Disclaimer:

Sailor Moon and the characters do not belong to me and all other standard disclaimers apply.

Love does not die easily.
It is a living thing.
It thrives in the face
Of all life's hazards,
Save one—neglect.
— James Bryden —

She was alone in the dark, unable to breathe. Something was pressed tightly against her chest, but when she reached to push it back, she found nothing but empty air. Gasping and blinking rapidly, she fought the tears and the razor-sharp edge of it and forced herself to believe.

And quite suddenly, something remote touched her Soul. Startled, she paused all her struggles for a moment—would she go back to the other side, to the other darkness? It was cold and lonely on the other side, too. On the other side, there would be unbearable pain. Her lungs ached and she could not think clearly. The blackness before her swam in her eyes and she started pushing against it again. The thing was pressed too tightly against her. She was choking.

An interminable amount of time later, she felt that touch against her Soul again but did not pause in her diligent efforts to remove the pressure from her chest. She still could not breathe, but it was better now, though whether it was her lungs getting used to it or the effort of her pushing, she could not tell.

The other side was cold too. And unbearably lonely. At least here, she had the blessed blackness surrounding her. On the other side, there was nothing…only darkness that was neither companion nor enemy.

Bunny…

Startled for a second time, she temporarily ceased her movements and listened intently to the silence. No. It had to be her imagination. There was nothing but coldness and loneliness on the other side. And the thing was choking her. Renewing her efforts at trying to push the thing again, she missed another whispered murmur, another soft touch.

Sweetheart…

No. No. No tears. No tears. No. No tears.

Fighting harder, the razor-sharp edge of it pressing against her, she threw all herself into trying to push it away. The other side was dark and lonely. The other side held unbearable pain.

Sweetheart…

No. No more. No tears.

It was dark when she felt consciousness. A lone candle cast a dim glow around her chamber, and she could feel the material of a crisp, clean shirt bunched in her hands and under her nose. She inhaled the unmistakable scent and wavered.

Perhaps the other side was better.

To ascertain the fact, she forced her eyes to open. In her arms lay the man she loved with all her heart and Soul…and a wave of emotion rolled up in her.

Endy…

He looked tired and worn. He looked haggard. A stubble had started growing and on his forehead she could read the lines of worry and concern and Soul-deep love.

Hesitating, she brushed her fingers across his chin and felt a thrill as the stubble tickled her skin. The feel of his body curved protectively over hers was comforting and sweet and recalled memories of another place and time: that once, when he'd come back a day early from town and surprised her with a trinket; or the other time, while she was planting sweet pea in the mist of an early morning, he had come out from his accounting, took the tools away, and, ignoring her weak protests, swept her upstairs back to the bedroom…

He stirred and, panicking, she realized that it would end soon, this little paradise of hers. The reality was far harsher. No. No. This little paradise was all that she had left. All. Everything.

His eyes were deeply blue and entranced her. Enthralled, she felt that touch again and realized that it was her husband's. Soft and light, tender as a butterfly, she returned the caress, surprised and pleased. This little paradise of hers would last a little longer, and she would ask for no more.

Hungry? came his murmured question.

Yes, she answered breathlessly. Yes, but it won't be a problem. I'm fine. Really.

When he began to untangle himself from the tangle of limbs and Souls, she panicked again. No. No. Her little paradise could not end so soon. Not yet. Not yet. She was not ready. Her hands tightened around his and she murmured for him to stay.

Really, Endy. I'm fine. She assured him with a small smile, though it faded when he did not answer. Instead, as he settled back against her, his body was tense, unlike the warm and comfortable cocoon just a moment ago.

Silence descended upon them, the kind of silence she had never known with him, the kind of silence she despised. Not sure what to say—what she could say—Serena burrowed closer to him and took a deep breath of his musky scent again.

She could hear the clock ticking away and swallowed. Hungry and tired, she didn't want to chase him away with a declaration of love, as she was sure by now that he would not care for such a declaration. He did not relax as the minutes passed, and she felt even awkward in wishing to kiss him.

The silence lengthened. Her nerves, already frayed enough, finally succumbed to sleep.

"Endymion?"

"We have to wait," he said calmly, sweeping his eyes across the Conference Room.

His generals and the Sentinels looked at him with surprise. Ever since he came back, the King has been acting strangely. His military strategies, however unpredictable and deceptive before, became plainly bizarre. Even Andrew, who'd been his right-hand man since childhood, could not fathom his lord's moves.

"Wait, my lord?" Artemis ventured carefully.

"Yes." He pushed himself from the chair. "We need to wait and trick the enemy into believing that it'd be easy to capture us." The glances that they exchanged did not escape his notice, but he paid no heed. At this point, he could no longer explain his motives to his friends and comrades anymore. Every step he'd taken had made his mission impossibly more complicated and dangerous and—well, more delicate.

