Requiem for a Soldier

by MissAndrony

While arguing with Mamoru, Usagi lets Michiru use the song from her star locket to finish her mother's greatest work...until a demon's curse brings damning repercussions upon all of them. STORY IS NOW FINISHED!

6. Agnus Dei

Requiem for a Soldier: Agnus Dei (Lamb of God) (5/7)
Author: Ai
E-mail: tennyo@home.com


There are some poor souls who will never find Love.

These unfortunate creatures, wretched as they made themselves out to be,
missed something wonderful and terrible: consummation, no doubt, but the
lesser things too, a touch, a breath on the neck, a pleasant laugh.

But were they so unblessed? Was it worth it to love? For all the orators
that spoke of it, poets that wrote of it, dreamers that dreamed of it, and the
lovers that loved it, these people who never liked to admit the truth: that Love
was just as ugly and destructive as hate (more-so in many ways, since people were more
inclined to trust it). Love could steal. Love could hurt. Love could kill.

And the Lords of Hell knew this and used it to their advantage. They used
passion and devotion in ways incomprehensible to ordinary conception, if
only because people deliberately withdrew from such thoughts, leaving those
caught among this deadly web to suffer alone. Those who succumbed were lost
for forever.

Now as time moment of truth approached, the pain returned full force, and
the hate, the anger and the regret once thought to be banished hung heavily
upon one poor soul who had never meant for it to go this far. Pure
memories, tainted with Love, verily haunted the psyche. Love had destroyed
this wretch, this pure Woman.

Once a Woman cried for It.

Once a Woman sold Her Soul for It.

Once a Woman became a Wraith for It.

And She swore She would not be the last.

* * * * * * * *

Minako turned sheet-white as Usagi fell to the ground for the second time
that day. Trembling with fear, she bent down, acting entirely on instinct
as she checked for a pulse.

There was none. With a terrified cry she began administering CPR,
screaming between breaths for someone to call emergency.

Thankfully, some blessed soul did hear her cries for help and pulled out
his cell, taking over the duty of attempting to resuscitate the small girl.

"About a block from the Crown Arcade, between 4th and M street . . . she's been
on antibiotics . . . someone's doing CPR . . . oh, God, please hurry, she's
my best friend!" Minako started to weep, shutting off the phone.

"Usagi-chan!" Minako screamed at the lifeless form. "If you don't wake up
right now I'll never forgive you! And neither will Ami-chan or Rei-chan or
Mako-chan, and you'll never see your family or become Mamoru-san's bride or
have a daughter! WAKE UP THIS INSTANT!"

With a fierce gasp, Usagi's eyes widened, her blue face slowly retreating.
Slipping back into unconsciousness, Minako was infinitely relieved to
realize that at very least the girl was breathing.

And still breathing even as the emergency unit drove up, shallow as it was.
As the ambulance zoomed off, Usagi in tow, a disconsolate Minako stumbled
back to the Crown Arcade, where she gave the grim news to her fellow senshi.

* * * * * * * *

In times of despair, when there is nothing left to hold onto, there is
something in the human condition that makes even the most alien factions
feel as if they were one.

That day Haruka had never felt so loved as she dismally walked into the
Juuban District Hospital. Hugs and tears came at her from every angle. Ami
clutched her as she cried; Makoto whispered into her shoulder all the things
they feared. Even a transformed Minako, cool leader rather than dim-witted
blonde, offered a stiff hug and watery smile.

The girls sat away from the other friends and family that had gathered
around. Offhand she recognized Kenji giving her the evil eye, not realizing
who Haruka was, Usagi's mother and brother, and the little redhead with her
nerdy boyfriend--Naru and Umino, right?--imparting odd looks. From there,
only Rei kept distant, sitting pertly in an orange plastic chair, staring
into space. Next to her was an empty seat; this is the seat in which Haruka
sat.

"Are you all right?" Haruka whispered into Rei's ear. Rei nodded but said
nothing.

"Leave her be," Minako said quietly. "We all have to deal with this in our
own way."

Rei gave Minako an oddly grateful look as Haruka smiled at the Venusian
Senshi's sudden wisdom.

"So . . . I rushed here as soon as I heard," Haruka said quietly. "How
long have you been here?"

"Ten hours," was Makoto's lifeless reply.

"I'm not leaving until she walks out of here herself," Rei said
obstinately.

Tears welled in Haruka's eyes, though her hated her own emotional state.
She vaguely remembered being fourteen years old and terrified of the destiny
that awaited her should she chose to follow Michiru down the path of being a
Sailor senshi. The two things she could never outrun were her past and her
future. And these girls, with the full force of their love, had accepted it
so easily, whereas she still had problems coming to terms with the fact her
dreams had long since turned to dust.

"Mamotte," Haruka whispered. "To protect her, is that why?"

All four nodded.

Making the mental breach, she suddenly remembered that Mamoru probably knew
nothing of this. "Has anyone told Mamoru-san?"

"He isn't worth the 50-yen piece it would require to make the phone call,"
Minako said icily, truly assuming the role of leader for the first time.
Haruka saw the clearly defined hatred and rage in the perky blonde's eyes
and feared for her. Anger aged a person without and within, Haruka had
learned. The senshi would have never believed her if she had told them that
she was only a year older than they themselves were.

"Minako . . . " Haruka opened her mouth and shut it, sighing and rubbing
her temples.

"Is Michiru-san nearby?" Rei suddenly interrupted. "I'd like to talk to
her."

Upon hearing the name, Haruka had to choke back an urge to spit on the
ground. "She's too busy with her fucking immortality," she said
contemptibly. "Worthless whore."

All four Inner senshi felt little alarm bells go off in their minds.
Haruka's vicious words meant that things had taken a turn for the worse.

Holding her head, Haruka rasped, "I want to see her."

"You can't," Minako said coolly. "The doctors aren't letting anyone in
right now."

"Watch me," Haruka snapped. No one, not even the nurses, dared stop her,
though that may have had something to do with the fact that the head nurse
was obsessed with car racing and easily recognized Haruka.

Slipping through the corridors unnoticed, Haruka walked to the room as if
by instinct.

The walls were stark white and made her want to cry. It was times like
these that Haruka remembered what horrible places hospitals were. At its
nexus lay the tiny Princess she had been charged with protecting so long
ago, attached to virtually every machine in existence.

"Neko-chan?"

Drowsy eyelids slowly rose. "Haruka-san?" she whispered weakly, unable to
take her normally expressive voice over a pathetic volume.

"Neko-chan," Haruka smiled warmly, kneeling next to the bed. Tenderly
whisking sweaty bangs from Usagi's eyes, biting her lip to keep from crying.
"Thought you might like to take a drive, neko-chan."

"Sounds good," Usagi murmured.

"It does, doesn't it?" Haruka asked, her gaze vacant. "You and me and
Michiru and maybe Setsuna in my convertible, without a care in the world . .
. no destiny to think about, no future . . . just today. Doesn't that sound
nice?"

"Haruka," Usagi implored weakly, "I'm going to get better. The doctors . .
. there's medicines, and . . . "

"What? Usagi-chan, what medicine?"

"Medicine for my heart . . . "

"Your heart?" Haruka's voice skipped an octave. "What's wrong with your
heart?"

"Some rare infection," Usagi said. "They said it's lucky it was caught
early."

"You're telling me that . . . "

Tears dripped down Usagi's cheeks. "The infection at this stage has a 40%
mortality rate," she whispered. "But don't tell anyone. That's why they're
thinking of replacing my heart. To be safe. Maybe I'd feel better with a
new heart. Stronger and not all smashed up."

A weak sob escaped her lips. "Tell me he's here, Haruka. Please tell me
he's here. Lie if you have to, but tell me. . . ."

Haruka couldn't even look at her in the eye.

"Oh God," she whispered in horror. "I'm going die without him, aren't I?
I need him, Haruka. He's my strength. Mamo-chan is all I have. I can't .
. . I *won't*. . . "

All Haruka could do is hold her hand and weep with her.

* * * * * * * *

"We found a small laceration on one of her fingers that appears to be
inflamed, which my best guess is where the bacteria entered," the doctor, a
pompous, graying mid-40s man with enough degrees to drown a small cow told
the crowd. "It seems similar to acute endocarditis, but that develops more
quickly and is almost always fatal within a few days. On the other hand,
your daughter has an amazingly strong immune system. I'm flabbergasted at
how long she has held out."

"Endocarditis?" Ikuko whispered, as if afraid of the word.

"An infection of the heart valves and linings," the doctor said
matter-of-factly. "We have her on a heavy dose of antibiotics, but there
are lesions all over the valves and signs of toxemia. Preliminary X-rays
also show dead tissue in the heart itself. For now, we are going to try the
antibiotics, in hopes of averting the need for a full heart transplant."

TRANSPLANT?!" Ikuko screeched. Kenji quickly hushed his wife while trying
to keep himself calm.

"If we must," the overbearing doctor said firmly. Suddenly, his expression
softened. He seemed almost . . . compassionate. "We will do our best by your
daughter, Tsukino-tachi," he said very seriously. "She's lucky to have such
loyal friends and family."

"Pity her lover isn't so magnanimous," a dour Haruka muttered from her
corner of the hallway after listening to the doctor's diagnosis.

* * * * * * *

Cars were cold comfort in times when one woman was becoming increasingly
convinced that love was dead and there wasn't really any point in bothering.
Running as fast as she could through the frosty streets of Juuban, Haruka
finally gave out in front of an apartment and lay on the hard pavement for a
few minutes, trying to catch her breath.

