Chapter Ten
Tokyo, May 30, 2002
"So."
Michiru glanced at Setsuna over the top of her book.
"So?" she asked.
"You haven't seen Haruka since…?"
"Since we stopped working together? No." Michiru paused. "But I'm assuming you have. Metalia's been sending a lot of monsters our way this past week. Unless Haruka has been standing you up."
"No, it's not that. She's been showing up to fight."
"And?"
With an unhappy expression, Setsuna flopped down onto the couch next to Michiru. "And nothing. That's all. Just like before."
"I'm sorry Setsuna," Michiru said softly. "I know you were hoping Haruka and I could work things out. This has all been horribly unfair on you and Hotaru. I wish it didn't have to be."
"Maybe it's selfish, but all I want is to have my family back. I was so lonely before, guarding the Door of Time by myself, always separated from you and Haruka and Hotaru. I thought that in this world the four of us could finally be happy together and then – Metalia happened – again. And she destroyed everything, just like last time."
It was rare for Setsuna to speak so plainly about her emotions. Normally, she was almost completely self-contained, turning her sadness inwards and retreating into the comforting world of science. A world that was sterile and controlled, where subjective judgements had no place. Perhaps it was the only way to cope with emotions that were so complex and deep, with the memory of so much loss.
Michiru kissed her on the cheek to drive away the shadows in her eyes. "Metalia hasn't destroyed everything. The world is still here, and we're still fighting to save it. As for Haruka and I…I guess we're just too broken to be fixed, but you weren't wrong to try. And, no matter how things turn out, I'm glad to be home."
Setsuna smiled at her. "I'm glad you're home too."
Distantly, the phone began to ring.
"I'll get it!" Hotaru called from upstairs.
Michiru and Setsuna exchanged a wry expression that spoke of the trials of teenage daughters. Assuming the call was from one of Hotaru's school friends, they returned to their respective activities; Michiru reading her book and Setsuna muttering under her breath over a science journal.
They both looked up in surprise when Hotaru came downstairs and gravely handed the phone to Michiru. "It's for you," she said in a strange, tight voice. "It's Haruka."
With a nervous clench of her stomach, Michiru put the handpiece to her ear. "Haruka?"
"Michiru." Haruka's voice was steady but Michiru could tell something had shaken her. "I need you to come. Now. Bring the Mirror. Don't tell the others."
"Why? What's happening?"
"You'll understand when you get here. I'm at my apartment. Will you come?"
There was only one answer Michiru could give.
Haruka buzzed Michiru in as soon as she pressed the intercom. As instructed, she took the elevator up to the top floor, emerging onto what was obviously the most opulent level of an already lavish complex.
Haruka was waiting for her in the hall, leaning with her back against the wall and the door to her apartment half open behind her. She was wearing light coloured slacks and a loose long sleeved cotton shirt with what looked like a tank top underneath. Michiru guessed the shirt had probably been added on account of her presence. Clothes were just one of the many barriers Haruka presented to those she didn't quite trust.
Wearing a bright halter top and floral print skirt, Michiru suddenly felt overly feminine, and wished she'd worn something different. Even if it would have meant a more uncomfortable journey over here in the heat.
"Thanks for coming," Haruka said. She straightened. "If you'd follow me…"
Michiru followed Haruka into her apartment with a peculiar feeling. She was well aware that this was, in effect, Haruka's sanctuary. The place where no one was invited except for Hotaru and Setsuna and Usagi. For Haruka to call her here, there must indeed be something serious going on.
When Haruka led her into the living room, Michiru understood. The Space Sword was floating in mid air in the middle of the room, pulsating with a golden glow that was steadily getting brighter.
As usual, the pain in Michiru's chest started up, throbbing with each pulse of light, but there was something else too. Throughout the whole room there was an oppressive atmosphere like a brewing thunderstorm. Breathing was difficult, and Michiru had to fight to control a rising sense of nausea.
Haruka glanced at her with crossed arms. "You okay?"
"It's affecting me. Worse than usual. Can't you feel it?"
"I can't feel anything. To me it's just…floating there and glowing."
"When did this start?"
"About half an hour before I called. It's been getting brighter ever since."
"Have you tried moving it?"
"Won't budge. Like it's locked in concrete. I thought maybe you could do something. Or the Mirror."
