Batteries Not Included

Title: Batteries Not Included
Author: Misty Flores
Email: mistiec_flores@yahoo.com
Teaser: A master thief gets her heart stolen.
Pairing: Gunn/Gwen
Rating: R for sexual situations
Distribution: Imperfect - www.stoic-simplicity.net/imperfect
Notes - Post ep for 'Players', lyrics by Lifehouse

You can be right
And I'll be real
Oh, and it still won't be a pain
That you will have to feel
Cause I don't need your approval
To find my worth

I'm trapped inside of my own mind
Afraid to open my eyes cause of what I'd find and I
Don't wanna live like this anymore

The first kiss she had ever received had been stolen.

It had taken place during a frantic fight in which she was doing her damnedest not to feel, kick the living shit out of a guy who refused to die. She had sparked his heart, and in the next millisecond, he had stolen the kiss from her mouth.

Not that she had minded. Gwen knew when to appreciate a good theft. She was, after all, first and foremost a thief. For so long, she had ached for that to define who she was, for that to be enough.

Gwen stole things. It was what she excelled at, what made her wanted and needed. She knew, even as men in thousand dollar suits, who gave cold gazes and carried numb hearts, slid envelopes and bank codes across tables in her direction - never touching, always careful never to touch - that despite their fear, for that moment, it was what made them want her.

Kissing a vampire had been unique, quick, and altogether too sudden for Gwen to really process. Life and death situations were a regular occurrence for her, and at the time, she had passed it off as such. Just another random event in her sordid, twisted life. But her mind sometimes betrayed her. Gwen found it was actually possible to think TOO much, and in her weakness, the thought escaped her that she had given up too quickly. She left behind a ten million dollar axis, left behind Angel and all he could mean for her. In the days that followed, she had her regrets. She should have fought for that vampire. She could have snuck back into his life the same way he had jolted into hers, and demanded that the attraction she knew he had for her be turned into something else.

What she needed. What she craved.

He had been her only chance, and she knew it. A vampire freak do-gooder was her only chance to feel, truly feel-

But there was always another job, another excuse, another reason to stay away from that touch. Sure, Gwen could spark connectors and blow circuits, but when it came down to it, the guy whose heart she sparked was in love with someone else.

It was always another girl they loved. Sure, she was wanted, some men even told her she was needed. For a job, for a score.

Love never became part of the equation, and often, Gwen wondered if she even knew how to love. She was a freak, but no one had ever called her a coward. Bitter, sure. Angry? Yeah, just a little. Shallow, heartless, cruel - you name it. But Gwen had never been called a coward.

It was the only name she refused to call herself. To do so would have meant defeat.

It didn't matter. She knew why she never went back, why she stayed away and let Angel find his girl. Staying away had to be an excuse. Gwen was meant to be looked at, wanted, never touched. She wasn't sure what had frightened her more, the texture of rough lips scathing her own, or the knowledge that she would never feel it again.

Sure, Gwen was great at stealing. She loved money, she loved her looks, and sometimes she even reveled in her own untouchable nature. Men always wanted the unattainable. The forbidden. Always thought they would be the exception.

That's who she was. Forbidden. Untouchable. Devil's fruit. Love never entered her life, because her life sparked with static. After twenty odd years of being fried on a weekly basis, she had come to accept it.

Figured. It was probably just another aspect of her freak nature, her need to fall into infatuations with men who were already in love with someone else.

Charles Gunn was a big man. He took all of his side of the bed, and some of hers, and he seemed perfectly comfortable with that. He also snored, uneven breaths that made his upper body rise and fall, muscles tensing, releasing.

Gwen was a master of observation. It was crucial in her line of work. Gunn had beautiful, beautiful skin. She saw Charles' fingernails, trimmed and clean (odd for a fighter), and she noted the scars. He slept on his stomach, and so all she saw from her side of the bed was a lean, muscled back. Painted across his chocolate skin were various scratches, long lines, tiny etches.

Her hand reached out, almost of her own volition, and almost by pure habit, Gwen traced them, inches away from his skin, never actually touching, connecting each with a story she made up in her head.

Her fingers stopped when they touched white silk. The white sheet draped over his thigh, rising up the curve of his ass.

Her fingers fell away.

