Setting: Silver Millennium with some future dealings. Character attitudes are PGSM-ish and a dash of the 90s Anime based, because PGSM is Reinako Angst on Steroids and I watched the hell out of the 90s Anime.

A/N: Written for the prompt "I can't believe you wore that" on Tumblr. My first getting to be involved in such prompts. Because I sort of figured out Tumblr. And I follow the right people. Plus it's Reinako. How can you go wrong? You can't, of course! Written at work while I should be doing payroll. Light language; I surprisingly kept my cussing in control which is amazing.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything save the thoughts in my head. Wait. I do own my car. Carry on.

Word Count: 4137

"Gods dammit Venus, if you can't keep your fucking hair in control!" It was natural that the rest of the threat went unsaid, for there was no need to finish it. She had enough of an imagination as it were that she really didn't need another to give her ideas. Some ideas of course were worth entertaining, but not right now. Not with this level of heightened senses. It hung heavy enough in the as it were, an outburst that did nothing to relieve the sensation that permeated the air. A tangible quality now given, as though it really required such a boon. The tension could have been of course from the things that surrounded them, drawing their attention as though it was the deciding factor of life or death. It was not that drastic yet, not yet, but it was rapidly getting there.

It was a common agreement that team building exercises sucked. Save, this wasn't an exercise. This was far more; this was the real thing, this was the big deal. Under numerous names it all truly meant the same thing: the time to put up or shut up, to show that all the training paid off, to show your mettle, put your balls to the walls, back up all the talk you did. That sort of thing. It wasn't even a team building excuse; the only reason the two of them were here was for simple coincidence.

She was tired of Mars. The snippy attitude, the arrogance, and the snarky refusal to bend to anything that was to be a semblance of leadership. Then again she had been challenged by Mars from the start, when they first four met and began their training. She was not a diplomat, nor an ambassador, but she had enough natural charisma that when coupled with the right leadership activities to take, transitioned her into an effective commander. The best in people were brought out in her presence, enabling the other three's dispositions to mesh and flow like a well-designed construct.

For the most part, anyway. Ideals were still going to clash because each of them bore a legacy, had a duty to fulfill, and were headstrong in their own rights. Their cultures shown in their mannerisms, defined them like one of Mercury's books. Or maybe it was a computer program. Gods at this point she didn't care; she was not inept with technology but she was far more a "hands on" sort of woman.

It wasn't apathy, she actually did truly care, but right now staying alive sounded so very much better than the ramifications of how technology could help or hinder, or her leadership qualities, or the weariness beginning to seep in from the heavy ambush, or the feel of the woman at her back that had barked out the curse. It was just seconds after the words died that an arrow of pure flame followed in the wake of the complaint. The arrow struck the lead youma directly between its small, beady eyes. It didn't even have the decency to croak something out in retaliation, falling backwards instead dead.

The arrow struck, denying the creature from taking what would have been quite the damaging swipe at her. It was a breather most appreciated, as she was too busy in her own fight to save her skin. A precarious enough test of strength war was levied between her and another youma, her hand tightly gripping a manifestation of the light in the form of a chain. It wound around the creature's arm and neck, threatening to pull her off her feet if her attention strayed for more than a few seconds from it. Just because one was busy was not enough to account for the others, but a few well-placed pinpoint thin rays of light from her fingertip took them out of commission.

As the ranks thinned so did her patience. Whipping her hand about with the chain her body moved, drawing on the natural energy presented anytime someone moved. That it sent her hair to fly once more into Mars' face was not her care or intention; the fight was. As she spun around another chain of light shot from her grasp, wrapping around the youma's torso. With a heave and strength brought on by sheer movement, she snapped the chains, sending the youma; already towering above the two of them as it were, off its feet and into the others that lingered for a moment behind it to find the perfect opening.

"Now Mars!" Her voice rang out with the command, ducking down as a gout of flame nearly singed the top of her head and the hair that the other had bitched about being in her way. Without repercussion, the flames engulfed the small pack of youma that remained until all that was left of them was hints of ash. The chains vanished well before she rose back up to her feet, already knowing that when she faced the other woman that her temper would not be so easily displaced and dispatched like the creatures were.

She was right without even having to think about it, for the other woman already pounced on the offensive. "We could have had this done fucking hours ago if your damn hair wasn't in my face!" It was rather ironic to be bitching about something as trivial as hair, more so when they both had long amounts of it. For all of three seconds she listened to the tirade before she had enough, her hand reaching out to the other's uniform.