With every step Michiru took towards the Sword, the pain got worse. She forced herself on and held up her Mirror, but it did nothing. Deciding to try a more direct approach she touched the hilt of the Sword with her hand. A jolt went through her, and the sword glowed red, before clattering to the floor and returning to normal.
Gingerly Haruka picked it up. Michiru could hardly feel anything coming off of it now. Her pain faded to a dull discomfort like an incipient toothache.
"That was weird," Haruka commented. She glanced at Michiru. "How did you do that?"
"I don't know. I just touched it."
"The colour changed. Why?"
"I don't know."
"You know something about it. More than you're telling me."
"I don't know anything."
"Liar." With a sigh, Haruka placed the Sword on what was probably a very expensive coffee table. "Fine. You fixed the Sword. You can go home now."
As she started to turn away, Michiru forced herself to speak. "Blood," she blurted out.
"What?"
"My blood is still in the Sword. That's probably why it responds to me. And why it can hurt me."
"What are you talking about?"
"When I first got back, Setsuna told me. She said after the Battle she was the one who collected our Talismans. My blood was on the Sword, and she couldn't get it off. She said the sword absorbed my blood into itself. It's still in there, somewhere. A piece of me in your sword."
"She told this to you? Why did she never tell me?"
"I guess it didn't matter when I was in Vienna. It's only since I've gotten back that the Sword and I have been affecting each other."
"Why would the Sword take your blood?" Haruka demanded.
Michiru gave Haruka a level look. "It's your Sword, Haruka. If anyone knows the answer to that, it's you."
Haruka didn't reply to that.
"Look," said Michiru, slightly irritated. Without invitation, she sat down on one of the dove-grey Italian sofas facing the coffee table. "My Talisman doesn't work properly either, you know. The Mirror won't show me things anymore. When I look into it, all I can see is an image of the Sword. The trauma of the past."
"I suppose it was to be expected." Haruka threw herself down onto the opposite sofa. "Our Talismans were never supposed to be wielded the way they were that night. It makes sense they'd be tainted."
This was probably the most open they'd been with each other since Michiru's return. Perhaps it was because they were no longer oppressed by expectation. They knew no one was expecting them to work together, to try and fix what couldn't be fixed."
"All the king's horses…" Michiru softly intoned.
"That silly rhyme again?"
"But it's true, isn't it? Nothing will ever be able to put us back together again. When faced with me and a sea serpent, you saw me as the bigger threat. You saw me as the Enemy."
"You helped our Enemies once."
"I know what I did. I betrayed our calling to protect the Princess and this world to shelter an enemy. However compassionate my motives were, it was still a betrayal, it had terrible consequences, and I have never flinched away from recognising that truth. But I'm trying to redeem myself, Haruka. I'm trying and you won't let me."
"I already told you not to expect anything from me."
"How can you say that when you're the one who still has my blood and won't give it back? If you can't forgive me, at least set me free."
Eyes smoky with anger, Haruka picked the sword up and almost casually pointed it at Michiru. She didn't even bother getting up. "Fine. Sword, return Michiru's blood to her."
The Sword glowed, and a bright beam of golden energy shot out and engulfed Michiru. This wasn't healing energy; it was all attack. Michiru's chest felt like it was being ripped apart, and every fibre of her body was saturated with the unforgiving pain of hate. She started to scream, and knew no more.
When Michiru regained consciousness, she was lying on the other sofa with a light blanket covering her. The couch she'd been sitting on was blasted to shreds. The Sword and the Mirror lay tumbled together on the floorboards. Both were dull and quiet.
"Michiru!"
She jumped to find Haruka kneeling beside her, eyes full of guilt and concern.
"Are you okay? I didn't mean to do that, I swear. I had no idea the Sword could do anything like that."
Gingerly, Michiru sat up and rubbed her chest. She didn't even want to look at Haruka. Her skin was still crawling with the memory of all that hate. Was that what Haruka felt for her now?
"I have to go," she said quietly.
"You can't."
"Why not?"
"Listen."
Slowly, the sound of rain invaded Michiru's consciousness, along with the metallic taint of darkness. "It's not…"
"Yes," Haruka whispered. "The dark rain is falling."
