Written as a Tuxecret Santa 2014 gift for ayu-ohseki.

Her visits to the Moon were never as frequent as she would have liked them to be, if she was being honest with herself, and yet they weren't rare enough to allow her to regain some measure of peace in between them, either. She felt oddly stuck in a place that was both too little and too much at the same time, and she pondered this particular aspect of her unique situation while making her way down one of the unnecessarily long and imposing hallways of the Moon Palace.

"Pluto. Here to advise the Queen?"

The voice made her stop in her tracks and turn to face the young Venusian senshi, trained from birth to be the leader of the new royal guard and soon to be officially named as such in a grand public event.

Their Queen did so love standing on ceremony.

"I'm here for your inauguration, actually. Her Majesty thought it appropriate to invite me."

Venus merely nodded, and went straight to the point. "I've seen the way you look at her, Time Guardian."

Pluto was keenly aware the title wasn't there by accident - Venus hated chance, and left very little to it. And though her tone was stern, it wasn't unkind, and her words were too laced with pity to be meant to either accuse or threaten. Pluto merely sighed, eager to quell whatever tragic romantic fancies Venus had come up with and let the matter drop.

"I assure you, Venus, I have no designs on the Queen whatsoever. I know my place very well."

Venus seemed satisfied with this, and nodded. Pluto stopped as if to think something over for a few seconds, then she took a deep, steadying breath and threw another glance at Venus, really looking at her. For a moment it seemed like her vision had doubled, then tripled, then quadrupled, until it had split into thousands of branching realities, all springing from the same source and converging back upon this one girl, warrior, princess, leader, hero, martyr, general, and many more things besides. There was, for a moment, the fleeting presence of a fiery princess whose face Pluto couldn't quite make out yet, hailing from a neighbouring planet that had yet to join their Alliance, and then the near-blinding and irresistible light of the Princess that would stake her claim on all their hearts as soon as she was born.

All of what she saw made her feel what could only be described as a strong draw and sense of kinship towards the young commander-to-be - but, of course, none of it could be shared. Not yet, at least. So she resorted to formalities.

"I will see you at the festivities tomorrow, Sailor Venus. Good luck with your speech."

"What, no quick omen or prediction for me, nothing to make me puzzle over the simplest of decisions for days?"

This Venus, quick-witted and always ready for a joke, was more familiar and far dearer to her than the grim and serious one, and Pluto smiled, remembering the games they had played when the princess from Venus had been nothing but a young fosterling at the Palace. She decided to humour the girl - one last time, as a parting gift of sorts. Many things would be changing tomorrow, after all. Pluto frowned, suddenly serious, pretending to look deep into her Orb, and gave a very exaggerated contemplative hum.

"I would think twice about which stockings to wear tomorrow, if I were you. I am sorry, but that is all I can say without risking the timeline."

Venus' laughter that day stayed with Pluto long after the sound of it faded away into nothing but memory.

—

The conversation was always both pleasant and engaging during her visits with Neptune, and Pluto appreciated being kept on her toes - though she had to admit that Neptune had an inconvenient habit of spicing up what had up till then been casual small talk by occasionally hitting a bit too close to home.

"And how is our great Queen?" it was so pointed a question Pluto thought Neptune might just stab someone with it.

"She is well. The ceremony for Venus' new official title was a bit too grand for my tastes, though."

"Well," Neptune offered diplomatically, "I'm sure Venus appreciated it. I do remember you describing her as having a taste for spectacle."

"True."

"Is there something bothering you, Pluto?" Neptune wondered at the uncharacteristic terseness of the answers, the beginnings of a frown marring her always flawless face, "Is it something in the timeline? Or has my company merely become disagreeable?"

There was no hiding things from Neptune, Pluto supposed. And yet she still stubbornly did her best every time.

"The timeline remains as it has been," that, at least, was only a lie of omission, "I have merely been… thinking about things."

"Oh, my. How dangerous."

Pluto decided against taking the slightly teasing bait and easy way out her companion was very generously offering her, and instead forged onward with what was sitting heavily on her mind.

"If- if I told you I could give you a day, one day of no duty, or responsibilities, or missions. One day to be with her. What would you say?"

There was no need to clarify who she was. The intensity of the look of longing that flared up in Neptune's eyes was searing, and Pluto almost felt like stepping back. But all too soon it was visibly quashed and shoved back down into some secret, shadowy compartment of Neptune's being, one of the thousands she used to hide herself behind. A haughty head-toss and a smirk completed the illusion of not caring – one that Pluto felt perhaps only she could really see through.

"Don't be silly, Pluto. I know my place, and it is here."

"Not by her side?"

Neptune very pointedly didn't answer.

"And to think," Pluto tried again a small while later, using a different approach, "you used to hate her."