Gwen had never slept in the same bed with anyone before, but she knew by instinct she would be a bedhog. She had always been a restless sleeper, moving back and forth, tangling herself into her sheet until the comforters were pushed off the bed and there was nothing but this sheet. She never thought she would be glad for it, nude in a white sheet while Charles lay exposed before her.

To connect skin with skin, to feel him again, seemed like too much, just too soon. Her jolt of awakening had carried a sudden irrational fear with it, and her courage to face her morning after was oddly lacking. For ten minutes she had barely moved, scarcely breathing in her frozen position, transfixed at the sight of a naked man in her bed, so close his body heat seemed to warm her shocked nerves.

The fear didn't dull her senses, and in the myriad of her overwhelming torrent of emotions, she managed to pick out one, just one that stuck to her.

It wasn't quite awe... a little too sincere to be pride... and her eyes were frozen on Gunn, so she wondered if it were something close to affection. Nostalgia.

Hell, maybe it was just being horny.

He kissed like he fought, all assurance and confidence, with a bitter spice in his taste that must have come from the ginger at the party. His lips maneuvered hers, soft and full, because Gwen had been unsure, always unsure.

It was her second kiss, and now, tangled in sheets and swimming in aftermath, her master thief mind clicked onto a small, short revelation. The kiss she had received, it was given, not stolen.

Gwen wasn't used to gifts. Nothing was ever given without expecting something in return, and there was nothing different about this. Gunn had given her a kiss, and he fully expected her to return it.

But she had loved it. She had loved it when he kissed her, at first soft and gentle, giving, and then hard, wet and deep. There was nothing that could describe what it felt like when he gently tipped her face, and pushed at her jaw, opening her mouth so his tongue could lick through her lips, tangle with her own, making her gasp and shudder at the same time.

Gunn had given her a gift, and he wanted something in return. Gwen knew you never got something for nothing, and yet - it didn't seem to matter. What she wanted from him, she couldn't take, couldn't steal, not now.

When he gave it, she reciprocated not just because she wanted to, because she needed to.

She never imagined she would practically give him everything.

Gwen had never gotten the 'birds and the bees' talk from her mother. Good ole' Mom had just assumed there would never be a need for it. After all, who the hell would Gwen fuck without frying them to death?

She did remember, though, whispers of conversations, shit caught from televisions, stolen moments from other people's lives that described what had happened here.

Gwen was over twenty, and she had lost her virginity in what was probably going to be a one-night stand with a guy who, for all she knew, could have imagined she was someone else while they were doing it.

Here she was, de-virginized Gwen. No longer untouchable. No longer forbidden. She had given herself freely and desperately, almost too desperately, and what the hell had it been her mother said about buying the cow?

Was she supposed to feel different?

There was a spot that ached, between her thighs. It was uncomfortable, made her squirm, and bite her lip as she shifted. Soreness that was different than what she felt last night.

It had been different, some how. It was nothing like she thought it would be. Gwen did it to feel, to touch. She expected to feel, it was what she had been waiting for, desperate for, but there was NOTHING in her life, not even the searing sensation of a lightning bolt coursing through her body that could compare to what had happened.

Charles' large body slid against hers, heavy and sweaty. He covered her head to toe, a dark mantle of lean, warm flesh, hips against hips, thigh between thigh. Small, dark hairs on his chest tickled her nipples, and when he thrust, the hard firmness of his pectorals pushed against her breasts, flattening them against her. Gwen's own fingers tightened over biceps, hands grasping for any kind of anchor, slipping and sliding against his arms and his ribs. She found she couldn't stop touching, couldn't let go - not when he groaned her name. Now when his goatee rasped the column of her throat, teeth raking against her skin when he whispered. Not when she shuddered with such tremors he paused, only to find his mouth being plundered in a sloppy, wet, inexperienced kiss that he never seemed to mind.

Before that there had been no pain, but she considered, and decided that the ache was worse. It started out slow, a soft burn that just seemed to explode at her core. The ache was pure need, unmerciful and incessant, taking over her body, splintering her mind, making her nearly beg when Gunn's hips thrust teasingly against hers, cock slipping over, and around, and never, ever IN.

Gwen's body had always been out of her control. The reason she had stolen that damned thing was to get control. She thought she could keep track, keep her head clear, maybe register this, understand it. It was nothing like that. Her body was veering crazily out of her power and what really screwed her was that, for once, she didn't care.