Realizing where she was, the blond pulled herself off the ground, despite
the temptation to simply stay there until her heart gave out and she didn't
have to feel anything. She wouldn't allow herself the pleasure, however.
Forcing herself through the doors, she was met by a fat little bellman with
a clearly inflated opinion of his importance.

"Excuse me, miss," he said haughtily. "Visitors must be called in by
tenants or have a pass."

"Would that pass do any good if I shoved it up your ass?" Haruka said,
standing four inches over the tiny man.

Sputtering, he protested, "I was just telling you for *information*."

"So was I," Haruka sneered, lifting the little tub of blubber with one
hand and glaring at him straight on. "May I go up now or am I going to have to
actually shove something up your ass? You look like the kind of little
prick who'd enjoy it, fatty."

Gulping, he mumbled, "You may go through."

"That's better," Haruka mocked the man. Pushing him aside, she pressed the
button to summon an elevator.

On the ride, Haruka tried to compose a delicate way to give Mamoru such
bleak news. Foolish as it was, Haruka had not given up hope that Mamoru
would come through for Usagi. And if Mamoru could get his act together,
then maybe there was hope for Michiru and her.

Haruka knew which apartment it was from the fact there was no nameplate on
the door. Knocking firmly, she waited expectantly for the door.

When he opened it, eyes dead and whole figure emanating anguish, the first
words out of her mouth were, "You fuckwit."

So much for delicacy.

* * * * * * * *

"The doctors think she has a pretty good chance of making it, even if they
do have to resort to a transplant," Haruka said, still standing in the
doorway.

Mamoru was sitting on his couch, staring mindlessly into space. His knees
were tucked to his chest and, unless it was Haruka's imagination, he
appeared to be shuddering.

"She was scared today," Haruka continued, delighting in hurting this man,
this--this murderer. "She tried so hard to be brave but all she wanted was
for you to be with her and make the pain go away. How pathetically naïve of
her, I thought. Look at you. I'm surprised you can even look yourself in
the mirror."

"I can't," came the hoarse reply.

"That's nice," Haruka said caustically. "Much as I'd love to see her be
able to get along without you, she needs you, so I'm hoping that you get
your act together soon and go see her." Haruka made a move to leave, but
then turned around. "Even if you are a monster."

She deliberately disregarded out Mamoru's tortured cry.

* * * * * * * *

As she stepped out of the apartment, Haruka's sharp eyes focused on the
tiny black figure on the pavement. Clear blue eyes, so much like Usagi's,
held a very human sorrow. In the moonlight, the little moon sigil on her
forehead glinted, revealing the feline's identity.

"Luna," Haruka said passively, staring down at the cat.

Luna sighed and stood up. "I knew something was wrong," she stated flatly.
"But she didn't want anyone to find out. And now this . . . " The little
cat looked away.

"What did you know?" Haruka queried, bending to meet Luna's sad eyes.

"I knew she was sick," Luna admitted, "very sick. And I knew she was using
the ginzuishou to hide it. . . . "

"Using the ginzuishou? In her condition?"

"Not consciously," Luna assured Haruka. "The crystal reacts to the user's
heart, right? So when Usagi-chan's began to fail, the power of the crystal
started to pick up slack. That's why she lasted so long in the first place.
As an advisor to the Royal Family of the Moon, I have the ability to sense
when the crystal is being used."

"But you never told anyone?"

"It wasn't my secret to tell. We guardians are sworn to secrecy about the
private matters of our wards. It wasn't until later that I realized that
Usagi-chan didn't intentionally use the crystal to sustain her heart when it
started to fail."

Haruka pondered the new information carefully, her gaze growing distant

"But after the incident with Mamoru-san," Luna continued quietly, "her
heart couldn't take any more. The ginzuishou . . . it crashed like a computer.
And so did Usagi."

Tears fell from both females' eyes. "If only I had said something . . . "
Luna affirmed miserably, "maybe then she'd be all right."

The tall blonde senshi scooped Luna up in her arms. "You know Luna-chan,"
Haruka said, "I'm beginning to wonder if all of us have some sort of 'if
only' lurking in the back of our minds."

* * * * * * * *

"Is your pillow fluffy enough?"

"Considering how many times you've plumped it, Mina-chan, it should be
ready to float out of here."

"Hush up, Mako-chan," Minako reprimanded Makoto. Smiling cheerily, she
opened the blinds, letting in the thin, watery-gray light from outside. "Now
isn't that nicer?"

"I can't tell the difference," Rei said honestly.

Minako looked ready to take this as an insult. Then, realizing the shabby
effect the outside light really had on the room, she closed the blinds again.
"Actually, I think it's nicer in here without it."

"It's fine," Usagi said, smiling weakly. "You guys really don't need to
stay."

"Who says we're here because of you?" Minako cracked. "Ami's in the back
working on homework--" on cue, Ami waved from her laptop, "--and as for me,
it's either this or go home and tell my mother I failed another History
test."

Usagi threw the tiny 'Princess' pillow Makoto had given her at Minako, but
it landed embarrassingly short of the lithe blonde. Rei grinned. "You
always did throw like a girl, Usagi-chan."

"That's because I AM a girl, Rei-chan!"

"That's no excuse," she replied haughtily, sticking her nose up. "I don't
throw like that."

"Then what are YOU saying, Rei-KUN?"

The other three paused before bursting into laughter. "Oh, Kami, Rei-
kun," Makoto cracked, "you really walked into that one!"

"So? I decided to let her win for once," Rei announced snootily. "After
all, she IS ill."

"And so are you if you believe that," Minako rolled her eyes, unable to
suppress a grin. Even Ami could barely contain her giggling.

At that moment the doctor walked in, doing his daily rounds. "That time
already?" Usagi asked the doctor in curiosity.

The on-staff doctor nodded. "You seem to be doing well," she commented
with a smile. "I can hear you from down the hall."

All five senshi exchanged guilty looks.

"It's all right," the doctor assured them, "I was your age once too. Just
try to keep down from here on in, all right?"

They nodded before marching out.

The doctor carefully looked around at the extensive selection of flowers,
cards, balloons, and occasional stuffed animal scattered in the room.
"Someone is popular," she noted.

Usagi nodded. "I guess I'm loved."

"Nice to know. Are these roses from your boyfriend?"

At the thought of her boyfriend, Usagi's expression darkened. "No," she
said slowly, "I haven't received anything from him."

"What a jerk," the woman groaned. "Men are incredible."

"Oh, I agree," Usagi lied. "Ah . . . what time is it?"

"A little after 4. Why?"

"Just curious."

The doctor had made it through medical school; she had enough brains to
not pry. Finishing her tests in a crisp, businesslike manner that Usagi
replicated, she left quickly. The situation in the room was too sticky for
the exhausted doctor to spend any real time pondering lest she come across
something she would not like.

Once the doctor was gone, the senshi tromped back in, ready to be cheery.
"So . . . anyone want to play 'Guess Who?'" Minako offered when she saw
Usagi's stormy face.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Oh, wow, is it really *that* late?" Makoto asked innocently,
staring at her watch.

"You're supposed to *guess* the person, Usagi-chan--"

"THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT!" Usagi yelled in fury. Her voice didn't have
the strength it usually did, but she scared the senshi sufficiently. Their eyes
were pealed, paying full attention.

Makoto looked down. "We're sorry, Usagi-chan, we really are. We were
hoping you'd forget."

On Wednesdays Mamoru got out of class at 2:30. Usagi waited expectantly
each day for Mamoru to come see her, kiss her, sweep her away from this
nightmare, but he never came. The senshi were tired of watching her hope
flattened each day.

"That's sweet," Usagi snarled. "But you *promised* you'd tell me."

"Usagi-chan . . . "

"Never mind," she shook her head. "I don't think I want to see him now
anyways. Just go."

The four Inners were horrified. "Are you really . . . ?"

"Didn't you hear me?"

"Usagi-chan--" Minako took a hold of her hand then dropped it as a spark
ran through her system. She rubbed her aching temples as her body
recovered.

"Go."

"All right." Ami, Makoto, and Minako all walked out together.

Rei stayed behind, coolly defiant.

"Didn't you hear me? I don't want to see you," Usagi snapped.

"I don't know why you're acting this way, Usagi-chan," the raven-haired
priestess responded calmly.

She didn't know either, but that certainly wasn't going to stop. Glaring
at Rei, she watched as Rei sighed, picked up the flimsy plastic hospital
chair she had brought in the room with her, and walked out.

The next sound she heard was the plunk of the chair onto the ascetic tile
floor right outside her room.

* * * * * * *

He had not known what to expect when he walked down that aisle.
Furuhata Motoki was used to having control, a steady foothold on which
everything rested. His grades were good, his relationships secure, his life was
going in a direction of which he was master. Only one portion of his life
remained unable to maintain equilibrium with his carefully constructed
destiny.

Yet this was the one aspect that had obsessed him from the first time he
had met Chiba Mamoru, to understand and unlock the secrets hidden deep
within the oddly beautiful creature--Motoki could not quite call him a
man--to know that these secrets were part of something greater and lovelier
than his ordinary mind had a firm grasp on. This was what he had felt, but
it had taken him years to put it into words. Even Usagi had been unable to
grasp it, to see the dim, unhinged shade that danced at the corner of his
slate eyes, to see, for a moment at a time, what was inside him.

To understand, this was Motoki's greatest fear and greatest regret. So,
foolishly, he tried again.

The door was open. Motoki stepped in to see Mamoru sprawled on the couch,
toying with a shiny object. As he approached he realized it was a knife.

"Are you planning to use that?"

Motoki tried not to choke.

"Maybe." The voice was eerily affable, almost songlike in quality.
Mamoru always did have a terrific voice.

"On what?"

"You ask too many questions." Motoki was beginning to get really scared.

