A/N: Thank you to slightlyxjaded, KageNoNeko, isa1981, LadiiV, Ghost Man, James, Birdsong, A Summer's Melody, megdotcom, Astraearose-silvermoon, and Sage McGavin for your comments on the last chapter! I'm not sure I ever responded because my summer was filled with grad school, but it's always AMAZING to hear how you relate to these characters. Often motivate me to write when I should be doing homework instead.
Note: I didn't bother proofreading this because I have to grade papers this afternoon, so please forgive typos.
Chapter 7: Scars
Zevon walked along the sidewalk of block forty-two weaving through the pedestrian stream like a salmon against the current, the late afternoon sunlight snaking its way through the maze of skyscrapers. He just needed to find building number twelve, but of course he had already walked past building fifteen, two, seven, and three - in that order!
He shook his head at the insanity of the Japanese addressing system, wondering if he would ever get used to it. How did it make sense to number things in the order they were built rather than sequentially along the perimeter? In Japan, more often than not, building number one was likely to be found on the opposite side of the block as building two with every haphazard number in between them. He never knew when his number was coming up until he actually was at the building, so he was never confident he hadn't missed his address.
Ah! There was the number twelve in golden Latin numerals, he noticed with some relief that he wouldn't have to go traipsing completely full circle around the monster sized city block. His eyes moved up to the sign above the automatic doors. The Game Center Crown?
An arcade? Surely, this wasn't where Mamoru wanted to meet him. He glanced back down at the text he had received a few hours earlier. Sure enough, it read block forty-two, building twelve. With a shrug, he headed through the automatic sliding doors into the dimly lit arcade floor.
The blinking colored lights and a cacophony of overlapping synthetic musical intros assaulted his senses, but he found himself grinning at the playful ambiance. Booths and tables outlined the large gaming area, and a large sign above the stairs in the back indicated there was a Fruit Parlor upstairs.
The blond resident, still dressed in his blue scrubs wandered around looking for his dark-haired friend, still uncertain if he was in the right place. Maybe Mamoru had typed the wrong number for the street address or something.
"Can I help you?" a girl with bright red hair greeted from behind him. She held an empty grey round tray to her chest as she gave him a friendly smile.
"Uh…"
"He's with me Zaki-chan," a familiar baritone interceded on his behalf and Zevon whirled around to greet his friend who had apparently just arrived.
"Mamoru-kun!" she gushed excitedly. She threw herself into an enthusiastic hug with a level of familiarity that unnerved the blond resident. Without thought, he pulled her back by the shoulder roughly, ripping her away from the embrace.
"Don't touch him," the blond warned harshly. "He's already taken."
Two sets of eyes – one emerald green and the other midnight blue – blinked at him with identical expressions of outright bewilderment.
Zevon's heart pounded rapidly, adrenaline surging through his veins as he stood ready to fight, though he didn't know where to direct this restless anxiety. Mamoru reached out and put a hand on his arm, and it was like the internal storm raging within evaporated – like fog burned off by the sun. He could breathe as he released tension he hadn't known he had been feeling.
"Easy Zevo-kun," the other man cautioned.
Zevon blinked at the warning, baffled that he needed the calming correction. Why had he reacted so strongly? He felt out of control and obsessively protective of the cobalt-blue eyes that considered him in concern.
"She's known me since I was ten. This is Furuhata Unazaki, Motoki-kun's little sister."
The waitress's confusion dissolved into a dazzling smile with the introduction. "Yes! I'm beyond aware that Mamoru-kun is taken! He and Usagi-chan's daily shouting matches and resulting courtship are like legendary at the Crown and the Furuhata household!"
"Which are practically the same thing," Mamoru snidely commented.
"Dating Mamoru would be like dating my brother and I already have a boyfriend," she continued rapidly, ignoring his friend's interjection.
Mamoru's midnight blue eyes swirled back to the redhead at her latest pronouncement, and Zevon actually managed a small laugh at the overprotective suspicion playing out across his friend's face. Big brother indeed.
"I apologize for my outburst," the blond greeted, plastering on his own disarming smile. "I've been on edge all week, but I should not have taken it out on you."
She smiled and waved away his concern. "I understand. I imagine being a doctor is beyond stressful! So, what can I getcha both?" she asked, whipping out a white pad of paper from her white apron.
"I'll take my usual Zaki-chan," Mamoru told her.