She thrust right back, shifting and moving her hips, pleading and gasping. Her eyes closed and her back arched. She felt burning fingers on her waist, and she knew it was coming when he lifted her ass, spread her legs. When it did, it shocked the hell out of her, more than any electric charge. The pain flared, and she cried out, eyes snapping open. The invasion was so foreign, new, and it was BIG.

Frozen, hands tightening, scratching into Gunn's arms, Gwen never felt so scared.

"God," She panted heavily, sucking in her breath, scratching into his arms. "Oh, God."

Lips brushed against hers, feather light pressure against her skin as Gunn mumbled against her in a dark, husky voice.

"It's okay, baby..."

He had stopped when she did, half in and half out. Her mind flickered, knew it was killing him to do it but not giving a damn. Gwen shook, eyes fluttering closed as she swallowed hard, wondering why she wanted him in her still, pleasure and pain sinking into her, because it HURT, dammit-

But she needed it. She needed him.

"Don't stop," she whispered. She tried to make it an order, but it was a plea, and she knew it. She was sure she left welts in his arms, scratching up until she could wrap her palms around his neck and pull him down. She arched, and he sunk further, moan mangled by her lips kissing hungrily.

"Gwen-" he groaned, and then she was cored completely.

GOD. It wasn't ...

Looking back, Gwen still didn't think she could come up with any actual words to describe what happened, how she felt then, what was going through her.

She was hardly rational, but the ache in her thighs told her there had been pain, but there had also been GUNN, and he had been there, IN HER-

When the tears sprang to her eyes, and she bit his shoulder to keep from whimpering, he went even slower, trembling above her. He pulled back, and at first she thought he was pulling out completely, and her knees locked on his butt, pushing him back.

This time he groaned with her.

Forehead to forehead, lips to lips, he did something that shook her entire world.

With his sweaty, big palms, Gunn caressed his way down her body and as he thrust forward with one powerful surge, he found her hands. Tangling their fingers, he spread them out, keeping their palms fused, eyes never leaving hers as she gulped, shuddered when he pulled back again.

Gwen knew then, she KNEW all this shit with Charles and his damned ideals was for real.

He was fucking holding her hands.

The tears came, and they were real, but the pain could go to hell. Gwen kissed the hell out of him, and he sank deeper, harder, and there was so much more than pain.

There was everything.

Even when he collapsed on top of her after the explosion, his dark, sweaty frame that felt like nothing she could have ever imagined, even while he was still in her, big and soft, even when she stayed completely still, overwhelmed, scared out of her fucking mind, and loving every god-damned minute, he never stopped holding her hands.

Habits were hard to break. They had fallen asleep holding hands. She had woken up tangled in a sheet, Gunn's body not touching one inch of hers.

She couldn't touch him now. Her thighs ached, and her body, naked and sweaty, felt different, really damned different, because it ached. It had been the scariest damned thing that had ever happened to her.

Gwen had never been so scared in her life. She was scared now, because there seemed to be miles of it.

Dark brown skin, barely covered by her sheet. Gunn's large, beautifully toned body, and she could only see the skin.

He snorted, and it made her jump, as he blinked and groaned, pushing on one arm and falling onto his back.

When he turned, she finally saw his face.

"Damn," he mumbled, hands lingering over his small snatch of the sheet. "If you ain't a bed hog."

"Yeah," she said quickly. "Not exactly used to sharing."

The voice was loud, alert. Maybe it wasn't what he was expecting, because his eyes opened and he took her in, noted with his dark eyes the way she kept the sheet clutched around her.

It was probably looking really stupid, to sit half up, trying to hide all the skin he had licked and kissed only hours before.

"Hey."

A sleepy smile caressed his face. It was almost surreal, such an impossible situation, she couldn't help but try and smile back.

Hey," she answered. He lay in her bed, ignoring her posture, lazy and languid, large muscular form such a contrast to the white sheets, comfortable. There was no fear with him.

Maybe that's why she kept the sheet against her chest, to conceal her rapidly beating heart, the telltale sign of her own weakness, her own cowardice.

"You all right?" he asked, pulling on her sheets. Charles was only slightly modest. Her gazed flickered to his lap, kept it locked while he distractedly pulled his little bit of the sheet over his privates, sitting up.