"On yourself?" He could see it in his mind; the image was so disturbing
he shut his eyes, as if they could protect him from his overactive imagination.

"No," he replied. "Of course not. That would be silly. You're right
here, aren't you? You'd just call the police."

"Oh." Motoki made up his mind to stay rooted to his spot.

"Then again," Mamoru continued pleasantly, still toying with the knife
across his arm, "If you weren't here I would be very much able to off
myself, ne?"

"Is that so."

"I could kill you. That would work."

The blood drained from Motoki's face. "You're not serious," he whispered,
too paralyzed by terror to move.

"Am I?" Now Mamoru turned around and Motoki saw what he had always known
was there but never voiced; the dubiously bright light of lunacy coyly
dancing in Mamoru's eyes, the cruel, childlike smile, the tortured
flawlessness of the animal in front of him. "It wouldn't be the first time,
you know."

"Wouldn't it?"

"Of course not," he bragged in a self-mocking manner. "I am a murderer.
Once is an accident, you see, but twice is a murderer. The magic word is
*twice.* So what is to prevent me from doing it again?"

"I-I don't know," Motoki choked. "What? Our friendship?"

"Are we friends? I didn't think I had any. In fact, I don't think I feel
anything at all."

Wasn't that the legal definition of insane, Motoki asked himself? They
called those sociopaths, right?

Sociopath or no, however, Motoki screwed up his courage and did the
idiotic.

"I don't believe you."

The words rang with an uncanny determination to them. Motoki vowed to not
let Mamoru realize he was trembling inside.

He had half-expected Mamoru to shove that knife through his heart there
and then, but, to his surprise, Mamoru fell back, gently nursing the area where
he had played with the knife. Blood, blood slipped down his arm, blood like
life and sanity and . . . love.

"You would be right, then."

Motoki knelt at the couch, quietly surveying Mamoru's still form and wild
eyes. "I want to help," he stated firmly. "Tell me how."

Mamoru laughed, a hollow, lifeless laugh. "You know," he murmured, almost
excitedly, "the first time I laid eyes on her I knew it was for forever.
Not for her, maybe, but for me, yeah. I was never going to get away." He
sighed lowly. "After a while I couldn't even tell where I ended and she
began . . . if there was ever anything there before she came." Two tears
slipped from his eyes.

Motoki blinked. "Are you talking about Usagi-chan?"

It was strange to hear the emotion in Mamoru's voice, the quiet reverence
with which he spoke of her, the lonely longing and need. Did Usagi know
what a willing vessel she had in him? No wonder he never wanted anyone to
know what was inside him. There was nothing but her, and that was a
weakness to be exploited.

"She'll be my next victim, too, Motoki-kun; I won't stab her with a knife
or snap her neck but she will die at my hand . . . my sweet Usa . . . "

Mamoru's head dropped off as he fell into his dreamworld. The soft
whimpers of pain indicated it was not a pleasant place, but who was Motoki
to intervene? With a heavy heart he stood and turned to leave, but not
before he saw the wound on Mamoru's arm.

Through the blood, he could see Usagi's name carved delicately into the
flesh.

* * * * * * * *

Minako was trying to sleep, really she was. Her mother insisted that she
attend school the next day, and, angry as she was about it, [she] had no choice
but to acquiesce.

She was a perpetual optimist and liked to look on the bright side, though.
Perhaps school would be a nice distraction, that the banality of Chemistry
and chatting with friends could sufficiently divert her attention from
things like reality.

But much as she longed for escape, Minako had the uneasy feeling that that
universally shared sentiment had been the problem all along. Behind the
barriers Usagi and Mamoru had placed around their hearts, Minako could feel
the black edge of fear running as an undercurrent to these. Haruka was
afraid too, afraid of the outright rejection by her lover that was looming.
And they were all afraid to admit Usagi was ill, that she may very well die
and leave her senshi behind to pick up the pieces, to forge their own
existences. That fear haunted them all.

It was as if the Wraith really *had* seeped into their bones.

Tears sprang to her eyes. "I want to sleep," she whispered into the inky
air of her room. "Please, God. I'm so tired. I can't think."

There was no answer.

So she would wait here longer, thinking more, about her fears, about the
realities, and . . . well, this thing she had not wanted to think about, but
what was the point? It would haunt her no matter what. That day, when she
had been with Usagi, she had held onto the little Princess's hand for a
moment and sensed a jolt. A sound had accompanied it; for some odd reason,
she was certain the dull crunch had been the snap of a neck.

Strangely enough, though, it was at this point, when Minako was her most
troubled, that she got her precious sleep. Rest, however, did not come so
easily.

* * * * * * * *

The eyes. That was what she remembered later. Cold. Frozen. Empty.

Or not empty, but full, full of a single thing--love, a twisted, demonic
love. So full they were empty all over again. The cold steel of the
eyes . . . it was too much for her to handle.

Movements were made in slow motion, as if they were wading through
molasses. Strangely enough, her mind was similarly affected. Each frantic
thought that passed through her mind had time to make a distinct, deliberate
impression upon her, each had infinite time to be analyzed and interpreted.

Gold. The power of the Earth, summoned to his hands. So he was to . . .
he would . . .

For a moment, her heart was filled with a strange warmth and
possessiveness, veritably stunned that he was about to do this for her, not
just to save her, but also to avenge her. Because she *wanted* that
horrible monster to die, and she was rapt, delighted by her lover's actions.

His eyes met hers. Do it, she urged wordlessly. Kill him. He interfered.
With us, with this. He has no place here.

But in a moment the sensation had been quashed, hidden from the light of
day. Now she was filled with fear and horror, now she was compassionate and
sympathetic.

"NO!" she now pleaded, recanting the previous silent wish.

And then it happened.

The crack rang through her ears again and again and again . . . and again
she felt it, the base ecstasy and wonderment. But it fled so quickly that she
would without doubt forget.

Mamoru looked at her expectantly, waiting for something . . . praise,
maybe? She sensed how acutely he craved her love and approval, just as strongly
as she craved his. If even a normally gentle boy like Mamoru could fall so far
for love. . . .

She blacked it out; turned away from him. Felt his eyes turn to the gift
he had laid at her feet, afraid and oddly proud of his own work.

Her mind took over, screaming, "Look what's he's DONE! The MONSTER!"

"You . . . you . . ." she stuttered pointlessly, uncertain of what you
said when someone killed for you. Some corner of her heart was yelling at her
to thank him, to take him in her arms and kiss him senseless, to show him her
gratitude. . . .

Again she reeled. This was ridiculous. Her lover was a murderer, and now
she glared at him, trying to pretend she was better than him, that she
hadn't wanted this as badly as he had, not because this boy had been about
to rape her, but because he had tried to take something that was only for
Mamoru.

"Anything for you," he professed miserably, trying to make her understand.
Didn't you want this from me? she saw the question in his eyes. I only did
it because I thought you wanted it. Didn't you want this from me?

But, just like she was, he too was ashamed. Ashamed of his weakness and
maybe strength, ashamed to admit that he had just killed in the name of the
one thing pure and sweet in his life.

"Do you understand why you must leave me now?" This was what he had been
trying to prevent from the beginning, their love spiraling out of control,
to the extent that innocents--if they could be called that--got caught in a
love that wasn't theirs. In her ignorance, she had pursued him anyway,
dared to want more, and inevitably become the catalyst for this entire mess.
At every step, he had offered her a way out, even today, when she could
never get away, he still wanted to give her a chance to escape.

And, coward that she was, she ran, away from her love and, for all its
consequences, the thing that made her *alive.* She knew she was killing
him, and she knew she was killing herself, but still she ran, hoping to find
refuge in another. Oh Gods, she was afraid, afraid of him, afraid of
herself, afraid of what was between them. . . .

She left him there; let him believe he had done the wrong thing when she
had wanted it so badly just like he had. And she asked herself, had the
situation been reversed, had he been in her position and she in his, would
she have let it go that far?

The weight of her answer brought her to her knees.

* * * * * * * *

Aino Minako's lithe form was pale and wobbly; in the moonlight her
normally soft golden aura was harsh and bright. She stared up at the moon,
trying to understand her dream, what she, no, Usagi, had seen. The dream from
the night before, seen through Usagi's eyes but her viewpoint (despite her
helplessness to react in a way besides what Usagi had), still left Minako
with a unsettled feeling in her stomach.

Now she was sitting in History class, attempting to pay attention to
. . . what was it she was supposed to be paying attention to again?

Was it possible that Mamoru had killed to protect Usagi? Minako had a
difficult time believing that Mamoru could really do such a thing, past or
present, yet some tiny voice chided her for such assumptions. There had
always been something a bit primitive lurking under the refined exterior; it
gave him the intrigue that so easily charmed those around him. It hadn't
existed in the Silver Millennium, Minako recalled dimly. Endymion had been a
very well adjusted human being. He had never been so unstable. So it didn't
surprise Minako that such a peculiarity would simultaneously pain him,
underdeveloped and deprived as it was; it was something that could
eventually destroy him had it had the chance. His inner demons were
excruciatingly strong, and not even Usagi had been able to do more than
scratch the surface.

He'd never known what it meant to be loved, Minako realized in wonder, and
therefore didn't understand what it meant to love someone else. Artemis had
once said that Queen Serenity had wanted the senshi to live lives that would
allow them to grow and develop in ways that had lacked on the Moon. From
this, Minako had long since concluded that Mamoru's upbringing was no
accident.

But the Queen had not truly considered the consequences of subjecting
Mamoru to such an existence. It had never occurred to the Queen that, in
his infinite loneliness, he would gladly cross the lines of sanity and
propriety to keep what he had been denied for so long before.

How could anyone be surprised?

