********

********

Foreword

********

This chapter is somewhat dedicated to a comatose drug addict. He was a

great person, a great bandmate, and above all else, a great friend. The

world was there to help him, but, like how all sob stories go, he pushed us

away. Many angry words were exchanged, wounds were dealt that would never

go away. I've known him for eleven years, ever since fourth grade. I told

him to get the hell out of my face, to never talk to me again.

Now, I only hope he lives to his next birthday.

Disclaimer: Everything associated with Sailor Moon is in no way, shape, or

form owned by me. I don't intend to make any money off of this; that's up

to the larger than life corporations out there. All that jazz about Sailor

Moon in tons of disclaimers out there apply.

email: doniswong@hotmail.com

Rating: R (cussing and illegal activities)

"Clean"

Chapter 5

A fanfic

by

Don

He's really down. Always gets this way when he comes back to the

palace. Can I really blame him? To travel all over the world, your hopes

leaping at every stop, then, to have it dashed like a ruined painting...

That's gotta suck.

"Cheer up, furball," I say, carefully sipping my coffee, "We'll find

her; you'll see."

"Right..."

Without another word, he curls up around his bowl of warm milk suddenly

very interested in the contour of the porcelain.

What else can I say to cheer him up? Absolutely nothing, that's what.

Minako is a friend to all of us, but she and Artemis, they share a special

bond. They're more than protege and teacher, mentor and charge: they're

family. Ever since the beginning, ever since those days in old England,

they've relied on each other for help and companionship.

Artemis to Sailor Venus is like Tom to Jerry, Donald Duck to Mickey

Mouse, Mamoru to Usagi - the unsung hero. Yes, I said unsung hero, but the

importance is by no means demoted: losing one is like breaking the spine of

the other.

I can relate to that... with all the close calls over the years, I've

sometimes wondered if Michiru and I would ever see each other again. And

you know something? That's the worst feeling a person can ever go through.

Death of a loved one, death of oneself - child's play compared to the

torture of the mind. To not know, to not have closure, to stand in one

place spinning around in circles speculating like a worried little nerd...

Yeah, I can relate to Artemis all too well. I know how the butterflies

flutter in his stomach, how every remote symbol of her sparks false hope,

how he thinks but cannot say a word about her fate, how he plasters his

face against the window waiting for a sign, any sign.

"I know," I whisper after finding the bottom of my cup, "Hang in

there."

Raising his tear soaked eyes, he glares at me with an expression

between annoyance and gratitude. He appreciates my help, but then again, he

has no use for my pity. Guess that's my cue to make a hasty exit, to give

him some time to think, time to forget about the rat races.

Besides, all this thinking has lured my thoughts back to Michiru; my

consciousness no longer resides in this room.

"Night furball."

He only grunts in recognition.

Halfway down the hall and about fifty feet from Michiru's office, I

hear the loud thump of a window closing.

Eh, must've been the wind coming and going.

**********

Everything is so quiet now, so calm and serene. I wonder how my world

could go from a topsy turvy spill to a rooted standstill. While the wounds

still sear and burn, they're not as painful anymore, not as big of a deal.

It's like a wild fire: having consumed all in its path, the only choice it

has is to simmer away, slowly but surely dying out.

I have nothing more to give, nothing more to burn. The ashes are all

that remain, ashes of hate, love, deceit, innocence. All that I've ever

cared about is gone, destroyed by four whole years of mistakes.

I can care no more. I've experienced life to the fullest, everything

from its highest mount to its lowest ocean floor...

In all of those places, I've tried to make my mark known, tried to make

things better for people, but again and again I always come back to the

question, "What's this life for?" If I cannot make the world better, if I

cannot be remembered, if I cannot even respect myself, why do I live?

That's right. I cannot live. That's why everything is so quiet now, so

calm and serene.

The only thing I hear is the hum of absolute silence.

It's a nice change of pace the silence, but when night falls, that's

when it becomes unbearable.

I get so scared... so, so scared. Each night when I fall into bed, I

lay silently awake, staring at every moving object, every glow in the dark.

My eyes dart between door and window, window and door, looking for an

excuse to throw myself from under the sheets. Each night I find a reason -

be it song of machine or yawn of self - to have my heart race like a little

hare.

I dare not close my eyes, tired or not. Midday my body feels light,

limp; midnight my nerves bristle with untold energy. Any second now, any

second now, and I all but wait for a sign, an omen.