Face flushing red, she gave a short grin. "I'm fine," she answered.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

That was really stupid. That was what every girl in the history of the world told every guy when they both knew something was wrong but neither wanted to admit it. He fell silent, studying her, before a frown pulled his smile down, and his mouth opened. She rushed forward, tumbling into her next sentence. "I mean, I just got laid, right?" Grinning, she shrugged. "That was something."

The joke did it's work. He was momentarily distracted, smile returning to his face, glancing at his lap and then at her, a beautiful, unreserved smirk. "Yeah, that was something else."

His eyes gleamed a raunchy coal, and just like she knew when he would kiss her last night, just like she knew when he finally would come inside her, she knew he was coming closer for more.

Her fingers tightened around her sheet, her breath began an irregular pattern, and anticipation and hell never seemed so intermingled.

"Probably not such a good idea," she snapped, scooting back before he could touch. "I mean... I told you the device was a beta, and we've been asleep for a good four hours, and -"

"You think it's dead?"

"I don't take chances."

Gunn frowned. He didn't seem pleased by the idea, or her indifference. With a set jaw and a narrowed glance, he carefully extended a dark finger to her own. Her heart gave a small, hopeful thud as she could almost feel the skin-

When the spark came from her skin, he yelped, she jumped.

Shit. She nearly laughed at the hopeless sinking sensation within her. Of course. She was always right about shit like this, wasn't she? Gwen was a freak. A one night reprieve not withstanding, that's all she was going to be.

"Told you," she said flippantly.

Cocking an eyebrow, Gunn held her gaze for a full ten seconds, as if testing her out. She kept her gaze frozen. Her shoulders nearly drooped with relief when he finally blew out his breath, looking away, dropping his hand as he glanced over her shoulder. "Maybe the battery wore off. Needs to be recharged or something."

Right, because it would be that simple for her. "Or something," she answered dryly. The sarcastic answer wasn't what he was looking for. Again, he gave her that puzzled look. "I'll figure it out."

"Right."

And there was nothing more to say.

She found it interesting that she was having a hard time breathing. It was an actual physical effort to push out her breath, so much it actually hurt. Panic had decided to settle in, and even then, she wasn't sure why.

It had something to do with Gunn, with her device and the awkward silence. She was waiting for something. She glanced at her table of animals.

He didn't speak for a few seconds, but when he did, it was exactly what she expected to hear.

"I should go."

Yeah. That was it.

Her glance zeroed back to him, found an apologetic man pushing off the bed. "Apocalypse and all... The others will probably be wondering where I am."

"You mean Fred will."

Shit. Gwen nearly bit off her sentence as soon as she said it. He froze, turning back. The look he gave her was stupid. She was stupid. That was just a stupid god-damned thing to say. The heat flamed her cheeks, and she hated herself then. FUCK. Glancing away at the animals, she attempted to gather herself.

With a hard swallow, she forced an uncaring smile on her face, turning back to him. "Hey, it's okay. It's not like I didn't know."

"Didn't know what?" Gunn snapped, a hard edge to his voice that hadn't been there before.

She closed her eyes, the resigned chuckle floating out of her lips. It was hard to speak, her lips felt weird. They felt swollen, chapped.

"Gunn, let's not do this, all right? Get dressed, and go back to your own do-gooder world."

The sheet was slipping, and she busied herself with pulling it up over her chest, gathering it against her body.

She had gotten what she wanted, and all she was left with was a need for a shower, and an ache between her legs.

He was quiet, a form in her room that she felt even while she attempted to ignore him.

"You know, that thing on your back isn't going to be broken forever, Gwen."

The retort came fast and easy, two adjectives that described her pretty well .

"Yeah, well, it's not like you're going to be around to find out. Saving the world and all."

She was mocking him, and he knew it. He stupid 'do-gooding' fixation. He didn't answer, but she figured the words did their thing. When she looked again, he had started to dress, pulling on boxers, then pants, and socks, and then a shirt.

It would have been a good idea to move herself, throw that damned sheet off of her, put on her gloves and get the damned metal out of her back. Moving would have been a REALLY good idea.

She couldn't. She couldn't fucking move, and worst of all, she didn't even know why.

Two minutes later, while she sat naked in a sheet on her bed, Gunn was now fully dressed. Dress shirt, pants, socks. He padded to the teak wood bureau, pausing at the small desk next to her doorway.

Turning back, he held up a pair of black gloves, too large to fit her slender palms.

"These for me?" he asked pointedly.