It was another of Metalia's devices. At least, that was what they suspected. Rain enchanted with darkness that had the power to undo transformations and temporarily disable the powers of any senshi caught out in it. Luckily, the rain hadn't been as effective as Metalia hoped, since she hadn't been able to stop it affecting her own troops as well. Nor did she seem to be able to accurately control or predict when the rain would fall.
This meant that the rain was more of a dangerous annoyance than the lethal weapon Metalia had probably intended it to be. Until now, Michiru had never even experienced it. Official battle policy stated that unless there was a monster emergency, the safest thing to do was just to take shelter and wait it out.
But Michiru was determined she was not going to take shelter with the woman who had just pointed a sword at her. "I'll ring a taxi," she said. "As long as I don't get wet I'll be fine."
"Too risky. If you're attacked on the way home…"
"Apparently there's a good chance of being attacked it I stay here as well." Michiru's words were razor sharp.
"No," said Haruka firmly. "I'm not touching the Sword again tonight. I'll take it to Setsuna tomorrow and make her run tests or something. Find out why it did that to you. Until then—" Michiru realised Haruka was shaking badly. Before she knew what had happened, she found herself wrapped in an unexpectedly warm embrace. "God I'm sorry. All I can do these days is hurt you."
Whispered into her ear in a low, anguished voice, those words awoke in Michiru a dangerous desire to be comforted. She fought against it, but she found herself relaxing into Haruka's arms, breathing in the scent of her, fitting herself to the contours of the body that she remembered all too well. Every night in Vienna she'd wanted this, to be held with that fierce protective tenderness that meant her life was still worth something.
Haruka's phone began to ring.
Reluctantly, she moved away from Michiru to answer it.
"Hello? Setsuna? Yes, she's here. I know. I've said she can stay. It's the safest thing. Ah, tomorrow? Okay. Yes. Bye."
Haruka hung up the phone and looked at Michiru. "The others are all safe. No sign of any enemies. Looks like it's just a rainstorm. But Setsuna thinks it won't stop till tomorrow morning. So I guess…"
"Well, in that case I'm going to bed," Michiru said firmly. It was barely nine o'clock, but she didn't care. She was exhausted from the attack, confused about being held, and entirely distrustful at what she might be tempted to do if she stayed much longer in Haruka's company.
"Okay. My room is upstairs."
"I am not sleeping in your room! Doesn't Hotaru have her own room? I'll sleep there."
"Let me show you."
The two women proceeded up the stairs to the spacious second floor of the apartment. Haruka opened the door to what had obviously been Hotaru's bedroom, and Michiru gasped at the damage. All the furniture was smashed to pieces. The splintered remains of CDs glittered everywhere like shards of glass, and shredded books huddled fearfully in corners. Even the walls were dented.
"What happened here?"
"Hotaru had a nightmare," said Haruka grimly.
"Metalia?"
A brief nod. "Visions of her army wiping out the Earth." Haruka paused. "You know, Hotaru is starting her last year of high school this year."
"I know," said Michiru softly.
"Sometimes I wonder if she'll live to graduate, and sometimes I wonder if I'll live to see her do it."
"No one's going to die." Emboldened by the embrace downstairs, Michiru placed her hand on Haruka's arm. "I won't let it happen."
She felt Haruka's skin twitch through the fabric of her shirt. "I never even thanked you for saving me from that sea monster. I'm a pretty ungrateful person, aren't I?"
"You are," Michiru agreed, but she caressed Haruka's arm ever so slightly to take the sting out of the words.
With a gentle smile that was perhaps meant as apology, Haruka moved away from her touch. "So you see, because Hotaru's room is out of commission, you'll have to sleep in mine. But don't worry; I'll take the sofa downstairs."
"I can take the sofa."
"No. You need to rest. That will be easier in my room. I'll get a few things and then leave you to yourself."
The first thing Michiru noticed about Haruka's room was how impersonal it was, almost like a hotel suite. There were no trophies, no photographs, no pictures on the walls. The only indication of Haruka was a stack of racing magazines on the righthand bedside table. That was evidently the side of the bed Haruka usually slept on. The same side, Michiru couldn't help but note, as when they were still together.
Haruka pulled out a bag and hurriedly shoved a few essentials into it. Michiru hovered and didn't know where to look.