Suddenly Minako felt her heart begin to race. It was a common feeling
with her; it usually meant that someone close to her was having some sort of
high-emotion interaction. Each reaction was different for each of her
friends. From the nature of the pulse and the sweat collecting on her
forehead, she was actually able to discern that Mamoru was gearing up for
some sort of confrontation.

He'd never get anywhere with Usagi in her current state of mind. Eyes
darting around, she wondered if it would be possible to somehow sneak out of
class.

Through some miracle, this was the moment that a dreamy-eyed water polo
captain [Ai: Water polo players have the best bodies of *any* sport, hands
down *drools*] bent down to ask Minako, "Did you finish the English homework
last night?"

Minako was suddenly struck with a plan. "Nishikawa-kun!" she screeched,
feigning rage. "At least buy me dinner!"

For the second time in barely three weeks, Minako had effectively usurped
the class's attention.

"Nishikawa-san!" the teacher scolded. "Are you bothering Aino-san again?"

Nishikawa's horrified blue eyes were wide as saucers. He tried to answer
the question but failed.

"Both of you are to go to the principal's office NOW!" Tamayo-sensei
shrieked. With little protest, Minako and Nishikawa scuttled out.

"Good thing that worked," Minako mumbled in relief. Yes, she knew she was
about to get in serious trouble for this, but the Princess had to be her
first priority. She fumbled for her henshin stick, in the hopes of
teleporting there.

"What's the matter?"

She'd completely forgotten Nishikawa was there! Swearing under her
breath, Minako turned to face his wrath, which even she admitted he had a right
to.

To her surprise, however, Nishikawa was smiling at her, looking at her
oddly. "You looked upset," he explained matter-of-flatly. "I mean, it's
not every day a girl yells random sexual innuendo in class."

"This isn't everyday," Minako rationalized tersely. "This friend of mine,
she's about to make this really big mistake and . . ."

"How are you going to get off campus?" Nishikawa inquired. "They've
tightened security."

"Have they?" Minako cringed. "I need to get out NOW."

"But then again . . ." Nishikawa flashed a thousand-watt smile. "I've
always enjoyed a challenge."

Taking her hand, he led her towards the back of the school.

"I don't get it," Minako complained to him. "I've insulted you in class
twice now. Why are you helping me?"

"Because it takes a lot of balls to do that--metaphorically speaking," he
tacked on when the blonde glared at him, "and I've always been a fan of
Sailor V."

She stopped. "Really?"

"Really. Now come on."

They were silent as Nishikawa led her through various buildings and bushes.
Minako was barely paying attention, seeing as her heart was beating so
hard it was getting tough to keep up.

"Here we are." Nishikawa proudly stared out into the street. "You'd
better get going."

"Ah . . . great," she said lamely. "I don't really know how to thank you."

"How about you let me take you to dinner next Friday?"

Minako melted. "Sure," she breathed. "I'd like that." And on that happy
note, she started running like a bat out of hell, leaving the handsome
athlete smiling like there was no tomorrow.

* * * * * * * *

It had taken Mamoru one hundred and six hours to gather up the courage to
go to the hospital and see Usagi. When he arrived there, wild-eyed but
smooth in execution, he zeroed in on a gaunt Rei, who was sitting in a
plastic hard-backed chair in front of Usagi's room, staring at . . . something.
He didn't know what.

"Rei-chan?" he whispered softly, trying not to upset her.

Rei looked at him with hazy eyes. "You came," she said emotionlessly,
never quite focusing on him.

In an instant Mamoru realized why she was here. "Twenty-four hour vigil?"
he asked, trying to make his scattered mind focus.

"I'd never leave Hime-sama in her time of need," Rei said decisively.
Looking directly at him, she added, "Unlike you."

Swallowing, he walked inside, trying to ignore the feel of Rei's newly
sharpened eyes boring into him.

The door slammed shut. Mamoru jumped before realizing Rei had done it.
Staring at Usagi, he took a long, deep breath.

How tiny she looked among the cacophony of machines and tubes! Mamoru had
to force himself to not break down there and then. With unsteady steps he
inched closer to her, trying to make his mouth work.

"I've been waiting for you." Though weak, her voice was firm, resolute.

With a trembling sigh he collapsed into one of the chairs next to her bed.
She had no idea how much he longed to touch her. With surprising bravery,
he took an IV-burdened hand and kissed it gently. She accepted the
affectionate gesture but offered no response, positive or negative.

With this newfound courage Mamoru dared to reach forward and kiss her
lips, which she also accepted dispassionately. He spotted the star locket
sitting on the stand next to her bed. Squinting slightly, he tried to determine
if it was his imagination or if the stone at the center looked darker
somehow . . .

"I should have come sooner," Mamoru admitted. "Much sooner."

"Like three years ago sooner."

"What?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

"Usa--"

"What happened to us, Mamoru?" she interrupted, staring out the window.

He wanted to lie down and die right there but still forced himself to
remain in one piece, standing up and anxiously pacing to the window.

"I don't know," he began uncertainly. "I honestly don't. I guess I was
hoping you could tell me that."

"Well, see . . . " Usagi took a deep, noisy breath, "I don't really know
either. After all, I'm just a child."

That hurt. He tried not to openly wince but he sensed that he failed.

"Just a little girl," she added more forcefully, "just a naïve little
child who doesn't know anything about love. Isn't that right, *Mamo-chan*?"

Mamoru stilled. "I was upset," he protested. "I didn't know *what* I was
saying."

"Nice try," Usagi drawled, "but you've made it a point in this
relationship to make me feel like the girl and you the man."

"Did I?" he pondered aloud. "Did I really?"

"It doesn't matter anymore," Usagi said. "Mamoru . . . we've been heading
for this moment since I hit you over the head with a test paper."

They hadn't, actually. That moment, eerily close yet seemingly ten
trillion miles away, would come at a time at which they were changed and
would change for forever. Love is action, not words. But at the time,
the important thing was not that it really was, but that Usagi *believed* it
was. She certainly had Mamoru convinced.

"I've been thinking about it a lot," she said, voice dropping again as the
anger petered out. "Gods, Mamo-chan, I'm just a little girl, I can't . . .
I mean . . ."

She started to cry, but when he went to wrap his arms around her, to
comfort her as he had so many times in the past, she batted his hands out of
the way. They hung limply at his side, testament to his inability to act
against her wishes.

"I never understood," she whispered, "never until that day. What you felt
for me, and what I felt for you. You were so calm all the time . . . I
never imagined . . . "

Tears came to his eyes. Kneeling at her bedside, he protested, "I can't
change the past . . . but you have to understand Usa-ko, it was only because
of you, because I was afraid for you and . . . "

"I understand," she said, patting his head as he sobbed softly into her
abdomen. "I can even forgive you. But, tell me Mamo-chan . . . what about next
time?"

"Next time?" His eyes were feral and bloodshot, gleaming like twin black
holes.

"Next time someone gets hurt. When will you snap, when are we going to
cross the line again . . . what happens next time?"

"It won't!"

"How can I be sure of that?" she challenged him.

"Because the last thing I'd EVER want to do is hurt you!" he insisted
piercingly, standing up to prove his vehemence on the matter. Unfortunately,
his fire seemed to die out and he slunk back into the chair. "But . . . but I
don't know if that means anything to you," he continued dully. "Maybe it would
be best if I just left."

"Like last time?"

He started.

"Like every other time?"

"Usa . . ."

"You say you love me, don't you?"

"Of course!"

"That without me you're nothing?"

"Yes!"

"And you don't want to see me get hurt!"

"Isn't that obvious?"

"Then WHY ARE YOU LEAVING?"

Outside, as Rei tried her darndest $heh$ not to listen, a breathless
Minako trudged through the halls of the waiting room, scanning the area for
life. After a quick flirting session with the cute nurse who let her in each
day, she snuck back, searching for Rei.

"He's here, isn't he?" Minako grated.

"In there right now," Rei echoed mechanically.

"Oh shit." Dropping onto Rei's lap, she put her ear to the door. "I
shouldn't go in there now, should I?"

"I'm almost tempted to say yes if it'd get you off my lap."

Back in the room, meanwhile, Mamoru twisted around almost fearfully,
bracing himself for what came next.

To his surprise, her face was soft and dreamy. A soft mist of tears
stained her pale cheeks, but she still looked like a tiny goddess to him,
someone who could easily rip him to shreds should she choose to.

"I love you so, so much," she breathed weakly. "But I've been doing a lot
of thinking, too. About you, about us . . . and I think that you shouldn't come
back here again."

Mamoru's lips were white, and his eyes . . . absolutely ghastly. Usagi
shuddered and looked away.

"Maybe . . . maybe our love *is* the problem . . . I mean, we love each
other, right? But where has that gotten us? Nothing but sorrow and pain. And
I know that love is supposed to overcome any barriers, but maybe . . . maybe the
reason that our love can't fix this is because it is the obstacle in of
itself."

"No . . . Usa-ko, don't say that . . . "

"What you did that day . . . it was too much. We crossed the line and we
can't go back. It mustn't. . . . "

"But . . . " He stopped, utterly hopeless. She was *supposed* to
understand. Why couldn't she? Didn't she love him? The last thought sent
Mamoru recoiling in sickness and terror.

"Every time I look at you, Mamoru, I'm going to remember that boy's face."

"Usa, please . . . I promise you, on my Honor as the Prince of
Earth. . . "

"Don't bother," she snarled. "It's too late for oaths. I guess in the
back of my mind I knew it would come to this, but I wanted to believe you
were better than that. I used to wonder 'if.' Now I wonder 'when.'"

Again he looked helpless, tangled in his sadness and fury. Outside,
Minako was everything but paralyzed by rage.

