REUNION
Chapter 3: "The Sun In Mourning"
By Bill K.
"I got here as soon as I could!" gasped Minako as she raced out
of the elevator and down the hall. Ami, Rei and Makoto were gathered
in the reception area for a floor of hospital rooms. Minako could
tell instantly that the worst had happened.
"This is as soon as you could?" Rei replied, her voice filled
with reproach.
"They didn't give me the message until AFTER taping was
finished!" Minako snapped back. "Blame my producer!" She turned to
Ami fearfully. "What happened?"
Ami found she couldn't look Minako in the face, just like she
couldn't look at Rei and Makoto earlier. Her eyes sought the floor.
"Usagi miscarried," Ami whispered.
"What?" Minako asked. Rei and Makoto could tell she was
desperately praying that she'd misheard. "How? Was she in some
accident or . . ."
"We were having dinner. She seemed fine. Then she lost her
appetite and noticed some abdominal cramping. When she got into the
exam room, they found some vaginal bleeding. The fetus was already
dead."
Absently Minako sat down on the nearby sofa. She stared at the
floor without seeing. Rei heard the elevator open and turned.
Sanjuro came out and instantly Makoto went to him. She buried her
face on his shoulder, since she was two inches taller than he was,
and began crying. Ami sat down next to Minako and put her arm around
her friend.
"She ought to be glad," murmured Minako. "Who the Hell wants
kids around anyway? They cry all night and mess their diapers and
get into things. Their hands are always sticky and their faces
always need washed and . . . and . . .!" Unable to continue, Minako
collapsed against Ami, sobbing pitifully. "Why, Ami? How does
something like this happen?"
"The most likely cause," mumbled Ami vacantly, "is
non-reoccurring chromosomal abnormality. Cells don't divide
properly, or gene strings form with too few or too many chromosomes,
and the embryo doesn't grow properly. It reaches a certain point and
can't grow any further, so it - - stops." Ami seemed like she was
reciting text for one of her medical classes. "It's a significant
cause of first trimester embryonic dysfunction. Or it could have
been from toxoplasmosis, or a dozen different bacterial infections.
Perhaps Transient Hormonal Deficiency might . . ."
"OH, SCREW ALL THAT!" raged Minako through her tears. "Why
her? Why now?"
"Why anybody?" Ami whispered and hugged her friend tighter.
Minako clung to her, sobbing on her shoulder.
Feeling her own eyes watering again, Rei silently eased away
and went down the hall to Usagi's room. Without making a noise, she
opened the door a crack and nervously peeked in. Mamoru was still
sitting by Usagi's bedside as she slept. Rei felt her heart break
again, watching Mamoru clutching his own grief with both hands to
hold it inside him so he could be there for her. She looked to
Usagi. Did she know yet? How would she take it? Then Usagi's eyes
opened and the fragile young woman focused on Mamoru's face. For
several tense moments, no words were spoken.
"Kousagi's dead," Usagi whispered, almost apologetically.
"I know," Mamoru said, covering her hand with his.
"I felt her slip away as you drove up to the hospital."
"How do you feel now?" he asked, his hand against the side of
her face and his thumb caressing her temple.
"Empty," Usagi whispered, as if she feared waking dead spirits.
"Yesterday I was pregnant - - and now I'm not. Mamo-chan, what did I
do wrong?"
"Nothing," he replied, wiping the beginnings of a tear from her
eye. "I watched you every step of the way from the moment we found
out. You did nothing wrong, Usako."
"Then why?"
"Miscarriages happen, Usako. There's no way to predict them
- - no way to prevent them." As she listened, Rei could feel Mamoru
losing the stranglehold he had on his grief. "You can follow every
procedure in the book - - take perfect care of your body - - eat
right, sleep right - - and they still happen."
Mamoru's shoulders began to shudder. Rei watched Usagi lift
her hand up to his face. She watched him cling to that hand, draw
comfort from it for the need he had and denied for as long as he
could. She wanted to go in and help comfort them both, but held
back, not wanting to intrude on this moment.
"Mamo-chan," Usagi said, raising her voice above a whisper for
the first time. "Don't cry. It'll be all right. We'll have
children. We both know we're going to have at least one beautiful,
wonderful, exasperating little girl." Rei heard the emotion in
Usagi's voice, but sensed her underlying optimism. "If Chibi-Usa's
all we're destined to have, we'll just have to be patient and wait.
So please don't cry."
"Follow your own advice," Mamoru choked out, gently wiping
Usagi's eyes.
"I'm not crying for me," she smiled timidly. Then the smile
dimmed. "I'm crying for Kousagi. Life is such a wonderful thing to
experience, Mamo-chan. And she's never going to get the chance.
She's going to miss so much."
