Just a warning - there's some graphic descriptions in here, and a little cursing. So don't read it if you can't handle it. This is NOT a light and fluffy chapter. Well, duh. It's just one phrase, but it's a nasty one. So please, do NOT read this chapter if you're under... oh, we'll call it fourteen, fifteen?
Oh, yeah. I don't own Sailor Moon. If you haven't figured that out by now, get out of my story.
Makoto released Ami, pulling herself away. A tense, tearful expression grew on Ami's face as she watched the taller woman, always so self-assured, draw herself into a tight ball. She choked back a sob, shaking her head. Slowly, Ami forced herself to rise to her feet.
Muttering a broken, hoarse apology, she ran for the door. Eyes squeezed shut, Ami half expected to run into something, trip and fall, or even simply bolt straight into the wall. She stopped short, however, when she felt a hand on her wrist. Nervously, she pried her eyes open and looked up at the taller woman, fear and regret written all over her face.
"You think you can do that to me, Ami?" Makoto shook her head. "You get to come in here, and cry, and make me feel for you again, and not even give me a chance to tell you what I went through? How much you hurt me? You think that's fair?"
With a gentle jerk, Makoto pulled Ami back over to the couch and sat her down. "No way, Ami." Her hands clenched tightly in her lap. "Do you have any idea? You shattered me that day. That's why I left – I couldn't bear to see you and know that you hurt and not be able to do anything about it. I couldn't bear to watch you fall in love with someone else."
She bit her lip. What on earth was she doing? Was she really going to spill everything out, her years of resentment, self-hatred? Her bitterness lodged in her throat that day, like some noxious pill of reality she'd been forced to swallow and had never quite gone down.
"I was raped, Ami. Not a year after I left." Apparently she was. "I was lucky. I got away without any diseases, and no serious injuries, except one." She looked away, unable to bear the curious sort of melancholy in Ami's eyes. "You know how much I always wanted children." She squeezed her eyes shut at the gasp of surprise that burst from the other woman. She could almost picture Ami's small, delicate hand lifting to her mouth, her bright cerulean eyes widening in shock and something akin to despair – on Makoto's behalf, of course. "Yeah. Too much scarring. I can get pregnant, but it's pretty much a guarantee I'll miscarry after three or four months."
Ami's head spun. "But, Makoto-san… you can fight off anyone! How could…"
"It's really not that hard to understand." Hard green eyes fixed on Ami's face, making her recoil. "I was so trapped in guilt and loneliness that I didn't see them coming. No matter how strong I am, there's only so much that one sixteen year old girl can do against ten guys that have the advantage of surprise."
Ten? There had been ten of them? That explained the scarring, Ami thought. But how much scarring had there been to Makoto herself? Ami felt the couch suddenly disappear from under her; she was freefalling. Ten. It would have completely destroyed a lesser woman. Ami felt her admiration for Makoto grow as she fought to swallow the swelling lump in her throat. And she'd still managed to do so much of herself?
A strange thought inserted itself in Ami's mind. I wonder if she's smiled, even once, since that day…
Her patrons, her employees, anyone she'd let reasonably close to her since would have said yes, of course, she smiles almost every day. Any of her friends from school, had they seen her throughout that time, would have scoffed at them.
"M-Mako… I'm so sorry."
Makoto stood up abruptly, knocking Ami, who had been leaning towards her slightly, back a little ways. "It's not your fault, Ami. You didn't do it. You didn't tell those guys to fuck me until I bled, did you? You didn't… didn't tell them to…" Her hands, clenched into fists at her sides, relaxed slightly. "Didn't… tell them to… beat me and…" Her strained voice cut off in a faint, high wail.
Ami sat there, unsure. Should she leave Makoto alone? Should she offer comfort? She sat there, unsure. Her thumbs ran circles around each other on the racetrack of her grasped hands, words and scenarios flashing through her head so quickly she could barely read them. Finally, she settled on an action.
Standing, Ami placed one hand on Makoto's shoulder. "Oh, Mako-chan…" She felt tears well up in her eyes again, more powerful than before, for these were tears for someone she loved – whether Makoto knew it or not.
