Crouched on a rocky out cropping, Falcona folded her feathered wings against her back and watched as Warmonger knelt next to the small stream. Both were in a dangerous spot right now, just below the snow line, and that snow was probably soft now that spring had arrived to this strange world, bringing warmer temperatures and almost constant sun.

*Just hope we don't get caught in an avalanche,* she mused, eyeing the shimmering mass of white that seemed poised to rush down and envelope everything below it in a deadly embrace. A smile flickered across her face as she returned her attention to the armored man below her. *But I'll risk it for some clandestine watching.*

His armor was bulky and a blood-red color, making him appear a fearsome foe, but she had once been in a position to see the handsome face concealed beneath the monstrous helmet. In a normal situation, they probably would be lovers or at the very least friends, but their position was far from normal. Caught between opposing fractions of the deities, they had been chosen to fight on opposite sides. Heimdall, Guardian of BïrFrost, and Horus the Bright Avenger had picked her while Warmonger was the champion of Set the Destroyer. The prize they were fighting for was nothing less than the fate of humanity and the world itself.

Another problem between them was that Warmonger believed that he had been chosen by Jehovah, the Christian god, as War of the Horsemen of the Apocalypse, a fact that was only encouraged by his four companions. Before Warmonger could bring the Apocalypse to humanity, he had to destroy the followers of the so-called "false" gods. Namely, Falcon and her four friends and teammates.

A slight movement below dragged Falcona out of her thoughts just in time duck as Warmonger whirled around, firing his gun at her. The bullet ricochet off the rock behind her and she winced at the loud crack that echoed through the mountains. The feathers making up her own cowl-like helmet protected her from most head injuries, but didn't do a thing for muffling sounds.

"Come down and face me, infidel!" bellowed Warmonger as the echo finally died down, and Falcona silently groaned at the supercilious tone in his voice.

"I would if I knew that I wasn't gonna get filled with lead the second I appeared," she countered, slowly peering over the edge of her perch. She watched as he slipped his gun back in its holster and sighed in relief. Maybe now she could talk to him in relative safely...

A soft rumbling like thunder started behind her and Warmonger took an unconscious step back as she twisted around to stare up the mountain. Crashing towards them was a wave of white, the snow softened by the sun and shaken loose by the shot's echo. Instinctively, she dove towards Warmonger and wrapped her arms around his torso even as she furiously flapped her wings, desperately trying to get them to safety. They may be on opposite sides of the battle, but she was the Guardian. She couldn't stand by and let another perish if it was in her ability to save them. Metal-clad arms wrapped around her shoulders as she strained to carry them away from the advancing now. Her wings and back ached under the strain of Warmonger's bulk, and she gritted her teeth as she flapped harder, slowly gaining some height.

"We're not coming to visit today, Hel darling!" she crowed as the leading edge of the avalanche swept beneath them. They had almost reached a safe height when a surge of snow seemed to reach up and grabbed Warmonger's boots, pulling them violently towards the raging snow. Falcona screamed as pain exploded through her back. Her grip on the armored figure loosened slightly before she tightened it again, determined not to drop her burden.

"Let me drop" called Warmonger over the roar of the avalanche. "Save yourself!"

If she hadn't been busy trying to save both their hides, she would have laughed at that statement. "Never!" she snarled, trying to ignore the pain in her back that seemed to grow with each flap of her wings. She tried to climb above the deadly snow once more, but the weight of warmonger's armor was too much for her. She gasped as her wings suddenly went numb, and they fell into the rolling snow, tumbling together down the mountain. Somehow, they managed to remain together and she gritted her teeth as her head struck something unyielding, sending stars dancing across her vision.

Finally, they rolled to a stop at the base of the mountain, the snow settling around them in a soft blanket. For several minutes, Falcona lay sprawled on the snow, her legs concealed by a chunk of ice that had slid down the mountain and tried to ignore the paint that was rippling through her body. The soft crunching of snow herald warmonger's approach and she struggled to move, but her body didn't want to cooperate with her efforts, managing to only turn her head slightly as he knelt down next to her. His face was unreadable as he stared down at her and a brief frown flickered across her face as she fought off unconsciousness.