Rei shut the door. She leaned back against the wall, looking
up at the ceiling as her tears poured down her cheeks. Once again
Usagi had managed to amaze her. After taking such a devastating low
blow, all she could think of was others. Long ago Rei had ascribed
divinity to that woman and this only reinforced such a belief. And
it made her wonder. If such tragedy could occur in the world, and to
her of all people, then what was the point of going on?
"Rei," she heard her grandfather say in her mind, "goodness is
not a ward against tragedy. Tragedy will occur in the life of
everyone, whether they do good or evil. But goodness is a means of
dealing with tragedy that allows one to accept and move on instead of
being destroyed by it."
They were the words he told her days after her 'Kaa-san' died.
She didn't believe them then, but he showed her over the years that
they were true. They were the words that got her past his dying.
And she realized their wisdom even more now.
"Thanks, Grampa," Rei whispered. "But I should have blessed
her pregnancy."
Movement roused her from her misery. Rei saw Ikuko Tsukino
push her way into the hospital room, whizzing past Rei without so
much as a glance. Kenji paused long enough to give her a courteous
nod, then followed his wife in. Shingo lingered the longest. He
locked eyes with Rei for a moment, his gangly twenty-year-old frame
communicating the awkwardness of his conflicting emotions.
Since the age of sixteen, Shingo had begun to mistrust words.
It always drove his sister nuts, but Rei understood. Words never
seemed to accurately communicate the emotions you felt. Words always
seemed inadequate in conveying what you meant. Words got
misinterpreted or meant different things to different people. They
brought up unintended bad memories in people and caused unintended
anger and hurt. And too many people used words as noise, never
communicating anything worthwhile. It was as if they were afraid
that if they stopped talking, they would disappear. Shingo hated
that.
So Shingo stopped talking when he was sixteen. He only spoke
when he had something to say. To the world, it made him seem
alienated. To Usagi, it just confirmed that he was weird. To a
certain class of girl, it made him deep and mysterious. Rei knew
better. She knew it just meant he was wary of accidentally hurting
someone with his words, and of being drawn into social situations
that made him uncomfortable. His silence was a barrier that
protected him. But at this moment, the barrier was showing cracks.
"It's a drag, Rei," Shingo said. A simple statement, but
Shingo's eloquence was in his eyes and his posture and his demeanor.
They all cried out how devastating this news was and how much he hurt
for his old nemesis, the woman with whom he'd reached détente only a
few years ago.
"It is, Shingo," Rei whispered. She reached out and touched
his arm. The gesture seemed to give him enough courage to go in and
face the tragedy. As the door opened, Rei heard Ikuko crying. The
young priest grasped the door handle and pulled the door shut. She
could feel their grief all too well. She didn't need to hear it,
too.
Out in the lobby, Minako had stopped crying. She stayed
huddled up against Ami though, seeking comfort in a world that
suddenly didn't make sense. Ami sat by her, trying to keep from
dwelling on her own grief.
"You mentioned taping earlier," Ami said softly. "Are you on
television? Usagi mentioned something in her last letter about you
finally getting an entertainment job, but she wasn't too clear."
"Usagi was being charitable," Minako said absently. She
sighed. "Do you know those game shows that make contestants do crazy
stunts in order to win prizes?"
"I'm familiar with them," Ami replied. "I never watched them."
"Well, there's one called 'Dragon Courage Challenge' - - it
started on the air back in January. And I'm on the show." Ami
looked up at her, surprised. "It's not that involved. All I do is
wear the skimpiest costume the network will allow, look pretty for
the camera and point to a contestant or to a prize. Basically a
chimp could do it if they could find one with blonde hair."
"I'm sorry."
Minako shrugged. "Hey, it's show business. Having a crappy
job in show business beats not having ANY job in show business any
day. And I've experienced both now, so I know." A rueful smile grew
on her face. "And Toshi-chan is going to get me a part in his next
pilot."
"Toshi-chan?" Ami asked.
"Toshi-chan's my guy," Minako grinned. "Toshihiro Manabe; he's
the assistant director on 'Lucky Carp Fisherman Jinjo', the comedy
series that's on Thursday nights. He's going to direct a pilot about
a crazy hospital. He wants me to play this nurse who's always
sleeping around with all the doctors - - all except the lead
character. I'm always putting him down. It's kind of funny.
Besides, it may be the big break for both of us. If it sells, then
it's good-bye 'Dragon Courage Challenge'!"
"It doesn't sound like much of a role," Ami said.
"You can't always be the lead heroine, Ami," Minako told her,
shrugging absently. "Sometimes you have to be the supporting
character and do the best job you can in that role. That's something
else I learned in life." She looked over at Ami. "Besides, this is
just the latest step I've had to take on my journey to stardom. This
job is fantastic compared to singing in cheap nightclubs, posing for
pinup photos in 'bathing suit rags', scrambling for acting jobs in
commercials. It's been a rough six years, Ami - - a humbling six
years. I have to confess that my confidence has wavered once or
twice. But I think I'm beginning to see the horizon." Minako smiled
sadly. "I'll be a star. I just hope it happens while I'm young
enough to enjoy it." She patted Ami's hand. "Thanks for letting me
cry on your shoulder. Have I told you how much I've missed you these
last six years?"