Lifting her hand, Makoto made as if to brush Ami's hand off her. She paused mid-motion, however, and simply rested her hand on top of the other woman's, allowing herself to revel, momentarily, in the contact. What was it about Ami that struck her so?
Abruptly, Makoto turned. "I'm sorry, Ami-chan. I… I can't do this right now." She dropped her gaze, shaking her head weakly. "I want… I want you back in my life. But I don't know how you'll fit, or how I'll fit in yours." She sighed. "I just need to think."
Nodding slowly, but inwardly rejoicing, Ami gave a gentle smile. "Of course. You have my phone number – call me. Sometime. Whenever." Before Makoto could say another word, Ami turned, grabbed her coat, and left the apartment.
Ami leant against the wall, a faint smile on her lips. Makoto hadn't given her much to work with, but it was something. Some aspect of Ami still held some sort of a draw for Makoto. She wasn't certain what it meant, but it was something.
Of course, Ami hadn't expected either of them to break down that way. Makoto had been through so much… she couldn't imagine having gone through that herself, and still be standing. Not just standing, but doing so well. She tugged her cell phone out of her pocket, smiling and flicking her finger at the little Sailor Jupiter dangling from the antenna – always her favourite character, even though most of… well, everyone, mocked her for watching cartoons.
With a determined grin, she dialed Usagi's number.
"Hngaaaaarrrr…gh." Usagi did produce some of the strangest noises when she first awoke. She rolled over and lifted the phone from it's cradle. "Hmmghm?" She attempted to mumble something into the phone.
Ami's voice on the other end sounded bright and happy. "Usagi-chan! I'm sorry to call you so late, but I figured you'd be up for Chibi-usa's feeding soon anyway."
Casting a quick glance over at her sleeping husband, Usagi slipped out of bed and into her slippers, padding her way toward the kitchen. "Oh, yeah. I suppose I would. So what's up? You're usually reasonable-hour-of-the-night girl."
Usagi could almost see Ami's face glow, her smile wide enough that it was almost creepy. "I talked to Mako-chan. I found out where she was awhile ago, but… I wanted to talk to her first, before I told you guys." Usagi smiled, nodding along despite knowing that Ami couldn't see it. "I just needed to make sure. Well, we met for coffee some time ago, and we just talked again. I told her… I told her what I went through." A long pause. "Oh, Usagi, she's been through so much! I don't suppose I should tell you, that's up to her if she wants to… but I can't believe how much pain she went through. And she's still standing. Usagi, she's got her own restaurant and everything!"
An indulgent smile formed on Usagi's lips. Oh yeah – Ami had it bad, even still.
Makoto flopped back on her couch with a tired sigh. Why on earth had she done that? She sighed, looking at the clock. She had the inexplicable urge to call Rei. Whenever Makoto had done something foolish, exposed her feelings, she had talked to Rei about it. The miko had always helped her feel less idiotic.
She wondered if the Hikawa shrine was even still there. She closed her eyes, smiling to recall the small study room, Usagi snoring away on the floor as Rei hovered over her, manga in her hand lifted, ready to bring the heavy comic down on the sleeping girl's head. Minako laughing, rolling around and unable to take her eyes off the enraged shrine girl, and through it all, Ami sitting there, just shaking her head. Probably wondering why she even bothered with the likes of them.
Her fantasy of memory became a little less pleasant then. Why had Ami ever bothered? When they never appreciated the genius' efforts, when they'd barely even tried? Ami could have spent her days with people like her, who could have had intelligent discussions with her, rather than meaningless discourse on this mangaka versus that.
She sighed and shook her head. Ami always thought of others, of course. No doubt she was an excellent doctor because of that. Makoto glanced at the coffee table and the keys on top of it. After a moment, she grabbed them and stood. Slipping into her shoes, she stepped quickly outside, locked the door, and headed down to her car.
Ami sighed relief as she peered around the corner as Makoto drove off.
So? Reviews? I love everyone who reviewed last chapter, and hey, I got this done faster than I thought. I've also got the next chapter written, and I'll probably post that one in a few days.
And just because he's been so great about reviewing every chapter, I'd like to toss a shout out to Rahu Roux, who gives the most creative reviews I've ever read, and has been one of my most supportive readers. Ever.