No one voiced the universal thought that they would be very easily captured if they didn't put up a stand. But Endymion was known for his unrivaled skills, and if he said so, they would do so.

"Keep me updated," the King said, and passed out of the room.

Mina sighed and hunched over, rubbing her eyes and leaning against her husband. "I don't understand that man at all. One minute he's fighting to his death trying to stall the enemy, and the next, he's waiting for the enemy to come and get us all."

"I trust him," Andrew spoke softly. "I don't understand his moves, but I trust him, and I will trust him to pull us through."

There was murmured agreement around the chamber, followed by a tired silence. Then, Luna raised her voice and asked, "And the Queen? Is she all right? Has she been consulted?"

"Probably not," Raye sighed. "Endymion keeps to himself most of these days. He'd rather that she knows nothing of these so-called details and concentrate solely on the Crystal. He even cancelled some of her state functions…"

"Knowing Endymion, he's probably on his way back to her," Greg shrugged.

Luna said nothing and turned away. To Artemis, she looked completely unconvinced…but they were not free to tell. That had been the price.

The door opened again to admit Serenity, in her full regalia. Amy and Luna rushed forward, for she seemed to wobble and waver against the door. She gave them a tremulous smile, meant to reassure, although it worried everyone present even more.

"I am going to the docks and then the Square," she said, her voice soft with fatigue.

Shocked, Andrew burst out: "But Endymion has already cancelled those!"

She blinked and frowned. "What?"

"Endymion cancelled all your state appearances for the week," Andrew said. "You mean to say you don't know this?"

"No!" She pushed herself to her feet quickly. "He has no jurisdiction whatsoever to do that!"

"We—we assumed that he'd spoken to you and consulted with you."

"Well, he didn't," she drew herself up to her full height. "I'll speak to him. Do you know where he is at the moment?"

Another blast of shock. "You—don't know?" Mina murmured.

Serenity frowned even harder. "No, I don't. He has been gone since early this morning."

"We—assumed that he's been with you the entire day, except when he came here for the schematics…"

The Queen blanched visibly, turning a sickly shade of white, and wobbled again. Amy and Luna came to the rescue, supporting her slight weight, as she gasped for breath. The roomful exchanged a quick glance and agreed silently that the Queen should be put back to bed immediately. Any repercussions of the cancellation of her state appearances could be dealt with later.

"Come, my lady," Luna said softly, "come."

The dreaded thought circled silently in the great Conference Room and bounced back and forth between the marble floor and table and ceiling and walls. Finally, Chad looked up and rubbed his forehead.

"They can't be—having problems." He paused and added uncertainly: "Can they?"

Luna and Artemis said nothing.

"But from the looks of it…" Andrew trailed off and sighed. "Not them! If they fail, we have no future to save."

"Well, Endymion is probably only trying to protect her," Raye concluded reasonably. "And Serenity's been asleep for most of this time. The Crystal has strained her greatly. Besides, she's stubborn as a mule, just like him, and she doesn't like him meddling in her affairs—mostly because she's possessed of this fear that he would be hurt in some way."

The roomful agreed. It was a logical enough explanation to their odd behaviors.

The silence in her chambers was deafening. He was not coming back soon. Obviously. In fact, he was not coming back at all. There would be no more nights of warmth in his arms, no more nights of passion and love and comfort and all things that had come from him before.

Suddenly she had the ridiculous urge to get out of bed, leave this godforsaken room, and find somewhere else to lay down her head. She was so tired. Simply so tired…

He had no right—nor authority—to meddle with her affairs. She had not wanted to worry her people even more, and now that he'd cancelled all her appearances—

Turning on her side with irritation, she looked across the room at the fireplace. Luna had put out the fire and the embers were slowly turning to gray ashes. The sight did not cheer her at all. Sighing, she let her eyes wander and came upon the large portrait she had insisted to hang above the mantelpiece—

She swore that she would have the monstrous thing removed as soon as possible. In fact, she would wake up tomorrow, refresh herself a little, don her gown, and have a servant take the portrait away and throw it out.

Annoyed at herself now, she turned on her side once again and closed her eyes stubbornly. She needed to have some rest if she were to spend another day with the Crystal.

His scent invaded her senses. She swore. Of course he'd been there earlier in the day—last night—but his musky sense had lingered on the pillow and between the sheets and on her mind.

No. She had promised herself no more tears when she came back.

But as she could no longer control her traitorous body, and great sobs racked her as her emotional turmoil finally won over her tenacious will.

Now that he no longer cared…oh Gods, had he ever? Perhaps she should never have succumbed to his magic in the first place—if she hadn't, there would have been no war to fight, and her parents and Sam would still have been alive and quite well, and—

Damn it all! Why did she have to fall for him? Why? What had she done wrong? Where exactly along the line had he stopped to care? She still remembered that last night on Earth…had it started then? Had it started before that night? No; it must have been the Witch. The Witch! She made him bend, like no one else could. She had destroyed him and bent him to her will— Damn that Witch!