"Please, Usa-ko . . . " He dropped to his knees, heaving at the floor.
Unable to look up, he persisted, "I can't lose you," he begged. "I'll
control my impulses. I'll do what you want. It won't ever happen--"

"You're lying," she rasped. "To yourself and to me. Because you will.
Tell yourself differently, but it WILL happen."

"That's not . . . there won't--"

"It will ALWAYS be 'WHEN!'" she screamed at him. "Like it or not, Mamoru,
this is on YOUR hands."

A half-truth at best, Minako scowled from the other side of the wall. Rei
wasn't listening. She was using meditation exercises to distract herself
from the argument. The high-energy interactions of others tended to make
herself and her power edgy, something she despised. And there was no
higher-energy couple than Usagi and Mamoru.

Half-truth or not, though, that was it for Mamoru.

Both Usagi and Minako felt him snap on every level, heard the dull sound
of his heart splintering in his chest, the tormented, bestial noise he made in
response. With tedious steps he led himself away, clinging to his last
shreds of sanity at least until he could be somewhere private.

Usagi listened to him walk out, her tears in sync with his, never turning
to look at him. This was the only way, she reminded herself. What she and
Mamoru shared had grown too intense; it had spiraled out of control and now
affected the well being of innocent people.

Minako had to grip Rei's head (who at this point came back to Earth) to
keep from falling when Mamoru brushed by roughly.

"Mamoru-san," Minako called, "she's sick! She doesn't know what she's
talking about!"

"Doesn't she?"

And then he was gone, leaving an odd, cold breeze to go through the room.

"What happened?" Rei inquired unsteadily. "Do you still need to clutch my
head?"

Minako promptly let go of Rei, falling to the floor with a tremendous
crash. To Rei's surprise, though, she stood up and brushed herself off.

"They're SO going to regret that," Minako growled. "I'm sure as hell
planning to make sure that Usagi does."

Marching into the room, Minako started her tirade by screeching, "You
little fraud!"

Usagi was turned away from her, but Minako saw her thin outline jolt when
she'd yelled.

"Didn't you WANT proof of his love? What better proof could you *have*?"

Usagi was rigid. Turning slowly, she said in a harsh, reverent voice,
"How did you find out?"

"I don't know," Minako said honestly. "I dreamt it. Usagi-chan, you know
as well as I did that what just happened was out of line."

"Don't tell me that," Usagi snapped. "You have no idea how I feel."

"Maybe you should take your own advice," Minako reiterated.

"What do you . . .?" Usagi was genuinely confused.

Inhaling softly, Minako stalked up to the foot of the bed and stridently
glared at Usagi. "Usagi," she said carefully, "look me in the eye and tell
me you didn't want it to happen."

"What? I don't understand," Usagi declared unsteadily.

"Yes, you do. I mean it. Look me straight in the eye and say that you
didn't want Mamoru-san to do what he did."

She didn't even bother to look up. Huffing loudly, she turned back to the
window.

"You can't do it," Minako taunted her. "You can't do it because I'm right
and you know it."

"Go away, Minako-chan."

"I'm already going." But as Minako waltzed out, she called to Usagi,
"Maybe I'll go, but your problems are staying right in this room, Usa-chan."

* * * * * * *

For a while, it seemed that Usagi's prognosis was steady. She was sadder,
undoubtedly because of Mamoru, but she smiled and laughed when the Inners
came and entertained her with their antics, or she received yet *another*
bouquet from family or friends, or she chatted with her mother about the
lousy food and nibbled on the cookies her brother slipped her. During this
time, her heart did not deteriorate further, and the heavy antibiotics
appeared to be doing their job.

But the doctors were still worried, and Rei gave them credit for realizing
that things were not as they seemed. Each time Usagi had protested their
reluctance to release her, Rei saw the plump physician's face distort with
apprehension.

Haruka was scared too, but not for exactly the same reasons. She had heard
through the grapevine about Usagi and Mamoru's confrontation. Somehow she
sensed that Mamoru had not taken it well. She dropped by his apartment one
night. The lights had been off and she received no answer at the door. But
when she looked up to the balcony she had seen him, staring alternately at
the moon and the cold pavement below in a rather bleak fashion.

That was the night the pieces started to come together in her mind. Try
as she might, however, Haruka could not quite make the connection.

The locket was the most logical link. All three had some sort of
emotional investment in it, and all three had been holding it at some time
when the Wraith had attacked . . . yet Sailorsaturn had destroyed said Wraith.
And Usagi and Mamoru's problems had existed long before Michiru had been
involved.

What was the locket doing, then? If the locket really were a symbol of
true love, then why would it conspire to break Usagi and Mamoru apart?

All of that was on Haruka's mind that day as she walked into the hospital
that day. Holding the cold locket in her palm, her eyes widened in horror
as she watched several doctors whiz by, all working frantically to revive
the girl on the gurney, the girl who, according to the shouts of the
doctors, had no pulse.

And Usagi was the girl on the gurney.

The locket slipped to the ground, clattering loudly in the bare hall.

"Haruka-san?" A pale, haggard Rei looked at her through feverish
amethysts.

"What . . . happened . . . ?" The tall girl suddenly found her legs were
too weak to support her body. She wavered on her feet as if intoxicated,
trying to keep herself from passing out.

Rei, like an angel, reached out, steadied Haruka, and led her to a chair.
Wordlessly she pulled the older senshi into the seat and proceeded to rub
Haruka's temples, relaxing both of them some.

"I can't . . . this is . . . what . . . "

"It started last night," Rei said blankly. "About half an hour ago, her
heart failed completely. I called her parents . . . they're on the way."

"What?" As her coherence returned, Haruka's eyes narrowed on Rei. "Why
now?"

"I'm not sure," Rei admitted. "But I talked to Minako-chan yesterday.
She said that Luna was still sensing drainage from the ginzuishou. I think
it might've crashed again--"

"What's that sound?" Haruka stood up suddenly, her gaze darting back and
forth.

"Sound?"

"The music," she said, still looking around. "Where is it coming from?"

Rei's ears perked. "Come to think of it, I do sense an odd presence in
the room. Not evil, but . . ."

"Oh, Gods."

Haruka and Rei's eyes simultaneously focused on the mournful song of the
locket.

* * * * * * * *

". . . fortunately for your daughter, not for that unlucky soul or his
family, a young man died about six hours ago. His heart is a near perfect match
for Usagi-san's. We couldn't hope for better. As wary as I am about risking
weakening her immune system, the staff and I agree that the transplant is
the most prudent course at this point."

"Are you sure about that?" Kenji stared at his pretty wife, who, though
no more than forty, looked to be a thousand. "A heart transplant is a very
serious step."

"45% of her heart has now completely failed, Kenji-san. The valves around
the heart are shot, and she will suffer brain damage if we don't get them
fixed right away. We have to do this ASAP."

"Of course, doctor," Ikuko said stonily. "Do what you must."

"The operation will be some time tonight. She's stable right now. I'll
allow family and friends to see her within the next hour or so, but after
that she's going to the anesthesiologist."

* * * * * * * *

"So you've never heard the song before?"

"No, I haven't. It sounded *like* the Moonlight Densetsu, but . . .
warped." Rei groaned. "I hate waiting."

"So do I," Haruka intoned, "but complaining about it only seems to make
things go slower."

Rei sighed and turned away from Haruka. "Why do you have it, anyway?"

"Michiru was using it for a piece she's been writing." Somehow Haruka
knew that telling Rei the piece had been a Requiem would upset the girl. "I
thought Usagi might want it."

"Why would you think that? She told Mamoru-san off."

"Maybe," Haruka conceded, "but there are these moments when she thought no
one was looking . . . you could tell that she wanted him there."

"I see." Rei fingered the locket in Haruka's hands. "I think she's
hiding something," Rei uttered, looking away.

"So are we all."

"Rei-chan?"

"Tsukino-san!" Rei sprang up with new energy and bowed to Usagi's mother.
"Is everything all right?"

Ikuko bit her lip. "They're doing a full heart transplant," the woman
whispered.

Rei and Haruka exchanged glances. "That bad?" Rei uttered through white
lips.

Ikuko nodded, trying not to cry. "They stabilized her. You can see her
if you want."

Haruka picked up the locket and silently followed Rei to Usagi's room,
still trying to place the strange song from the locket.

* * * * * * * *

Usagi gazed steadily out the window, still deep in thought. Mamoru was on
her mind, of course--when wasn't he? Closing her eyes, she remembered the
anguished plea in his slate eyes, trying to forget its insinuations.

She'd thrown him out because she was afraid, hadn't she? Afraid of the
truth. Afraid of hurting him. Afraid of . . .

"Neko-chan?"

Haruka's voice cracked and wavered in a strangely fluid way. Usagi turned
to stare at the proud Outer senshi, looking hopelessly lost, clinging to her
sanity by a finer thread than she knew.

"Haruka-san," Usagi croaked feebly.

Haruka stepped up to the bed and ruffled Usagi's bangs. "Don't talk,
neko-chan. Save your breath." Usagi's lips turned up slightly.

Rei stepped in presently, gracefully striding to Usagi's side. "Are you
feeling any better, Hime-sama?"

Usagi didn't answer her.

"I'll take that as a no," Rei murmured worriedly.

"Neko-chan," Haruka smiled, "I brought you something." She placed the
locket in Usagi's lap.

Usagi's eyes grew wide. "My . . . " she whispered reverently. Slowly her
hand coiled around the piece, caressing it lightly.

"I thought you might want it back," Haruka said. From the content look on
Usagi's face, Haruka had guessed right. Rei's face broke into a real smile.
Brushing away the bangs Haruka had messed up, she entwined her left hand
with Usagi's free one.