"You hurt?" Her question was soft and caused a look of surprise to flash across his face, mostly hidden by the demonic face guard.

"I'm fine," he replied, his voice flat and unemotional instead of filled with the self-righteous tone she was use to. "Are you injured?"

"Wings and back," she stated, simply, not bothering to hide the fact that she was at his mercy. "Hit my head too." She smiled briefly, a mere twitch of her lips. "Scrambled what few brains I have."

"Why didn't you let me fall when you had the chance and saved yourself?"

Falcona sighed and closed her eyes, hoping to lessen the throbbing in her head. "There's no way in hell that I'd sacrifice someone to save myself," she muttered, slowly slipping into the beckoning darkness. "Not even you."

@@@

He watched as Falcona's body fell limp, signaling her escape into unconsciousness, and he sighed. Her actions were completely opposite to what he knew about her and her companions. She was a follower of the false gods, not to be trusted, and fought to keep humanity where it was, festering in its own wickedness. She could have left him at the mercy of the avalanche to save herself, but instead, she risked her life to save him even after all the times he had tried to kill her and her friends.

Slight tremors shook her body and Warmonger carefully studied her sprawled on the snow. Iridescent black wings stretched carelessly on the snow, the feathers shimmering blue against the glittering white, and with the feathered helm that resembled a falcon's head descended to cover the upper half of her face, she looked like the dark angel he had originally mistaken her for, one that had been tossed aside like a broken doll. Trapped as she was by the snow and ice and with her wings injured, she was at his mercy. Vulnerable.

*It would be so easy,* he mused, trailing a finger over her exposed jaw. *Just put my gun under her chin, pull the trigger, and one-fifth of my job is done.* He shook his head at the thought and turned to dig her out. It may be easy to do, but killing an enemy while she was defenseless made his skin crawl. It was not an honorable victory to defeat an enemy like that and he would not be able to live with the shame. At least not sober.

Mindful of the razor sharp barbs on her gauntlets, he folded her arms across her abdomen and gently lifted Falcona from the snow. She was shivering almost uncontrollably, yet her back around her wings was fever-hot. He had to get her warm and still manage to soothe the damaged muscles attached to her wings. A hot bath would solve both problems, and he smiled as he remembered the hot spring he had planned on indulging in after his patrol that was nearby. Nodding decisively, he carefully picked his way towards the hot spring with his burden cradles in his arms.

As he walked, Warmonger was a bit surprised how light Falcona was. He would have thought that with her wings, which stretched nearly 15 feet across, she would have weighed more than she did. The moons of fighting had added muscles to his bulk, hidden beneath his armor, but she was clad in a form fitting Kevlar bodysuit that covered and shaped everything save for her back and arms. He also realized that he had never seen her without her helmet, although he had seen her companions without theirs, and he became curious to see what she looked like beneath the feathers.

Finally, he reached the hot spring and gently laid her down next to a wide yet shallow pool. *The only way I'm going to be able to warm her up without drowning her is if I get in the pool with her, and my armor won't help either of us in there,* he realized, measuring the depth of the pool with his arm. Glancing around, he spotted a eucalyptus tree and some coleus that was growling nearby and gathered some leaved from each. The eucalyptus would help her back and the flame nettle would hopefully sooth the headache she would have upon regaining consciousness. He crushed the leaves between some stones and mixed the pulp with a bit of water to create a fragrant paste. Stripping off his gauntlets, he carefully rolled Falcona onto her chest and began to gently massage the eucalyptus into the muscles around her wings, which were starting to swell slightly.

Falcona stirred slightly with a pain-filled groan and shifted beneath his hands, her wings restlessly twitching. Without thinking, he reached up to lightly stroke the feathers, startled at how soft they felt under his fingers. "Easy. You're safe now," he soothed, his voice gentle and soft and she settled down once more, drifting off again.