"No," smiled Ami, "but I'm guessing it's about as much as I've
missed you."
"Quit," Minako said, misting up as she smiled. "You're going
to make me cry again."
Rei returned to the lobby to wait. Eventually Ami drifted over
to her.
"How is she?" Ami asked.
"Trying to cope," Rei replied softly. "I didn't go in. Her
mom and dad are in there with Mamoru. I didn't want to intrude."
Rei sighed. "She's taking it better than I would, but she's still
real down."
"That's going to be expected," Ami commented. "Depression can
be an after effect." Ami folded her arms over her chest. "I hope
she gets better soon. I'm not sure I could leave her in the lurch
again."
"Are you still feeling guilty about that?"
"I can't help it. I had a duty as a senshi . . ."
"And she released you from that."
"Well of course she would," Ami countered. "But it didn't stop
me from wondering if you were all in some pitched battle with some
enemy and needed me and I wasn't there."
"It's not selfish to want a life outside of the Sailor Senshi,
Ami," Rei told her. "I had to go away to school, too, to become a
priest. Setsuna helped out where she could. Even Haruka and Michiru
pitched in, albeit reluctantly." Rei's face screwed up in thought.
"And, truthfully, it's been kind of quiet recently. It's like the
millennium clicked in and all the bad guys went home. We haven't had
anything major happen since The Queen Spider and that's coming up on
three years ago. And we handled her."
"So you're trying to say I'm dispensable?" Ami asked.
"Ami," Rei said thinly, "don't make me hurt you." Ami smiled
with amusement.
"I hear you," Ami chuckled. "I'm glad you were all able to
compensate for my being gone. It doesn't keep me from feeling
guilty, though. And if Usagi still needs emotional support, I just
don't know how I can . . ."
Ami then noticed Rei looking past her over her shoulder. She
turned.
"Shingo?" Ami asked of the brooding young man with brown hair
standing behind her.
"Hi, Ami," Shingo mumbled shyly.
"Oh my, you've grown so much! Are you in college now?"
"Architectural school."
"Really? Do you like it?"
"S'OK. Wanted to be in a band." He shrugged. "Didn't work
out."
There was an awkward pause.
"You look, um, well, Ami," he said, smiling shyly.
"Thank you, Shingo."
"Well," he began uncomfortably, "I'll leave you alone now." He
started to retreat, then stopped. "Um - - Usagi's handling it, you
know? She'll love all the attention you give her, but she's really
strong now. Don't worry too much about her."
Shingo walked off, Ami watching him go.
"After all these years, he's still so uncomfortable around me,"
sighed Ami in distress.
"Don't take it personally," Rei smiled. "It's the world that
he's uncomfortable with, not you. Actually, that was upbeat for him.
You should see him when he's depressed." She noticed Ami didn't seem
quite convinced. "Don't worry about him, Ami. He's over you. He's
got a girlfriend and everything. She's a real airhead, too, but he
seems to like her."
"Well, I'm glad for that."
The elevator caught their attention. Turning to it, Ami and
Rei saw a young woman get off. She had a figure to make other women
in the room jealous of and waist-long silky black hair. Clad in
jeans and a battered, worn blouse and carrying a book bag, she looked
like she'd stepped off of a college campus. Ami turned away, not
recognizing her.
"Momoko," she heard Rei say and turned back in astonishment.
"I guess you heard?"
"Yeah," the vivacious young woman said, her entrancing violet
eyes watering with barely restrained tears. "Ami, is that you? You
couldn't have flown all the way back for this, could you?"
"No, I was already visiting," Ami said. "My goodness, Momoko,
I didn't recognize you! Are you in college now?"
"Yeah," Momoko grinned wistfully.
"She's taking political science," Rei said proudly.
"And pre-law," grimaced Momoko.
"Planning on going into politics?" inquired Ami.
"Uh huh. Somebody's got to shake this government up - - give
all the fat cats a swift boot in the backside and get them to do
their jobs. I figure I'm just the boot to do it."
"Well, you've got my vote," Ami smiled.
"So what happened?" Momoko asked. Ami and Rei filled her in on
everything they knew. The young beauty digested this with a
thoughtful frown. She seemed to consider things for the next few
moments. "Um," she hesitated, "this isn't going to affect, um,
Chibi-Usa, is it? I mean, that wasn't . . .?"
"No," Rei smiled maternally. "It wasn't Chibi-Usa who died."
"Her name was Kousagi," whispered Ami sadly.
"Oh," Momoko nodded, looking down. "Well that's some good news
anyway, I guess - - that it wasn't Chibi-Usa, I mean. Is it OK if I
go see her?"
