CHAPTER FOUR

Echoes

Author's Notes: Welcome back! I hope you enjoy this segment. As always, I don't have any legal rights to the characters or world of Sailor Moon. However, all OC's are mine as is the plot line. A warning also, as I go into further chapters, I am realizing I may need to up the rating. So, unless things change, after this, it will be rated M for future chapters.

Also, I know I've been almost exclusively focused on H&M, but I'd rather write the story well than stick to limiting the tale to their perspectives, so there will be scenes without them scattered throughout the story. The plot line dictated and I can only force things so far before the story loses its power. So why do that?

Thank you for reading! As always, reviews are welcome.

Crown Arcade on a Sunday afternoon was never a quiet place. There were simply degrees of loudness. However, for the three friends gathered in a booth, the shrill laughter of middle schoolers letting off steam while not in cram school was easy to ignore. Of course, one of the three was just as loud as the other two combined and could outproduce sound against perhaps anyone in the room. She had just been trying not to anymore. After all, she was going to be a wife before too long. Absently, she pulled one of her ponytails forward, playing with the ends of her hair. It was better than going after more ice cream. Perhaps she needed to get a trim. Her fingers tapped against the ends, her lips turning downward as she thought.

"Usagi-chan. Are you even listening?"

A hand to her shoulder helped drag her out of her reverie. Blushing, she dropped her hair and turned on a bright smile. "Oh! Yes! Sorry!"

Ami shook her head and laughed gently. "No, you weren't. But that's all right."

The hand remained on her shoulder and Usagi looked up at Makoto, brown hair pulled back and rose earrings glinting off the overhead lights. The taller woman looked down at her, concern laced her green eyes. "Are you all right?" Despite the fact they were both sitting down, Makoto was still a few inches taller and Usagi had been slumped down, adding to the discrepancy.

"I am, I just, it's so hard to work at being a wife. I'm trying, I really am."

Makoto's concern faded and she smiled at her friend. "Usagi-chan, we've been friends for how long? If Mamoru-san wants you as his wife, well, we all know he's going in with his eyes open."

"Mako-chan," Ami admonished before turning her soft eyes on Usagi. "What part is bothering you? You don't have to become the perfect wife overnight. No one, not even Mamoru-san, expects that."

Usagi nodded, "I know. I just, I can't keep from feeling like I'll always be compared to his best friend. And I'll always be found lacking."

Makoto frowned deeply, exchanging a glance with Ami. "You know that's not true."

"No, of course it isn't. If Mamoru-san wanted to marry Meioh-san, he wouldn't have proposed to you." She blushed as green eyes shot her a warning. Perhaps that wasn't as helpful as she wanted it to be.

"You're right. It's just hard. You should see them together. They talk, laugh. He tells her things he won't tell me." The blonde's lip started to quiver and Ami reached across to take one of her hands as Makoto reached around to hold Usagi's shoulder. Blue eyes filled with tears as she tried to blink away thoughts of Mamoru eating a dinner Setsuna-san had prepared for him.

"Usagi..." Makoto's voice dropped, unsure of herself let alone what to say to one of her closest friends.

"Usagi-chan." Ami squeezed Usagi's hand and waited for her to look up before continuing. "You said that Mamoru-san and Meioh-san have been friends for how long?"

"As long as he and I have known each other."

"Right, and they shared classes in college, right? Well, if they are so perfect, then why is he marrying you? He needs his friends too, Usagi-chan. You wouldn't want to give us up, right?"

Usagi shook her head violently, "No! I couldn't."

Ami smiled gently. "And you tell us things you wouldn't tell him, right?"

Usagi shook her head but Makoto chuckled, stopping her in her tracks. "Yes you do. You wouldn't tell him about how many times you tried to bake those cookies before you managed ten that you would offer him."

"Or about how you had dreams of having a little girl with him?"

Usagi blushed, bowing her head.

