting the entire team's morale."

"'She'," Virus corrected automatically.

"I speak of the mind, not the body."

"And therein lies the rub," Jo quipped. "Dirk’s two parts aren't getting along. It must be hell--have the mind thinking one thing and the brain reacting in an entirely different way."

"If you ask me, he deserved it," Tinya piped up. "It's perfect symmetry that he ended up in an ex-lover's body."

"Tinya!" Ayla shouted. "This ex-lover used and murdered him!"

"And he deserved that too!"

"Y'know, what Dirk really needs is a good fuck," Mysa suggested.

"Of course. It's your answer for everything now," Rokk muttered.

Jan had had enough. "This settles nothing," he said softly. Only Jo and Valor heard him speak, but their sudden attention made the others look at him. "We play games with Dirk's pain. Dirk needs our friendship, not our jeers or curiosity. I'll go find him--her. Meanwhile, decide if this group--a group that can accept gang members, smugglers, cripplers and murderers of youth, and a thief who murdered another comrade--can accept a being who tried to serve his world the best he could."

"That's not fair!" Wave shouted. "I wasn't even on Orando when Karate Kid kicked it! And I was drugged out of my mind!"

"Of course I became a ganger and a smuggler! There was no other way on Rimbor!"

"And Virus designed a weapon that killed and crippled hundreds of soldiers, including two who are here now. Dirk served a tyrannical government and betrayed the sacred rights of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Are you going to suggest that these actions were so much lower than the ones I mentioned? If so, my actions of turning my back on my fellow sentients should be judged as harshly. By these standards, we should not be the Legion any more."

"But people change, Jan," Wave whined, "and a lot of times, it's for the better."

Jan smiled broadly. "Yes, they do. And they make hideous mistakes for the best of reasons. The question is whether or not you'll withhold the forgiveness you need yourselves. Out of all of us, Imra and I have always been the ones to get Dirk to be honest with himself. One of us should go, and your going is not an option at this point."

"Just because I’m a little sensitive to sunlight--"

"--And a little quicker to anger these days. You have enough to worry about with your own changes. I’ll go." With that, the Trommite turned and left.

Wave snorted. "Still a pompboor."

Valor shifted in his chair and smiled a "I know better than you" smile. "Be happy he expressed his anger that way, Wave. He was furious at us and could’ve done a lot more than just singe us a little with a thought if he lost control."

"But he doesn't lose control, Meatman. He never lets himself just react to the universe. He was more miserable than I was when I was doing a sys-delete."

"Maybe, but as long as he doesn't hurt anyone, that’s his choice."

Jan Arrah was fairly sure that his leaving had shifted the Legion molecule's polarity and that the discussion included his actions as well as the former Sun Boy's. What am I doing here? he asked himself as he got ready to knock on the door. He decided that for the moment, he was here to talk to a friend who needed to have someone hear him, her. Whatever.

Dirk didn’t answer when Jan rapped at her door. Finally he used his powers to close the circuit and watched the portal iris open. Inside was dark; it was a bad and disconcerting sign. The flame of a single candle was the only movement in the room. Dirk stared at it, drawn to the fire as a moth would.

Jan entered, being neither invited nor dismissed. The first step was smooth, silent. The second crunched onto something and scratched the floor. Jan slowly knelt to pick up the item. He felt the diode on the device and triggered it. His haggard reflection glanced back at himself. A mirror. Of course.

"Is the idiot going to be all right?" Dirk asked.

With a musician’s ear, Jan listened. The soft alto was so different from the bass of Dirk’s birth body, yet the tone and inflections were the same. "He’ll recover."

"Did I ever push after a woman told me 'no' and meant it?"

"Is that what happened?"

"Yes. No. I don't know. I was helping him with some simple repair work. I must have accidentally touched him, or leaned too far, or something. Because then he pressed against me... and I just had to get away from him!"

"Dirk, he knows what you're working through. Any sentient would have clarified its intent to you before grabbing you."