"Not just now," Rei told her.
"OK. I'll come back tomorrow, then. If you get a chance, tell
Usagi I was here? And tell her - - tell her I'm sorry."
Ami and Rei both nodded. The girl got on the elevator and
disappeared again.
The four friends waited with Sanjuro out in the lobby until Rei
noticed Kenji and Ikuko walking toward the elevator. Only then did
Rei nod to the others and head down the hall. Makoto glanced back at
Usagi's parents with a look of sympathy. Neither seemed to be taking
the tragedy well. When they ventured into Usagi's room, the patient
glanced up at them and her face lit up.
"Hi, hon'," Makoto offered shyly. "Are you up to putting up
with us?"
"Yeah, we can come back later if you're too tired," Minako
added.
"Get in here!" Usagi grinned. "Seeing you four makes me feel
better already!"
The four women gathered around her bed and leaned in for a
group hug.
"Usagi, we're all sorry," Ami said.
"Thanks. That really means a lot to me," Usagi told her.
"And you just remember this isn't your fault!" Rei told her.
"I know," Usagi whispered.
"I mean it!"
"All right, it's not my fault!" Usagi snapped. "You need to
learn to turn that 'mind-reading' stuff off!"
"Sorry, but reading you is too easy," Rei smiled and kissed
Usagi on her forehead.
"How soon until you get sprung?" Minako asked.
"I've got to stay a few more days," Usagi sighed in
frustration. "I've got to have some operation."
"Dilation and curettage," nodded Ami. "It's to remove any
leftover placenta."
"Yeah," Usagi said glumly. "They've got to take the last
little bit of Kousagi away."
The room was shrouded with an awkward silence. Mamoru touched
Usagi's shoulder and she patted his hand with hers.
"But," Usagi brightened slightly, "I'll be out in time for the
wedding."
"Are you sure?" Makoto asked. "We can push it back . . ."
"No," Usagi said firmly. "Please don't do that, Makoto."
"It's no big thing. San-san and I have waited this long. A
few more weeks won't hurt. Right?" and she looked at Sanjuro. The
man nodded.
"Please don't," appealed Usagi. "Because I'm sad now, and
seeing you two get married will just make me so happy! I need to be
happy, Makoto. I don't like feeling sad."
"I just don't want you doing too much too soon."
"She should be recovered enough, Makoto," Mamoru told her.
"Don't let it be a concern."
"Please?" Usagi begged. "Please don't move it back. Remember,
you both owe me."
Makoto grinned. "All right, you win. But if you get sick at
my wedding, I'm going to spank you."
"Yes, ma'am," Usagi replied, looking like a naughty child.
* * * *
Ami walked out of the elevator and moved absently to the front
door of her mother's penthouse apartment. As she reached for the
door, the sudden realization came to her that it was "her mother's
apartment" now. Sometime unnoticed over the previous six years it
had changed from being "home" to "her mother's apartment". It was
another bittersweet reminder that she wasn't a child anymore. All
those years she'd longed to be an adult. Now she was an adult and
all she could do sometimes was pine for her youth.
The light was on inside the apartment. Ami closed the door and
looked to the kitchen. Sounds came from the kitchen, followed by her
mother's voice asking, "Is that you, Ami?"
"Yes, Mother," Ami replied. "Did you just get off shift?"
"Yes," her mother sighed with exhaustion. She entered the room
holding a cup of tea. "I heard what happened. How's Usagi taking
it?"
"Better than I expected," Ami told her.
"How are you taking it?"
Ami's lips tightened. Recognizing the signs, her mother folded
her arms around the young woman and suddenly Ami was ten again, if
only for a fleeting moment.
"I was right there, Mother," Ami confessed, emotion clouding
her tone. "I keep thinking there's something I should have seen - -
something I should have known. I'm supposed to be so smart . . .!"
"Shhh, Ami," her mother said softly. "The first thing any
doctor has to learn is there's only so much you can do. You do your
best and sometimes the patient dies anyway. Death is the inevitable
result of life. It's something we can't change, no matter how hard
we study and how good we become." She held her daughter out at arm's
length and gave her an encouraging smile. "We're doctors, but we're
also humans and humans aren't infallible. All you can do is your
best. If you blame yourself for everyone who dies, you're not going
to be any good to anyone."
"Yes, Mother," Ami said quietly.
"Yes, Mother," her mother mimicked, then gave her a cynical
grin. "You have the most irritating way of arguing with someone, my
dear. You get it from your father."
Ami smiled in spite of her mood.
"Are you tired, or can you spare a few minutes for your mother?
I want to hear more about the past year of school - - and this Evan
person."
"How did you find out about Evan?" Ami gasped.
"The Mother's Spy Network," she smiled at her daughter.
"You'll find out about it when you have children."
"No, Mother, I'm not that tired," Ami said. "I think catching
up would be good for me right about now."