"I know!" Neptune laughed - genuinely and honestly, allowing some of her outermost walls to come down after all, "How did we come to this, I wonder, from that amusingly mismatched little training pair of a 'prissy mermaid princess' and a 'barbarian windbag'?"

The next hours were lost in reminiscing over times that now seemed infinitely simpler and happier than anything that could possibly lie in store for the three of them.

—

It was a habit she hated herself for having, but one that she couldn't break.

She tilted her head and squinted a bit, and amongst the swirling mists of the Gates, the other timeline untangled itself before her, letting her view it at her leisure.

There were Uranus and Neptune, whispering something to each other, peaceful and embracing at the shore of the Mare Serenitatis. There were Venus and Mars, no longer limited to merely shooting fiery glances at each other. And there was-

-oh.

There was a glint of icy blue eyes and a cascade of silver hair over eerily perfect bare skin that glowed similarly cold, but that Pluto knew to be the very opposite. And there she was herself- or, rather, another her, a her of that other time that would never be. She was smiling, and happy, and warm, held tightly by a pair of arms Pluto knew would never hold her.

It cut like a knife, but she couldn't look away, and thousands of glorious years none of them would ever live passed before her in moments.

She turned away, wiped the stray tears from her eyes, and prepared to face the impending end of the time that was.

—

The wait between the last death and the first rebirth was long. That was all she would ever say about it.

—

Her first breath of Earth air felt thick and cloying, almost choking her. The second made her sneeze.

It wouldn't have seemed like an auspicious beginning to most, but to Pluto-

Setsuna- she corrected herself-

it was one of the precious little experiences she sequestered away, only to bring out, gaze at and ponder over during her stretches in the endless, timeless, sensationless void that was her post at the Time Gate.

She had little time to dally and enjoy the scenery, however, as she had an important appointment to keep – a meeting with two dear old friends she hadn't seen in a very, very long while.

It was a strange feeling, finally coming face to face with them, and seeing just how different they were. These were not the fierce comrades she'd known – they were two girls, barely more than children, in turns suspicious and confused. And they had just had an experience as near to death as it was likely possible to have at all.

They remembered a lot – more, now that they had their Talismans – but it seemed none of the bond of trust or the easy camaraderie had carried over into these new lives. Setsuna felt silly for having expected anything different.

Uranus didn't take to her particularly well at all, which didn't come as all that much of a surprise. It was the cold shoulder she got from Neptune that made her question and reconsider all of her preconceptions of how this reunion was going to go.

Their faces were the same, but the eyes of her friends looked at her and saw nothing but a stranger.

—

It was a bitter pill, but she swallowed it - there could be no moving past it and to something better otherwise. They worked well enough as a team when it came to battle, and for the most part when she offered information they gave her the benefit of the doubt.

Setsuna stayed in their guestroom mostly out of necessity and did her best to take up as little space as possible. She kept to herself as much as she could and encroached, occasionally, only on the stove and tea kettle. But a night came, about a week into their awkwardly forged partnership, which brought hopes of serving as something of a turning point.

Michiru strolled in just as the water for Setsuna's customary green tea was starting to boil, and Setsuna immediately noticed she had the Mirror with her. Her demeanour seemed somewhat subdued, with traces of tired around the edges. The beginnings of a frown marred her features, but she remained quiet, and if she had any grievances they appeared to have nothing to do with Setsuna's presence.

"You look like you could use some tea," she offered peaceably, "I remember how draining the Mirror can be."

"Yes, please," Michiru replied, effortlessly polite as ever, "and thank you very much."

A few minutes of surprisingly pleasant quiet stretched between them, before Setsuna decided to probe further. "Have you seen anything interesting?" she asked, indicating the Mirror now lying on the table between them.

"Well," Michiru began, pausing in a moment of very uncharacteristic awkwardness, "it certainly is a very beautiful mirror, but…"

Setsuna saw her falter, and finally understood what the problem was, cursing herself for not noticing such an obvious issue sooner. "You don't know how to use it."

"Yes. Well, something like that. I know I need to look into it - I don't suppose one can do much with a mirror beyond that."

Setsuna chose to ignore the slight note of self-deprecation buried in Michiru's words, and focused on the practical side of things instead. "Neptune once told me there was a trick to it, and that it was simple, once you understood how to do it – like learning to dive into the sea without pinching your nose."

"You wouldn't happen to know what her trick was, would you?"

"No, she never shared the details. I'm sorry."

"Keeping up an air of mystery?" Michiru smiled, her tone tinged with a sense of self-irony, "I can appreciate that."

"I don't know how to control it," Setsuna repeated, "but if you want, we can try figuring it out together."

"I'd like that. Thank you."