"Unless he thought I was giving clear signals. God, who am I fooling? I can’t go through life like this! I don’t know what to wear, I don’t know what to say, I don’t even know how to move, and nobody here trusts me!" It was the last truth that hurt the most.

Jan grimaced, thankful that Dirk hadn’t heard the discussion upstairs. "So win back their trust."

"How? I’m a traitor trapped in the body of a dead lover I wasn’t particularly faithful to, brought back to life by Dark Circle magics, who beat a man to a pulp in a psychotic fit. How are they supposed to trust me?"

"Most of them trusted you for over two decades."

"So where were they when I was trying to hold the Legion together?"

"The same state of existence I was. Healing. Waiting for the time the Legion could be what it was supposed to be. Some of us tried to save the universe ourselves, just as you tried to do."

"Oh, is that what I was doing?" Dirk’s voice was scratchy, scathing.

Jan half-shrugged and smiled, knowing the gesture would be lost in the dark. Dirk hated the dark; he was afraid of it, afraid of not knowing. There had to be something even more frightening to make Dirk choose the darkness. Or perhaps he was afraid of someone. Was he afraid of himself? Or was it herself? Jan remembered that fear with a mouth suddenly turned dry. For him, it came when he discovered he was capable of killing. Jan could still the tension in the back of his hand as he held the gun to Roxxas’ head, the ache in his trigger finger and the harsh wet heat of air choking out of his lungs as he claimed he had the right to end another’s life.

Dirk sobbed once and Jan shook himself to refocus on the present. Dirk had enough pain for the both of them. The Terran had to leave the pain behind. Dirk had to accept the fact that she was no longer the man he was. For someone like Dirk, the physical self lead to spiritual understanding. Using his powers, Jan walked to the mirror, picked up the tiny pod and then quietly slipped over to the trembling, newly-reborn woman. "You need to understand the gift you’ve been given," he whispered softly in her ear.

She jolted away; the words punched her in the gut. Jan grabbed her arm. It was not a menacing grip, but it was a firm one. "Dirk, do you trust me?"

"Yes!"

"With your life and body, yes. But do you trust me with your soul?"

"It’s not you I’m having trouble trusting. It’s me, Dirk Morgna." Then she laughed a crazy barking laugh again. "I can’t even be that!"

"What?"

"Dirk Morgna. My given name means ‘Derek’s son’. I can’t even claim my name."

"What can you claim? In the past ten minutes, you’ve denied your Legion membership, your father and your right to breathe. What do you claim as yourself?"

"That I’m a schmuck? No, I can’t even claim that."

"Dirk, two things: One is that being flip is not going to work. The other is that I refuse to be driven away this time. You can reject us, but I don’t think you want to. What you can’t reject is yourself. You’ve been given a second life. I can’t believe you’re not embracing it!"

"Will you look at me?" Dirk demanded, trying to pull away.

Jan pulled her back in front of the mirror. "Mirror, on. Lights on at half-strength. Who do you see?"

"Circe."

"Circe is dead." The man pulled the woman’s arm. Stiffly the hand came up and touched pouty lips. "Does this body breathe?" His cool hand brought her warm one slowly over her neck, over the throbbing pulse beats. "Does this heart beat? The body’s alive." Two hands pulled her gaze back to the mirror, slipping through the fine flaxen hair and keeping the head in place. "Who do you see?" She nearly jerked away again. "Look closer. Who do you see?"

She gazed into her own yellow eyes, and at the face that had stared at him from a pillow for most of the last three years of his life. There were subtle differences. The jaw wasn’t as clenched, the eyes not as coolly calculating as those of a lifetime before. "I don’t know." The grip did not loosen. What was the answer that Jan wanted? "Myself."

"But you don’t know who that is?" Jan challenged as he slipped his hands through her hair. "Our bodies are the tools we use to understand the wonders of the physical universe. How well do you understand the tool?"

"Man, I can’t believe you’re using double entendres! I understood this tool pretty damn well when I was screwing it!"

"And now?"