Feet squirming, hands sweating, mouth drying, I hold myself down,

nailed to the mattress with godly fortitude. Quiet, much too quiet - I can

hear everything. Maybe that's the source of my fear: knowledge. No one

knows what happens at night, but I do. I have caught the spirits at work to

their evil, vile deeds. Lie around and the in-tune will hear of a

mind-grinding sound not unlike that of nails on chalkboard; they'll hear

that high pitched squeak which accompanies absolute silence.

Slow to succumb, I begin to twitch, first a muscle then a limb. I

fidget, squirm... squirm like a desperate animal in the clutches of its

hunter. I can't take it anymore... no more!

Desperately gasping for breath, I throw off the choking blanket and

back into a corner. My head touches the wall leaving a sweaty imprint on

the glistening paint.

The room is silent no more, its quietus shattered by my spastic heart

and ragged breathing. Ringing of solitary torture leaves me, hidden until

time once again. Ghosts of night's death retreat, off to haunt another

unlucky soul.

Tired... so tired, but sleep will not come, be it mortal or immortal.

Quiet... and so scared...

Without thinking twice, I lumber to the nightstand and reach out for

the little orange bottle with my trembling hand. The rattle reminiscent of

a child's toy beckons my ringing ears, beckons it with seductive chatter.

Slowly, I twist the lid open and dump the contents into my dry mouth.

Every pill feels like a stone in my throat. Every swallow tears at my

insides. Every capsule dirties my soul.

Then, it all goes away. Everything. The trembling. The squirming. The

sweating. The fear. The weariness. Even the silence.

Is this what heaven feels like? Nothing, and yet at the same time,

everything?

No one is here with me, but I don't feel alone. There is no sound, but

the hum of silence is no more. I like this. I like this so much I think I'm

going to go outside under the Hong Kong skyline and see how alone I can be.

As I exit the majestic confines of the hotel, I am assaulted by lights

of all shapes and sizes. Blobs of neon signs contort and spin around me

like planets. Noises from cars and foot traffic sound like heavy metal

songs, fast and furious. People bumping into me grow shorter, smaller, less

important; I tower over them like a giant. Meanwhile, my arms and legs

limber up becoming as light as feathers; I feel so graceful I think I'm

swimming, swimming in a sea of people.

I look down at these little men and laugh. Pathetic, aren't they?

Actually no, they aren't pathetic. If I - the one who is the oldest, the

most powerful, the most intelligent, and the most experienced - think

myself pathetic, what does that make them? I'm guess something below that.

So I laugh at them, watching them speed away in their cars, watching

them push and shove by. They fight the waves of time, trying to accumulate

enough of this so called happiness. They want to die in a queen's gown,

surrounded by family. None of them realize that they will die alone,

unloved, forsaken.

It happened a thousand years ago. It happened the thousand before that.

Their pathetic lives will continue to loop around this vicious mental

cycle...

... as will mine.

But I have an edge. While their lives end, mine doesn't. Death is

barred from entering my doors; he sits outside, tending to everyone else

but me. Meanwhile, I take comfort in not becoming worm food, because,

that's all we are - worm food. I will never lie in ground, cold and quiet.

I will always elude what I was fated to become. Quite an

accomplishment, no?

People start to stare at me. Grown men hustle by, sparing a boggled

look at me. Women give me a wider berth, pulling their children aside and

away while they try to tear their eyes off of me. The younger people? Some

laugh along with me, others walk by unoffended and unflinching.

Only I know the humor of the situation.

It's a cruel joke only I know, one only I can take pleasure in.

I laugh harder.

"What's so funny?" one of the younger people ask, one of the unoffended

and unflinching.

Amidst the barrage of people, planets, noise, and laughter, I notice

the young man rot before my eyes. His flesh falls away, slimy parasites

burrowing their way through his eye sockets. Bone - brown and brittle -

sees the light of day as his clothing atrophies into rags.

I look at my unblemished hand.

"What's so funny?!" the walking corpse repeats.

I put my hand on his shoulder bone and spit out through my hysterics,

"YOU!"

Unoffended and unflinching, he walks away.

The lights seem to darken now. The further and further I walk, a veil

of shadows falls faster and faster onto the land.

What time is it? Oh, what the hell; I lost track of time.

Shouldn't I be asleep right now? What is this? Since when did I set a

bedtime for myself?!

I'm scared. Oh grow up!

This is only a dark, lampless street populated by corpses... bony,

sickening, brownish corpses... and deadly... frightening...

... silence...

So alone all of a sudden - the bad kind of alone. My legs automatically

give way to flight, blazing down alleys of an undertaker's heaven.

Everything is unmoving, scaring me to new heights. I know I shouldn't be

alone, last I checked Hong Kong was suffering from over-population. What is

this feeling in me?! I don't want it!!!