"Straight black coffee with a double bacon cheeseburger and a side of fries, coming up! And you, Zevo-san was it?"
"Zevon," he corrected.
"Zevon-san," she repeated.
"And I don't know… what do you recommend? I'm usually suspicious of french fries on this side of the Pacific."
She laughed. "I'm partial to the milkshakes myself. I have no idea how the french fries here compare to the ones in America, but they go pretty well dipped in a chocolate malt shake."
"You've convinced me. The chocolate malt shake with a side of fries. And can you add a regular burger with no spread?"
"Sure thing!" she said brightly, and zipped away with their orders.
"What is this? A children's arcade?" the blond resident asked, gesturing towards the tall consoles.
"I kind've grew up here. The place always calms me."
"Seems far too chaotic to be calming," Zevon commented, taking another glance around the open play space, but he felt he knew what Mamoru meant. The place had and innocent charm to it – a living symbol of the youthful carefree days of childhood.
"As opposed to the clubs you like to haunt?" Mamoru commented with an arched eyebrow.
"Touché," Zevon agreed with a nod.
"So, what is going on with you?" Mamoru asked.
Zevon knew the question had been coming – truly it was the whole reason he had agreed to meet. However, now that it was out in the open, the blond doctor in training had no idea how to answer.
Did he even know himself?
He found himself chuckling darkly with a slight hysterical edge to it, his face clutched between his two palms, allowing just enough of a gap that he could easily see the ocean blue orbs that eyed him with concern. He wanted to confide all of it – the disturbing nightmares, the obsession with the blue haired girl from Mamoru's party, his flashes of violence, and his increasing short temper. But in this moment, he realized that he cared what the young man across the white formica table thought of him.
He cared a lot – more than he ever had before.
"Mamoru-kun, why do you want to be a doctor?" he found himself asking.
His friend was silent for so long, Zevon wasn't certain he would answer the question.
"I was in an accident when I was six years old. Neither of my parents survived. I woke up in the hospital with retrograde amnesia – I had no memory at all."
"You're an orphan?" Zevon concluded with a start. Mamoru had always struck him as rock solid – envisioning him as a lost little boy was difficult.
Mamoru ignored the pointless question, and continued with his narrative. "The first person I spoke to was my doctor. I was terrified and confused, but he seemed totally confident – certain both in himself and in me. Later, when I was discharged and transferred to the orphanage I remember assuming all adults would have that same foundational stabilizing attribute, but I quickly realized I was incorrect."
"And I decided, he was the only person I wanted to emulate. I wanted to be able to face tragedy and loss with strength and stoicism."
"You wanted to be a doctor because you wanted to be able to wall yourself off from your pain?" Zevon paraphrased in surprise.
His ebony haired friend shook his head. "I wanted to be able to guide others through theirs the way I was guided through mine."
The blond resident remained silent, considering this new side to his friend.
"And then later, I discovered that I also have a natural talent for healing – seems like it'd be a shame to waste it."
"Ha! And the arrogance returns," Zevon teased.
Mamoru shrugged with a small smirk. "What about you? Why do you want to be a doctor?"
"I have a little brother with a freakishly rare genetic disorder called Adenylosuccinate Lyase Deficiency – it's characterized by severe mental and psychomotor retardation, intractable epilepsy, axial hypotonia, and various autistic behaviors."
"What's his name?"
"Theodore, but we call him Teddy. The nickname is appropriate it more ways than one," he shared with an affectionate smile.
"How old is he?"
"He's thirteen, but in terms of development – he's probably about nine months."
"So, you wanted to be a doctor to take care of, or find a treatment for, your brother."
"Not exactly. Honestly, it's probably too late for him. His prognosis is not great – many of these kids die in early infancy. Though if they survive the first two to three years, they tend to fair better, but they don't usually make it to twenty regardless.
"No, I wanted to become a doctor to make up for what I did to him," Zevon confessed staring down at the folded paper napkin on the table.
"What happened?"
He stared at the blonde women through the reflection of the mirror. Her eyes did not meet his, focused on the tiny brush she used to paint her eyes, enhancing the green of her irises with her choice of eye shadow. Finished with that task, she started fishing through her jewelry box at the back edge the vanity's table top.
"Please?" the teenaged Zevon begged.
"Zevon, your father and I have to go to this conference. You've known that we needed you to watch your brother for weeks now. You had no objection at the time," his mother patiently admonished, never turning toward him, as she slipped simple crystal studded earrings into her ear.