"You're entitled to your friends, Usagi-chan, just as Mamoru-san is entitled to his. But if you're that worried," Makoto pointed to the diamond reflecting rainbows across Usagi's hand. "Then remember, he gave this to you. Meioh-san may be his friend, but you're going to be his wife."

The mood broken, Usagi nodded quickly, eyes brightening as they fell on the ring. She giggled slightly and reached for both of her friends. "You guys are the best!" A sheepish grin formed and Usagi blushed brightly. "Would anyone think badly of me if I had another ice cream?"

Both women burst into laughter and shook their heads. "I'll even buy. Be right back." Makoto gave Usagi's shoulders one more squeeze before getting up. "Do you want anything, Ami-chan?"

"Another tea, if you don't mind?"

"Do you ever wish you could find love, Ami-chan?"

Blue hair whipped around from watching Makoto's laughing dismissal of the request. "What?"

"Do you ever wish you could find love?"

Ami blushed, "Well, some day. Yes. I suppose so. I just, I've been so focused on schooling." Ami had become an expert in overlooking the hole in her life. She wanted love, everyone did, but she comforted herself with the lack of attention she got by focusing on what she could accomplish. It filled the hole. Mostly.

"You know, if you were...well..." Usagi stumbled over herself, trying not to offend Ami. "If you were interested in girls, I would still be your friend."

Had Usagi been bumbling over anyone else, Ami would have laughed and interrupted, calming the girl down. However, as it was, she pulled her arms back so fast, her whole body pounded into the booth. "What? No! No no no!" She shook her head. "It's..I...I'm not like that! I-" Her face burned scarlet as she tried to defend her heterosexuality while not trying to sound homophobic. The dual embarrassment was more than she could bear and she covered her face with her hands.

Usagi smiled, disarming her friend with the unconditional love that radiated from her. "Ami-chan." The addressed girl looked up, easing the grip her hands had on her face and Usagi returned the comforting gesture, grasping Ami's hand in her own, pulling it down to the table. "It's fine. You just seem so lonely. I wish I could do something to ease that." Tears threatened at the edges of Usagi's eyes and Ami rushed around, hugging her friend.

"Usagi-chan. It's fine. I'll find someone, I promise." She had no right to promise, no reason to believe she would find the kind of love she knew Usagi wanted her to find, but she couldn't bear to have her friend upset on her behalf. The thought of Usagi's pain dug a hole in her chest faster and larger than she imagined it would. She wasn't in love with Usagi, had never had thoughts toward her own sex, not for lack of thinking about the possibility. How could she not at least question it, knowing her roommate? Still, her friend's tears created a gnawing hole in her stomach that threatened to make her sick.

Makoto, ladened with ice cream and two iced teas came back to see Ami once again consoling Usagi. "Come on now, if you're crying, who's going to eat this ice cream?" Her tease had the desired effect, Usagi's visage brightening at the offer of ice cream.

##

Forbidden.

Michiru's chest ached and she felt herself hyperventilate. The word echoed through her mind, threatening a wave of nausea. She was looking up at a woman, shorter than herself but standing above her and shaking her head. The words echoed through Michiru's soul. Forbidden. Treason. She could see nothing but the woman standing there, shimmering as if she were the only source of light in the room. Of the room itself, Michiru could see nothing but she knew it to be large with a transparent ceiling. She had eyes only for the regent carving the edict into her soul. Her head felt as though it was splitting open. There were no words to offer, no defense. She wanted to reach out to the person next to her, someone she couldn't see and didn't dare turn her head to find. They were standing beyond arms' reach, an intentional choice, and one of their own making, though she couldn't remember making it.