*Now I just have to get her unclothed and into the hot spring,* he sighed as he applied the last of the eucalyptus. Standing up, he easily removed his armor and weapons, placing them near the edge of the water before slipping out of the rest of his clothes, neatly folding them next to the armor. His dark hair brushed his shoulder blades as he knelt once more next to Falcona, carefully examining her armor when he saw the seam on the back of her collar. Within a few minutes, he had peeled her out of her bodysuit and folded it next to his armor, her knee high boots resting next to it. The gauntlets he simply slipped off of her hands and piles on top of her armor. Reaching out, he gently removed her helmet, releasing a cascade of copper curls that fell past her waist.

Without stopping to look at her naked form, Warmonger picked Falcona up once more and entered the water with her. He found a rock shelf that was clear of plant life and sat down, shifting Falcona's buoyant form until she was sitting sideways on his lap, his arms around her waist to keep her from floating off and her head against his shoulder. Being careful to keep their heads above water, Warmonger leaned back until they were both submerged to their necks and a sigh of what sounded like relief was breathed against his neck as Falcona snuggled into his chest. Now he took his time to actually look at this creature of evil that he had decided to help.

She was a classic beauty with tanned skin scattered with freckles and high cheekbones. Her body was muscular but slender, announcing that her Kevlar armor wasn't just armor any more than housings were just decorative, and yet, he found her to be highly attractive, as his body was also noticing. A shimmer caught his attention and he looked closer, shaking his head in disbelief when he realized that it had been a mixture of sun and water reflecting off the gold rings in her nipples.

He shook his head in disbelief. What kind of person was she truly? She was a follower of the false gods and he was sworn to destroy her, yet she saves his life at risk of her own. She didn't use any weapons except the metal barbs on her gauntlets, the twin curved blades on the heels of her boots and her wits, but she protected her friends as fiercely as Catress did with her claws. She didn't even have a sheath that indicated she had lost a dagger sometime during the fighting. She wore a bodysuit of Kevlar that was only adorned with the amber sun set at the hollow of her throat, not bothering with any personal jewelry, yet she had her nipples pierced. With gold rings.

"You are confusing," he told the motionless woman in his lap.

"Betcha say that to all the girls you pick up," muttered Falcona, reaching up to rub the side of her head. She froze when her fingers encountered hair and she went completely stiff in his arms as she slowly opened her eyes, as if testing her sight. The joyful surprise on her face threw him completely. What was she up to now?

@@@

Falcona looked around with wondrous delight. On the night when Horus and Heimdall had chosen her as their champion, her glasses had been lost in a brawl at the strip club where she worked as a bartender. In order to help her, they had fixed the lenses in her helmet to act as surrogate glasses for her while she was here. Warmonger had removed her helmet, which should have left her nearsighted and feeling helpless, but it wasn't the case.

*Maybe this is a side effect to the gods' powers,* she mused as her eyes danced around the haugh they were in. Eucalyptus trees were scattered around and fire nettles added color to the soft green. Darker green coleorhizae and coleoptiles announced the new grass that spring brings and in the moss that edged the pool, she could just make out the tips of calyptras that were slowly growing towards the warm sun. She could see. Without her helmet and the corrective lenses in it.

"Where are we?" Falcona finally asked, her eyes still dancing around and enjoying the freedom of sight without lenses.

"At a hot spring, not far from the avalanche," replied Warmonger, his voice filled with a myriad of emotions and Falcona looked up at him, confused. How did they get there from the avalanche, unless he carried her here.

"I think the better question would be, why am I here?" she stated with a confused frown. "Why didn't I wake up in a cell, or even wake up for that matter. After all, I was unconscious, helpless, and at your mercy. One well placed bullet or stab of a dagger and I've got a one way trip to Valhalla."

Anger glittered in Warmonger's crystal blue eyes. "That victory is a hollow one and one I don't want," he stated in a hard voice. "There is also no honor in it."

That answer took her by surprised and she stared at him, trying to read his eyes. The truth and belief in what he said staggered her. Unlike the Assassin, Warmonger wouldn't take advantage of her helplessness.

"Why didn't you drop me and save yourself?" Falcona blinked at the question and smiled.