Oh my God! I felt something on my arm! Rolling up my sleeves, I catch

sight of a worm crawling through my flesh. It snakes up to my shoulder and

rappels down my spine, caressing it with its slimy stomach. And there! On

my other arm! More and more of them appear out of nowhere, slithering

through my body!

In desperation, I slam myself against a wall. No good, they're still

there.

A chill strikes me. By natural reaction I curl up into a ball, trying

to keep warm. My breath freezes just as it leaves my mouth; I can reach up

and crack the icicles forming on my lips. Still the worms persist, never

leaving me.

I look down at my rotting hand and scream.

All around me... things all over me!!!

So cold... so dirty... so scared...

Suddenly, I fall and tumble down a steep incline. When I stop, I feel

no pain, only that slithering feeling. I yield to the sensation and sit

there, huddled up in a ball, tears falling onto my palms.

I tell myself I don't need them. I don't need those pills. I'm only

this way because I'm depressed. Surely depressed people feel sick to their

stomach, cold to the touch, and jumpy. Right? Yes, of course...

"Minako?"

Abruptly, I whip my head about, eyes still seeing all darkness... all

darkness but a single, illuminating point.

"Minako?"

That voice! It's so familiar yet so far off. It tugs at my heartstrings

and blares at my mind. It drips with concern, uncertainty, and above all

else, fear.

I hear a set of claws on gravel. The illuminating dot moves downward,

closer to me. The slight pitter patter of feline feet echo right next to me

as the voice tenderly repeats, "Minako? Are you alright?"

I weakly smile to myself.

"Furball..."

**********

W... Wha...? Where am I?

Carefully, I try to sit up but stabbing pain overcomes me. It's like a

thousand needles stuck onto you, like an acupuncture job gone bad. I grunt

at the sudden realization and fall back onto the... the... bed?

"Mina? Are you awake?"

Am I awake? Yes. Am I glad to be awake? "No."

A little paw comes screaming into my face, its fur making me sneeze.

Immediately, I begin running through the scenarios in my head.

Artemis is definitely here, but are the others?

I could be in Crystal Tokyo surrounded by my group of "friends..."

I could still be in Hong Kong, detained and chained by them...

Or it could just be Artemis and... and...

What better way to find out than to open my eyes? One by one, I peel

them open, a hazy film blinding them. For now, all I see are blobs of white

and yellow, the white blob moving slightly on its own accord. A blanket

covers me while a familiar weight rests upon my chest. Damn, why is it so

cold?

"Can you hear-"

"YES," I scream, the volume of my bellow inducing a massive headache.

For the next five minutes, everything is quiet except for my moans and

groans. It hurts - my heart, my arms, my legs, hell, my whole body - but

the greatest pain comes from the soul, from the anticipation of the moment.

What am I going to tell him? What am my going to tell them?

Unconsciously, I reach over to the nightstand.

"Looking for these?" asks Artemis, his arms saddling my orange medicine

bottle.

I blink a few more times, enough to fully focus myself on the situation

at hand. "Yeah," I mutter groggily, "Now give..."

Instead of handing it over, the little twerp leaps to the floor with

feline quickness. I follow, hauling my carcass off the bed. My legs give

out though, and I promptly kiss the carpeted floor of my hotel room.

"How the hell did I get back here?"

There's a sigh from some random direction. "You walked back here," he

replies, "You CARRIED me back here! Don't you remember?!"

Really? Interesting. "No. Now go away and give me my pills."

"Not until you tell me what they're for."

"They're for my headache," I spit at the no-good piece of shit cat,

"Hand them over!"

"No."

I isolate the sound - it's to my left - and get up, still staggering a

bit. I brush off the pain and sprint his way, aiming to haul him up by his

throat. No one - and I mean NO ONE - says no to me!

Wait a minute - where'd he go? I fly into the wall, smashing my middle

and index fingers, making a sizeable hole. Ah ha! Over there by the TV!

With another leap I snag, his fuzzy little tail.

"GOTCHA!"

He struggles under my grasp but soon gives up. Furball knows he won't

get away from me even if he tried. I expect a rattle my way - oh that

heavenly rattle - but it never comes. I open my eyes and see his white

behind sticking in my direction. He is motionless, still.

Getting up from the floor, I circle around to the front and bend down

to my knees. He gazes at me with reddened eyes - agitated from strain and

stress - and a pitiful face.

"I said 'Gotcha.' This is the part when you give up the goods."

Something slides down his furry checks; looks like tears. Removing his

stare, he curls into a ball and starts crying like a baby. Hmph, would you

look at that - a cat crying like a spoiled little brat.