The tea was soon forgotten as they sat at the low table together, poring over the small hand mirror like it was some sort of puzzle box. Setsuna racked her mind for every detail of each occasion of Neptune using the Mirror she'd witnessed, remembering particular ways she used to hold it, or tilt it, trying to recall if she'd ever spoken any special words. Michiru listened, patiently, offered an idea of her own here and there – but the Mirror remained blank.

After what felt like hours of no progress, Michiru set the Mirror back down on the table with a clatter that seemed to Setsuna almost careless, especially compared to how she recalled Neptune always treating her prized magical artefact. "Why did we have to do it?"

Setsuna was taken aback – that was not the question she had been expecting. "I beg your pardon?"

"Why send us on that pointless mission if we never had any chance of finishing it in the first place, or of ever finding the third Talisman ourselves?"

It was a misunderstanding, I made a mistake, you had to learn, the timeline had to happen a particular way, it's because of what Serenity would have wanted, the Grail had to fall into the right hands- a thousand thoughts, or excuses, flittered through Setsuna's mind, but none of them rang completely true.

"I don't know," she admitted simply.

Michiru shot her an incredulous look. "You don't know? I thought you knew everything."

Setsuna smiled wryly. "I think you'll find that when it comes to the important things, I often know surprisingly little. Some would call this the perks of the job."

"Well, then, judging by our lack of accomplishments tonight, my Mirror is a very important thing."

Setsuna failed to completely suppress a smile at how quickly the change from "the Mirror" to "my Mirror" had come. "Michiru, give yourself some time. A few days ago you had your heart shot out of your chest and nearly died."

"I did, didn't I? How very lucky for me that you came along to help."

Setsuna found very few things quite as difficult as telling whether Michiru was serious about what she was saying, and to what extent. She was spared any further wondering this time, as Michiru decided to change the topic.

"You were friends with… Neptune?"

"I was. She was the closest to me, out of all the senshi I knew. Although I'll admit I had a soft spot for Venus, as well."

"Have you tried talking to her- to Minako?" Michiru asked gently.

Minako Aino, surrounded by her friends, laughing raucously and playing video games, seemed to be as far from the Venus Pluto remembered as it was possible to get.

"No, I haven't." And I won't be. Went unsaid.

"A pity," Michiru murmured, with a longing glance at her Mirror that Setsuna didn't fail to notice.

—

"Such sweethearts, the two little friends. Aren't they, Puu?"

Standing side by side with Michiru and watching Small Lady play with her newfound friend in the park brought to mind many long-ago conversations: talk of family, of children, of what their duty would never allow them to have. Neptune would get that wistful look in her eyes, then grow quiet for a moment, often simply changing the subject to steer the conversation into safer and far less melancholy waters. Pluto distinctly remembered the open longing on Neptune's face when she'd first used her Mirror to see Serenity's newborn daughter.

But Michiru seemed to be done with observing the giggling, playing children, and instead her yearning-filled gaze stayed fixed on someone else entirely. Setsuna quietly cursed herself for once again falling into the trap of carelessly projecting an old friend's thoughts and feelings onto the girl who bore her face and spoke with her voice. Then again, she harboured a growing hope she might yet come to call her a friend, as well. She tested out the words in her mind, rolling them around to see how they fit-

I am Pluto and this is my friend Neptune

I am Setsuna and this is my friend Michiru

I am-

She is-

…it was hard to clearly keep track, sometimes, of all these people who were both so similar and so different. Oh, she was used to the extraordinary amount of mental gymnastics most people would require to even begin comprehending concepts which she handled on a daily basis (and as a fundamental part of her own existence), but this – this had feelings involved, and those were infallibly disobedient and messy.

Speaking of feelings, there was something she was eager to talk over with Michiru, and as Haruka strolled away to find a better view of the park, Setsuna saw her chance, deciding on a light-hearted approach.

"So, have you picked out a suitable location for a first date?" she asked, only half-teasingly.

Michiru, however, remained completely serious. "I have no clue what you are talking about, Setsuna."

"Oh, Michiru. I've seen the way you look at her. I know what those glances mean."

"Funny you should say that, since Haruka herself seems to insist on being completely oblivious. Not that it matters, anyway. We don't have time to deal with frivolities, not while the world is at stake."

Setsuna was taken aback by the sheer amount of open bitterness and frustration in Michiru's voice, but chose to press on. "But imagine, honestly - if you had no duties, and if neither of you were senshi – no missions, no Messiahs, if all of that had nothing to do with you – would you take your chances with her?"

"I see you're surprisingly astute when it comes to personal matters for someone who spent the last thousand years or so in perfect isolation. Or is it that you merely like to watch?"

The bitterness had turned acidic now, and although Setsuna knew it to not be much beyond a near-desperate lashing out, it still hurt to hear. Michiru sighed, closed her eyes, and seemed to compose herself. "I'm very sorry, that was out of line. Things lately have been a bit… much."