The woman backed up through the mirror. "I hadn’t gotten that desperate yet. Otherwise, I’d’ve taken Jewel up on her offer."

You and half the known universe, Jan thought before his concentration refocused. "You have to accept your body before you give it to others, and we both know that. Will you let me help you with that? Do you trust me?"

Dirk closed her eyes and swallowed hard. "Right now, you’re the only one I do trust."

"Then take off your robe." The silk whistled slightly as it slipped to the floor. Jan then leaned over the woman, stayed as close as he could without touching her back, took her long powerful hand and guided it to the soft reddish down where her hips joined her legs. "This is your reality, Dirk. Feel it."

She hesitated, mouth and eyes dry with fright.

"You can’t afford to avoid the truth any longer." Did Jan really say that or was it an inner voice? Dirk licked her dry tongue over dry lips and reached for the sleek slippery channel between her legs. You’ve done this before, Morgna! Snap out of it! With both her fingers and the pleading nerves of her vaginal lips, she felt the delicate rubbing which splashed the longing into short ripples of pleasure. She moved her hand back to the front of her body. She still knew what to do to pleasure a woman’s body. Sure the angle was different, but the moves were basically the same. She touched a single bud of pleasure briefly and an electric shock of ecstasy flashed through her spine. The wiry hair beneath her fingers was now wet and musky smelling.

"Yep. No doubt about it, this is a female body and I’m definitely wired in. Thanks for the lesson, buddy--" Dirk cursed her suddenly low and rocky voice. That huskiness was one of Circe’s signals that she was interested in lovemaking. For that matter, so was the musky dampness between her legs and the aching void in her belly.

Never let them know you want them, the specter of Dirk’s father warned. However Jan never liked or listened to Derek Morgna, or his wisdom. Again, Dirk tried to back away from the man who once looked into her eyes and saw the soul of a former friend and comrade. Again, Jan stopped her with an unyielding grip and drew her to him. He caused no pain holding her in hands that were velvet covered steel, but he wouldn’t let her slip away. Slowly he pulled her closer until the space between them no longer existed. Slowly, he brushed his lips against hers and waited for the invitation. She had to stand on the balls of her feet to try to obliterate the space that no longer existed between them. Her lips pushed against his and tongues wrestled as he accepted the invitation and her strong arms bent his head closer to hers. Body and soul both wanted what Jan was offering: Carnal desires sated while the need for companionship and safety were met in the arms of the one person who simply accepted the reincarnation without fear or anger. Her nipples, already shriveling and tensing to feel Jan’s touch, became pebble hard as he cupped her soft, smooth breast. Her own hands combed through Jan’s sleek, soft locks. Those hands slid down his shirt and began tugging at it. "Take off your clothes," she requested throatily.

"Are you sure?"

"Jan, if you ask that every step of the way, I’m going to lose my nerve. Take them off, slowly. I want--I want to watch." She was trembling as Jan guided her to the edge of the bed. Where was the easy confidence Dirk remembered, even while engaging another man? Or was it passion making her shake?

Jan stepped away and drew in a deep breath. Showmanship was Dirk’s style, not his. However he pulled his shirt out of his pants and carefully pulled it over his slender, muscular body and over his smooth, sculpted chest. With a final shrug, he pulled the shirt off his shoulders and neck. The flickering half-light teased his alabaster flesh with the caresses of glow and shadow. He began to tug at his sweat pants and suddenly stopped.

"It’s okay, Jan, I know you’re aroused." It was anxiety, not passion, that constricted her throat.

"Dirk, I’m honestly not expecting you to do anything except enjoy yourself."

"I know." She laughed a broken half-sob. "Y’know, you’re handling me with the same kind of kid gloves that I used when handling a novice."

In three steps, he was directly in front of her, his hand covering her mouth. "Ssh," he warned in the quietest of whispers. As he brushed his fingertips over her lips, he continued, "There is no past, no future. There is only now." Then he kissed her again, deeply. It was gentle and thorough at the same time. It was so completely Jan-like; his barely moving yet swaying primal nature to his will. Dirk could understand for a brief second why the atoms danced for him.