With a yanking pull, the bow set in the small of her back ripped free of the uniform. That it caused the other to start stuttering wasn't her concern outwardly, tying the red ribbon through her blonde hair until it had been pulled back somewhat but still hung long. No longer quite so wild, it became far more under control as to not get in the way as the other complained. Her hands fell back to her sides, eyebrow rising as she dared the stunned woman to even make a comment on it. "Problem solved, Mars. For that matter, hours ago we were not even here." Leaving her to the induced silence she strode ahead, leaving the other behind to look on in some wonder.

It naturally meant that the other never saw the small smile that began to creep upon her lips. Insufferable as Mars was, there was honest truth to the phrase "opposites attract." She knew the moment they had returned, after she had given her report as Commander that Mars would be waiting for her outside. Not because Mars was her Second in Command, not because Mars cared to play the political games, and not because Mars wanted to spend one moment longer in uniform with the heels she despised yet pulled off so deliciously well.

No, Mars would be waiting outside the room, a glowering sentinel to chase anyone off that would add to the length of time her Commander, rebel against her as she would, was out of her sight and presence. She would be waiting because outside of an official standing, when they were no longer truly on duty, she was her lover. It was like some on/off switch that Mercury had on her equipment, or some doorlock giving away to allow admittance within a private, invite only club. When the role of Commander in any capacity was not needed, they were the other half of each other.

Love and passion. You honestly couldn't have one without the other. You could try for a while sure, but it would never last. She did not have long to dwell on her thoughts before the steady click of heels followed in her wake. Mars was at her back, following after her. Her vocal protector, nevermind they were all to protect the Princess. She herself was to be protected in turn, a defined hierarchy that they all knew. Her sounding board, her Second, her confidant. The steps remained at her back for all of half a dozen falls before her hand no longer was her own. That was rare. That was a change in their decorum.

It wasn't worth thinking about why the other had done what she had done right now though, the moment was. The moment was to be savoured, appreciated for what it was and enjoyed, and she had every damn intention of doing so. The steps fell now in time with hers, their strides an equal walk. She responded by giving her fingers a squeeze in return, glancing from the corner of her eyes to bear witness to the thin, not quite sardonic but so easily pushed there smirk that graced her lips. There wasn't any way to deny her own, even if it was far more fully given.

The briefing took longer than it felt like it should have. When things felt that way, there was always a good chance that the mind simply refused to comprehend the situation and instead, make up a fanciful timetable. Things should take this long only, never this length of time. This should happen, then this should follow in its wake. It was a strict schedule, planned to the very second. That was the power of the mind when faced with a situation it could not avoid, a debriefing that was taking far too long for the mind's desires.

For her body's desires as well, buried just under the surface of propriety. It made her want to grind her teeth, save that she already was. This should have been simple but it wasn't. If her own irritation was rising, then it went without saying that she knew the other half of her, on the other side of the door, had to be positively glowering. The thought alone gave her pause, a means to find the ray of sunshine in the gloom that was her current situation. A glowering Mars meant far more fun among the sheets that night.

Assuming of course, that they even made it to the bed. At the rate it was going, she would be lucky to be inside of one of their quarters before her back would be thoroughly introduced to the door. Or perhaps the wall. Of things she could say concerning her lover, routines were her but not something that dictated her passion. It was always a surprise, the things she entreated her to. It kept her on her toes, alert and yet at her mercy, her whim. Maybe that was the reason she did half the things she did. Like the ribbon in her hair. Her lips curled to a smirk, hardly appropriate for the other defense minister was warning that holding the ball would be unwise, especially with the latest reports that the Terrans were still in civil unrest despite their facade appearance.

Someone caught the look on her face, the smirk that was playing with thoughts of her lover, and decided to call her out on it. "Commander Venus, is there something funny you would like to share?" Put on the spot she let the smirk instantly fall to the wayside, mentally chastising herself for allowing it to show in the first place. With a shake of her head she let her silence answer the query that had all the eyes focusing on her. There would likely be chastisement for it later, despite her position. The immediate punishment was that the meeting lengthened onward, more concerns over the ball for the Princess, more concern over the Terrans, more concern for the increased frequency in attacks as of late, most notably the nature of her debriefing.

This was going to be a very, very long day.

"I can't believe you're still wearing that." Her lover's voice came at her back, as was fitting given the placement. They were both in the bath, a welcomed reprieve given the meeting had stretched on a good four or five hours. Mars had taken to creating a worn pathway in the palace's marble flooring with each click of her heels. Half expectantly she thought the other would be gone when she finally emerged, but no, there she was. Her Second looked to her, gaze narrowing as though she could read the emotions that stifled the room and in turn, kept her from what was supposed to be their time. It wouldn't surprise her if she could.