"Right, that's everything." Haruka crossed the room and reached the door with evident relief. She paused and said awkwardly, "Come and get me if you need anything. Otherwise, I'll see you tomorrow morning. Goodnight."
"Goodnight," Michiru echoed. And then she was alone with the sound of the rain.
Her eyes were scratchy with tiredness. With a sigh, she flopped onto the bed still fully clothed. It was, she decided, too much effort to get under the comforter or turn off the light. Even the thought that this was Haruka's bed was no longer that important. All Michiru wanted to do was sleep.
She soon had her wish.
It wasn't long before she started to dream. She was standing in a vast domed hall, looking up at a force-field that held back a roof of molten ever-shifting flame. Even though she had never seen it, she knew this was Metalia's palace. The flames burned eternal with a muted roaring in her ears, yet the hall was cold and still as a crypt.
Michiru found herself approaching a throne bathed in light, so bright she almost couldn't look at it. Metalia was there, beautiful, radiant, consumed with hatred that would never let her rest. She tilted her head down haughtily, subjecting Michiru to the intensity of her golden, glowing eyes.
"At last we meet, my lost soldier. I've been waiting for you."
In the dream, Michiru was filled with an unaccountable confidence. "I've come to destroy you!" she said, never doubting her ability to do so.
Metalia merely laughed. "All by yourself?"
"No. I am here with Uranus, senshi of the sky. Together we will stop you."
"Look again, Neptune," Metalia whispered in a voice filled with venom. "Uranus is burning."
Turning, Michiru saw that image from the night on the Hill, the one she could never forget. Uranus running; kissed by starlight, obliterated by flame.
She woke up screaming Haruka's name.
Haruka pounded up the stairs and was with her in moments. "Michiru! Michiru! Are you all right? What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Michiru gasped, grabbing onto the solid reality of Haruka's arm because she needed something to hold. "Just a dream."
"Metalia?"
Michiru gave a slight nod.
"What happened? Was it a premonition?"
"I don't know. But I think she saw me. We were connected for a moment."
Her voice unusually gentle, Haruka said softly, "That sounds scary. I'm glad you're okay."
A faint and unwanted shiver of desire shook Michiru's limbs. Haruka was sitting dangerously close to her. Their eyes locked. Michiru slid her hand down Haruka's arm in what could only be described as a deliberate caress.
Hastily Haruka drew back, cheeks flushed. "Look at you," she said, speaking quickly in an obvious attempt to change the mood. "Were you sleeping in your clothes? You can borrow something of mine if you want to."
Michiru started to shake her head, then changed her mind. "Actually – could I use your shower? First the Sword, now this dream – I don't feel clean."
"Yeah – let me just find something for you to wear…"
Leaving Michiru sitting on the bed, Haruka got up and opened her wardrobe. Immediately a pile of CDs clattered to the floor. Michiru looked at them curiously, then blanched a little when she saw they were her own recordings.
"Um," said Haruka, looking horribly embarrassed, "I can explain this."
"You've been secretly following my career all this time? Haruka, I'm touched." Michiru's voice was bone dry.
"Actually, I haven't. I only bought these a couple of months ago. That day we met in the café – I didn't understand how you could treat your violin so badly. I didn't understand how you couldn't care about your music anymore. So I bought these to try and make sense of it."
"And did you?"
Haruka gave her a level look. "Those CDs don't sound like you. The music is dead."
"Yes I know." Michiru paused. "But you're the only one who's noticed the difference."
"When you played the Rite of Spring, though, that was different. That music was yours."
"Ah, you were there on the opening night? I thought so."
"Purely for research purposes," Haruka said tightly.
"Of course."
Haruka tidied the CDs back into the wardrobe. "I didn't want you to see them when you came round, so I hid them in here. I didn't exactly expect you'd end up in my bedroom." Her mouth quirked wryly with humour.
She handed Michiru a towel and a change to clothes. "Here. Go freshen up. I'll make us some tea."
When Michiru returned, she found that Haruka had made not only tea but a light meal of sushi and rice. She'd placed everything on a low table situated at the far end of the bedroom, by the glass doors that led onto a generous balcony. They ate together looking out into the pouring rain and the blurred lights of Tokyo. The atmosphere was both intimate and awkward, and Michiru wondered why Haruka hadn't insisted they eat in the kitchen.