"Because I am the Guardian. I could no more drop you than you could kill me while helpless," she replied with a slight shrug, wincing as the muscles in her back protested. It was then that she realized that both her and Warmonger were in a hot spring and neither had a stitch of clothing on. "Why did you take care of me? Why didn't you just leave me in the snow?" She cocked her head studying him. "Rick O'Connell, you're not, so why did you save the damsel in distress?"

"You've seen 'The Mummy' movie?"

Unable to help herself, Falcona burst into laughter at the complete astonishment on Warmonger's face. After several minutes, she was able to regain control but not before he had turned to stone in humiliation and anger. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "It's not you, but the question." She wiped the tears off her face with a wet hand and slipped off of his lap to float in the water, her wings making small ripples as they gently moved. She studied him, unconcerned about skinny dipping with Warmonger and completely comfortable in her skin. "What made you ask that question?"

A deep red infused Warmonger's cheeks and he turned his gaze away from her, apparently embarrassed by her casual nudity. "You should be embarrassed by your exposure," he chided, not looking at her.

"I'm hardly Calypso seducing the brave Ulysses, and you're trying to change the subject," she countered, cocking her head in a bird-like manner and studying him. "Just *what* has your god told you about us that has made you as blind as a falcon that has been seeled?"

Now Warmonger looked at her. "He is the One True God, and He told me that you are evil and must be destroyed before humanity can be purged of the wickedness that it is festering in." Falcona could hear the capital letters in his words and groaned, burying her face in her hands. She knew he was being tricked by Set, but this was almost complete and total brainwashing!

"And what if I told you that your god isn't who you think he is?" she challenged, folding her arms across her chest as she stood up in the water, ignoring the way her back twinged at the weight of her water-soaked wings.

"And how do you plan on doing that? Work your magic on me?" He demanded, his face growing angry and suspicious once more.

She threw her hands up in the air in disgust and turned her back on him. "I'm nothing more than what you see," she argued, her own temper rising. "The only thing I plan on using to open your eyes that are seeled incredibly tight is logic and the truth. The weapons of the Vulcans, not of any occult. The only magic I work is behind the bar with alcohol." She was going to punch a hole in his belief large enough to drive a Mac truck through and then help him afterwards. If she could find a cellar full of alcohol in this place, she would just share drinks with him and get him completely plastered along with herself as she talked, but that was just wishful thinking on her part. Rathskellers were non-existent and trying to locate the cellarer out here was impossible since she had yet to find any trace of civilization on this strange planet.

"All right, let's start at the beginning of that little statement," Falcona began, settling back down in the water and enjoying the feel of cilium-leaved plants brushing against her legs. "How am I evil?"

A confused look flickered across that handsome face as Warmonger thought. "You are a follower of the false gods," he began, slowly as if gathering his thoughts. "You want humanity to fester in its own wickedness until there is nothing left but evil and corruption."

The hull of a flower fluttered out of the trees to land in the water, floating there like a miniature boat. "Then wouldn't it have made my job easier to leave you to the mercy of the avalanche?" she countered. "Or even 'accidentally' drop you?" She pointed at him as she made her next jab at him. "Plus, here's something you probably haven't considered. You wipe out humanity and who will worship the gods? Any of them?"

A coleopteran bug landed on the hull and flicked its wings closed, encasing the delicate membranes in the harder shell. "You told me yourself that you couldn't leave me to the avalanche any more than I could stab you while you were unconscious," he reminded her, standing up and approaching her, obviously forgetting about their nudity for the logical debate. "And He has already told me of his plan to create a new age of humanity."

"So basically you're clearing the path for what? Another flood and he's going to let you build another ark and fill the hold with animals?" she inquired, trying to root out the source of Set's influence. If she could find out what he told Warmonger and what promises he made, then she might be able to get Warmonger free of Set's influence, or at least questioning the Destroyer's words. "No, can't do that. My mistake. I forgot about the covenant that Jehovah made with Noah, promising not to do that again."

Now Warmonger's confusion was visible on his face. "What covenant?" The question was hesitantly asked, as if he feared the answer, and Falcona realized that *now* she had a weapon against Set's influence.

*Thank you for talking me into that Bible as Literature class, Cat,* she silently thanked, "Haven't you read the bible?"