Damnedest sight if I say so myself. If he's going to be this stubborn,

I might as well crack him open like a walnut: I'm getting pissed off at his

antics.

Before I bring my fist down on him, he pathetically whimpers, "Why?"

Why? Why what? Why did I leave him? Why did I leave Crystal Tokyo? Why

am I going to beat the living daylights out of him if he doesn't ease up?

Why what?

I'll assume it's why I left Crystal Tokyo; maybe that'll shut his

watering hole. Probably the million dollar question anyway. "Because THEY

make me sick-"

"No, no, no!!!"

Huh? With determined, somewhat saddened, eyes, the white blob recovers

from his fetal position and props himself up on all fours.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" he hisses, pointing at the goods,

"I could care less about what you think of me, the Senshi, and the world!

For all I care, you could hate us for our very existence! What I want to

know is why... Why are you fucking yourself over for some cheap high?!"

Because furball, "It makes me feel good. Makes me feel wanted." I yank

him up by the scruff of his neck and spit, "It's more than I can say for

the likes of you!"

"What did I do?!"

"What DIDN'T you do is more like it!"

My eye starts twitching in one of those bad ways. First there, then my

leg. No, it's not one of those quivering, earthquake sensations, more along

the lines of a minute muscle spasm that just won't go away. I ignore them

for now; there's a certain cat I need to deal with beforehand.

"Did you ever stop to think about me?" I ask, "My opinion, my

happiness, MY SELF meant nothing to you! I worked myself to the bone,

worked myself dead to please that girl you call queen! I gave my life to

that city-"

Damn!!! A bout of dizziness blind sides me, dropping both myself and

Artemis to the floor. The twitching only gets worse...

"... when... when will it be my time?" I gaze at my cat with all the

fury I can muster up. "It'll never be my time. That's why," with a point at

the pills, "a girl's got to dream... seems real enough..."

"You're killing yourself!"

"I'd rather kill myself than live a hollow life!"

It hurts again... My stomach is tying itself in knots. Can't see

straight anymore; so cold, I can't even feel the tips of my fingers. I let

a tear or two slide by, and no, it's not because I feel sorry or guilty -

my legs are cramped like the dickens. Add that to my vertigo and well...

you get the picture.

Just one... just one of them and it'll all go away...

Another frantic scramble later, I hear the bottle roll under the bed,

courtesy of that no-good-piece-of-shit. "Just give it up," I say, nearly

begging, "At least let me die thinking I'm happy... It's all I have

left..."

He shakes his head in anger. "All you have left?"

It's true, so I nod.

"What about me?! You're saying that's all you have left! Oh-la-di-da

Minako! What about me?! Forget all I have left! YOU," he shouts, leaping

onto my chest, "are all I EVER had!"

Liar! I swear, I won't listen to his desperate gibberish! He's trying

to make me feel-

"Think about it you selfish junkie! My life revolves around you! You

get the glory, the freedom, the desire to do whatever you want! Me? Oh, I'm

in charged of playing babysitter! That's all I've ever done and all I ever

will know how to do!"

NO! Lies, all lies!!! "You're trying to make me feel guilty!"

"As I should! No matter how much you want to deny it, other people

depend on you. If you're so dense you can't see that, then go on." He

strolls over to the bed and points under it. "Kill yourself! You don't

deserve to live! Being selfish is not a crime, but destroying other

people's lives is! Come on! Die like the pathetic sap you are! The Minako I

love died the night she ran away...

... I don't know what kind of sick trash sits in front of me."

That sniveling, fast-talking, manipulative- "Don't patronize me,

Artemis! Don't say you 'love' me! No one in the world ever did! They want

to use me, use my mind, my body, my soul. You - and that evil queen,

Serenity - are no exceptions!"

No exceptions... NONE OF THEM ARE!!! They aren't friends; no one is my

friend. My only friend sits in a plastic bottle under the bed, rattling...

rattling like a snake. Yes, my friend can cure me, comfort me like no one

else can. My friend can get rid of these shakes, this cold, the hate, my

life.

Muttering some dark phrases I couldn't understand, the cat saunters

away from me and heads to the door. "Bitter, selfish ingrate," he whispers

with a dangerous edge, "I went all over the world for you. Night and day I

sat by the window, wishing to everything held sacred that you were ok. I

came to Hong Kong as a goddamn stowaway! I cared for you, Minako; the

Senshi cared for you too. What could possibly change that except for your

own stupidity?!"

"My 'stupidity' is my salvation!"