She shrugged, cocking an eyebrow. "Figured they fit the ensemble."

Her eyes narrowed as he pulled them on one at a time, flexing his fingers in the leather, smiling at the result. "Perfect fit."

"Well, you know what they say," she threw back at him. "Large hands..."

"Large gloves?" he replied, a chuckle in his voice.

And, yeah, that was kinda funny. He was kinda funny. Her shoulders shook slightly with mirth, a smile tugging reluctantly onto her face. "Something like that."

He studied them carefully, turning over his hands, holding them up for inspetion. "Nice," he commented. "Really soft. They look expensive."

"I wouldn't know," she answered dryly. "I stole them."

"Ahh... then I know they're the best," he remarked, clucking his tongue.

She cocked her head. "Well, it isn't worth anything then it isn't work stealing," she drawled.

"Huh." He pursed his lips. "Expensive. Too bad."

Gwen blinked, startled into shock when Charles strode quickly to her. Large hands and all, the mattress sunk with his weight as he pushed himself onto it, eyes suddenly locking onto hers. Never in her life had she been rendered speechless and frozen in so short of a time.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

"Shh," he answered, slow grin drifting onto his face like the caramel she had loved as a child. This wasn't safe, not at all. She pushed back, trapped by the bed frame as his black gloves closed over her sheet, pulling slightly.

With a startled gasp, Gwen snatched. "Gunn-"

He pulled hard, a powerful tug that sent her cover flying from her fingers, leaving Gwen exposed, nothing between Charles and her electric skin but air and gloves.

He gave her no time to protest. There wasn't even time to process what was happening before palms wrapped around her waist, and she was pulled down, sprawling against the bed, a very heavy male settling down on top, pinning her naked body to the bed.

She began to pant, eyes wide at the gleam in his eyes, cloth against her skin foreign and odd. She was completely exposed, naked against his roving eyes, and Gunn looked.

Gwen's athletic ability never came into question. She could have bucked him off on a normal day. But his eyes pinned her as if she had been strapped to the bed. She just could not move.

"Charles-"

And he began to touch her.

Firm, gloved, and completely Gunn. While his hand settled on her throat, she felt him through the silk of his shirt, the fabric of his pants, warm body rubbing gently against her skin.

Her head fell back, mouth parting slightly as he traced her collarbone, circled her breast and kneaded her slowly. Easing off her, until only her hip was pinned down by a heavy thigh, Gunn kept himself perched with an elbow, free hand gently exploring.

And again, there it was. The dizzying out of control feeling that had nearly paralyzed her before.

"Gunn-"

"Did I hurt you?" His voice was low, rumbling through her. "Last night?"

The pain between her legs softened, liquefied, and became an ache, slow and smoldering, flaring when he pinched her nipple. She gasped, pushing her breast into his palm.

His eyes never left hers, holding her gaze with complete fascination as his hand continued to move.

"Gwen?"

She licked her lips, tasting sweat on her skin as his hand trailed now to her stomach. He pressed slightly on her womb.

GOD.

"Did I hurt you?"

She closed her eyes, whimpered low, now lost to everything but Gunn's voice, his body pressing down upon her nude form, every inch of her suddenly so very much alive, crackling, dangerous.

Gunn's fingers were now dancing at the curls just below her abdomen, teasing her, softly stroking.

"I'm sorry, Gwen. I didn't mean to hurt you. I tried to be careful, but..."

Her eyes flew open. Gunn's eyes were dark, much darker than before, and on his face was sadness, regret.

"Charles-"

"It's not always going to be like that, Gwen. It's not always going to hurt. I don't want you to be scared."

She was nearly dripping with desire, and when he finally slid over her mound, pushing past her curls to caress the small nub at the top with his fingers, she gave a low cry, arms wrapping around him, head pressed into his chest as he continued to stroke her, gentle, always gentle.

"Gwen, baby. Say something."

She could only think of one thing to say. "Don't stop touching me."

NEVER.

He never went inside her, maybe it would hurt if he did. Pressing lips to her hair, he stroked her up and down, in circles, pressing, and pinching, his rock hard erection poking into her thighs as he continued to rub at her, moving in time with her writhing hips.

She had never been so out of control, she had never let this go the way -

Her device was dead and he was still touching her, he was still holding her, fingers rubbing, and rubbing, and OH-GOD-OHGODOHGODOHGODOHGOD-

When she crashed, everything splintered, and she scrambled to hold onto him, shuddering against his body as her body continued to shake with aftershocks.