Jan slipped his moist warm tongue to Dirk’s jawline and then began to nibble at her ear. She demurred. Jan stopped for a second, nonplussed; Dirk had always liked having his ears nibbled before. Then he simply changed direction and traced the lines of an ever-faster pulse down the new woman’s neck.

Dirk gasped in a breath and arched the smooth neck. Jan, in no hurry to achieve a goal, tarried. His tongue slid over her tingling skin nearly set it afire. Almost instinctively after almost three decades of practice, Dirk lowered her body temperature. Then she began to wonder just how Circe’s body could handle the fires that ultimately charred his own. She didn’t have the metagene.

Jan noticed Dirk’s attention straying even as his tongue crossed the collar bone to the soft musky hollow between left and right, neck and torso.

"No," he admonished. "No speaking, no thinking. Only feeling between us now." Then he continued the journey down the soft, firm mound of one breast. The tip of his tongue toying with the tip of a nipple while one hand caressed the other into rigidity.

She mewed a protest when Jan lifted his mouth away from one breast and almost purred when he placed it over the silky target. Deep in his memory, Dirk recognized the sounds he once elicited from the same body he now wore.

Every nerve was thrumming, vibrating to the beat that Jan’s tongue set. Jan kept kneading both breasts as his tongue continued the path to the navel. As it circled the small cave, his hands followed down the perfect symmetry beyond ribs, waist and hips. He squeezed each buttock in each of his hands. Dirk writhed and inhaled deeply.

The air was nearly as stimulating as the touch. Everything Jan did seemed more intense as her lungs flooded her body with oxygen. Jan wrapped one arm around her rear as the other began to firmly stroke her belly. Her muscles were still flexing and moving to the unheard music; so much so that when Jan plunged his attention and his tongue past the curly soft down protecting the perfect unity of both sides of her body, the first touch of just the tip of his tongue was almost enough to send her into a paroxysm of pure pleasure. But not quite. Jan would have to work a bit to bring a body so recently cold in the grave to ecstasy.

Jan only touched the bud of her clitoris with his tongue and worked it back and forth, only occasionally brushing just a bit lower to bring up some of the fresh moisture it caused. The woman moaned deep in her throat and unconsciously tensed her firm round muscular ass in the rhythm Jan used to stroke her into a passion. Soon the careful beat was overridden by a shudder that seemed to go through her at lightspeed. Jan waited until the shiver of the first orgasm subsided, not stopped, but slowed enough for Dirk to feel the beginning of his next move: As his lips nuzzled the petal soft mound before him, his fingers caressed the hollow between pelvis and thighs. Without warning, a finger slipped into her depths while his tongue slid down into the symmetry.

Dirk whimpered soft puppy whimpers as she instinctively lifted her hips to meet his lips. He continued his playful probe and kneaded her buttocks, and caressed the valley between them. It wasn’t long before Dirk embraced Jan with her long, lithe legs and let the tingling wave wash through her, strumming her sex to a new pitch. But she still wanted more.

She gripped the elastic band of Jan’s pants with her toes and pulled on it. "Come up here," she suggested. Jan paused. "I want this," the Terran insisted. The Trommite slid up on the bed and out of his pants, pausing only long enough to keep the clothes from tangling and snapping around his semi-erect phallus. Warm skin against warmer skin, Jan met her face with his and kissed her, his mouth still covered in her juices. She half-expected the zingy taste she remembered from countless amorous encounters with Circe, the almost-taste of apples and strawberries just starting to ferment. Instead it was sweet with a reminisce of tangy citrus. Was the difference in the taste buds, or did the taste of the cream change?

"No thinking, just feeling," Jan breathed into her ear and then gasped as she gripped his staff. She stroked it up and down, pausing to tickle his testicles. Warring desires plagued her a moment as she leaned against him, feeling their bodies rest together. Then she saw the part of him that was visibly longing for her touch. Her mouth watered as her body tightened in anticipation. Almost trembling, she slinked her body in a 180º turn and clasped the organ directly in front of her. Then she lowered her warm, wet mouth on top and over his obelisk. By kissing, caressing with tongue and teeth, and stroking, she felt his penis lengthen and widen even more because of her.