She'd hoped so desperately to save him and herself—oh if only she had been more careful and more persistent, perhaps it would've turned out differently. If she'd tried harder—

"I love you, Endy," she tested the words on her tongue. Somehow the words fell flat…the recipient was not here; the recipient had left her to her pain and grief and agony—

And suddenly, she grew conscious of a soft warmth.

Endymion?

No. Impossible. He no longer cared for her.

Confused, Serenity sat up and cast about for the candles and the lighter. When she could not find them, she snapped her fingers in the direction of the fireplace and looked about her room as the fire roared to life and danced.

Of course Endymion wasn't here.

The exhaustion of the day caught up with her again. She was tired. She wanted to sleep forever—if sleep would come, for she was certain that it would not. She was familiar with the restless nights filled with doubts and hurt and anger and the sense that she had not been able to make him love her. On those nights, sleep refused to come, refused to—

Is that…?

Looking at herself in the mirror made her cringe. Her face was extraordinarily pale, even in the dancing light of the fire, and had grown very gaunt in the past weeks. Lifting her hands to inspection, she realized that she could now see her veins protruding through the skin. And her eyes! So dark and bottomless and wet—and her—

The warmth nagged on her consciousness and spread. It was both comforting and disconcerting. Where…? Oh, from herself. From her belly.

Frowning, curious now more than disconcerted, she touched her stomach gingerly and remembered all the times when he'd caressed her there with tenderness and love—

No. No more tears.

And the realization struck her as lightning strikes a forlorn tree—

Gasping, she blindly reached for the chair as she tried not to crumble. Why now? Why now, when everything had gone so wrong, when she had blundered so badly and there was no hope of ever salvaging the love she'd given her Soul to—

"No!" she gave a startled gasp. "No." Looking into the mirror again, she noticed that some color was coming back to her cheeks.

No. One Endymion will not destroy her.

She will be brave. If only for her children.

No more tears.

"It's not perfect, but it'll work," Amy said and sat back, sighing in relief.

"Wonderful," Endymion said, as he skimmed through the programs. As she said, it was not perfect; but it'd do, and that was all he could ask for at the moment. "Thank you, Amy."

"Any time. I'll give you the improvements as they come."

"Take tonight to rest, Amy; I'm sure you haven't slept in a long time." The King made for the door.

"Yes," Amy nodded, rubbing her temples. "I feel strangely old. Endymion, do you know where Greg is?" she asked just as he was passing out of the door.

He paused and turned. "In the control room as always, I believe." A tight smile came to his face as he looked upon the blue-haired Sentinel. "I hope you'll remind him that he needs to keep his sword sharp."

Amy stilled and looked closely at the King. "And to the others?" she asked.

The King briefly smiled. "No. We have not yet arrived at that stage yet."

And saying so, the King left a shocked Sentinel behind.

"Luna?"

"Yes, my lady?"

The woman was caught off-guard when the Queen raised her tear-stained face. Astonished, Luna reached across the small table, firmly grasping the Queen's hand. "My lady, what's wrong?"

She had thought that the Queen was meditating—for only meditation now seemed to help and calm her. That, or she was trying to work with the Crystal. Either way, Luna had been content to make the Darjeeling tea, sitting across the table from the Queen. She hadn't thought it possible that Serena was weeping—and for what, she could more than speculate.

"I think—I'm afraid I don't feel up to it," the Queen said, slowly.

"Up to what, my lady?"

Serena's eyes were blue, dark with conflicts and wet with tears. "This war. I—" turning her face away, she swallowed and hesitated on naming her anguish and her emotions. After all, it was not everyday that she aired her dirty laundry—so to speak—although she'd never had any dirty laundry to air.

However, it was not everyday that she was questioning herself and her husband's love.

As that thought crossed her mind, she resolved to confide in Luna, who was the most likely of all to understand her.

"Luna, you will not think me imprudent if I were to—"

"Of course not," Luna said shortly, squeezing Serena's hand with a patient smile. "Nothing you say or do, my lady, is imprudent in my eyes."

"Thank you, Luna," she murmured with a renewed sense of hope. Perhaps…she could salvage this yet. "I—that is, my husband and I have been—have been…" here she faltered and she frowned as she tried to find the right word. "We have been… It has been difficult between us," she said at last, pleased for once that she had not completely lost her sense.

"How so?"

Surprised that Luna was not surprised, Serena shot her a startled glance—ah, but of course. Out of all the others here, Luna was the most likely to know if anything were amiss, for she, more than anyone else, had witnessed and known the love that she had shared with her husband.