God. Her heart was pounding, she was sweaty, and bewildered -

But she wasn't scared.

Charles held her, and when she finally managed to move, he was still staring down at her.

The knot in her throat had nothing to do with her fear, but she did jump slightly when he pressed his lips against her temple.

"Charles, no!" She almost managed to push at him.

Charles's cool lips brushed against her skin in a soft caress.

And nothing happened.

With a gulp, her strength left her, leaving her arm crushed against him, face staring up at him in wonder.

"Guess it was the battery," he grinned. He pulled off the soiled gloves, fingertips gentle on her bare shoulder as he reached for the silk sheets, covering her. Gently, he pushed a few strands of hair plastered against her forehead. "All we had to do was give it a charge. Brainy, remember?"

She didn't ask for his kiss. She didn't ask him to give it, and she knew that what she did, the way she did it, grabbing his head and forcing it down on hers, moving her lips desperately against his, it was taking, not asking.

But she didn't steal it.

When she let go, he gave her one himself, slow and chaste.

"I have to go," he repeated.

There was the same stab, but it wasn't as bad as that ache that was there before, and this time she even smiled, nodding timidly, and pushing herself up, holding her sheet to her body.

"Sure," she quipped. "Do good and all."

"Doing good, feels good." He grinned, a happy grin that made him look like a child.

She grinned back, never a full smile, but it was sincere. "I get that."

Pushing off the bed, she gathered the sheet around her, watching as Gunn pulled on his jacket and headed for the door.

"GUNN!"

The word was choked from her mouth, and even after it was said, and he stopped, she had no idea what she intended to follow it with.

He stared at her questionably, and with a hard swallow, she suddenly padded across the floor, to her little table, and grabbed the green tiger.

The cool hardness of the object gave her a little courage. She glanced town at the animal, and taking a breath, moved to Charles, where he stood waiting.

Gwen was at a loss for words, a rare thing for her, and it bothered her, that she couldn't think of something to say. It seemed okay, though, as her smile stretched over her cheekbones. Grabbing his fingers, placing the little jade animal on his palm, seemed to say enough.

He was silent, staring at the little thing as if it were alive, and when he spoke, it was half teasing, half serious. "You're really giving this to me?"

She didn't answer. Her shrug was indifferent, fingers occupied keeping the silk from slipping off her body.

Charles understood. He gave a quick nod, a small smile, palm closing around the small animal.

"Thanks."

She smiled again, nodding quickly.

He took a step back, keeping his gaze on her, almost as if he was trying to burn something about her image, the tousled hair, the wanton sheets, into his memory.

Finally, he stepped to the doorway. He had his hand wrapped around the handle when she finally spoke.

"You know I fully intend to steal that back."

He paused, palm poised on the doorknob, turning back, amused expression lilting across his features.

"Indian giver."

She quirked an eyebrow. "I never said I was moral."

Contemplating for a moment, Charles finally gave a short chuckle.

"All right," he said finally. "Tell you what. I'll make it really easy for you." He held up the little green tiger, let it glitter at her in the sun rays, and deliberately slipped it into the left pocket of pants. "Ain't no one in this world that's ever pick pocketed Charles Gunn."

It was a challenge, a veiled threat, and she answered just as easily, "We'll see about that."

With a grin, Charles winked, and opened her door, closing it behind him.

Gwen supposed she should have felt stupid, standing naked in her place wrapped in only a sheet, with a pair of really smelly gloves on her bed that she would have to throw away, and a desperate need for a shower.

God, she really was a freak, wasn't she? Stealing programs, technology, all that shit. There was an apocalypse coming, and she could care less.

The first kiss she had ever received had been stolen.

Not that she had minded. Gwen knew when to appreciate a good theft. She was, after all, first and foremost a thief. For so long, she had ached for that to define who she was, for that to be enough.

And now, it finally was.

She had the nagging feeling she was on the verge of stealing Charles Gunn's heart.

Does it scare you that I can
Be something different than you
Would it make you feel
More comfortable if I wasn't
Well you can't control me
And you can't take away from me who I am

There goes my pain
There goes my chains
Did you see them falling
Because this feeling
There has no meaning
There goes the world
Off of my shoulders
There goes the world
Off of my back

FIN