A gasp caught her ear and her eyes left her queen to find a young girl with hair that matched her mother's but was a golden blonde instead of silver-white. Her eyes widened, taking in the sight of her princess in person for the first time since the child had been born six years earlier. How long had she been standing there? In perfect unison, Michiru and the woman, she knew it was a woman, next to her knelt and bowed their heads. The queen continued as if she hadn't noticed her authority had been upstaged by a young child. Kneeling with a bowed head, she noticed the pale marble of the floor, an odd pale design that seemed to be lit from within. It was easier to focus on that, easier by far than to think about how her actions, their actions, could have affected the perfect avatar of love that hid behind her mother's throne. The pain in her head was joined by one in her heart. The accusations were true and there was nothing she would say in her defense. Quieting her traitorous heart, Michiru comforted herself in knowing that she would at least be able to serve the princess who had entered the throne room without her mother's knowledge or permission. They would be exiled, monitored, but they would still be allowed to serve.

Regret hadn't been part of her heart when she had walked in, ready for whatever judgment the queen leveled at them until her eyes fell on the princess who was her one source of light on her lonely post. A post she had tried to make less lonely. The pain her selfishness caused ached and burned within her chest. To never gaze upon that again was a fate worse than the one she was asked to condemn herself to.

"Swear it." The order no less a command for the softness of her queen's voice.

A moment later, Michiru was rushing to the bathroom, losing the rice and pickles she'd forced down her own throat just two hours ago when the headache had started. She washed her face, looking at herself in the mirror. Her face was tired, sickly. Pale cheeks and dark circles under her eyes stood in stark contrast to her hair and eyes that while still blue looked almost lifeless. The migraine continued its havoc on her. She wanted to shake the vision from her head, but the movement would only make her stomach rebel again. A few more breaths of staring into the sink before looking up again, almost startled to not see a gold tiara on her forehead. Touching her forehead carefully, she frowned to find it cool to the touch. Rummaging through her drawers, she muttered, unable to find a thermometer. Ami would pick one up for her, she was sure. All she had to do was get in touch with her. Phone. Right. Michiru braced herself on walls as she made her way back to her bed to text the request before she closed her eyes again, hoping the headache would be gone when she woke.

She lay on her side, staring at the woodgrain on her nightstand, a strange desire to look at herself in her mirror. It was just there, on her nightstand, and she reached for it, hoping to prove to herself yet again that the burning on her forehead was nothing more than the headache raging. Mirror in hand, exhaustion won out over curiosity. Tears fell silently for a lost love she never had. Closing her eyes against them and curling into her hand mirror, Michiru prayed to anyone who would hear to ease the despair she felt. Her phone remained on the nightstand, text forgotten.

##

Ami smiled encouragingly at Usagi. "I think it's a good idea. Really," before following Usagi's lead into the first store.

The trio had left the arcade hours earlier, going shopping by way of a detour in the park. It had been there Usagi had seen a party. Her eyes lit up when she saw it, freezing in her steps enough that Makoto had nearly plowed her over. With fresh determination, the petite blonde dragged her two friends all over Minato Ward. When asked, the light danced in her blue eyes as she answered without hesitation that she knew how to solve the problem of Meioh Setsuna. She would make friends with the older woman.

Ami and Makoto had been nervous about how Usagi's intentions would be seen, but had relented and joined the search for a gift appropriate to give the best friend of your fiancé. Avoiding jewelry stores, the three had explored maybe twenty trinket shops. Ami had refused to keep count. They were almost ready to give up for the day, at least Ami and Makoto were, Usagi hadn't lost her customary overabundance of energy. Without warning, Usagi took a hard right, ducking down an alley. Exchanging quick glances, Ami and Makoto ran to catch up with her, surprised at the speed Usagi displayed through the street traffic.

Panting and resting her hands on her knees, Usagi paused before standing straight and triumphant. "There!" She pointed to a centerpiece in the window of the shop she'd stopped in front of. The high street wasn't visible from where they were, but the street traffic wasn't any less for a Sunday afternoon.

"What are we looking at?"

Usagi laughed, grabbing the hands of both her friends, "Setsuna-san's present!" She dragged them into the shop, releasing their hands only so they could weave through the tight aisles.

"I repeat," Makoto frowned, "What are we looking at?"