A blush stained Warmonger's cheeks, one of complete embarrassment. "No, I haven't had time or the motivation," he confessed.

"So, you're following a god, one who has made you a powerful force in his hall, and you haven't even read his words or teachings?" She blinked at her phrasing and realized that Heimdall's influence was working with Horus'. The Norse god's influence was watching for any visible weakness in Set's influence while Horus' was prepared to battle it down until it was crumbling.

"He tells me what I need to know," announced Warmonger, defensively.

She snorted. "Do you chant 'Imhotep' while marching too?" she asked sarcastically. "Jehovah doesn't want mindless slaves that obeyed his every command and only listen to what he says. He also wanted followers who would think for themselves, not follow mindlessly." *Sorry for twisting the stories slightly, Jehovah,* she silently apologized. "In the Book of Job, Jehovah took away Job's wealth, health and family to test Job. Job passed by remaining faithful and not lying to himself and Jehovah and everything was returned with interest to Job."

"Then this is a test of His," began Warmonger ready to start in on another train of through.

"If it was, I would simply drag you into a cella and chain you there while we talked with Jehovah," she interrupted, wanting to derail that train of though before it pulled out of the station. "Have you ever tried to question the orders you have been given? Or have you followed along like a good little mindless slave?"

"I listen and I obey." He shrugged. "That is all that is asked of me and He can easily destroy me for disobeying him."

She snorted. "Imhotep, Imhotep," she chanted in a flat, monotone voice, imitating the actors from the mob scene. "Keep giving me answers like that, and I'll go find the boils for you." She waded through the water until she was standing in front of him and poked him in the chest with her finger. "Sure, he may be able to destroy you if you don't obey this god but why should he? After all, if he destroys you, he has to find someone else to brainwash and send here and that isn't allowed."

A glimmer of an idea stuck her. "What about your companions? Surely they don't follow Jehovah too, do they?"

*Now* warmonger's face was filled with shame. "No they do not," he confessed, his voice soft. "But I'm hoping that they will repent and follow Him soon."

"Waitaminute," she called holding her hands up as she closed her eyes. The perfect track to focus on! "I thought your job was to destroy the followers of the false gods. Then why are you working with those same followers you have sworn to destroy?"

"Because I have hope they will see the error of their ways and denounce their gods for the One True God."

She rested her fists on her hips and glared up at him. "Then why don't we get that same chance?" Falcona demanded, her eyes hard and flashing with anger. "After all, we follow false gods too, and yet you are hell bent on destroying *us* while your teammates are given a 'Get Out of Jail Free' card as far as you're concerned." She turned her back on his, her wings flaring out and sending waves towards the shore. "Anyone else here see the unfairness of this situation or are your eyes as clouded as your mind?"

"Why do you care what I believe or think?" he demanded roughly as his hand landed on her shoulder and spun her around, her wings sending more water towards the soaked moss. "After all, you are, as you say, a follower of the false gods and my sworn enemy."

Reaching out, she laid her hands on his smooth chest and looked up into angry sapphire eyes. His skin was surprisingly soft and pale, hidden away from the sun and elements by his armor. "Because ignorance and willful blindness can be just as deadly as an avalanche and I am the Guardian. I can no more leave you ignorant and blind than I could leave you to be killed by the snow. Plus I believe that two powers can conquer anything."

Warmonger looked down at her, his eyes darkening with another emotion besides anger. "What powers are those?" He asked, his voice growing husky and sending a delighted shiver down her spine.

Twining her arms around his neck, Falcona pulled him down until their faces were a breath apart. "Love and hope." The words caressed his lips and she closed her eyes as she kissed him with all the passion she had in her. She felt him freeze for a moment, startled, before his hands slipped around her waist, pulling her against him, and a delighted moan slipped out of his mouth when their wet skin slid against each other.

*Thank you Aphrodite,* she mentally prayed as Warmonger tried to pull her into him, wanting to meld their bodies together. True, she was the champion of Heimdall and Horus, but a goddess had taken an interest in her as well. And it was Aphrodite who had granted her wings as well as the ability to recognize love and defend those she loved, whether that love was for a sibling, a friend, or the true soul-mate kind of love that she had felt blossom in her heart the second her lips had touched Warmonger's.