Continued in part 4
Chapter 3: "The Sun In Mourning"
By Bill K.
"I got here as soon as I could!" gasped Minako as she raced out
of the elevator and down the hall. Ami, Rei and Makoto were gathered
in the reception area for a floor of hospital rooms. Minako could
tell instantly that the worst had happened.
"This is as soon as you could?" Rei replied, her voice filled
with reproach.
"They didn't give me the message until AFTER taping was
finished!" Minako snapped back. "Blame my producer!" She turned to
Ami fearfully. "What happened?"
Ami found she couldn't look Minako in the face, just like she
couldn't look at Rei and Makoto earlier. Her eyes sought the floor.
"Usagi miscarried," Ami whispered.
"What?" Minako asked. Rei and Makoto could tell she was
desperately praying that she'd misheard. "How? Was she in some
accident or . . ."
"We were having dinner. She seemed fine. Then she lost her
appetite and noticed some abdominal cramping. When she got into the
exam room, they found some vaginal bleeding. The fetus was already
dead."
Absently Minako sat down on the nearby sofa. She stared at the
floor without seeing. Rei heard the elevator open and turned.
Sanjuro came out and instantly Makoto went to him. She buried her
face on his shoulder, since she was two inches taller than he was,
and began crying. Ami sat down next to Minako and put her arm around
her friend.
"She ought to be glad," murmured Minako. "Who the Hell wants
kids around anyway? They cry all night and mess their diapers and
get into things. Their hands are always sticky and their faces
always need washed and . . . and . . .!" Unable to continue, Minako
collapsed against Ami, sobbing pitifully. "Why, Ami? How does
something like this happen?"
"The most likely cause," mumbled Ami vacantly, "is
non-reoccurring chromosomal abnormality. Cells don't divide
properly, or gene strings form with too few or too many chromosomes,
and the embryo doesn't grow properly. It reaches a certain point and
can't grow any further, so it - - stops." Ami seemed like she was
reciting text for one of her medical classes. "It's a significant
cause of first trimester embryonic dysfunction. Or it could have
been from toxoplasmosis, or a dozen different bacterial infections.
Perhaps Transient Hormonal Deficiency might . . ."
"OH, SCREW ALL THAT!" raged Minako through her tears. "Why
her? Why now?"
"Why anybody?" Ami whispered and hugged her friend tighter.
Minako clung to her, sobbing on her shoulder.
Feeling her own eyes watering again, Rei silently eased away
and went down the hall to Usagi's room. Without making a noise, she
opened the door a crack and nervously peeked in. Mamoru was still
sitting by Usagi's bedside as she slept. Rei felt her heart break
again, watching Mamoru clutching his own grief with both hands to
hold it inside him so he could be there for her. She looked to
Usagi. Did she know yet? How would she take it? Then Usagi's eyes
opened and the fragile young woman focused on Mamoru's face. For
several tense moments, no words were spoken.
"Kousagi's dead," Usagi whispered, almost apologetically.
"I know," Mamoru said, covering her hand with his.
"I felt her slip away as you drove up to the hospital."
"How do you feel now?" he asked, his hand against the side of
her face and his thumb caressing her temple.
"Empty," Usagi whispered, as if she feared waking dead spirits.
"Yesterday I was pregnant - - and now I'm not. Mamo-chan, what did I
do wrong?"
"Nothing," he replied, wiping the beginnings of a tear from her
eye. "I watched you every step of the way from the moment we found
out. You did nothing wrong, Usako."
"Then why?"
"Miscarriages happen, Usako. There's no way to predict them
- - no way to prevent them." As she listened, Rei could feel Mamoru
losing the stranglehold he had on his grief. "You can follow every
procedure in the book - - take perfect care of your body - - eat
right, sleep right - - and they still happen."
Mamoru's shoulders began to shudder. Rei watched Usagi lift
her hand up to his face. She watched him cling to that hand, draw
comfort from it for the need he had and denied for as long as he
could. She wanted to go in and help comfort them both, but held
back, not wanting to intrude on this moment.
"Mamo-chan," Usagi said, raising her voice above a whisper for
the first time. "Don't cry. It'll be all right. We'll have
children. We both know we're going to have at least one beautiful,
wonderful, exasperating little girl." Rei heard the emotion in
Usagi's voice, but sensed her underlying optimism. "If Chibi-Usa's
all we're destined to have, we'll just have to be patient and wait.
So please don't cry."
"Follow your own advice," Mamoru choked out, gently wiping
Usagi's eyes.
"I'm not crying for me," she smiled timidly. Then the smile
dimmed. "I'm crying for Kousagi. Life is such a wonderful thing to
experience, Mamo-chan. And she's never going to get the chance.
She's going to miss so much."