"If you're so holy, why don't you tell that to God? Go on! Tell him how

you ran out on your friends! Tell him how you became a slithering coward

who sought comfort in some drug! Tell him how your friends care for you and

how you hate them! Tell him how you broke the soul of the being who cared

for you more than his own life!"

Stupid cat, he knows and he's mocking me! "You know I'm not going to

see God."

"Yeah," he nods, "That's because you're a selfish glutton-"

I'll finish that statement for you! "Because I'm a selfish glutton who

kills, right? A damned murderer who could've saved the world but didn't,

right?! A spineless, cowardly, dense whore who went along with the crowd

and doomed herself, right?!"

His eyes widen to epic proportions. His jaw drops to the floor. If you

ask me, he can stop the act now. He totally...

**********

... wasn't expecting this.

Calming my fried nerves, I manage to squeak out a hurried, "What?"

The day has already been a barrel of ups and downs. I don't think my

poor little brain can take much more of this... madness. Might be the drugs

talking and I prefer to keep myself thinking it's only that.

"You need help, Minako." Yeah, some professional help. Whatever she's

been doing for these few years has knocked more than a few screws loose.

Maybe I should leave; coming here was a mistake. For once, I genuinely

wish Haruka was with me; at least I wouldn't have these long silences to

deal with. Coming down to reality is hard, but I've got admit it - this

Minako doesn't want me around anymore.

"Bye," I gently sigh while turning around, "I'll leave you alone... for

good."

I'll be getting up from the roulette table now, with me a barrel of

good memories and ship-load of bad ones. Is this what closure feels like?

If it is, closure sucks. Whatever psyche-major thought that having a friend

kick you in the crotch felt good must've been some kind of sick

masochist... or on whatever drugs Minako is on.

After giving her a "This one's for the road" look, I pull open the door

and step out of her life forev-

"Wait," she begs, "don't go..."

Geez, please don't say that. Please just let me go! I can't stand being

this room for another second!

But my charge beckons me... and I can never say no to her no matter how

stupid she sounds.

Decisions, decisions, and a terrible palette of choices too. What's a

talking cat to do?

Huddling up into a ball, she buries her face in her arms and mumbles,

"Stay just a little longer... please?"

My legs move by themselves, plopping right in front of her. On closer

inspection, I see some fairly disturbing symptoms show up on her, stuff

like pale lips, uncontrollable shivering, and strange eye coloring. How

long has she been doing this stuff?

Too late to consider skipping out - I've committed myself to keep her

company... which wouldn't have been so bad if I knew her mood didn't go

from zero to homicidal in 2.2 seconds. I don't think my poor little heart

can take much more excitement.

Excitement which I know will inevitably come.

I'm sitting in a room with a Sailor Senshi in withdrawal: the situation

can't get anymore volatile. I only hope that she gets her marbles together

and starts talking rationally. Then, she can go back to the palace with me.

This time, I might not even have to be a stowaway on a cargo ship;

certainly don't want that ever again, the ride to Hong Kong was atrocious.

Like any good pet, I leap onto her shoulder and scrunch up against her

neck. Provides warmth and comfort, two things I know she lacks and needs.

For now, I forget about those previous, hallucinatory yet disturbing

moments; afterall, that's all they are, right? Hallucinations and

illusions.

She'll sound happier and more reasonable when whatever in her has

worked its way out... I hope.

Silently, I observe her through the corner of my eye. Amidst the

barrage of shakes and sighs, a faint smile cracks across her face, a

nostalgic smile. Can't help but give a toothy grin myself as I think back

to all the times we've shared together. At least, that's what I think the

smiles are for - the good memories.

Chuckling, I playfully nudge Minako with my paw, getting her attention.

"Remember all that fun we had when we were in England?" I ask, stifling

some giggles, "Those were the days, ne?"

"Hai," she replies, a wistful look dawning on her pale face, "When the

days were busy and the nights were filled with crooks and youma - I

remember that like it was yesterday..."

"We made the perfect team!"

"We were the dynamite ditzes!"

At the realization of her misquote, she breaks out in laughter. I

remember when she used to get those wrong all the time... Guess some habits

die hard. "You know," I mention, "It's dynamic duo."

"Baka," she says, pulling on my whiskers, "Of course I know!"

The uneasiness rises from our shoulders, a sort of mutual friendliness

remerging. Perhaps this is part of her mood swings, but it is, nonetheless,

a welcome change of pace. She reminds me of the person I want to see, of

the person I came here to find. She has opened up to me once again, and now

is time to take advantage of that.

I want her back. Everyone does.

If it takes my support to secure her return, then she's got it.