"Yes, but that was before I knew Justin was going to throw a party!"
She turned to him at that point. "And I'm sorry. We could not have anticipated that. But you know why we need you to watch him."
"Watching him is boring!" he complained. "He's like a vegetable!"
She turned toward him then - slapped him, quick across his right cheek. It didn't really hurt – but the action itself shocked him. He spluttered for words, but they remained elusive as he stared at her, feeling betrayed more than anything.
Her face immediately crumpled with regret. "I'm sorry!" she gushed. "I didn't think." She reached out for him, but he jerked away from her olive branch and then turned to go find the prison keeper that was his little brother. There was no point in complaining – he wouldn't get his way. His mother always put Teddy first.
The little boy rolled jerkily around on the floor a few feet away from a twin sized white, black, and red quilt. Red was one of the few colors the child of two reacted to. The blond teenager grabbed a toddler sized foot and dragged the child back to the center of his floor blanket before plopping down on the ground beside him and pulled out his phone, sending off a quick text to his best friends, Daniel and Cameron, that he wouldn't be able to make it, before opening up a game of snakes.
"Yeah, you enjoy ruining my social life, don't you?" Zevon cooed at the child in the high-pitched voice people often used around infants.
"Oooh!" Teddy responded, his lips in a little 'o' while his green eyes opened wide trying to take in his elder brother's face.
"That's what I thought," Zevon growled out, his attention never straying from the puzzle game on his phone's screen.
"Zevon!" his father called. "We're leaving now. Should be back by about nine tonight."
The teenager grunted his acknowledgement.
A few minutes later, the sound of the car could be heard revving out of the drive way. It faded into the distance and the house grew quiet, the only interruption an occasional light touch from Teddy's uncoordinated and flailing knee or arm that had rolled into his side. His game eventually grew frustrating and he tossed it aside and just stared at the ceiling above him, feeling trapped and resentful.
He jumped at the sound of another car pulling into the driveway, and rose to his feet taking a glance out the window. He smiled as the tall blond, Cameron jumped out of an old beaten up jeep and started calling his name, followed a second later by the even taller brown haired Daniel.
He ran to his door, swinging it open in surprised welcome.
"What are you doing here?" he asked them.
"We're here to pick you up for the party!"
"I can't go!" the blond railed. "I have to babysit my brother."
"Bring him!" Cameron insisted. "I dug out my sister's old car seat from the garage so that he could ride in the jeep. It's pink, but I doubt Teddy will mind."
"And Suzy can watch him. He'll be fine," Daniel encouraged.
"I don't know…" Zevon said uncertainly, knowing no one was as qualified to watch his brother and his unique challenges as himself. Suzy was Justin's little sister, she was only twelve. But then he glanced down at the flailing toddler – it's not like Teddy was difficult to watch. He was so calm and happy pretty much all of the time.
It didn't take much convincing. He grabbed the diaper bag and enough baby food for the evening and scooped up the child from the ground, earning a delighted coo as a reward.
"Do you want to go to a party Teddy?" Zevon asked. "There's a pretty girl who'll play with you!"
"Oooh!" the child cooed, as his uncontrollable arms slapped him across the face.
And twenty minutes later, Teddy was stowed away in Suzy's bedroom being happily fed by the younger girl, and Zevon had just been handed an Xbox controller and he lost his blue three-dimensional avatar into the confines of a tank – and was gleefully mowing down the red spartans of the Halo 2 Universe.
Completely focused on the outcome of the match that was currently tied forty-nine to forty-nine, he didn't immediately notice the timid brunette at his elbow.
"Zevon?" she asked in a small voice.
The room exploded in an uproar as he took out an enemy ghost in satisfaction to win the round.
"Zevon?" she tried again, a bit louder to cut through the cacophony of teenage boys throwing playful insults at one another.
He turned to her, with a satisfied smile. "What's up?"
"I think there's something wrong with your brother," she said, not meeting his eyes as she writhed her hands nervously.
He felt the blood drain from his face in an instant. He dropped the controller to the ground and took off running into the other room, knowing exactly what was wrong.
He kicked the door open and slid to his brother's side – his tiny limbs contorting outwards at strange angles, stiff and unnatural, as if possessed.
"How long, Suzy?" he asked coldly as he dove for the diaper bag, and tore into the small pocket on the side.
"I don't know…" she whimpered. "Five minutes? Maybe more?" she guessed. He cursed.