"Must be handy having the balcony," Michiru commented, because she couldn't think of anything to say.
Haruka replied with a vague noise of assent. Then she shook herself and smiled at Michiru in apology. "Sorry – I was distracted."
"What were you thinking about?"
"I was just wondering why you've started wearing your hair loose recently."
"What?" This was the last answer Michiru had expected.
"Well." Haruka shrugged slightly in embarrassment. "When you first moved back here, you always had it braided. But lately you've started wearing it loose, even though the weather has been getting hotter. I just wondered why."
"Maybe because I like to."
"Yeah, I guess that's a good reason." Abruptly, Haruka got to her feet. "It's really late. I should let you get back to sleep. Hey, aren't you going to bed?"
Drawing her knees up to her chest, Michiru stayed where she was, looking out at the rain. A landscape of desolation opened up inside her at the prospect of being left alone once more. "I suppose."
Fussing like a nursemaid, Haruka dragged Michiru up and worried her into bed, chastising her for not even turning down the covers before. Even if it was mostly guilt due to the incident with the Sword, Michiru still loved the sweetness.
As Haruka switched out the light, Michiru spoke.
"Please don't go," she said. "There's no reason for you to go back downstairs. We can share a bed can't we? It's not a big deal." She didn't know whether she was trying to convince Haruka or herself.
Haruka's shadow paused in the doorway. "I think it would be…a little strange," came the answer at last. Her voice was husky and quiet, sending hot rills of longing down Michiru's spine.
"Strange, maybe. Not impossible. Unless you really do hate me so much that the idea disgusts you."
"I don't hate you."
"Then come to bed."
After a moment of hesitation, Haruka complied. She closed the door softly, crossed the room in the dark and slipped into bed beside Michiru.
Briefly, Michiru wondered if this was where Haruka had slept with that other faceless girlfriend and pushed the thought away.
She was surprised to feel Haruka's fingers brush against her cheek, soft as butterfly wings. "I don't hate you Michiru," she whispered reassuringly. "I don't know what I feel for you anymore, but it isn't hate."
Desire, Michiru wanted to say. Haruka's hand was trembling with tension. Separated by a mere few inches, their bodies were longing for one another. It only took only the slightest turn of Michiru's head for her to place a kiss in the palm of Haruka's hand.
Encouraged by the sharp hitch of Haruka's breath, Michiru became bolder. She took Haruka's wrist and guided her fingertips to her lips, curling her tongue over the soft nubs of her pads in a deliberate rhythm she knew Haruka wouldn't have forgotten.
"W-what are you doing?"
"Hush. You know what I'm doing."
"I didn't come to bed for this."
"Didn't you?"
Michiru shifted closer and captured Haruka's lips in a kiss. Very quickly it escalated into passion, and it wasn't long before Michiru's t-shirt ended up on the floor. The problem of the scar had temporarily slipped her mind.
Haruka's hand froze as she felt the tail end of the scar tissue on Michiru's abdomen. "What is this?" she asked in a dry voice.
"Nothing, forget about it."
Ignoring her, Haruka sat up and turned on the nearest bedside lamp. Michiru flinched as the light hit her eyes. Fully exposed she lay there, fighting the familiar need to cover herself, watching the dawning horror on Haruka's face as she took in the long, jagged scar.
"That's from the Sword," Haruka said. It wasn't a question.
"Yes," Michiru felt curiously far away as she spoke. "The injury didn't heal properly. But you must have suspected that already. You know I can't fight as well as before."
"I didn't think it would be anything like this. It still looks…raw."
Michiru gave a humourless smile. "You wield your Sword powerfully, Haruka."
Haruka seemed faintly ill. "Who else knows about this?"
"Only Setsuna and Usagi, and only since I got back. I told them not to tell you."
"Why not?"
"Because I didn't want you to know."
Running her eyes anxiously up and down the scar, Haruka whispered, "does it hurt?"
"Not all the time."
"But it hurts when you fight?"
"Yes."
"When you play?"
"Yes."
Haruka's gaze flicked towards the wardrobe in sudden awful comprehension. "Those CDs I have…You were in pain during every one of those recordings?"
Deciding this had gone on long enough, Michiru switched out the light again. In the merciful dark she admitted, "Yes. It hurts. It always hurts when I play."