Afterall, what else are friends for?

"So... want to talk about it?"

**********

"So... want to talk about it?"

"Promise you won't take it too hard?" I ask, more for my sake than his.

He ogles me suspiciously but relents. Good, I need someone to talk

to... anybody. But Artemis? I don't know how smart that choice is, but who

else am I going find to have a heart-to-heart talk with? Who else is

willing to help me with my problems?

Only choice in a cramped situation. I need all this out of me, out of

me now!

The furball said he cared for me more than his life: let's hope he

delivers.

I think about it, about my four and a half years of life, about all the

change that's been happening. I left because of guilt, I hated because of

anger, I loved because of innocence, and I ran because of pain. Everywhere

I go, pain follows... either pain or cavalier stupidity which eventually

leads to pain. I have no place, no home.

I have nothing, but yet, I want to talk about everything.

So hard to put into words but I'll give it a try.

"Artemis, do you know what it feels like to kill?"

A shudder erupts from his body. "No, and I'm glad!"

Really? Maybe I should enlighten him.

"You feel so powerful when you have another person's life utterly in

your hands. As he turns and gazes into your eyes for one last time, there's

a sense of God that flows through you, a sense of-"

"I get the picture," he rudely interrupts, "You-"

"Hey! Just let me finish, ok?!"

That shut him up real nice. Alright, where was I?

Ahhh, now I remember. "You get a sense of superiority and omnipotence.

And then... then it all goes away when the life disappears. You don't feel

godly anymore, you feel dirty and wrong. You finally realize that the price

for that ultimate, God-like emotion is eternal guilt and damnation. Then,

you have two choices: seek the thrill again or be thrown into despair."

A sickened expression accompanies my words. Artemis nearly doubles over

with disgust. "What... in... hell... DOES THIS HAVE TO DO WITH YOU?!"

"Don't you see?" My God, he is blind and stupid! "That tension between

ecstasy and damnation is my life! It's the lives of those around me!"

A long pause, then, "How?"

I throw up my hands in exasperation, thereby launching the white

furball off my shoulder. I wait for him to gather his bearings before going

on.

He needs to hear this. ALL of this.

Wisely, I close my eyes so his unwavering gaze won't disturb my

thoughts. "Back... back in Tokyo..." Damn! Drudging up more unwanted

memories! "There was war; somehow, even though I was scared and sick, I

never felt more at home than on a corpse ridden battlefield. I had a sense

of... of..." What was it? Self-worth? "... of accomplishment. I didn't like

it, but I belonged. I didn't like where I belonged-"

"So you left?"

No... though now I wish it was. Less problems that way. "No. I stayed,

but it was after the Purging that I decided to go. I felt so dirty after

that..."

Artemis puts his paws over his head and groans, apparently something in

him stirring to life. "I've been down this road before," he laments, "and

every time it's the same..."

I twitch a little, my mind blaring at me to close off my ears so I

won't hear his false words. I want to comply, but curiosity allows me to

remain open. After a moment's hesitation, "Go on..."

"You did what you had to do."

"Says who?!"

"Says me!" We glare at each other, unsaid words of hostility brewing

like they were housed in a witch's cauldron. "You never knew the

consequences of your actions! Yes, I admit it was a mistake, but under the

circumstances, what else could you do?!"

"We had other choices!"

"Like what? Huh, Minako, tell me: like what? People were battering down

the doors, our own troops were turning traitor, and we had a city to

defend! I don't know if you remember, but a little issue called

self-preservation was a big deal at the time!"

Fool! "We don't deserve to live - let alone rule - if we're no better

than our enemies! We killed everyone! Till years on end, walking corpses

will litter the streets of Crystal Tokyo because of what we did in our

selfish grab for power!"

"No, we're better than our enemies..."

And just how, praytell?

Anticipating my question, he launches into the response. "Minako, we

can learn from our mistakes. When there is a will, there is a way. The will

to do good is there-"

Like hell it is!

"- and we will find a way."

"And whose words were those, Artemis? It definitely didn't come from

the power hungry mongrels I used to know!"

"Don't hate them for what they did. You were part of it, you of all

people should understand the reasoning behind the actions! Have faith in

your friends - they will finish what they started and make everything

right..."

I don't believe him. I don't believe his story. I don't believe the

Senshi have the desire to correct their error. I don't believe he knows how

it feels to have agonizing screams of dead men haunting your dreams.

I don't believe that they are my friends... not anymore.

"Get out," I mutter under my breath.

"What?!"

I said, "Get out!"