He pulled out the Ziploc bag of emergency medicine and cursed again – he only had one tube, half a dose. Hopefully it would be enough. "Pull off his pants and take off his diaper," he directed as he ripped open a packet of lubricant and pulled out the last remaining plastic tube injector.
"What?!" she objected. "You promised I wouldn't have to change his diaper."
"Do it!" he roared, before biting the plastic cap off the tube and dipping the tip into the packet, to cover it generously with the slippery lubricant.
He moved towards his now bare bottomed sibling, inserted the tip of the tube, pressed the injector tab down, slowly counted to three, and prayed while he watched the clock atop Suzy's pink nightstand.
A minute went by and the tiny blonde's body seemed to relax with a deep sigh, and Zevon felt relieved. A minute later, the boy's body went rigid again before it started to quake with more unnatural convulsions.
And he didn't have any more emergency medicine. He hadn't given enough and he most likely had administered it too late anyway. He hadn't refilled the backpack – just assumed that it was full. His mother always restocked the bag.
"Call 911!" he barked. "Ask for an ambulance!" And Suzy rushed to obey, while he just held the child's tiny shaking hand.
"I'm sorry Teddy," the teenager cried. "I'm so sorry."
"The paramedics couldn't break the seizure either. He was actively seizing for almost two hours when the emergency room personnel finally broke it. He slept for days. He suffered an acute brain injury and he lost almost all of his milestones. Head control, rolling over, eating by mouth – all of it. It took him years to regain what he'd lost, and some of it never came back at all."
"Was the status seizure unusual for him?" Mamoru asked stoically after swallowing a mouthful of his burger. Zevon had yet to touch the food that had arrived moments prior.
"The disorder is characterized by increasingly intractable seizures, so the status events were probably inevitable at some point. I know that in some sense, my guilt is irrational. I just… I can't help the 'what if's'. If I had been more attentive as the one watching him I would have caught it earlier. And you know the emergency meds work best if you administer them quickly. If I had never gone to that party, or had at least checked his medicine stock in the back pack, I would have had a full dose on hand. If I had trained Suzy in what to watch out for, she would have been more prepared or come got me sooner. Maybe… just maybe, I could have broken that seizure before it caused a brain injury. That we could have spent six or twelve more months or years even, feeding him cheesecake and taking him on the carnival rides he loved."
"Instead, he was sentenced to a wheel chair and a g-tube. Honestly, I thought he was going to die that day. To me he had always been a bother, a burden that kept my mother chained down and my father sullen with never-ending grief. I thought that we'd all be better off if he was gone."
"But that day, I suddenly realized that I loved him. That he was my brother. That I didn't want him to die, and because of me, he almost had."
"Has he taken a recent downturn?" Mamoru asked.
"Not as far as I know, but my mom doesn't tend to share the details unless I specifically ask. Why do you ask?"
"You have been distracted lately, and when I asked what was going on, you told me this story."
"Not directly related really. There's been a lot going on, and honestly, I haven't been sleeping well. I'm having nightmares, most of which I don't remember, but I wake up feeling guilty and that always makes me think of Teddy. I also have a new pediatric patient whose case reminds me so much Teddy. And I know I've just started testing, but every time I have to face the mother and tell her we have no answers, I hate myself."
"It's not your fault."
"You referring to my brother or the patient?"
"Both."
Zevon shrugged, refusing to agree with the sentiment. He started snacking on a fry using the excuse of his food to cover his lack of response. He knew intellectually that Mamoru was correct, but he didn't feel it. He wasn't sure that he ever would.
…
Ami had spent the entire morning organizing her desk and planning out everything she needed to do in order to be caught up. She felt immense satisfaction glancing at her work station of two neat piles – one of textbooks, the other of her notebooks – a pad of paper with a column of tasks for each class, and three colored pens. The whole array lit up by the natural sunlight that poured through her open window.
When she had time to implement it, her system never failed her. Her first column was already completely crossed out, and she was halfway through the second. If they were no more attacks she might even manage to get through all four classes, and maybe even start to get ahead in one or two of them.
"Don't jinx it Ami-chan," she mumbled to herself under her breath. She forced herself back to the text she was reading, quickly making shorthand notations in the margin and added to her notes as she went. She soon found herself completely engrossed in the endocrine system, and barely noticed that her source of light sank in retreat towards the horizon.