"It's not a surprise to you then?" she questioned softly, with a sardonic twist of her lips as she answered her own question: "Of course not. It has been more than difficult between the two of us, Luna. He has… That is, I think he has reconsidered his—his affection for me—"

"One does not simply 'reconsider' one's love for one's spouse," Luna cut in, a tad sharper than she'd intended, and she softened her voice and gave the Queen a smile. "Especially my lord Endymion. I know him, my lady—but you of course know him and understand him much more than I do. Why would he reconsider his love for you, my lady?"

"I—" her voice failed her and she tried once again to voice her anguish. "I have been very…troublesome, I think. And I have been acting strangely, and I think it's brought on by the child that I carry."

Luna's eyes widened perceptibly. "A child, did you say?" she felt faint all of a sudden and gripped the Queen's hand again.

"I think that I carry twins," Serena explained, feeling strained. "A boy and a little girl." A smile graced her face. "I remember the moment that I realized that their lives lived in me, just this past week—it was a glorious moment," her face brightened as she remembered, too, that last night on Earth, when they'd made these two children—when she'd taken and given endless pleasure—

"And my lord, does he know?"

Her face fell. Her husband—it was unlikely that he would want to know now of such things. "I have not yet told anyone," she said, her voice tremulous. "I don't believe Endymion will care for such things."

"Not care for such things?" suddenly Luna seized the Queen's arms with a passion. "He is your husband! It is his children that you carry—it is two lives that you have created together—of course he will care for such things! My lady, go to him at once to tell him—he will be overjoyed! Leto—why, my lord has been in such dreadful spirits since little Leto—" and perhaps it was the way to pull Endymion back; it was not too late yet. Anything was worth a try at this point.

"Do you really think so?" Serena asked, excited, as she looked in Luna's face.

"I don't see why he will not be overjoyed," she said, sitting back in her cushion with a smile. "Any man would be, seeing as his wife is carrying his children again."

And, remembering his reaction when she'd told him she carried Leto, remembering that fierce joy and fierce vow of love and protection in the small tent in that war camp— "He will be overjoyed," she murmured, her voice gaining strength. "I will seek him out at once—I cannot keep this any longer from him—"

"As soon as you drink your tea, my lady," Luna said with a laugh. "I think he can wait a few minutes, don't you, my lady?"

It did not escape Luna's attention that the Queen did not seem to think of their mind-speaking abilities, nor did it escape her perceptive eyes that the Queen had lingered long after the tea—and into the dark hours of the night. By then, it was too late to seek him out, and before Luna left, she once again urged the Queen to inform him as soon as possible.

The Queen had, upon the threshold of slumber, murmured a promise and drifted off. Luna then cleared the cups and the tarts from the small table, deciding that she would not worry Artemis further with news of impending disaster.

The Queen had a liking for Darjeeling, but it was a flavored tea of light strength, so Luna decided that she would bring a blend of second flush Assam mixed with a little nutmeg, some herbs, and a dash of vanilla—the Queen also had an immense love of vanilla. The tea, Luna was sure, would provide enough strength and warm enough blood that the Queen seek out her husband.

And after that?

She could only hope that their love holds.

The restless dreams returned with a vengeance as she glimpsed the abyss, the chasm that she was not sure how to cross.

The soft melody haunted her mind. She had given him the locket so long ago; whatever became of it?

In her dreams, she saw clearly the man she had fallen for—the man she loved still. That lock of hair that always refused to stay—that endearing smile, those deep blue eyes that could enthrall her for hours on end—those lips, soft and tender, as they trailed over her skin and lit her on fire—his arms, the place she'd always considered her shelter and her home—

Oh, she could never give him up; she could never let him go.

It was silent and dark here. The workers had all gone home to their loved ones—to say goodbye, to spend the last moments with them—to do whatever they needed to do to keep going.

And he was alone here, sipping on the first container of the first liquid he'd come upon in the kitchen. The cook was quite surprised to see him there, but as she'd been nodding off to sleep anyway, he did not pause to compliment her on the soup at supper.

Tea. Darjeeling with a hint of vanilla and a whiff of rose.

His wife.

Annoyed with himself, he pushed the teapot away. Everything would remind him of her. Absolutely everything! The tea, the rustle of a skirt, the taste of that soup, and, Heaven forbid, that ship in the corner—

Disgusted, he pushed himself to his feet and began to walk down the dock, reaching into himself and feeling the energy that pulsed there.

As Amy had said, it wasn't perfect; but it would do. It would be sufficient.

Or so he hoped.

Shivering now, he looked into the sky and the blue sphere hanging there and firmed his resolve. He swore that one day, he would chase after his children in the garden his wife would cultivate and nurture on that blue planet.

Gods, even that blue sphere reminded him of her. Her beautiful blue eyes, in fact.

Swearing softly underneath his breath, he picked up the teapot and quickly made toward the palace once again.