The cat doesn't know anything! If he did, he would feel my pain and at

the very least try to rectify the wrongs! He would see the tension of death

in my life, how I separate myself from those bloodied whores with my pain.

They kill and they don't know; they continue like nothing happened. I

wouldn't mind so much if they proceeded down their road of damnation, but

to kidnap me along with them?

I am this way because of them.

No friend would treat another friend this way. No friend would drag

another friend down their path of darkness.

I won't hear anymore! I can't stand it!!!

"You're in denial, Minako."

"I am not!"

A sudden, absolutely confident edge graces his voice. "You ARE in

denial! This isn't about pain or guilt: this is about your selfish desire

to push all the blame away!"

"Who can blame me?! I'm another victim!"

Lies! All of him just lies!

"You can't live with the knowledge of your deeds - I'll give you that -

but what makes it even worse is you can't accept that people can change,

people can go back and correct mistakes! You don't want to hear about the

present: you want the past because it's comfortable hating your friends!

Blaming is so much easier than forgiving!"

"And I blame for a good reason!"

"NO! You blame because you are a damned coward! You of all people

should know that blaming does nothing! If your life is so bad because of

them, why don't you tell them yourself?!"

.............

"No response, eh?" He walks up to my slumped figure and pierces through

me with his steely eyes. I shiver at the sensation. "You don't have the

courage to tell them. You're afraid they'll change and then you'll have to

love them again. You're afraid of having them for your friends, for your

family! Just stop being stupid; wake up and smell the roses! The world is

here to help you, but you're pushing us away."

I... I... "I don't want your help."

"But your every action screams for help! You may not want it, but you

sure need it." Hopping a tad closer, Artemis puts a paw on my leg in an

attempt to comfort me. "Come back and we'll make it right. Change comes

from one foolish heart, and believe me, they'll listen to your foolish

heart."

"They... they'll listen?"

"Hai," he nods, "They still love you, love you like a sister. Like I

said, what they think of you will never change unless you change it for

them..."

Friends... Family... They've been that to me for so long, but can I go

back? Should I risk the pain of going back for the comfort it might bring?

Should I stay where I am? Should I even believe Artemis?

It sounds so tempting and alluring and somehow - some twisted way -

right. I feel like I owe them that much: a chance at redemption in my eyes.

But like always, there are complications - many complications. I still hate

them, hate them so very much for the hurt they caused me, but like Artemis

said, am I the one at fault or are they?

I've thought one way so long, but now, I don't know if I was right.

Before today, everything was clear: I was right, they were wrong. Why do I

have a change of heart? Really, I don't know. How come I can I hate them so

one minute then the next question myself? The furball has something to do

with it; I guess it's the impact of having somebody from the past catch up

to you. He... he... doesn't seem to have changed very much, and in truth,

that scares me.

It scares me because it says I might have been wrong. It scares me

because it says I might have been the one who changed.

Is there another layer all of this? Is there a reason for me to go

back?

Do I want to?

Wherever I go, my world turns upside down. Are they the answer? Am I

suppose to confront what I've been eluding? Many people have found closure

and peace by facing their worst nightmare...

... but then, how many more have been crushed under the nightmare's

weight?

Am I going to return, finding not a thing touched, no actions taken?

A part of me screams for validation, but another part screams for

companionship. I've had years alone to think, but I have no answers. I've

had years to be alone, and when I was truly alone, I hated it. I need

something to hold on to...

And now I wonder if I foolishly threw it away along my trip of life.

"Give them a chance," he begs, "At least for me?"

"Maybe," I say, "Maybe..."

***********

The thunder of waves crashing against the ocean sound are drowned by

modern life. Noise pollution disrupts most thoughts, droning on and on like

the Volga Boat Song, making the inhabitants toil to a set beat.

She doesn't seem to care though; if anything, she welcomes the noise. I

see it in the way she reaches out to the waves, grinning from ear to ear.

Part of me wonders why, but I don't care anymore; the results are what

count. Maybe for once, she feels somewhat relieved; afterall, I gave her a

chance at redemption.

Well, not really a chance, more like a push.

But isn't that what friends are for?

"Minako," I ask gazing at her in all seriousness, "Did you really mean

what you said back there?"

Sighing, she absent-mindedly pets me on the head, trying to avoid the

question. In all honesty, I really don't want to know, but it bothers me,

enough to rattle my cage. Guess this is another one of those "curiosity

killed the cat" scenarios except the cat hasn't been killed yet... and I

much rather it remain that way.

"Maybe," she replies, "It's so clear and at the same time so

confusing... I don't know what to say to you and them."