The jangling of keys at the front door pulled her momentarily from her zone of concentration, and she kept one ear open to see which of her roommates had arrived home.
"Ami-chan?" Makoto called as she came in the front door and closed it behind her. "You home?"
"I'm in my room Mako-chan!"
The tall brunette poked her head around doorway. "There's mail for you from the university."
"That should be my first rotation placement," Ami commented without looking up from her notes.
"They send it by mail? How archaic of them," Mako-chan commented, as she placed the letter to the side of her notebook. "Can I get you anything? Some brain food maybe?"
"I'm fine. Thanks," Ami replied absently and Makoto wandered back into what sounded like the kitchen if the opening and closing of the refrigerator and cabinets were anything to go by.
Ami stayed focused on the textbook until she finished the section, before allowing herself to open the letter that would foretell of her future schedule for the next twelve weeks. Assuming of course, that these attacks let up long enough for her to make it consistently to her shifts. She skimmed rapidly through the first page, which just outlined expectations and responsibilities of the program. This was her first of four rotations this year. She skipped to the second page, eager to learn her actual placement.
Rotation 1: Tokyo General
Supervisor: Chief Resident, Chiba Mamoru
Her eyebrows lifted in surprise as she scanned over the familiar name.
She unburied her phone from the pile of notebooks and sent a quick text with a smile. Looks like somebody got a promotion! Congratulations!
In many ways having Mamoru as her supervisor was a huge advantage – it meant that she didn't have to somehow explain senshi related disappearances. Perhaps, he could even offer suggestions in balancing the two responsibilities.
At that moment, her Amazonian roommate slipped back into the room and placed a plate of hiyayyako, a mound of tofu with sauce and overflowing with grilled mushrooms and green onions, on her desk next to her notebook.
"Mako-chan? I said I was fine," the long-time student objected, turning questioning eyes to her roommate.
"I heard you, but when was the last time you ate?"
"Uh…" she felt her eyebrows come together in concentration. "I had a bagel this morning…?" Or was it last night, she wondered.
Makoto laughed. "You don't even know! Just eat your food Ami-chan and don't complain."
"I just don't want to be a bother," the blunette mumbled, though she took up the plate and chopsticks and began cutting into the corner of the firm tofu, suddenly very aware of the empty void that was her stomach.
"It's a block of cold tofu Ami-chan! I just threw some soy sauce and herbs on the top to make it more palatable. No bother at all. I feel better knowing that you're eating something," her tall friend insisted, then took a bite off her own plate. "Did you find the package I left on your bed?" she asked again around a mouthful of tofu.
"Yeah, I saw it. Thanks," she replied absently allowing herself to focus on the food and the company for a few minutes rather than continuing onto the next section of her chapter.
"What was in it?"
"I have no idea. It was from my father, so I threw it under the bed and plan to leave it there until winter," she said with indifference.
Emerald confused eyes swiveled in her direction.
"Really? Don't you want to know what he sent you?"
"Not really," Ami responded coldly, flipping absently to the next page of her text.
"How does the curiosity not just eat at you? If I received anything from either of my parents I don't think I would be able to resist!"
Ami smiled at her friend gently. In some ways, it might've been easier if her own dad had died rather than just disappeared. "I know Mako-chan. I think the difference for me is that my dad had a choice. And he chose not to be in my life."
"Maybe he regrets that now."
Angry shouts reverberated through the wall to the child of eight who sat on the floor in the corner of the room, her knees drawn to her chest as she fought to suppress her tears. Her slender body silently shook anyway.
"You've never supported my creative vision!"
"I suppose I've been too busy supporting your daughter while you are off on some drug induced high!" her mother screamed shrilly.
"The drugs help the ideas flow!" he insisted.
"You were supposed to be watching Ami! What if something had happened?" she demanded. "Or is your creative vision more important to you than your daughter?"
There was no response. Ami held her breath at the sudden silence praying it was over. That this would be enough.
But instead, the quiet exploded with the sound of shattering glass like a bomb going off in the dead of night.
"How dare you imply that I don't care for Ami!" his voice boomed back. "She is my life!"
"Then quit hurting her with your selfishness!"
Not able to stand it anymore, the small nimble form leapt to her feet and ran into the front room.
"Please stop!" she begged through her tears. "Whatever I did, I'm sorry! I won't do it anymore!"
Her mother was at her side in an instant, protecting her in a warm embrace, murmuring reassurances the child could not hear through her own hysterical sobs.