Only Michiru Kaioh would call dying by way of having her heart ripped out and coming back the same day "a bit much".

"Apology accepted. You meant no harm. But-," Setsuna hesitated, "but once, a long time ago, I asked Neptune a question about a very similar thing."

"Oh?" Michiru's feigned disinterest was far from enough to fool Setsuna, "what did she say, this other me that you liked so much?"

A dilemma presented itself to Setsuna, then: to tell her the truth, knowing Michiru would love to use it as justification to deny herself, or to lie, and present her with at least an illusion of choice?

In the end, she couldn't bring herself to be dishonest.

"She said no. Very adamantly, immediately."

"And- and she was in love?"

"You've seen the visions, the memories. You've been in her shoes," Setsuna countered, "Was she?"

Michiru's eyes glazed over with a faraway look as she sunk into a moment of very particular introspection. A pained expression passed over her face, then a look of delight, finally slipping into a resigned, melancholy air.

"Yes. Yes she was, very much so. And she said no," Michiru mused aloud, then smiled, an unhappy, stretched thing that made Setsuna's skin crawl. "But I'm far more selfish than her, and not a very good guardian or soldier at all. She was raised into her duty, perhaps, but so, in a way, was I. And I chose to defy the role forced on me. I choose selfishness, and I choose Haruka, any day, and gladly."

There was a vehemence to her statement Setsuna hadn't been expecting, but it gave her a strange sort of hope for the two. "I think-" it was hard to force her lips to form the words, but she'd come to a decision about how to handle things this time around, and she wouldn't go back on it now, "I think you are right, and your place is at her side."

"Is it? And are you allowed to make such calls, Time Guardian?"

Michiru looked and felt and sounded like someone else, for a moment – another refined and elegant green-haired princess who put much stock in self-control, but who never could help feeling things very deeply. They were so similar, yet so very different. Death and rebirth - it was never supposed to happen like this.

Setsuna - and Pluto - cursed and praised Serenity in the same breath.

"I don't care," she replied, finally, and was a bit surprised to find the words rang completely true, "I just want you to be happy, for once."

The Michiru now looking at her with eyes slightly widened in wonder no longer seemed any older than her sixteen years. It occurred to Setsuna, somewhat belatedly, that "be happy" was probably something Michiru had never been told before or been encouraged to place much importance on. And now this strange immortal time-traveller who'd popped up out of literal nowhere was pestering her, trying to tell her that her personal happiness was of value.

The irony of it all was not lost on Setsuna – but if nothing else she supposed she could say she'd learned from her own mistakes. For others' sakes, if not her own.

—

She'd known from the start that her stay was only temporary, but the speed with which days could fly by came as a surprise to her.

Her time among the living was inexorably coming to an end. She would have liked-

She cut off that futile train of thought swiftly and mercilessly. She would have liked to do a great many things. It didn't matter now.

She boarded the helicopter, and watched Uranus and Neptune – and Haruka and Michiru – draw courage and comfort merely from the other's presence. Would they miss her, once she was gone? Or would they grow even more wrapped up in each other, only occasionally remembering the brief time spent with her as an odd little quirk of fate?

It didn't matter. She forced herself to gaze forward - it was key that she be prepared to unleash her most potent power at exactly the right moment.

Setsuna Meioh didn't matter, in the end. There was no such person anyway.

—

The second wait was much shorter. But now that she'd had a taste of what it meant to live, it seemed to last forever.

—

For all her protesting and obvious doubt, worry, and even fear of taking on the responsibility of raising a child (or, rather, this particular child), once the infant was actually in her arms Haruka seemed to turn into every overenthusiastic young parent stereotype rolled into a single handy mustard package. The two newly minted mothers watched from a distance, highly amused, as she cheerfully replied to the baby's every squeal and gurgle.

"Thank you for bringing her to us. You'll come live with us in the house, of course?"

Setsuna merely nodded in place of a reply – she didn't really trust herself to speak. Michiru, as pristine and put-together as Setsuna remembered, graced her with a rare purely happy and honest smile.

It seemed, for a brief moment, that this reunion was going to pass as all the many ones of Neptune and Pluto from millennia ago had: quiet, understated, yet meaningful to them both.

But then Setsuna found herself enveloped in a hug, her breathing strangely restricted and aquamarine hair tickling her face. A quiet I'm glad you're here reached her ears only barely, muffled as it was by the material of her jacket.

Setsuna allowed herself to relax, and gently returned the embrace.

The arms around her tightened, and so did something in her throat – another little pearl for her precious and ever-growing collection of sensations and experiences. She hugged back as well as she could from the angle made slightly awkward by their differing heights, and looked over to see Haruka now gleefully entertaining Hotaru with a fluffy toy cat. A single clear thought rose to prominence in Setsuna's mind, and she clung to what it could now finally have come to mean.

I know my place.