"For god's sake, Michiru, why didn't you stop?" Haruka's voice sounded choked with remorseful tears.
"Because music was the only thing I had left."
Michiru was so cold, lying by herself. She welcomed the sudden warmth of Haruka's body as she leaned down and hugged Michiru tightly. Soft, tender kisses covered her face and neck. "I'm sorry Michiru. I never meant to inflict an unending wound like this."
"I know." Michiru slid her hands beneath the fabric of Haruka's t-shirt, carefully charting her smooth skin. "You don't have scars do you? Setsuna said you'd healed, but scars can easily be hidden."
"No, I don't have scars." Haruka allowed her t-shirt to be lifted over her head, to join Michiru's on the floor. "And you shouldn't either. We need to talk to Setsuna about this. Figure out a way to heal you."
"Shh." Michiru silenced Haruka with another kiss. "For tonight, all I want is you."
A jolt went through her as she felt Haruka's fingertips lightly brush her scar. "Don't," Michiru said. "It hurts when people touch it."
"Let me try…Please." With the utmost care Haruka traced a line down Michiru's chest, following the scar tissue from beginning to end. The sensation it produced was unlike any Michiru had felt before. It was as if cool water was running soothingly over her skin, making the ever incipient heat and pain fade. She let out a gasp that was a mixture of arousal and surprise.
"That felt good," she admitted.
"Did it?" Haruka asked softly. "I'm glad."
Haruka's mouth followed the direction of her fingers, and as she kissed her way down Michiru's chest she took a moment to divest both Michiru and herself of their underwear. Michiru placed her hands on Haruka's shoulders, kneading and arching up into that sweet, gentle mouth.
"Haruka, please…" she sobbed.
Haruka's fingers, touching her. That touch she hadn't felt in so long. It was like benediction. It was like healing.
Wanting to feel closer, Michiru drew Haruka back up and kissed her. Tasted the sweetness of her mouth as Haruka's fingers explored her to her very core. Flipped them over so that she was on top of Haruka, straddling her. Pressed her lover down into the mattress, clutching the sheets with her hands. Reluctantly she broke away from Haruka's mouth, her breaths growing ragged. Haruka arched up into her, steadying her with her free hand, and buried her face in Michiru's throat. Kisses burned there against Michiru's skin.
Michiru rocked against the heel of Haruka's hand, seams of pleasure shattering into her belly with every move. She slid her hand over Haruka's breasts, down her lean side, over her quivering stomach. Haruka's thighs opened further, inviting her. When Michiru touched her she was slick and wet, and the feel of her made Michiru's heart pound even harder. She wanted to go slowly, god, she wanted to kiss every inch of this body she'd been denied for nearly three years. Coax Haruka into a slow and blinding climax, but they were both of them too desperate for that. The pleading breaths whispering against her skin, Haruka's low moan as Michiru took her – these things told Michiru that Haruka wanted this as much as she did.
Haruka's fingers dug harder into the flesh of her hip. Michiru's hair was falling forwards over her shoulders, covering both of them in a tangle of sea coloured curls. Perspiration gathered in the shadows where their bodies met, heat and friction and her. They moved together perfectly, Haruka's hand sure against her. Irrelevant thoughts welled up in the storm, disjointed, to be dashed on the rocks of Michiru's need…Her scar wasn't hurting at all, but surely it should be considering what they were doing…Why was there such joy now when there'd only ever been shame with him…The Michiru I knew would never lower herself to be with someone she didn't love…Had Haruka been like this, with that other girl? No, Michiru knew she hadn't, because it was wrong. Wrong for them to be apart. Wrong to be with anyone else.
This was right.
It was right.
It was right.
Smoky lust-hooded eyes seared Michiru's soul as she felt Haruka come apart beneath her, and she sobbed out her own release into the settling stillness of soiled sheets and guarded furniture. In the moment that followed, filled only with the sound of their laboured breathing, she felt Haruka's hand slip away from her. Something tugged painfully at Michiru's heart, like straining the edges of the scar tissue that almost rested over it. Reluctantly, she had to break contact as well as Haruka's long legs rearranged themselves against her. She stretched out with her head pillowed on Haruka's shoulder, giving a small sigh of contentment as she felt Haruka's arms encircle her.