Rei shut the door. She leaned back against the wall, looking
up at the ceiling as her tears poured down her cheeks. Once again
Usagi had managed to amaze her. After taking such a devastating low
blow, all she could think of was others. Long ago Rei had ascribed
divinity to that woman and this only reinforced such a belief. And
it made her wonder. If such tragedy could occur in the world, and to
her of all people, then what was the point of going on?
"Rei," she heard her grandfather say in her mind, "goodness is
not a ward against tragedy. Tragedy will occur in the life of
everyone, whether they do good or evil. But goodness is a means of
dealing with tragedy that allows one to accept and move on instead of
being destroyed by it."
They were the words he told her days after her 'Kaa-san' died.
She didn't believe them then, but he showed her over the years that
they were true. They were the words that got her past his dying.
And she realized their wisdom even more now.
"Thanks, Grampa," Rei whispered. "But I should have blessed
her pregnancy."
Movement roused her from her misery. Rei saw Ikuko Tsukino
push her way into the hospital room, whizzing past Rei without so
much as a glance. Kenji paused long enough to give her a courteous
nod, then followed his wife in. Shingo lingered the longest. He
locked eyes with Rei for a moment, his gangly twenty-year-old frame
communicating the awkwardness of his conflicting emotions.
Since the age of sixteen, Shingo had begun to mistrust words.
It always drove his sister nuts, but Rei understood. Words never
seemed to accurately communicate the emotions you felt. Words always
seemed inadequate in conveying what you meant. Words got
misinterpreted or meant different things to different people. They
brought up unintended bad memories in people and caused unintended
anger and hurt. And too many people used words as noise, never
communicating anything worthwhile. It was as if they were afraid
that if they stopped talking, they would disappear. Shingo hated
that.
So Shingo stopped talking when he was sixteen. He only spoke
when he had something to say. To the world, it made him seem
alienated. To Usagi, it just confirmed that he was weird. To a
certain class of girl, it made him deep and mysterious. Rei knew
better. She knew it just meant he was wary of accidentally hurting
someone with his words, and of being drawn into social situations
that made him uncomfortable. His silence was a barrier that
protected him. But at this moment, the barrier was showing cracks.
"It's a drag, Rei," Shingo said. A simple statement, but
Shingo's eloquence was in his eyes and his posture and his demeanor.
They all cried out how devastating this news was and how much he hurt
for his old nemesis, the woman with whom he'd reached détente only a
few years ago.
"It is, Shingo," Rei whispered. She reached out and touched
his arm. The gesture seemed to give him enough courage to go in and
face the tragedy. As the door opened, Rei heard Ikuko crying. The
young priest grasped the door handle and pulled the door shut. She
could feel their grief all too well. She didn't need to hear it,
too.
Out in the lobby, Minako had stopped crying. She stayed
huddled up against Ami though, seeking comfort in a world that
suddenly didn't make sense. Ami sat by her, trying to keep from
dwelling on her own grief.
"You mentioned taping earlier," Ami said softly. "Are you on
television? Usagi mentioned something in her last letter about you
finally getting an entertainment job, but she wasn't too clear."
"Usagi was being charitable," Minako said absently. She
sighed. "Do you know those game shows that make contestants do crazy
stunts in order to win prizes?"
"I'm familiar with them," Ami replied. "I never watched them."
"Well, there's one called 'Dragon Courage Challenge' - - it
started on the air back in January. And I'm on the show." Ami
looked up at her, surprised. "It's not that involved. All I do is
wear the skimpiest costume the network will allow, look pretty for
the camera and point to a contestant or to a prize. Basically a
chimp could do it if they could find one with blonde hair."
"I'm sorry."
Minako shrugged. "Hey, it's show business. Having a crappy
job in show business beats not having ANY job in show business any
day. And I've experienced both now, so I know." A rueful smile grew
on her face. "And Toshi-chan is going to get me a part in his next
pilot."
"Toshi-chan?" Ami asked.
"Toshi-chan's my guy," Minako grinned. "Toshihiro Manabe; he's
the assistant director on 'Lucky Carp Fisherman Jinjo', the comedy
series that's on Thursday nights. He's going to direct a pilot about
a crazy hospital. He wants me to play this nurse who's always
sleeping around with all the doctors - - all except the lead
character. I'm always putting him down. It's kind of funny.
Besides, it may be the big break for both of us. If it sells, then
it's good-bye 'Dragon Courage Challenge'!"
"It doesn't sound like much of a role," Ami said.
"You can't always be the lead heroine, Ami," Minako told her,
shrugging absently. "Sometimes you have to be the supporting
character and do the best job you can in that role. That's something
else I learned in life." She looked over at Ami. "Besides, this is
just the latest step I've had to take on my journey to stardom. This
job is fantastic compared to singing in cheap nightclubs, posing for
pinup photos in 'bathing suit rags', scrambling for acting jobs in
commercials. It's been a rough six years, Ami - - a humbling six
years. I have to confess that my confidence has wavered once or
twice. But I think I'm beginning to see the horizon." Minako smiled
sadly. "I'll be a star. I just hope it happens while I'm young
enough to enjoy it." She patted Ami's hand. "Thanks for letting me
cry on your shoulder. Have I told you how much I've missed you these
last six years?"