Warm arms scooped her up and brought her back to the haven of her own bed, stroked her hair and her brow until the cries subsided and her tears dried. The older woman started to leave, but Ami quickly clutched her hand and pulled it back towards herself.
And so, her mother stayed until her eyelids fell closed and she dreamed of a magical palace in the sky. It seemed to float on the iridescent-white surface of a cloud, or perhaps the moon.
She stirred only once when a large warm hand caressed her cheek.
In the morning, she awoke to a painting of a blue bird flying freely through the sky, propped up at the foot of her bed with a note.
I love you little bird, it said. Never doubt it.
She tore from the bed into her father's den. She froze in uncertainty, taking in the empty shelves. His books, his paintings, and his easel had vanished as if they had never existed. She glanced at the cup at the desk. It was still overflowing with pencils and colored pens. But his favorite paintbrush was missing.
That's how she knew he wasn't coming back.
She glanced toward the nondescript brown package poking out from under the bed and considered the mystery it offered. He usually sent her exactly one hand painted card every year on her birthday. This package had arrived four months off the mark. Perhaps Makoto was right, and he was reaching out. She felt distant from that thought like reading about a character in a novel.
Ami shrugged at her roommate, "I've given him too many chances. I learned a long time ago that I had to not care about his feelings. I am his daughter – it is not my responsibility to manage his emotions or to be the bigger person. He is supposed to be the parent."
…
As long as he wasn't covering the emergency room, Zevon almost preferred the night shift. You came in – your patient was asleep, you charted some vitals without questions or interruptions, you left, and moved onto the next patient. You typically didn't have to worry about bedside manner or answering visitors' questions. There were the occasional night owls, of course, but often those were just common enough to provide a few short breaks of camaraderie throughout the evening.
He pulled out a small flashlight, and examined his current patient's lesions. Mamoru was specifically suggested the sores were the unique symptom in helping them identify this mystery disease. The bruising under the skin contrasted darkly with the pale skin beside it, a deep violet hue. He winced, the color a sign of a possible hematological infection and potentially deadly. He called for a nurse.
"I need you to do a blood draw immediately. Send some samples down to the lab. This is what you're testing for," he explained as he handed her the name of the bacteria on paper. "Page me as soon as you have results. In the meantime, I want antibiotics running through that IV at all times. I've already charted this, but I need it to start now."
She nodded with understanding.
"I also need you to watch his lesions. See their hue now?"
"Yes."
"I need you to page me immediately if you think they are getting darker."
"Sure thing Doctor. It's a shame," she said with a sigh as she shined the light on the deep bruises.
"What is?"
"That he's likely to scar," she said sadly. "I always hate it when disease leaves behind evidence."
"Scarring is the least of his problems currently," Zevon chided. "Keep me posted."
"I will."
Moved on to the next patient on his rounds. The patient was moaning. Turned into screaming. Nurse came running in, but Zevon had already woken the patient up.
He sat up gasping for air, then he was sobbing, crying into his hands hysterically.
"Sir? My name is Doctor Stone," Zevon introduced himself, his hands ready to catch the initially flailing patient. "I need you to tell me if you are in physical pain."
"Please don't let them near me," the young Japanese man begged never lifting his face from his hands.
"Don't let who near you?" Zevon asked.
"The light – it hurt," the man sobbed.
"The lights are all off. I can turn the monitor off as well."
"And the ice – it was so cold."
"Sir, you're making no sense. Do you understand me?"
At that moment, the man looked up at him, his dark eyes open wide in shock.
"I understand you," he reached out and grabbed Zevon's arm and pulled him closer. "Please! You have to protect me from the Sailor Senshi. They tried to kill me."
Zevon inhaled sharply.
He was crouched on the ground, his hamstrings tight ready to spring forward – he had to get away before they caught up to him. Before he shot off, a woman in red heels landed before him. His gaze traveled up her form taking in the rest of her blood red battle uniform that intimately hugged her form. He apparently hadn't had as much of a lead as he thought.
"You're in my way," he told her coldly. "I don't want to hurt you."
"The feeling is not mutual," she declared, calling the Martian flame to her hands. She shot them towards him all at once.
He dove to the side and rolled back to his feet. He turned to run again.
But the other three senshi stood in his way while Mars blocked him from the rear. He knew he couldn't take all of them on at once.
They came closer – surrounding him on all sides. He felt like a trapped doe. They were going to kill him.