"I love you," Michiru whispered at last, in the final fuzzled moments before sleep. She wasn't sure if she was meant to say it, but she couldn't not. She wasn't awake to hear if Haruka replied.
Haruka swallowed a sob and let her tears flow silently, breathing in the sharp-sweet scent of Michiru and the unaccountable hint of rose petals. At last she deposited Michiru's sleeping form gently onto the mattress and pulled the covers over her. Her hair was going everywhere but Haruka didn't try to tidy it. She stared at her with wide and troubled eyes for a long time in the faint night-time glimmer of the city's lights. The only reply to Michiru's words was the onset of a faint golden pulse coming from the Space Sword, lying forgotten and unseen on the living room floor.
Michiru awoke alone and disorientated in a whirlpool of sheets. The room was frigid, as if the air conditioning had been on for too long. With a frown she sat up. It wasn't a good sign that Haruka wasn't here. It probably pointed to an emotional freak-out.
Bright sunshine was coming in through the windows. At least, Michiru supposed, the rain had stopped. Then she reconsidered. If it had still been raining, there would have been no question of her going anywhere. That would have been a much more desirable situation.
Muffled sounds were coming from downstairs, as if Haruka was trying not very successfully to be quiet. Did she not want to wake Michiru out of concern, or out of reluctance to face what had happened the night before? Michiru rather feared it might be the latter.
As Michiru moved, she could still feel the aftershocks of their love-making in her body, like ghost-touches from Haruka on her skin. She didn't want to get up. She didn't want to go out there and face whatever was going to happen. It would be messy and complicated. She wanted to stay here until Haruka was forced to come and find her, and then she would just drag her back into bed and make love to her until she had no resistance left.
Michiru smiled to herself wryly. If only the world could work like that.
After a quick shower, Michiru ventured into the kitchen dressed in her clothes from the night before. Haruka was standing with her back to Michiru making tea. She was wearing tight jeans and a loose singlet top, and the rigid line of her shoulders told Michiru that this was going to be worse than she thought.
Haruka turned to face her and stood with her hands braced on the bench as if for support. Her eyes were flat and dead.
"You'll need to leave soon. I have to get ready for work."
"What?"
"I have to get ready for—"
"I heard the words," Michiru's voice turned to ice. "But I don't understand why you're saying them. To me, as if I'm no more than a stranger you picked up in bar somewhere. I was your partner for six years. I told you last night that I love you. You could at least—"
"Stop!" Haruka shouted. "Stop saying these things to me. Last night you – you seduced me!"
"You wanted me to!"
There was nothing Haruka could say to that, because it was true. She moved her gaze to the floor, her hair falling forward to hide her expression.
"I'm sorry. Last night; it was a mistake. I shouldn't have let those things happen. The feelings you have for me, I can't return them. I told you that already."
"Because of the Princess? Haruka, she's never going to be with you."
"I know that," Haruka snapped. "I don't expect her to. All that I want is to love her. For it to be a pure love. Just love, and nothing else. Completely selfless. What you're offering is something I don't want. The love we shared, it destroyed us Michiru. It's not our destiny as soldiers to have that kind of love."
Michiru responded by stalking over to Haruka and kissing her aggressively. "I could seduce you again right now, if I wanted to." She stroked her hand between Haruka's legs, greedily watching her face for the signs of ecstasy she couldn't hide.
"You're probably right," Haruka agreed, voice roughed with desire. "But it wouldn't change anything, so what would be the point?"
Her eyes were completely steady as she held Michiru's gaze. Even now, trembling with need in Michiru's arms, her will was still unbreakable.
So Michiru broke instead.
She stepped back, and, unbeknownst to Haruka, she took the Space Sword with her when she left.
Author's note: The good news is that we are now getting pretty close to the end! Probably only another 2-3 chapters to go. The bad news is that even though I know exactly what is going to happen, absolutely nothing is written down except for a few brief notes. So the next update is probably a while away. Sorry, I know that I have left our heroines in a dreadfully cruel predicament. I'll write as fast as I can.
As always, thank you to everyone who is reading and reviewing. If you've been with this story from the beginning, you have my apologies for my painfully slow progress! If you're a new reader, you are very welcome and I hope you enjoy!