The Penance of Trust [those that have not the strength to trust have not the strength to love]

By: Ryu Niiyama

There are times when I believe that the whims of fate and destiny trump the laws of science and probability, or at the very least perhaps they are the integral components of Murphy's law.

Either way, the universe has a decidedly perverse sense of humor.

She has not seen me yet, and for that small favor I am grateful, as the blush on my face has yet to recede. I'm mildly annoyed to find that even still the sight of her shatters my composure beyond recognition. I try to keep my thoughts calm and ordered as I drift to the bar and order the bourbon that had brought me the lounge room in the first place. As the alcohol makes its smooth, burning journey down my throat I watch her, wondering why she is here, what does she want, and most importantly how, how can she be even more beautiful than when I saw her last.

And for that matter, how dare she return.

Four years ago she decided that what we had was too much of a burden, or perhaps it was worth nothing to her. I'll never know because she did not give me the chance to ask, and I shall not ask her now. There is nothing she can say or do that can erase four years of wondering if she was safe, wondering what had I done to drive her away. There are no words that can ease the ache of longing, or the haunting pain of inadequacy. She shattered my heart and lacerated my soul, and now she returns on the eve of my new beginning to undo my conviction all over again.

For a moment I feel my resolve waver, and just briefly I entertain the thought of forgiving her, of begging her to return to me. But I won't...I won't let her control me that way... I won't let her destroy me that way. If I lost her again...if she found me a poor substitute for duty, again… I'd never survive it. What's more I have promises of my own to keep, and unlike her, I won't make them lightly. This shall be the last night that I live as a wretched shadow… pining for a love that will only betray me in the end.

Unfortunately perhaps for both of us, I don't trust her enough to try again.

She made duty her life, and now we must both suffer the consequences of her actions. And yet… I would give anything to cast aside those foolish reasons, anything to hold her close and speak of my devotion once again. How she had seeped into my soul like a sweet poison, almost breaking me to the point of total abandon. Yet I will lance this wound on my soul and my broken heart out of fear of what I would be willing to become for her.

My hand clenches my glass and I have to force myself to release it as it begins to crack under the weight of my grief and the enhanced strength of a senshi. No matter what emotions she still inspires in my heart, I won't surrender any more of myself. I won't offer all that I am only to find that it is not enough when compared to the glory of duty. When destiny is worth more than the sanctuary of my embrace, when the promise of duty is worth more than the vow of love everlasting. I won't be her mistress, while duty is her beloved.

I suppose the worst of it all is that I understand. I too know the weight of duty, and perhaps in asking her to stay with me I had unknowingly asked her to forsake hers while I could still remain the dutiful soldier. Perhaps in my ecstasy I assumed that as her lover I could fulfill both the woman and the warrior. If so then that was my mistake, yet it is one that I feel I've amended when I let her go. I gave her my silence, when my soul cried out for me to find her, for me to return her to my side. I gave her my heart, so that her freedom would matter more than my need of her. I gave her my soul, so completely that even the ring that binds me to another does not stir the same emotion as seeing her before me tonight. I have given her all these things, but I will not give her my self-worth… I will not beg for her indulgence, while her love is truly entrenched in duty.

I close my eyes and reflect upon my future, and for a few moments I indulge my weak, foolish heart. It is not difficult, love and an eidetic memory easily replace golden curls with auburn waves, while eyes the color of emeralds deepen to a luminous tanzanite gaze that makes my heart treble. My ears burn as memory supplies the smooth contralto of her voice, beautiful in song but truly glorious in passion's embrace. My fingers twitch with the need to once again feel silken skin shrouding lithe muscle and full, sweet curves. My soul delights in the knowledge of a kindred spirit, full of conviction and fervor. I tremble at the remembrance of a woman that put just as much passion in intellectual debate and discourse as she did in making love. My match, my foil, my equal and my better in every way; there was almost nothing that I would not do for her. There were almost no lengths that I would not go to in order to please her; no pain I would not endure in order to protect her. My Princess made my dreams obtainable, but she made them vibrant and beautiful. Just as I am swept away by this impossible dream, this denied longing, I open my eyes to the truth.

My love was not enough. No matter the reasons or the obligations… when it is all said and done it returns to that simple truth. In light of that truth I must become as my element, clear in intent, unyielding…cold. It is the only way to guard against the deceptive rays of hope's sunlight. It is the only way to truly protect her now. If I accept her back, if I allow her to tempt me from my future, duty will claw at her and it will strangle her with uncertainty. Better that she be a proud goddess of battle and honor beyond my reach than a mortal brought low by the albatross of my love.

I blend in further with the other patrons of the bar, so that I may watch her without intrusion. My heart clenches and laments as I gaze upon her beauty. Her eyes are apprehensive, searching … her usual aloof confidence pales beneath the shadows of regret. My heart briefly aches for her discomfort but I shut it away before its treacherous voice can lead me to the path of forgiveness. My soul becomes as ice and is hardened to the siren's song she sings as I feel determination settle about my shoulders like a mantle.

I know that I am ready.

It is time to finally face my demons; my beautiful, beloved...stupid...demon.

This fic takes place before the Price of Dignity. I decided not to merely redo dignity with Ami flavored overtones because I didn't think that it would tell the story half as well. Instead it is an exercise of the Kubler-Ross model (but just as in real life its not really in order) , and Ami is intelligent enough to realize that. I wanted to create an overtone of an intensely conflicted woman, but one with pride, as I suspect Ami would be in this case. Is it cruelty to want to be on equal footing with the one you love? We give so many small concessions to those we love but there are some grounds that one should not waver upon, for to do so is to be constantly undervalued.