Usagi sighed and shook her head, holding a strange silver heart centerpiece with a garnet orb in the center. "This is what I'm going to give to Setsuna-san."

"Um, Usagi-chan? It's a heart." Ami's nervousness at the delivery became stronger. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"You agreed that a gift would be a good idea."

Makoto touched Usagi's shoulder, "And we do, but we're just not sure this particular gift is a good idea." Ami and Makoto shared a concerned glance. Their friend was too innocent of the world and yet they both wanted to protect that innocence.

"No. It's perfect. This belongs to Setsuna-san." Ami sighed, echoing the shrug Makoto offered.

##

Haruka closed the door to her apartment and slipped out of her heels. It had been a good day, if not overly productive. After over a month of debate, she'd finally decided to get the centerpiece for the coffee table. Of course, she'd waited two hours too long. The shop keeper had been kind when he'd told her that a group of girls had come in and bought it earlier. She still wasn't sure whether she was relieved or distressed over it and was bothered more by the fact she couldn't let the thought go.

Despite the lack of shopping success, she'd had a pleasant day out, glad of the anonymity afforded to her by dressing in a skirt. It wasn't something she did terribly often any longer. Most places she went to retained too much of a risk of being discovered, something she wasn't ready for. In some countries, it might have been different, but she doubted Japan was ready to admit that a lesbian could be just as good a racer as a man. Oh, she knew some of her fan base wouldn't care, and some might increase, but the wealthy part, the section that paid her bills, would leave her, which made any remaining support moot.

Today, however, she had been recognizable only to those closest to her. The navy mini skirt, the leather vest and white T-shirt underneath were a far cry from the classic metrosexual jacket and slacks she generally wore. There had been a time when make-up and clothes had been enough, but now she added product to her hair, curling the ends more, spiking the back slightly.

"Wow."

Haruka looked up from picking up her shoes to chuckle. "You've seen me in a skirt before."

"Yes, but-"

The taller blonde chuckled and shook her head. "Ah, kitten, I think sometimes you forget."

"I do not." The shorter woman pouted.

"All right, you don't forget."

She watched as the frown melted away to a smile. "Anyway! I went shopping too today!"

Haruka raised an eyebrow as she smirked. "Oh? I take it you were more successful than I was?"

Her response was a bounding blonde heading back through the doorway to her room. "So I see you didn't bring home that hideous centerpiece."

"Someone else bought it," Haruka answered from her own room, returning to the living room and glad of the door frame as she did. Leaning against it, she managed casual, she thought.

Minako was standing in the living room holding a hand and a half sword. Her face was beaming and she wasn't really looking at Haruka's reaction, for which the older woman was grateful. She knew that sword. She'd seen it in her dreams. She knew it was engraved on the blade, knew that the jewels were real, despite whatever the man who sold it to Minako thought. She also knew, without touching it, how it would feel in her hands just as she knew it wasn't meant for her to use.

All of that she knew, but not how or why it had been in her dreams. She didn't want to know.

"A sword?" she offered when she trusted her voice not to crack. She managed disbelieving.

Her girlfriend nodded. "I thought it would be nice. Two swords on display in our home. It just seemed perfect. And you can teach me how to take care of it!"

Forcing the headache down as well as all half-remembered dreams of that sword displayed in a palace temple down to a dark corner to be re-evaluated hopefully never, Haruka nodded. "Of course I will. It's a nice sword. May I?" Her hand was out and she was walking toward Minako who nodded and held it out for her. It didn't feel as natural to her as her own, but it was well made, and felt just as alive.

The thought was shoved down to join the others that made her dizzy. All good blacksmiths imbued their swords with life. It was expected. It was what made a great sword different from a good sword. Nothing more.

There was only so much lying she could do to herself and Haruka was quickly reaching that limit. She handed it back to Minako. "It's really nice. I'll show you how to take care of it later, yeah? Right now I'm going to go shower. OK?" She didn't wait to hear an agreement, though she winked and smiled at her girlfriend as she retreated.