Hey, if a former guy doesn’t know what a guy likes... she reasoned. Jan arched his back and groaned, wanting to drive his shaft even deeper into the hot wetness, but Dirk’s tongue stopped him and continued lapping over the sensitive mushroom cap.

When Jan could control his body again, he turned his head and saw the glamorous sight of his lover’s thighs and the dark, reddish-blond tangle between them. It was an invitation he couldn’t resist. He rolled her over on top of him so he had a perfect view of her rounded rear and the curved crevice between the hemispheres. His tongued flickered in and out, teasing an opening even as her tongue and mouth continued sliding over and over his shaft. She cupped and lightly pinched his scrotum and slid her finger to the crack. Salt teased her tastebuds and she removed her mouth to take some of the pre-cum and to lubricate her fingers for the exploration of another of Jan’s orifices.

Meanwhile, Jan plunged one finger into the warm, wet musky smelling depths and another into another hole nearby. He pulled those fingers as close as possible.

If she could have, she would have opened her insides totally for him. As it was, she felt the impending orgasm and returned to sucking. This time a deep liquid warmth poured through her as her cries were muted by the engorged organ. They vibrated against it, causing Jan to toss his head back and gasp a nosy breath as the vibrations caused his to surrender completely to the feeling--almost. He had to force himself to concentrate, but he promised himself before he walked through that door that Dirk would have everything he could give her... this was the being who shared Earth and the universe with him; one of his strongest lifelines when he was in voluntary exile. His friend, his brother, his thrice-time lover needed him, so he wouldn’t give in to the gentle exhaustion. The French called orgasm La Petite Mort, the small death. Having felt the peace beyond death, both petite and grande, Jan knew the comparison was fair. Then his lover brought him to life again as she traced his gorging blue veins with her fingernails and the tip of her tongue....

"I’m--"

"I know. Me, too," she answered throatily and pulled herself away so she could mount him. Dirk willed herself to stop thinking; the body knew what to do. She slid over and around him; her insides hugging the part of her that was in and through her... it felt so good, so complete to be impaled like this. She mewed and wrapped her legs around him, trying to drive him into her every atom. The tip of his probe touched the deepest, most sensitive part of her soft, slick, moist cavern and a tingling arc of joy shot through them both.

He grabbed her hips and buttocks, slid away and rammed back in. This caused another connection and another and another.

She set up a counter rhythm, driving them both deeper into sensation, towards the inevitable explosion. Suddenly his arms vice-gripped her body and his back arched as the reaction took him and convulsed his probe onto its own ragged beat. All that she was squeezed against him, undulating around her and through her. She arched her back as she succumbed into the white hot heat and drank in the life giving juices greedily. A liquid warmth poured through every nerve and every muscle, leaving her limp and languid. She waited for the inevitable leave-taking as Jan’s collapsing organ slipped away. Then she eased herself off him and off the bed.

"Where are you going?" the man asked.

"To get a towel."

"I can--"

"No. I heard how you nearly died; I’m not letting you play with complex molecules just because I’m lazy." The water faucet whooshed to life and ended the conversation. Jan watched the shadows of the woman and the towel in a dance around the walls. Unconsciously he began to map out the rhythm of the dance. She then came over to him, the towel warmed by hands that could incinerate titanium. Gently she washed his groin, stomach and thighs. Only then did she settle back beside him.

"Jan, I--"

"Ssh."

"I know; no past, no future, no thinking. I just wanted to thank you for now."

He barely kissed her lips. "You’re welcome." Then he grew quiet until his breathing deepened and evened out.

She just listened to the rhythm of his heart and lungs; felt the heat from the body next to her. Despite Marvell’s assertion, the grave was not a fine and lovely place, and indeed none there did embrace. She fell into the warm peace and surrendered for a time.