"What was that?" breathed Warmonger, his voice dazed when they finally broke off the kiss.

"I think it was a kiss," replied Falcona with a smile as she stepped out of his arms. "Now why don't we get dressed and sit down and talk instead of going for each other's throat the second we see each other." Turning, she waded towards shore and climbed out of the pool. She didn't know what he had rubbed into her back, but that combined with the hot water had soothed whatever she had strained in her back. Shaking the water out of her feathers, Falcona easily pulled her bodysuit, gauntlets and boots on but was reluctant to replace her helmet. For the first time in years, she could see without glasses or contacts and part of her was afraid that if she put her helmet back on, she would loose that ability.

*Ah well. It's easier to talk when you can see the person's face anyway,* she decided, sitting on the grass with her helmet in her lap. Stretching her wings out, she started preening her feathers as she waited for Warmonger to join her.

@@@

Carefully, Warmonger replaced his armor, enjoying the comforting weight of the metal as his mind swam with what Falcona had said. Why *was* he willing to accept his own teammates' breach of faith when he was determined to destroy her and her companions for the same reason. It didn't make sense to him, but he had never questioned it. Until she had pointed it out to him along with the fact that he had been blindly following his god.

He looked over to find her sitting on the grass, straightening the mussed feathers on her wings, and his heart gave a lurch at the sight of her. What was happening to him? Never before had he felt anything like this for anyone. Could she be seducing him into giving up his mission, like Calypso did with Ulysses? But what if everything she said was true? What if he was just blindly following what his god told him? He had never really believed in any sort of higher power until that voice filled with power and knowledge spoke to him, claiming to know his destiny as the Horseman of War. Yet, his teammates openly flaunted their beliefs in other gods, and he groaned, burying his face in his hands as his thoughts swarmed around those few facts.

Perhaps the source of his confusion could enlighten him, and he started for Falcona just as she jumped to her feet. "Sounds like we're going to have company soon," she muttered, jamming her helmet on and crouching in a defensive position as the sound of footsteps reached his ears. Turning so that they were back to back, Warmonger drew his gun and waited for a sign to see which group had found them first.

"Well, this is unexpected," drawled a cold, mocking voice and Warmonger glared as the Assassin appeared from behind a tree. The Assassin's waist long white hair swirled around him even as his pale eyes rested on them, and Warmonger wondered once more how such feminine beauty could appear in the form of a cold blooded murderer. "Didn't expect to find you plotting with the enemy, Warmonger. What happen, get distracted by a pretty face and a few shapely curves?"

"Remember my words," whispered Falcona before her presence at his back vanished in a flurry of feathers. Warmonger turned just as she vanished into the leafy canopy above their heads and he dropped his eyes to stare at the pool they had recently shared.

There was the whispering of cloth as the Assassin strolled over to him and he didn't bother looking at his teammate. "What are you doing here?" Warmonger asked in a hard voice as he replaced his helmet, once more hiding his face from the world and, most importantly, his teammates.

The Assassin shrugged. "Got bored and decided to come see if you needed any help," he stated, but there was some note in his voice that said he was lying for some reason. A hand clapped him on the shoulder. "Let's get back and you can tell us all about this little meeting of yours." The words were definitely an order and not a suggestion, adding another crack to his beliefs. It was apparent that his teammates didn't trust him, going as far as to follow him and question his motives. The Assassin didn't bother waiting for him to acknowledge the words but turned and left the hot spring.

A shimmer of blue and black caught his attention and Warmonger reached down to pick up one of Falcona's discarded feathers from off the ground. *Yes, I will remember your words, Falcona,* he silently promised, tucking the feather into his armor and away from prying eyes as he started after the Assassin. After this little discussion with his teammates, he was going to find an out of the way place where he could sit down and think long and hard.

Perhaps, he could figure out this little puzzle Falcona had presented him and then he could settle his thoughts and his heart.

The End... For Now.