"That part about being a spineless, cowardly, dense whore-"

"Yeah? What about it?"

I cutely nudge her in the stomach with my head. "It's not true."

A sad smile comes across her face. "Thanks furball."

We sit around the docks for a while, passing the time by, not thinking

of anything in particular. As the sun moves off into the horizon, it covers

the entire Hong Kong island in red. A cool breeze blows by, accompanying

the dawning night in perfect harmony.

Shivering from the slight cold, I huddle closer to Minako for the body

heat.

"Are you ready?"

She looks at me with the weirdest expression. "Ready for what?"

"To go back to Tokyo with me. What? You think I'm going to hitch a ride

in some cramped package again?"

Silence.

Setting me down, she turns her back and says, "I'm not going back."

"Yes you are!"

"No I'm not," she gently rebuts. "I'll go back when I'm ready..."

And, ahem, "When exactly is ready?"

"When I'm at peace with myself... real peace, not momentary bravery."

But that still begs the question, "And when will that be?"

"When I know what to tell them and what to tell myself."

So all my efforts are for naught? I've put my heart and soul on the

line only to come up with a pathetic "Maybe"?! What else does she want?!

What else can't she see?!

"Stop being such a moron!" I shout at the top of my lungs, "You won't

accomplish anything by running! Haven't you learned that lesson after

living a life of nothingness for almost five years?! Take a hint: you're

wasting away and I'm trying to help you stop doing that!"

She steps away from me and nods sadly. She knows I'm right and she's

wrong, she just has to. I won't let her throw her life away, not again. One

of these days, no one is going to be there for her and she's going to kill

herself in every way possible: that's just how she is.

Minako, for better or for worse, is a slave to her heart.

***********

He's right. I have nothing else to say to him that'll seem reasonable.

The only reason why I'm not going back is because of a gut feeling, an

unexplainable repulsion. I need to know myself, I need to know the

unknowable before I can have peace.

I'm one of those stupid people. I'm one of those idiots who rather be

informed than happy. What's the use of happiness if it is fake? But then

again, what's the use of knowledge if it comes at the cost of happiness?

We all die; whether we die knowing or not shouldn't matter...

But for me, it does.

I... I... I guess it's, "Goodbye Artemis."

"Minako," he growls menacingly, "Don't you dare run away from me."

Sorry furball... I really, truly, and always will be, "Sorry." You're

the only person to ever ask if I was alright. You're the only person to

ever care.

"I'm sorry for all those things I said back there. Please," I beg,

tears free-flowing from my eyes, "Don't make this harder than it already

is."

I stuff my hands into my jacket pocket, turn away, and walk. He stays

where he is.

"Fine!" he screams, "FINE! Just remember, Minako, don't blame them!

Don't blame me! They did nothing wrong: you're the one who painted it that

way! If you're going to hate them, break away! Take a thousand years of

existence, spit on it, and shove it back in their faces! Don't stir up the

ranks! If you're going to be a damned fool, get a clean break so when you

die, your blood won't be on their hands!"

I continue farther and farther away. His voice grows dimmer, but every

word still hurts. Every word burns and maims like acid that just won't go

away.

At least I know I have something to live for; I know that because I can

still be hurt. The wild fire of these past years hasn't destroyed

everything.

"Do you hear me?! Go away! Get out of our lives! If you think the world

sucks this much, go die! And when you do breath your last breath, know that

you did it to yourself, not me!!! No... not me..."

So far away now; I can barely hear. Think he's stopped yelling by

now... think he's had enough... The only thing I can make out at this

distance is a bunch of sobs - tear-jerking, heart-wrenching sobs. I want to

go back. I want to make him know how I feel. I want to make him

understand...

But then, this wouldn't be a clean break.

Something rattles around in my jacket pocket - didn't even realize it

was there till now. I take it out and see, see it's a little orange

bottle with two white pills inside. What I wouldn't give for that sensation

right now. What I wouldn't give to forget all this pain in one swallow.

What I wouldn't give to drown out Artemis' sorrow.

What I wouldn't give indeed...

With a swift throw, I launch the rattling snake into the sea, down into

the thundering waves below. I know what I wouldn't give for that feeling:

My heart.

It's time to wake from my quiet slumber.

**************

Author's Notes

**************

Friends will be friends. No matter what we say to each other, deep down

inside, we always will care. Sometimes, it takes a life threatening

situation to see how many friends a person has. However, after seeing what

I've seen, I'd never want to have all my friends crying in a room talking

about the "good old days." I'd rather have them care and not say a word

about it. Being hung between life and death is never fun... even if your

friends are with you.

12/00

-Don.