"No," smiled Ami, "but I'm guessing it's about as much as I've
missed you."
"Quit," Minako said, misting up as she smiled. "You're going
to make me cry again."
Rei returned to the lobby to wait. Eventually Ami drifted over
to her.
"How is she?" Ami asked.
"Trying to cope," Rei replied softly. "I didn't go in. Her
mom and dad are in there with Mamoru. I didn't want to intrude."
Rei sighed. "She's taking it better than I would, but she's still
real down."
"That's going to be expected," Ami commented. "Depression can
be an after effect." Ami folded her arms over her chest. "I hope
she gets better soon. I'm not sure I could leave her in the lurch
again."
"Are you still feeling guilty about that?"
"I can't help it. I had a duty as a senshi . . ."
"And she released you from that."
"Well of course she would," Ami countered. "But it didn't stop
me from wondering if you were all in some pitched battle with some
enemy and needed me and I wasn't there."
"It's not selfish to want a life outside of the Sailor Senshi,
Ami," Rei told her. "I had to go away to school, too, to become a
priest. Setsuna helped out where she could. Even Haruka and Michiru
pitched in, albeit reluctantly." Rei's face screwed up in thought.
"And, truthfully, it's been kind of quiet recently. It's like the
millennium clicked in and all the bad guys went home. We haven't had
anything major happen since The Queen Spider and that's coming up on
three years ago. And we handled her."
"So you're trying to say I'm dispensable?" Ami asked.
"Ami," Rei said thinly, "don't make me hurt you." Ami smiled
with amusement.
"I hear you," Ami chuckled. "I'm glad you were all able to
compensate for my being gone. It doesn't keep me from feeling
guilty, though. And if Usagi still needs emotional support, I just
don't know how I can . . ."
Ami then noticed Rei looking past her over her shoulder. She
turned.
"Shingo?" Ami asked of the brooding young man with brown hair
standing behind her.
"Hi, Ami," Shingo mumbled shyly.
"Oh my, you've grown so much! Are you in college now?"
"Architectural school."
"Really? Do you like it?"
"S'OK. Wanted to be in a band." He shrugged. "Didn't work
out."
There was an awkward pause.
"You look, um, well, Ami," he said, smiling shyly.
"Thank you, Shingo."
"Well," he began uncomfortably, "I'll leave you alone now." He
started to retreat, then stopped. "Um - - Usagi's handling it, you
know? She'll love all the attention you give her, but she's really
strong now. Don't worry too much about her."
Shingo walked off, Ami watching him go.
"After all these years, he's still so uncomfortable around me,"
sighed Ami in distress.
"Don't take it personally," Rei smiled. "It's the world that
he's uncomfortable with, not you. Actually, that was upbeat for him.
You should see him when he's depressed." She noticed Ami didn't seem
quite convinced. "Don't worry about him, Ami. He's over you. He's
got a girlfriend and everything. She's a real airhead, too, but he
seems to like her."
"Well, I'm glad for that."
The elevator caught their attention. Turning to it, Ami and
Rei saw a young woman get off. She had a figure to make other women
in the room jealous of and waist-long silky black hair. Clad in
jeans and a battered, worn blouse and carrying a book bag, she looked
like she'd stepped off of a college campus. Ami turned away, not
recognizing her.
"Momoko," she heard Rei say and turned back in astonishment.
"I guess you heard?"
"Yeah," the vivacious young woman said, her entrancing violet
eyes watering with barely restrained tears. "Ami, is that you? You
couldn't have flown all the way back for this, could you?"
"No, I was already visiting," Ami said. "My goodness, Momoko,
I didn't recognize you! Are you in college now?"
"Yeah," Momoko grinned wistfully.
"She's taking political science," Rei said proudly.
"And pre-law," grimaced Momoko.
"Planning on going into politics?" inquired Ami.
"Uh huh. Somebody's got to shake this government up - - give
all the fat cats a swift boot in the backside and get them to do
their jobs. I figure I'm just the boot to do it."
"Well, you've got my vote," Ami smiled.
"So what happened?" Momoko asked. Ami and Rei filled her in on
everything they knew. The young beauty digested this with a
thoughtful frown. She seemed to consider things for the next few
moments. "Um," she hesitated, "this isn't going to affect, um,
Chibi-Usa, is it? I mean, that wasn't . . .?"
"No," Rei smiled maternally. "It wasn't Chibi-Usa who died."
"Her name was Kousagi," whispered Ami sadly.
"Oh," Momoko nodded, looking down. "Well that's some good news
anyway, I guess - - that it wasn't Chibi-Usa, I mean. Is it OK if I
go see her?"