"You have to get better, Usagi-chan," Rei said quietly. "For yourself as
well as the rest of us."

Usagi stared at the locket. Her fingers moved quickly to unlatch the
little piece, but in her drugged state she lacked the alacrity required for
the task.

"Let me." Haruka carefully pried open the locket. Within moments, the
new, doleful song of the locket began to play. Cringing, Haruka faced
Usagi.

To her surprise, though, Usagi did not seem to mind. "I like it," she
murmured softly. "Matches how I feel."

Haruka and Rei exchanged looks. "We'd better leave, Usagi-chan," Rei
said. "You're supposed to go under soon."

"But we'll be waiting for you," Haruka promised. "Don't worry about a
thing, neko-chan. We'll watch over you."

Usagi couldn't even make herself smile for them as they walked away.

* * * * * * * *

Days passed, seasons stayed the same. Haruka felt as if she were stuck in
a time loop, unable to quite give up or find the courage to break free.
Cursing herself as a coward, she said in the chair of the waiting room,
impatiently waiting for news . . . any news.

It was foolish for her to her to hope against all hope that she was wrong,
that the Wraith *had* been speaking literally when It had cursed Usagi. She
just wanted to pretend, pretend it never happened, pretend it would all go
away like the bad dreams Michiru had held her through, on nights when
shameless weeping and anguish were all right. On nights she felt loved.

*The song you hold in your heart will be your death march.*

"Tsukino-tachi?"

Haruka had forgotten about the other people in the room, the four Inners
huddled together, the family united in their misery. Haruka sat apart,
watching as the pompous doctor's exhausted lump trod through the door.

"How did it go?" Kenji inquired stonily, showing no real emotion on his
face.

The doctor let out a deep breath. "As well as we could have expected," he
said quietly. "The infection ravaged the valves and completely deadened
large parts her heart. Unfortunately . . ." He sighed again. "She'll be on
immune suppressants to keep her body from rejecting the new heart, but we
believe that your daughter is on the road to recovery."

"May we see her?" Rei asked expectantly, standing up abruptly.

The doctor looked over Rei and said slowly, "We prefer immediate family
only."

"Let her go," Ikuko said.

With a grateful smile, Rei stepped into the hallway, ignoring the doctor's
disconcertion.

Makoto looked over at Ikuko's tiny smile. The Amazonian senshi realized
that, though she may not know all of the details, indeed knew that these
girls were, for whatever reason, charged with watching over her daughter.

Rei, meanwhile, stepped into the recovery room, where Usagi was still
recovering from heavy anesthesia. Limp raven strands hung around the pretty
miko's face. Her violet eyes seemed gray as she examined Usagi's
near-lifeless form attached to the machines.

She didn't cry, despite how badly she wanted to. Rei took a deep breath
and steadied herself. She stepped forward again, eyes never leaving Usagi's
pallid face, assured that she was breathing on her own, however shallowly.

She reached out her hand.

"Mamo-chan?"

Frightened, Rei drew back, biting her lip so hard she drew blood.

"Mamo-chan . . ." She was holding her locket.

"Amazing," a voice came from behind her. Rei jumped.

Two blondes, one with a big red bow on her head, one with a short, choppy
cut, were in the doorway. Minako and Haruka walked forward, seeming
infinitely comfortable in each other's presence. In times like these, Rei
realized with a heavy heart, there was no Inner and Outer senshi. There
were the Senshi and everyone else.

"Amazing," Minako repeated impassively. "After that performance last
week, I almost thought that she had said goodbye for all time."

Haruka looked away. "It may be yet."

With a wrenching gasp, Rei launched herself in Haruka's arms, sobbing
painfully into the taller girl's chest. Haruka held her awkwardly, not
certain what to do with this sudden burst of emotion. So she simply stood
as Minako tried to calm down the bawling Rei.

A few minutes later, Rei pulled herself together, though her eyes looked
dead. After some quarreling with Minako, she allowed herself to be taken
out of the room and back to the shrine, where she eventually slipped into a
light, troubled sleep.

Haruka drove back to her hotel and waited a long while before slipping
into the same restless slumber.

* * * * * * * *

Soft lips, sleek hair across a cheek. Long, slender fingers brushed her
neck, making her tremble. Haruka groaned softly, already aroused by
Michiru's seductive caress. Taking her roughly, Haruka dragged her lips
across the lovely woman's own.

Michiru laughed, a sound like soft bells. Haruka responded more
provocatively, wrapping her fingers in the silken aqua strands, deepening
the kiss the women shared.

When she had finished running her hands through Michiru's hair, she came
down and gently unbuttoned Michiru's blouse, slipping the garment off her
lover's slim shoulders.

But just as she was about to work off the bra, Haruka opened her eyes--and
gasped.

"Michiru," she whispered as she pushed the woman away, overwhelmed with
repulsion.

Where Michiru's shadow was cast, there was a gaping hole in the chest.

Michiru blinked innocently. "Is something the matter, aisuru?" she
queried, seeming to not notice the hole where her heart should've been. She
stood up, which confirmed that this was real and not a mere trick of the
light.

"Your heart. . . . " Haruka couldn't say anything.

"What heart?" she asked mechanically.

"Michiru . . . "

"Haruka," Michiru straddled herself in Haruka's lap, tenderly caressing
her tomboyish lover's face, "don't you love me?" Anyone could have seen it, the
love and adoration in her eyes, but Michiru's love for Haruka never came
into question.

Aroused, then reminded again of Michiru's serious defect, she scrambled
away, unable to speak.

"What's wrong?" Michiru was beginning to get angry.

"You have a hole where your heart should be?" Haruka was growing scared.

With fiery eyes she turned to glare at her lover. "No," she said
forcefully, scaring Haruka to death, "I am here with you, Haruka, because by
your side is where I belong," she snapped.

"But . . . "

"Don't you love me?"

"Of course I do!"

"As I you. And they told that in order to be here with you I had to leave
my heart in Hell."

"Michiru?"

"My love . . . for all you fight it, you need me. But you chose. Between
the Princess and myself, you chose her. I can't begrudge you that. But you
chose. I sold myself to follow you here, and now . . . now . . . now you spurn me for it!"

"Michiru . . . please listen to me--"

"There is nothing to be said!"

The room exploded.

Fire was everywhere, Haruka was forced to breathe in the heady smoke and
frantically tried to find Michiru. The world around her blazed; searing
heat pressed through her skin and rushed through her veins. Colors became
nothing more than a palette of gray, red, and black.

And in all the haze, she saw, saw as her poor beautiful lover was
incarcerated in the flame, screaming Haruka's name even as her being was
consumed by the energy, an energy made of the purest, whitest hatred and the
blackest love.

Haruka collapsed, weeping as she breathed in the smoke. Blocking out the
driving chaos around her, she waited without really knowing; she waited
until there was quiet and cold and she could hear herself think.

Before she knew it had been given to her. With rough motions she stood up,
searching for her lover.

"Michiru?" The voice was quiet and pitifully weak.

"There is no longer a Michiru here."

Where her lover once stood was now a screaming Wraith.

* * * * * * * *

With a gasp, Haruka awakened, tearing flowing freely from her eyes. In a
series of abrupt motion-like actions, she jerked herself into her car,
forgetting she wore only a large collared shirt her underwear, and a pair of
socks.

Each step towards the hospital seemed more torturous than the last, yet
somehow she slipped through the security cracks again, probably thanks to
her power as the Senshi of Wind. Shivering with cold, she walked to Usagi's
room instinctively, rushed yet very steady.

The proud Princess of her memory was shriveling before her very eyes, and
for the first time in her life, Haruka felt utterly helpless. At this
point, she knew there was nothing more she could do.

But there was someone who could.

Someone knew the answer.

Someone would face the truth.

Haruka trudged on, despite her bone-deep weariness.

* * * * * * * *

In what seemed an instant later (Haruka never really knew how long it took
her; it may have been a few minutes and it may have been a few hours), she
was at another door, knocking this time, frantic, angry, and empty. With
ferocious strength her hand came down on the door once, twice,
thrice--again. And again, she did not know how long she knocked, only that
her hand hurt for days afterwards.

When Dr. Tomoe answered, mumbling something about salespeople, he stared at
Haruka through hazy, blind eyes, having been too drowsy to remember where
his glasses were. But he somehow recognized Haruka.

"Ten'oh-san?" The scientist looked puzzled. "What time is it?"

"I need to see Hotaru-chan."

"She's asleep, Ten'oh-san. Call in the morning."

"Otou-san?" A sleepy Hotaru shivered in the night air under her thin boxer
set. "Who's there?"

"Go back to bed, matsujo. You have school in the morning."

"Hotaru-chan!" Haruka cried wildly. "Hotaru-chan, I need to talk to you!"

"Haruka-papa?" The raven bell of hair rose, revealing glassy violet eyes.
"Haruka-papa, is that you?"

"Hotaru-chan . . . it's about Hime-sama . . ."

"Hime-sama?" Hotaru snapped to attention. Surveying her father's puzzled
expression, she said very seriously, "Otou-san, Haruka-papa needs my help.
I have to go with her now."

"MATSUJO!" Too late. Despite the freezing weather, Hotaru fled shoeless
into the cold night air with Haruka at her side.

* * * * * * * *

Maybe it looked silly to see a barefoot Hotaru, wearing only her thin
chemise and Haruka's parka, but no one in the waiting room was laughing that
night. That night, Haruka remembered later, there were no family or friends
milling in the lobby, simply six senshi, all together and all alone at
once.

It was better that way. The senshi were beginning to resent the visitors
and family's constant presence, despite their perfect right to be there.
This was their Princess; she was their responsibility and their astute
privilege, and she was not to be shared.