Zevon shook himself from the vision, his patient still clutched his arm, begging to be protected from the senshi.
"It's okay," the blond doctor tried to sooth. "You're in a hospital. You're safe. There are no senshi here."
Zevon couldn't help but wonder if he was trying to pacify the patient or himself.
Why did the senshi want to kill him?
…
Having read the same paragraph six times and not absorbed a word of it, Ami shoved the offending textbook aside. Trying to get caught up in this moment was clearly a lost cause. It was only Friday afternoon – she had the whole weekend. She supposed she could take one night off, knowing that if she forced the issue it would be harder to accomplish anything for the rest of the weekend as well.
She grabbed the first romance novel on the top of her stack of new purchases, and moved to the common room and curled up on the oversized easy chair for a desperately needed change of scenery.
Three chapters in she realized that perhaps it was too soon for romance novels. Though the genre was her favorite, she hadn't picked one up since Ryo had gone. And suddenly she found herself feeling alone.
Minako walked past and Ami jumped, not realizing the blond had been home. Her roommate eyed the cover of her book and smiled knowingly.
Ami rolled her eyes, irritated that Minako was always pleased when she was slightly irresponsible. But then, maybe the blond was right. Ami had self-discipline down to a science – it was self-love that she often struggled with.
"Minako-chan?" Ami blurted out to the retreating form against her better judgement.
"Yes Ami-chan?" the other girl said brightly, turning back around.
"Do you… maybe, want to go out tonight?"
Cornflower blue eyes lit up with excitement! "Ami-chan! I would love to take you out! Would you let me do your make up?"
"If you want to…?"
The other girl squealed excitedly, grabbed her by the wrist to drag her into her room and plopped her in front of a fully restored antique vanity.
"Actually, I need you to turn this way," Minako directed, urging Ami to sit sideways toward her, rather than towards the mirror.
Ami turned cooperatively, feeling slightly dubious. Why had she agreed to this again?
Minako took out a yellow paste and applied it under her eyes. Then she followed up with some powder. And then Ami lost track of it all – she had no idea what the blond was doing. There were queue tips at her eyes and paint brushes on her lips. And the longer the make-over continued, the more nervous the blunette felt. Her anxiety jumped another notch when she realized that Minako had moved onto her hair. Running through some kind of product before tousling her fingers through her short locks. Ami closed her eyes and chose to trust her friend, enjoying the sensation of fingers massaging her scalp.
Then just as suddenly they vanished.
"Alright. You can look now."
She again felt nervous, certain that Minako had gone completely overboard, but she felt transfixed by her reflection.
"I look like me," she said, surprised. Which was true, only now she looked more refined. Like Minako found every imperfect pore and erased it and found every feature and enhanced it, but subtly – like you wouldn't notice if you weren't looking for it. Somehow her crystal-blue eyes seemed deeper and her high cheek bones refined with just a touch of natural blush as if from the cold. Even her hair didn't seem done up – but looked like it had just fallen elegantly framing her face.
She caught the blond rolling her eyes through the mirror. "Of course you do. Who else would you look like?"
"That's not what I meant. I mean, I was worried you'd put me together for some glamour shoot. But I look like me, only more somehow. You know me really well. Thank you," she added softly.
Then the blond grinned. "I'm glad you like it! Now, we have to find you the perfect outfit!"
"I have my own clothes!" the scholar objected.
"Yes, I definitely most sincerely approve of your wardrobe, but I want to get a bit away from professional Ami and nice girl Ami. We're going out, right?!"
Ami groaned.
"Oh come on! You love your make-up and hair. Trust me!" the other girl insisted, once again grasping her by the wrist to drag her to the other side of her room.
"Fair enough," the blunette conceded.
She tried on three outfits, but at the third she felt no need to continue. She wore a deep black dress with three-quarter sleeves. It hugged her form, accentuating her fit slimness, but she didn't feel exposed at all as the top came right up to her collar bone. The skirt flared at her knees and swirled around with her movement making her feel playful and fun. And best of all, the assemble was made of some kind of stretchy material so she didn't feel constricted at all.
"That looks far better on you than me," Minako commented. "You should keep it."
Ami, still staring at herself in the full length mirror of the sliding closet doors, nodded absently.
"Give me twenty minutes – and we can get out of here!""
Two hours later found the two women sitting side by side at an upscale bar halfway beside half a dozen shot glasses, four of them empty, and a bowl of pretzels.