"Far be it for me to ignore the ... sound ... advice of my Second." She answered with a soft giggle, her hand collecting that of her lover's that was not at all involved in any sort of washing routine. Turning the other's palm upward her gaze passed over the faint remains of what happened when fire met with flesh. They all had their scars that came with the mastery of their powers, sure they had gloves now but that was after the fact. Just like the uniform was, whoever's brilliant idea that turned out to be. Proof had to be demonstrated first that they could command their respective elements.

So very many scars. Some were artful, some were earned in battle, some came from passion, others from hotheaded tempers. She mused silently to herself, recalling the memories associated with each. It drew her attention away, either that or the bath did, or the feel of her lover at her back. However it happened it took the other's finger tracing down the scar along her jawline; she put that one there, that commanded her attention back. Her eyes rose, eyebrows following suit as she leaned back. That it presented an upside down look didn't matter to her, softly querying "what?"

"I said, it's about time you listened to me. Just like apparently, it's about time we left the water before you fall asleep and I have to carry you to bed yet again." It was a retort, but not ladened with the temper she had been given before in the day. There was a definitive almost role switch when they were not on duty. Not that she was submissive; scoff at the notion, but she allowed the other her possessiveness to flourish when they were alone.

"And you love every moment of it." Was the best response, given with yet another soft, playful sound as her lover made good on her word despite what she had said. Out of the tub they went, drying off before she was systematically carried to fulfill the ominous threat. There was nothing like clean sheets, made of only the finest material, against an equally clean and nude body. Unless of course she was sharing it. Burrowed in them she instantly curled to the other, her own portable heating element; so worth a barely contained laugh, the activities of the day, the briefing, not to mention their room demanded compensation in the form of sleep.

"Mine."

"Mmm?" Barely awake at this point she murmured out something of a response. It wasn't fair; she was tired, nude and so very, very warm snuggled to her counterpart.

"I can't believe you're wearing that still."

"Mmm, took it fair and square… my trophy… " She breathed out with a yawn filled smile, drifting soon off to sleep.

"I can't believe you wore that."

She had, of course, been hoping for a slightly different reaction than the one given, but victories were meant to be taken however they could be found. Especially one like this, given her lover's mouth had actually managed to drop open more than a little, and dare she say that that was drool appearing? Likely not but it would be something to tease the other about later on.

Later on though meant after the ball. For while they were expected to attend, the underlying tone of their presence was not representation of their own respective planets, nor was it meant they were there to flirt and be arm candy for high dignitaries and guests. They were security, despite the gowns. They were protection, despite the elaborate outfits. They were soldiers, guardians, they were there to fight if it came down to it, defend the Princess with their lives if it was deemed necessary, and it did not matter that they were not dressed for it.

They simply were, and each of them knew it. As her Second recovered from the outburst of surprise she met her gaze, acknowledging everything that hadn't been said, everything that had been implied, words that were never spoken for emotions that were just as strong despite never given voice. There was a grim line there, a silent knowledge that today was the day. Tonight was the night.

They would not live to see morning. The thought was enough to dash anyone's good mood. Gods, it was enough to sap the will to live if you really thought about it for any length of time. She knew her lover had visions, premonitions of the future. A mystic, a seer, she had countless names and titles and means to be called. She knew every time when she rose in the morning and did not see her in bed that she was already gone, meditating somewhere quiet to try and understand just what each scene meant.

This was the day, the night. The others were looking at her, knowing what their fate was to be. They still looked to her for leadership, for guidance. For anything, even though each was competent and capable. She would not and could not let them down, allowing a playful, if kept small, smile to follow in wake of the statement. "Should've been there this morning to stop me then." She retorted with a wink, knowing that the other was still referring to the red ribbon, suitably more cut to be useful, that had been woven into her hair.

She met each of the gazes, from Jupiter, to Mercury, to finally her lover in Mars. She should give a rousing speech, or to tell them to defy fate, or that the visions were a lie. It would imply though that Mars was lying about that, and that was something she never did. Nothing ever so serious as that. Nothing ever so deadly, so life changing. Instead she gave a nod, "shall we?"

The world was red.

It's funny sometimes, how colors can be so vivid and other times, they are so dull. Dull wasn't the right word. Washed out sounded better. Instead of fading off to shades of gray, scenery losing its clarity and focus, it was washed in red. A haze, like goggles, gave it all a sharp definition, a new color scope. It could be as effective as blinders if you let it. What was already red became more so. What was once full of life seemed to take on a false quality of it. If red was blood, and blood was life, then truly everything being red had to be good, right? What the color did not provide, the scents did.