Now Haruka dared to look up. Minako stared listlessly out a window, eyes
cool and calm. None of her usual vigor or good cheer was with her that
night.

Ami and Makoto sat by each other, offering words of comfort and sorrow.

Rei didn't stare anywhere; her eyes were dull and her fire had long since
been extinguished. With a heavy heart she tried to make eye contact with
Haruka, but found she lacked the strength.

Hotaru merely observed, as she had been doing all her life, but for all
her icy indifference and the power of Saturn behind her, she was as
vulnerable as they.

"This is my fault." Hotaru's lips trembled as she spoke. "I should
intervened sooner, but . . . Setsuna-mama . . ."

Haruka turned. "Setsuna-mama what?" she asked, looking confused.

"Setsuna-mama wanted me to stay clear of battle," Hotaru replied quietly.
"She said I was too young to wield my power properly. I broke taboo when I
fought in the battle with the Damned One."

Rei's ears perked up. "Do you mean the Wraith?" she inquired, finally
focusing on Hotaru.

"I don't understand," Minako said. "It was just some stupid shadow, wasn't
it?"

"I knew it," Rei muttered. "I knew it, I knew it, I knew it."

Minako glared at her. "That's good for you," she rolled her eyes, "but why
in God's name didn't you say anything earlier?"

"I-I wasn't sure," Rei said, tears forming in her eyes. "I didn't want to
believe it. I . . . I'm afraid."

A sharp, bitter laugh rang out. "That's it then," Minako bit, laughing
again, "that's why this happened. We were afraid. We were afraid of
Mamoru-san and we were afraid of interfering. Every last one of us. And
don't you DARE hide behind Setsuna-san's appeals, Hotaru-chan. You didn't
want to question it because we were afraid of the answer."

Haruka wanted to cry.

"Don't jump on her, Minako!" Rei snapped. "None of us did anything. We
*all* sat around and watched this happen!"

"May I see her?" Hotaru's voice was quiet and strangely defeated.

Haruka quietly led Hotaru into the halls, mapping the best way to sneak
past the nurses to Usagi's room.

"I cannot believe that you would have the AUDACITY--"

"Oh, hush up you hot-headed brat!" Minako screamed at Rei. "You just said
you saw this coming, so don't act all high and mighty with me, Rei!"

"Listen, you little tease--"

"I am NOT a tease!"

"She's right, Rei-chan." A booming, womanly effigy stood in the doorway
of the waiting room, her rich olive skin and deep green hair illuminated by the
weak fluorescent light. Warm magenta eyes were...mournful, yet maintained
an odd sparkle. "Minako-chan is by no means a tease."

While the other three senshi reeled, Minako took this as an opportunity to
cut in with, "See? See, Rei-chan? Even Setsuna-san's defending me!"

"After all," the senshi of Time added with a twinkle in her eye, "Minako
can't be a tease as long as she's still sleeping around."

"Yeah, exactly!" Minako bellowed. "Hey! Waaaaaaaaiiiiiiiit..."

Setsuna simply smiled. "It's good to see all of you again," she began,
her face growing serious. "I had hoped our reunion would be on more pleasant
terms, but the situation at hand has become dire in nature."

"We're happy to see you," Ami greeted her, speaking up for the first time
that evening. "In fact, we have some questions that maybe you can answer."

She shook her head. "I am more ignorant of the current state of affairs
than any of you are. The Keeper of Time is not supposed to watch the time
stream flow. It curbs the temptation to intervene. Nonetheless," Setsuna
sighed, "even from another dimension I could sense Hotaru-chan's distress.
She makes for an excellent barometer."

"Is that so," Ami mused.

"Are you going to explain that little crack now, Setsuna-san?"

"My, my, aren't we defensive. Did I strike a chord?"

Minako turned several shades of red.

"So what are we to do?" Rei interjected, deliberately ignoring Minako.

"To tell you the truth . . . " Setsuna looked tired; for the first time
the senshi saw her thousand-plus years reflected in her ruby eyes. "To tell
you the truth, I don't know."

"Setsuna-mama?"

The woman turned around. Still barefoot, Hotaru stared at the imposing
woman, eyes overflowing with awe and elation.

"Hotaru-chan," Setsuna beamed. In a flash, Hotaru was swept into the
older woman's arms, showing an affection and warmth the senshi had not
previously observed in the woman. Hugging the small Hotaru to her chest, long
fingers with perfect nails stroked the girl's hair in a motherly fashion,
comforting the both of them.

Haruka stood in the hall, eyes nearly dead. "You're here," she punctuated
slowly, her empty expression sweeping over the woman.

Setsuna looked sad. "I should have come sooner, Haruka."

"You're telling me." Haruka slipped away, disappearing into the cold night
air.

* * * * * * * *

"You finally dragged Rei-chan home?"

"According to her grandfather, being stuffed up in that hospital was bad
for her," Minako said to Motoki as she sat forlornly at the bar.
"Ami-chan's with her, making sure she doesn't go back."

"Wait," Motoki interrupted Rei, "I thought that Rei-chan and Usagi-chan
fought all the time."

Makoto leaned forward. "They'd never admit it," Makoto divulged, "but in
the end, there are no two more loyal friends than Usagi-chan and Rei-chan.
I guess in that way they're almost sisters."

"I see." Motoki wiped the counter listlessly. "Speaking of Usagi-chan,
how is she doing after her operation?"

The brown-haired senshi closed her eyes. "Not well," Minako said
honestly. "Her heart's not accepting the body, and since she's on drugs that
weaken her immune system, she's having an even harder time fighting off the
infection now. They . . . " Makoto leaned into Motoki's ear. "They're not
sure if she's going to make it."

"Oh Gods." Motoki turned white. The first thing he thought of was what
this would do to Mamoru. "You're serious, aren't you?"

"Do you actually think I could kid about something like that?" Makoto
hissed. "Give me a break, Motoki-san."

"Sorry," he apologized. "I'm a little on edge these days."

"On edge? Why?"

Motoki exhaled. "Mamoru-kun . . . he's been . . . not well."

"Not well?"

"I guess," Motoki admitted unsteadily.

"Well I know he argued with Usagi-chan," Mako informed him, "but I haven't
seen hide nor hair of him lately."

"Maybe that's because he hasn't left his apartment since then," Motoki
stated flatly.

Mako[to looked up, green eyes meeting green. "What?" she queried, curiosity
getting the better of her.

"You heard me," Motoki replied. "I mean . . . well, he's never been happy,
you know. With the parents being dead and all."

"Even with . . .?"

"He was never comfortable with his feelings towards Usagi-chan," Motoki
responded. "Mamoru-kun was never truly happy in love. He was afraid
opening up would come back to haunt him." Motoki expressionlessly wiped an
invisible spot off the counter. "I used to be jealous of him, you know," he
told Makoto. "He's brilliant, independent, talented--the girls fall over
him. And pretty loaded to boot. But all that came at a very, very high
price."

Makoto squirmed uncomfortably under Motoki's gaze. All this new
information was unsettling for her. "Wow," she commented, not looking up.
"Um . . . I'd better go." She turned to leave.

A strong arm gripped her wrist. Twirling back around, she saw Motoki,
looking at her in a pained fashion.

"Motoki-san . . ."

Motoki's breathing was ragged and his grip a little painful. Awakening
from her daze, Makoto now fully absorbed the extent of Motoki's own private
demon, his continual inability to help his best friend. Makoto quietly
placed a smooth hand on Motoki's trembling cheek.

"Tell me," Makoto said quietly. "Please."

"He really does love her," Motoki said, taking in a long, quivering breath.
"But he's scared of something. I don't know what, but . . . I think it
has to do with what happened."

"What happened?" Makoto held her breath hopefully.

"I . . . I have American pen pals I talk to for my English class," Motoki
whispered. "One of them is in an anime club at Harvard. A-around the time
Mamoru-san announced he was staying at Harvard for another year . . . there
were . . . problems."

"What problems?" The tall brown-haired girl tried to keep her voice calm,
trying not to frighten the already terrified Motoki.

"A robbery somewhere near campus," Motoki murmured. "People . . . people
died. When I tried to talk to Mamoru-san about it he'd always changed the
subject. But I knew . . . I mean I always got the feeling . . . and yesterday,
I went to see him, and he was so lost, Makoto-chan, I didn't know what to
do . . . I . . . it scared me."

Tears fell freely from both sets of eyes. Makoto wiped hers away but
Motoki didn't even bother. Slinking into a booth, Motoki continued, "He was
never happy until he met her," Motoki murmured. "Never. But from the
second she walked into his life, he . . . he changed for the better. And to
see him like that yesterday, unable to do anything but watch him. . . like
that . . . my best friend . . . I hated it . . . he said that he was a
murderer and she was his next victim. For the first time, Makoto, I was
scared of him. Really scared of him. I didn't even know it was possible
for someone to be in that much pain and still breathing." Motoki let out a
breath, a low hiss of relief. "He made me promise not to tell anyone, but .
. . "

"You did the right thing," Makoto said weakly. "Please don't worry any
longer, Motoki-san."

Motoki rubbed his face with his palms. "I don't know why, but I got the
feeling you could help," he said dully. "Don't blame him for this, Makoto.
He does enough of that himself."

She smiled through the glitter of her tears, her anger towards Mamoru now
completely evaporated. And for the first time, she realized that just as
Mamoru so effortlessly hurt Usagi, Mamoru was just as easily bruised. She
broke into a run towards the Hikawa shrine.

* * * * * * * *

"American crime records!" Makoto screamed as she slid into the main room of
the temple.

"Excusez-moi?" Rei asked, not even looking up from her tarot card spread.

