Aquafemina (The Circe be thy name Remix)

by Lilian

lilian413 at yahoo dot com

Summary: She tugs at your legs and drowns your breath. Can you escape fate?

Rating: R.

Warnings: Might squick some people. Not many, though.

Spoilers: None.

Author's Note: This the Remix for 'Water Witch', by Ekaterin Duvall (found here: http : www . livejournal . com / users / ekaterinn (lower case dash) words / 873 .html erase the spaces to access the page), posted last Friday at the RemixRedux website. It's not necessary to read that story to understand this, although it would make much more sense if you did.

A million thank you's to GalaxyLily and Sopiahp, both of whom took time from their busy lives to actually beta this thing. I could never have done this without them. hugs to both

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She wakes with the taste of stale water still in her mouth.

By her side, Urawa barely moves, shifting just the tiniest bit to the left as she disentangles herself from his arms. The feel of his skin on hers is suddenly trapping, keeping her in place and she needs to breathe.

Letting the sheets slide down her naked body, she resists the urge to get dressed. Instead she bends down and grabs the comforter, lying discarded by the foot of the bed. Who knew their antics would have gotten wild enough to knock the bedspread off? As far as Ami could remember, the only wild thing they had done was when Urawa had rolled off of her, tired and spent and turned to mutter 'was it good for you too'?

The smile and lie slid through her lips with surprising ease. While something was breaking inside of her, she nodded and kissed his forehead, all along ignoring the wild screaming within. Urawa passed out at that point and now sleeps peacefully, she notes, fighting the craving to wake him up. What would be the point?

Wrapping the comforter around her suddenly chilled body, she moves towards the window, staring into the darkness beyond. Tokyo has rarely been truly dark: Ami can't remember the last time she could see the stars. Artificial light chases the shadows away even in the wee hours of the night, and as she leans against the window, Ami wonders if her mother has noticed she is not home. Probably not… it has been a long time since her mother has actually cared about anything Ami does.

She remembers her encounter with Michiru and Haruka, about two weeks back. It seems longer, she muses, watching tiny droplets of condensation sliding down the glass. They look like tears, as if the night itself cries for the loss of her innocence. But then again, she hasn't been an innocent for a long, long time, has she? Long before Urawa, long before Usagi, long before she was even a woman; her life had fractured and broken into a million pieces when her father left. He took her childhood with him and she hasn't gotten it back since.

Her books and notes lay abandoned by the door and she wants to pick them up, wants to run her fingers through the pages as if they were old friends. She wants the formulae, needs the science to make her world right.

She doesn't move.

She watches her bag and books from the opposite side of the room, almost as if glued to her spot. Her dream comes back to her; half-remembered flashes of long fingernails and long hair. Yellow eyes, she thinks, catching one particularly strong flash that is enough to force a gasp from her throat. Yes, the hag is always there, isn't she? Always waiting, always whispering—even now, when she should be sleeping in Urawa's arms without a care in the world, the hag has forced her away. The water witch has driven her from the warmth and comfort of the bed and towards the lonely spot by the window.

But has she really? Ami can't really say. Did she leave the bed because of her dream, or is it something else that haunts her? Fragmented memories and the smell of sex and sweat fill her senses as she falls back against the window.

There's a distant ache in her lower body, but it is not enough to snap her out of her reverie. Rather, it seems to drive her even deeper into daydream and she suddenly mourns the loss of her virginity. She remembers one night at the Shrine, listening to Usagi recount, down to the last detail, how her first night with Mamoru was. She compares it with what she has done and asks herself where she went wrong.

It seems almost a lifetime ago, that day when she raced against Michiru in the swimming pool. Where has that Ami gone? What happened to her?

She drowned, says a voice deep in her mind, and it sounds a lot like her own. Perhaps she did, Ami thinks, watching a light go out in the building across the street. She certainly hasn't been that girl in a long time.

And now there's Urawa, who likes her and kisses her and has now made love to her, and all Ami wants to do is run away. He is handsome, she supposes, in that nice, non-special kind of way. When she looks at him she sees nothing but an overly eager boy, head-over-heels in love with her and she can't bring herself to care. She should – who wouldn't? – but she can't find it in her heart to do so. So she avoids his kisses and shakes his hand off when it comes around her waist and still he stays.

She doesn't know whether to love him or hate him because of that.

Why did she go up to his apartment, then? Why did she disrobe while he went into the kitchen, and why did she seduce him – not that he needed much convincing, really – and took him to bed when sometimes she can't stand his touch?

On the bed, Urawa stirs. Is he dreaming? Does he dream about water hags and ancient fairytales as well? She hopes not. She likes to think he dreams about puppies and rainbows, about candy hearts and nice girls who love him back. She needs to think so, because if not, what is she doing here then?

She tried loving him, she really has. Maybe she is just unable to love, like other people are unable to touch the tip of their noses with their tongues. Maybe she's allergic to love the way some people are allergic to shellfish…

She's a mermaid; not the nice, Disney kind but a true mermaid, a delicious Greek fantasy designed to lure unsuspecting men to their deaths. Would she kill him with her song? she asks herself, marveling at how Urawa's face seems almost baby-like while he sleeps. His features soften until he looks impossibly young. Would she drive him mad with need and then kill him? Kill his spirit if not his body?

She is with him because otherwise she would wither and fade. She knows it and sometimes, when she catches Urawa looking at her with old, wise eyes, suspects he knows it too. But more often than not, he will play his part; the devoted, irreparably in love boyfriend and she will let him because his attempts at getting through the shell that covers her heart are… endearing, at least. He tries so hard everyone notices. How many times has her mother told Ami what a fine man she has?

Urawa is such a nice boy, Ami. You should hold on to him.

And she does. With fingernails and desperation, her will to survive stronger than her conscience. He keeps her afloat, keeps her from really drowning—Ami has seen it before. She is a pre-med student and just last month they studied viruses in class. Their unique survival tactics to remain in the world of the living struck a chord, perhaps because they seemed really familiar to her. Viruses use other cells, take up their machinery and use it as their own. They steal, pillage and plunder, victorious conquerors every time and Ami feels just like that: she is destroying Urawa. She is taking him apart piece by piece. One day, there won't be anything left of him to take and Ami will move on, leaving shattered pieces behind.

But until that moment comes Ami will continue doing what it is she does best: using him. Draining him, keeping him happy and content with her song until she tires of him or he is spent. Whichever comes first, Ami doesn't care.

He is her link to the world, the chain that keeps her earthbound. She would dissolve if he wasn't there to keep her whole, and that is why she slept with him. She wanted to feel his skin upon her own, his lips trailing fiery circles upon her breasts. But now, looking at him asleep upon the bed, she wonders if she did the right thing. Hasn't she tied him tighter to her now? Will he ever be able to leave? He is the type of man – no, boy: he is far from a man yet – that will consider what they did last night the ultimate of promises, and Ami is too tired to correct him. Let him think what he wishes: one day the veil that covers his eyes will fall and he will see her for what she truly is.

Ami lets the comforter fall, feeling the bite of the cold night against her naked skin. By some trick of the light or perhaps something else, she catches her reflection in the window and sees her eyes are now golden. Twin gilded stars in the starless Tokyo sky and for a moment there, she swears she can see fangs. The illusion fades after a while but it is already burned into her mind: for a long time Ami has feared the water witch. That old, bitter woman who drags unsuspecting maidens down to the depths of a lake and there's never any rescue.

It has taken her about three years to realize she shouldn't. After all, how can you be afraid of yourself?

The End.