The world smelled of blood.

Metallic essences mixed with the spark of fire and the ash of soot. The scent hung coy, infiltrating on the breeze until that was all that you could smell. Heavier than a perfume, lighter than an inhale from a blossom. She was not a stranger to blood. How many times had they drawn it, had they drawn it on each other? Under the guise of training or tempers flaring, each had shed their own blood and the blood of each other. That bonded them, didn't it? It made them related somehow. Blood always smelled. Things burning always smelled. Blood, fire, and ash. Where there were those three elements, they always heralded the fourth and often final.

The world tasted of death.

They had killed, but were not killed in turn. At least, not so instantaneous as it had been provided to their enemies. They wished for death now, grievously injured, but they were not granted it. They got to linger, some more than others, as the end came, knowing it would. Their carefully made gowns had long since given way to their uniforms, each bearing the signs of battle with burns, rips, tears, and staining. Be it dirt, grass, scorches or blood, their pristine state was no more as much as the cold marble of the palace was. Individually they had fallen despite their teamwork, empowering the rest to continue on, to fight on. She didn't know who had fallen first.

She had succeeded in some fashion, and failed in others. That was probably bothered her, but not right now. The sword that was currently dragging along the marble; not so pristine and white now was it? held stains of blood. She hadn't cleaned it like it deserved to be. The longer the blood stayed on it, the easier it would be for it to taint the metal, to drive it to a level of corruption perhaps, just like the force that seduced the very woman she had left wounded, maybe dead, but not in time. Not in time to prevent what had happened. Or maybe it was what happened after. Fuck, she didn't know. Thinking seemed far too hard, she just wanted her. Her.

She cared about what was going on, but not right now. The moment. Yes living for the moment was so bloody brilliant of her. Agonizing slowness marked her progression, before her body deemed it would go no further and did not care about any threats, promises, or cajoling done to it to have it continue on. The sword fell from her barely held grasp with a clatter, dislodging some of the blood but who cared about blood now. Was it her blood, or was it hers? Which her was she thinking of first? She couldn't think. She had nothing left to give, her body collapsing the rest of the way next to her lover's. She had been magnificent to watch, the command over fire that she had. The way it would lance, straight as an arrow, then form a wave with but a flick of her hand. There was something so elegant in the destruction of fire, something so elegant in the one that wielded it. That much she knew, could know without a doubt.

"...nus."

It was a croak, strong despite its whispered issuance. She begged her body enough and was rewarded when her hand found the other's, squeezing it tightly. It was cold, the hand she held. Mars was never cold. To describe coldness in her was a complete contradiction. Yet she was, she could feel it. Or maybe it was her own. She couldn't tell anymore, not with the tiredness seeping through. Something was so very, very cold. She couldn't blame the length of the sword in her hand for that, simply because she had dropped it. Even when she held it it held some warmth, the kind brought on by blood when it dripped down the blade, down the guard, to the hilt, and falling from the pommel.

She missed the next part, and would have spent the last of her life regretting it, lost in remorse, had there not been a follow up to the words. There were spaces abound, pauses, gasps of air and she was sure a faint rattle if she really listened. But she understood enough.

How would Mars know it was her, when they were reborn again? How ever would she find her again?

She smiled, faintly, the world was losing its artistic red phase for something darker. The colors were dulling. The scents were fading away no matter the breeze that mocked those below it, not alive but not yet dead. The sounds were no longer a herald of battle. Or maybe it was her senses that were turning off. Thinking about it didn't seem like a worthwhile venture in the least. She answered back equally as brokenly, her hand giving her lover's one last final squeeze. Just look for the ribbon. She'd always have that, no matter when they were reborn or where at. She wouldn't give that up, not for anything.

It was a forever later, millennia perhaps, maybe just centuries. Regardless of how you measured it, it was ages that it seemed before a priestess, dressed in white and red, stood looking at a latest fashionably dressed teenage idol. It was ages, it seemed, before their was a reunion of sorts, a reuniting of forces. A convergence of life lines that had been separate and now intersected one another, binding together by way of fate.

It was ages that passed, spent in darkness, left only with dreams that went unfulfilled in some regards and became pathways of guidance in others, before Hino Rei spoke to Aino Minako a simple phrase.

"I can't believe you wore that."

~Fin

A/N: This place took away my little dividers, so transition points have been added in if its not obvious.