"Not just now," Rei told her.
"OK. I'll come back tomorrow, then. If you get a chance, tell
Usagi I was here? And tell her - - tell her I'm sorry."
Ami and Rei both nodded. The girl got on the elevator and
disappeared again.
The four friends waited with Sanjuro out in the lobby until Rei
noticed Kenji and Ikuko walking toward the elevator. Only then did
Rei nod to the others and head down the hall. Makoto glanced back at
Usagi's parents with a look of sympathy. Neither seemed to be taking
the tragedy well. When they ventured into Usagi's room, the patient
glanced up at them and her face lit up.
"Hi, hon'," Makoto offered shyly. "Are you up to putting up
with us?"
"Yeah, we can come back later if you're too tired," Minako
added.
"Get in here!" Usagi grinned. "Seeing you four makes me feel
better already!"
The four women gathered around her bed and leaned in for a
group hug.
"Usagi, we're all sorry," Ami said.
"Thanks. That really means a lot to me," Usagi told her.
"And you just remember this isn't your fault!" Rei told her.
"I know," Usagi whispered.
"I mean it!"
"All right, it's not my fault!" Usagi snapped. "You need to
learn to turn that 'mind-reading' stuff off!"
"Sorry, but reading you is too easy," Rei smiled and kissed
Usagi on her forehead.
"How soon until you get sprung?" Minako asked.
"I've got to stay a few more days," Usagi sighed in
frustration. "I've got to have some operation."
"Dilation and curettage," nodded Ami. "It's to remove any
leftover placenta."
"Yeah," Usagi said glumly. "They've got to take the last
little bit of Kousagi away."
The room was shrouded with an awkward silence. Mamoru touched
Usagi's shoulder and she patted his hand with hers.
"But," Usagi brightened slightly, "I'll be out in time for the
wedding."
"Are you sure?" Makoto asked. "We can push it back . . ."
"No," Usagi said firmly. "Please don't do that, Makoto."
"It's no big thing. San-san and I have waited this long. A
few more weeks won't hurt. Right?" and she looked at Sanjuro. The
man nodded.
"Please don't," appealed Usagi. "Because I'm sad now, and
seeing you two get married will just make me so happy! I need to be
happy, Makoto. I don't like feeling sad."
"I just don't want you doing too much too soon."
"She should be recovered enough, Makoto," Mamoru told her.
"Don't let it be a concern."
"Please?" Usagi begged. "Please don't move it back. Remember,
you both owe me."
Makoto grinned. "All right, you win. But if you get sick at
my wedding, I'm going to spank you."
"Yes, ma'am," Usagi replied, looking like a naughty child.
* * * *
Ami walked out of the elevator and moved absently to the front
door of her mother's penthouse apartment. As she reached for the
door, the sudden realization came to her that it was "her mother's
apartment" now. Sometime unnoticed over the previous six years it
had changed from being "home" to "her mother's apartment". It was
another bittersweet reminder that she wasn't a child anymore. All
those years she'd longed to be an adult. Now she was an adult and
all she could do sometimes was pine for her youth.
The light was on inside the apartment. Ami closed the door and
looked to the kitchen. Sounds came from the kitchen, followed by her
mother's voice asking, "Is that you, Ami?"
"Yes, Mother," Ami replied. "Did you just get off shift?"
"Yes," her mother sighed with exhaustion. She entered the room
holding a cup of tea. "I heard what happened. How's Usagi taking
it?"
"Better than I expected," Ami told her.
"How are you taking it?"
Ami's lips tightened. Recognizing the signs, her mother folded
her arms around the young woman and suddenly Ami was ten again, if
only for a fleeting moment.
"I was right there, Mother," Ami confessed, emotion clouding
her tone. "I keep thinking there's something I should have seen - -
something I should have known. I'm supposed to be so smart . . .!"
"Shhh, Ami," her mother said softly. "The first thing any
doctor has to learn is there's only so much you can do. You do your
best and sometimes the patient dies anyway. Death is the inevitable
result of life. It's something we can't change, no matter how hard
we study and how good we become." She held her daughter out at arm's
length and gave her an encouraging smile. "We're doctors, but we're
also humans and humans aren't infallible. All you can do is your
best. If you blame yourself for everyone who dies, you're not going
to be any good to anyone."
"Yes, Mother," Ami said quietly.
"Yes, Mother," her mother mimicked, then gave her a cynical
grin. "You have the most irritating way of arguing with someone, my
dear. You get it from your father."
Ami smiled in spite of her mood.
"Are you tired, or can you spare a few minutes for your mother?
I want to hear more about the past year of school - - and this Evan
person."
"How did you find out about Evan?" Ami gasped.
"The Mother's Spy Network," she smiled at her daughter.
"You'll find out about it when you have children."
"No, Mother, I'm not that tired," Ami said. "I think catching
up would be good for me right about now."
Continued in part 4