"That guy was totally into you!" Minako gushed. "Why did you chase him away?"
"Are you Cinderella? Because I see that dress coming off at midnight." Ami repeated with an eye-roll. "Yeah, no thanks."
Minako burst into a peal of laughter to the point where she lost her balance on the stool and Ami had to right her by propping her up on the bar.
"Only doctors for Ami-chan!" a drunk Minako toasted before she downed her third shot.
Ami didn't bother to drink. Her head was already buzzing slightly, and she knew that more was simply a bad idea.
"They don't have to be doctors!" she countered. "Or even intelligent. I just want them to respect me." Her one night stand guy had.
"What?! Not intelligent?" Minako objected, drunkenly wagging a finger at Ami. "Let's be real Ami-chan. You would be so bored if the guy was not intelligent!" Her hand froze in front of her face and she stared at it intently as if she had never seen it before. Her other elbow slipped and her head drooped onto the table.
Ami sighed even as she readjusted the blond on her stool, trying to figure out how this night, which was supposed to be about her, turned into the med student taking care of a drunk Minako.
"Do you ever think Usagi and Mamoru give us too high expectations?" her roommate asked suddenly. "That we never truly connect with anyone because we want the real thing – we want the soul mate?"
Ryo's face – his dark smiling eyes and frazzled hair immediately came to mind. She had sometimes felt connected and close to him. It had never been all encompassing though. Did she want all encompassing though? It looked exhausting!
"Mamoru-kun and Usagi-chan are both planning to propose to each other," Minako gushed excitedly. "On the same day!" she added with a delightful squeal. "Isn't that just too impossibly and sickeningly adorable?"
Ami smiled at the thought. Of course they were – the princess and her prince were just completely in sync.
"This is your secret, isn't it?" the blunette chided. "I told you, you were terrible at keeping secrets."
"This secret is too cute to keep!" Minako objected. "The only reason I know is that they both requested my aid in their execution. Of course, with both of them – I have to blend the two ideas. The only reason I told you is because I need your help with some technical aspects of my plan."
Ami was about to ask more when their communicators went off with the familiar chime. Ami's hand immediately activated the hidden ear piece that she never removed.
"Venus is drunk," Ami reported bluntly. "Can you handle this without us?"
"Am not!" Minako objected defensively.
"Earth, Moon, and Mars are all free – we should be fine. We'll let you know if that changes." Luna reported.
"Why does Luna insist on calling Mamoru, Earth?" her blond roommate asked no one. "It just sounds wrong. Why not stick with Kamen since that's what he has always gone by?"
"Do you always ramble when you are drunk?"
"I'm not drunk!"
"Uh huh."
"I'm not!" Minako insisted. And Ami had to hand it to her soul sister – her cornflower blue eyes were completely clear, she had been talking sensibly for the last few minutes.
"Have you been pretending to be drunk?!" Ami accused. "Why would you do that?!"
The other woman shrugged. "It was clear that you weren't going to find a match here tonight. And I know you feel better when you feel needed. And when someone is sick or incapacitated – that's when you know exactly what to do. No anxiety attacks in those moments."
Ami blushed at the observation. "Thank you," she whispered.
"I wasn't going to admit to anything," Venus confessed. "But if that youma goes south – I want you to know that I'm ready and that you have no other obligations."
Ami nodded in acknowledgement.
"Did you really think you could out drink me?" Minako asked with teasing eyes.
The blunette couldn't hold back her laugh, but she quickly sobered. "Minako-chan, thank you for tonight. I think it was exactly what I needed."
"Anytime, Ami-chan! Anytime!"
A/N: This chapter concludes the set up. From here on out we get lots of Ami/Zoi scenes! I mean it's a story about them. And now that the school year has started, I seem to somehow have more time to write…? It makes no sense, but that's how it has seemed to work out for the last two years. Anyway, hope you enjoyed the update. Hopefully, it won't be the last for awhile, but I do have to write 23 letters of recommendation over the next eight weeks or so…
Question! Based on my sex scenes that don't really describe anything specific I very much felt this story could get away with being a T, but rereading some of Zoi's violent flashes in chapter 6 I was feeling a bit less certain. Maybe I should bump it up to M? Or am I being overly panicky? Let me know what you think!
Going it Alone really is much further along, but it's fine if you don't believe me… I'm not sure I would at this point either. Haha!
Reviews are love!
