Originally intended to be part of my drabble collection, Pictures of Us, this ran away with me and became something else entirely. Set from Seiya/Fighter's point of view. Rated M for disturbing images and me playing it safe.

You run. You run faster than you ever have before. The arrow in your thigh tears away muscle with every step. Your chest burns and you taste blood in the back of your mouth, but still you run. And they chase you. With claws and fangs and swords made of god knows what, they chase after you. They nip at your heels and tear away at your fuku. But you still run.

Away from the demons.

Away from the remains of your partner lying dead back in the clearing.

You finally reach the portal, or at least what's left of it. The metal in between your fingers slashes against your skin as you slam your fist against the controls. The portal begins to hum, warming up much too slow. You can hear them coming, howling, shrieking, snarling in their haste to make the two of you a matching set. Again, you kick at the controls, cursing and urging it on. Teeth dig into your ankle, slicing through the muscle and flesh. The portal flares – one final attack over your shoulder before you tumble through. A few follow you through, claws burying into your sides, your arms, your thigh, tearing away at your insides as you struggle for freedom. A Serious Laser blasts a hole in the heads of two; an elbow to the windpipe takes care of another. The last one threatens to remove an eye of your own before you manage to tear its throat out with your free hand.

You're still holding the demonic organ in your fist as you collapse on the sidewalk outside of your apartment.

You wake the next morning in your apartment. One of your teammates must have carried in. Your bed has never felt so soft, warming you as you watch the rain streak against your window. Someone has wrapped your injuries. Probably Healer, you think. She was always better at that then you or Maker. Gingerly, you test your limbs, checking that everything works. The arrow wound flares sharply, your dislocated shoulder screams in protest, and ribs groan under the extra effort. But they move. They move and you are whole.

Whole

Your partner flashes before your eyes. Her cocky grin over her shoulder. Those green eyes flashing in her unspoken challenge as her sword gleams in the cursed moonlight.

Alive.

Whole

And then there's blood. So much blood. Pouring from the hole where her arm used to be. Staining her fuku, flooding the ground as she falls. Her lips move, soundlessly, her eyes flickering to the sky. To the faraway world that shines with the waves of her home.

Her knees hit the ground and her green meet your midnight blue. Her voice is a whisper in your ear, but you hear it. You hear her urgency as she tells you to go. You hear the fear of a soldier worried more about her comrade's life than her own.

You hear the threat of what will happen if you don't keep your word.

You hear the regret of a broken promise to a lover as she whispers a name.

Safe in your bed, your throat burns with ragged remorse. Her voice still rings in your ears, whispering in your mind like a late night wind. Your fist tightens around the metal ring, letting it dig into your palm. Reminding you of your duty, of your promise.

You tell the Princesses first. Taiki calls the both of them, summoning them to the apartment. They arrive almost simultaneously. It's slight, but you can hear the pain in the moon's voice. As if she already knows the news you have to tell her. The Prince is there, too, giving his silent support. You meet his eyes as you invite them inside and you know that he knows everything.

It's not until they have been seated and served tea do you tell them all. Back straight and eyes dead, the soldier in you gives the report in the crisp monotone you have been trained to adopt during these times. Your voice cracks over her name and your hands shake as you hold out the evidence, betraying your façade.

Your princess simply looks at you, sad eyes offering her support and comfort for your loss. Your roommates bow their heads, grieving for the lost soldier.

But the Moon Princess… you've never seen a person cry like that. With eyes so distant and flat. Her shoulders tremble, her breaths coming in short, tight gasps. Your partner's name tumbles from Usagi's lips, your chest constricting at the sound. The prince is there, arm around his princess, keeping her close. Protecting the shattered bits of her heart while his own eyes mist over.

Hours later, you gather your courage and grab your coat. The morning's drizzle picked up to a steady pour. You still choose to walk.

Knuckles rap against the wood of the door, each beat sending a spike of dread through your heart. It flies open seconds later, the teenage girl beaming expectantly before you. Her eyes understand before her smile does and your heart shrinks until it's no more than a vacuum in your chest. That painful smile still welcomes you inside though, calling out for her guardians in a voice ages older than her body suggests. You suppose Saturn's soul knew before Hotaru's did.

You stand in the entryway, the tips of your hair still dripping. Setsuna appears and offers to take your coat. Words fail you; you shake your head softly in refusal. You won't stay long.

Soft footsteps can be heard from down the hall. The urge to run, to cower and avoid your duty surges through your veins. Run, run now, it screams. You lock it into a small box inside, force yourself to stand up taller and take a deep breath.

Your resolve crumbles a bit when she appears. There's not a hint of make-up anywhere and her hair's pulled up in a half-hearted bun, probably only for your sake. That perfect posture you've come to associate with the woman before you sags just a little bit, her shoulders curved inwards and chin tucked down. She smiles to you, a broken smile filled with false warm but sincere gentleness.

Your heart shrinks into almost nothingness and plummets somewhere around your middle.

To any other person, she'd be just as flawless as ever before. But you notice the dark circles under her watery ocean eyes and see the half-moon marks along her forearms, alerting you to the sleepless nights of waiting for the door to open. You see the worried glances sent her way by her housemates, letting you know you are about to send her over the edge.

You notice the button down and checkered shorts she wears are not her own.

Another deep breath, you force yourself taller and make your own midnight blue meet the watery blues of hers. Her face grows pale and the smile disappears. You draw your hand out pocket, hand still clenched.

I'm sorry, you whisper. I'm sorry, you say unfurling your hand, presenting the broken tiara. I'm sorry, you choke out as she takes the last surviving piece of her lover into her own hands.

Setsuna will later ask you how. And you will tell her, your voice unmoving, your heart finally numb. But for now, you say nothing to the quivering woman in front of you.

You don't tell her how the demons came from nowhere and everywhere, surrounding the two of you and swarming you in a tidal wave of talons and teeth.

You don't tell her that the missing half of the tiara is buried in the back of the Warrior of the Sky's skull. How the half you salvaged flew the small distance to land at your feet from the sheer force of the blow.

You don't tell her how your partner's arm was ripped from her body like it was a petal off a rose. Or how she fell to the ground, her lung and shoulder slipping into the monster's maw.

You don't tell her how you looked into Uranus' eyes and watched as her face was cleaved in half, brilliant green turned muddy brown as the red of her lifeblood gushed out and watered the ground.

You don't tell her how Haruka's last word and thoughts were of Michiru.

You merely stand ramrod straight, your own tears falling as the woman before you sinks to her knees much like your partner did and pray for her forgiveness.

You failed in your duty to bring her back home again.