The last flicker of the candle awoke her. She opened her eyes and tried to see in the dark the thought that had been drifting in and out of her dreams. "Mirror, half-illumination," she called softly. The holographic reflection flashed into three dimensions. Without disturbing the man beside her, she slipped off the bed and walked towards the mirror. She stepped in front of the silvery glass and looked at herself for the first time. It was a good, strong body, not too soft, not too muscular. However the blond hair was too stringy and the brown eyes too muddy. They were like brown filters, distorting the truth within.

"Mirror, alter image. Change hair to deep strawberry blond, make it shoulder length and add tight--no, loose--curls. Alter eyes to light blue." The program added the changes.

Fascinated, yet critical, she studied the image. She touched the planed cheek of the reflected face, not quite disrupting the illusory other and stood there remembering details. There were subtle differences in perception and movement; Circe held herself ramrod straight, planting each foot solidly on the ground, whereas her spine was supple and she walked with a slight bounce on the balls of her feet. Dirk remembered Circe’s taste and remembered her own. Were they really that different or did the change of personality change the data analysis? The questions intrigued her and could occupy Brainy’s attention for several weeks. The end result was the same however: The fusion of Dirk and Circe was someone both like and unlike the pair of them. "Look, Circe, I’m the daughter we never could’ve had." She stroked the image’s fire-bright curls. I could learn to love you, she decided.

Jan’s image slid up behind hers and embraced the redhead. He kissed her image’s shoulder and ruffled his hands through the thick hair.

"Don’t fall in love with me, Jan. I’m bad news."

"You’re about twenty-five years too late for that admonishment." She twisted to look at him in horror. Jan smiled his tiny, wise smile. "Dirk, I met you when I lost everyone and everything that told me what I am and who I am. Every time I found somewhere I thought I could be safe, Roxxas and his goons would destroy those places. I didn’t remember how to feel safe anymore, feel at home anywhere. Then I met you and I saw how comfortable you were with yourself, with your place in the universe. You made being at home look so easy. Now you’ve lost that quality and I couldn’t bear to see you like that. I wanted to help you feel more at home with your new self. That was all."

"You helped. But Jan, I’m a mess. In my head, I see Ayla and Vi and wonder if they’d want a threesome. My body sees Jo all sweaty in a pair of shorts and I just soak myself. And I don’t even like Jo!"

"Dirk--"

"Don’t call me that. Dirk Morgna died a hideous, pathetic death at the hands of another traitor to the human race. Let him stay dead. Maybe Neo-Earth will forget him enough to let the kid live his own life. As for me, let them think I’m a bastard sister or cousin or even a daughter who had the metagene that the Dominion triggered. It can’t be that hard to create a fiction, can it? Anyway, the point is that I’ve got a new body, a new gender and I need a new name for my new life."

"And that is?"

She thought about the delicious liquid heat that flowed through her hours before: Heat that flowed deep within her until called forth. Before it was always at the surface. Now it was more like lava than a solar storm. "Pelé."

"Pelé?" Jan repeated and laughed. "It shouldn’t surprise me that you name yourself after a fire goddess. Pelé, I have your friendship. As long as I have that, I’m satisfied. You have to choose your new path; we both know that. I only hope your path will keep you with the Legion. If it happens to intertwine with mine--well, we’ll deal with it then. Welcome back to life, Pelé. May it be what you want."

"And you, Jan? What do you want?"

"I’m trying to discover that myself. Whatever it is, we’re both in for a time of discovery. May I propose a toast?"

"We don’t have any wine."

"We don’t, but they can have our toast for us," he nodded towards the reflections.

Pelé smiled and ordered the screen to create two glasses of a deep garnet wine.

"To us. To our new lives and our new discoveries."

"To us, to life, to discovery," Pelé answered, and her reflection drained the glass.

****

For Kevin, letting me borrow his universe; for ‘Tonio, my muse and amusement. Long live the Legion in all of its varied forms.