"Ami-chan, can you find police reports for any crimes committed in the
Boston area about nine months ago?" Makoto asked breathlessly.

"Police reports?" Ami asked incredulously. "In order to that, I'd have to
be able to hack into the United States government's mainframe and sort
through what could easily be thousands of records in order to find one
matching whatever description you have for me, then translate it into
Japanese because my abilities aren't strong enough for formal
English-language documents."

"Which means?" Makoto looked a little impatient.

"Sometime this evening," Ami ventured.

Two heads whipped around. "Are you serious?" Makoto said, jaw hanging
limply on the floor.

"Of course," Ami said with a wicked gleam in her eye. "You don't play
around with computers 24-7 without picking up some useful skills."

"Useful skills?"

"Let's just say that the only 89 I received in my academic career will
never see the light of day," Ami said fiendishly.

Rei looked stricken. "You can DO that?!" she asked, immediately
processing the potential benefits of this new piece of information.

"So, Ami-chan . . . "

"No."

"I was just asking for information!"

"Sure, Mako-chan, I really believe that. Now do you want me to find that
file or not?"

* * * * * * * *

"This is a nice room, Haruka," Setsuna commented as she looked around the
luxurious suite Haruka was staying in, "But then, I've always been fond of
the Four Seasons chain. Is the liquor free?"

"Doesn't matter. You can have some if you'd like," Haruka said listlessly
from her spot on the plush velvet couch. The sounds of Hotaru watching TV
floated in from another room.

"Thank you." To Haruka's surprise, Setsuna poured herself a generous
glass of scotch and seated herself in an elegant Victorian-era armchair. "The
quarters at the Time Gate are a little sparse," she explained. "Apparently
the last keeper had austere tastes. I keep telling myself I'll redecorate
but I never seem to find time."

"That's hilarious, Setsuna-san," Haruka rolled her eyes.

"Well," Setsuna looked over at Haruka rather witheringly, "at least it got
a response besides total apathy."

"Your idea of making me feel better is making bad puns and talking about
the décor?"

"Nothing else seems to have worked." Setsuna sipped her champagne. "This
is excellent liquor," she commented, seeming pleased. "Another thing I
don't get the privilege of partaking in while at the Gate," she explained,
swirling the drink around. "You wouldn't happen to have a cocktail shaker,
would you? I haven't had a good martini since the Depression."

"Does this have a point, Setsuna-san?" Haruka scowled.

"I don't know, Haruka." Setsuna's tone instantly turned professional.
"After all, you haven't exactly been anxious to get to business."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Haruka barked, immediately sitting up.

"'Pride often goes before a fall,'" Setsuna quipped. "Your lover has been
behaving in a way completely unlike her, your Princess is dying, and your
Prince may as well be, for the good it's doing us. Now what are you going
to do about it?"

"I don't know," Haruka sighed. "I . . . I was wondering. . . you knew
about the attack by the Wraith, right?"

"I was in the middle of fixing a time rip. I sensed Hotaru-chan's henshin,
but by the time I was finished, the battle was long over."

"I see," Haruka said uncertainly. "Well . . . Saturn-chan . . . she
destroyed the youma. Used her 'Silence Glaive Surprise' attack."

Setsuna paused. "Haruka, will you please reiterate what the meaning of
the word 'wraith?'"

"What? What are you talking about?"

"This is for your benefit, not for mine. Go on."

"Well . . . " Haruka paused. "A wraith is . . . a ghost, right? A
spirit."

"Good," Setsuna praised her. "Now let me ask you a question: an attack
like the 'Silence Glaive Surprise' has the ability to do great damage to
matter on the physical plane. It *cannot* destroy matter that exists on a
spiritual plane, correct?"

"Of course. So?" But Haruka already knew where this was going.

"Your Wraith had no body. Could you please explain to me how a creature
with no physical essence can be destroyed with physical power?"

"Wait . . . WHAT?!" Haruka launched herself off the couch. "Why the hell
didn't anyone say anything?! We all assumed the stupid thing was dead!"

"That's a good question," Setsuna rejoined. "And the answer is in the
other room watching television."

Completely indignant, Haruka stormed into the television room, screeching
girlishly, "Why didn't you TELL anyone the Wraith wasn't dead?!"

Hotaru looked up from her seat on the sofa. "I never said it was dead,"
she replied seriously.

Haruka stopped. "But we . . . we . . . "

"It's inside her Heart, just like it has been all along."

The phone rang. Haruka glowered and yelled at Setsuna, "Pick it up
already!"

"Ten'oh-san's suite. How may I help you?"

With Setsuna now occupied with the phone, Haruka had time to process what
the little Senshi of Death was saying. "Wait a moment," Haruka seethed,
"are you telling me that . . . that Creature . . . so It really is inside
her heart?"

The raven bell of hair bobbed up and down.

"But . . . how . . . how is this possible?" Haruka mentally reviewed the
battle scene. "When . . . "

"Haruka! Hotaru-chan! You'd better get in here!"

"Not now, Setsuna-san!"

"It's Ami-chan. The Inners found something."

"Shit," Haruka cursed. Grumbling, she prodded Hotaru into the conference
room.

"Hold on," Setsuna told Ami. "I'll put you on the speakerphone." After a
moment, she found the correct button and pressed.

"Haruka-san? Setsuna-san? It's Ami. Can you hear me?"

"Loud and clear," Haruka replied. "What's up?"

"Mako-chan got a tip from Motoki-san earlier. We found out what happened
at Harvard. There was an article in the Boston Globe about it."

Haruka looked over at Setsuna, who seemed confused. "He's been acting
strange since he came back." Haruka quickly brought Setsuna up to speed,
with Ami chiming in occasionally from the Inners' line.

"Okay, what did you find?" Haruka asked finally.

"Hear for yourself. Minako-chan, will you be able to translate it for the
Outers?"

After some shuffling, another voice came on. "Haruka-san? This is
Minako."

"Go ahead," Haruka said, clutching at the chair where Setsuna was sitting.

"The date is March 29th, which is about four days before Mamoru-san told
Usagi-chan he was planning to stay another year. According to the article,
there was a robbery at a convenience store just off campus. Two guys barged
in and demanded all the money from the register. At the time of the
robbery, the people in the store were the night manager, who is in the back,
a clerk, a young couple with their kid and a study group from Harvard. One
of the members of the group was Mamoru-san."

"A convenience-store knock-off?!" Haruka was incredulous. "THAT's why he
dumped her?"

"Don't start jump to any conclusions," Minako warned. "This gets better.
The two thieves had guns on them. The clerk started breaking down, so one
of the guys shot her. She died instantly. The two guys take all cash out
of the now-open register and apparently planned to take off with the cash
and leave everyone be. Here's where it starts getting messy: the baby
starts crying really, really loudly, and the mother picks the kid up, hoping
to calm her down. One of the guys was really jittery, at least according to
the report, and ends up shooting the kid."

"What the--"

"Cretin." Setsuna's mouth was set in a hard line. "Go on, Minako-chan."

"The mother starts crying now, which sets the guy off again. He's getting
ready to shoot again when someone sneaks up behind him and starts choking
him. The gun went off and hit the mother in the face. And guess who
proceeds to stab the shooter with a knife the owner kept behind the
counter?"

No one said a word.

"Well, guess."

Still nothing.

"It was Mamoru-san, baka!"

"We know," Haruka hissed into the speaker.

"Just checking," Minako replied testily. "We called up the police record.
There are pictures of the victims. And get this--the mother *looks* like
Usagi-chan! I mean, it's not an exact match, but if you aged her by 10
years, lightened her hair and eyes and took down the odango, that'd pretty
much be what this woman looked like. Ami-chan thinks Mamoru-san was so
panicked he mentally associated the threat to this woman as a threat to
Usagi-chan."

"So the boy in the park wasn't the first," Haruka murmured in horror.

"WHAT?!" three voices chorused.

"How did you know about that?!" Minako cried.

"What do the two of you know?" Setsuna blanched.

"I'm flipping off the speakerphone," Haruka announced. "Let me talk to
Minako-chan in private."

"Haruka--"

"I'll explain everything in a minute. Now just go." Setsuna and Hotaru
silently acquiesced.

"Minako-chan?"

"Tell me how you knew about this," Minako demanded.

"I will if *you* tell *me*," Haruka retorted.

"I asked first," Mina snapped. "Hurry up."

"Usagi-chan came to us the morning it happened and told us the story,"
Haruka admitted. "She made Michiru and me promise not to tell anyone. Now
how about you, Minako-chan?"

"I had a dream about it. I think Usagi-chan accidentally transferred the
memory to me. The whole thing was in slow motion, and let me tell you
something, Haruka-san, she wanted that kid dead as much as he did."

There was shouting in the back. "The peanut gallery's having a
conniption," she apologized. "I'd better go. Meet us at the Hikawa shrine
in half an hour, Haruka-san, and bring Setsuna-san and Hotaru-chan." The
phone clicked off.

* * * * * * * *

"So what exactly did Minako say, again?"

"I've repeated it six times already, Setsuna-san!"

"Say it a seventh."

"All right," Haruka groaned, trying to focus on the road, "she told me that
in her dream, Usagi wanted Mamoru-san to off the kid. But that's typical,
considering the fact the boy was about to rape her."

In the rearview mirror of her convertible, Haruka could see Hotaru jump
when she said the word 'rape.'

"Is something the matter, Hotaru-chan?"

"Do you really think that's why she wanted the boy dead?"

Haruka cocked her head, exchanging a look with Setsuna. "It was a pretty
good theory, in my opinion. I mean, if some lowlife tried to do that to
me--"

"That's not why she wanted him dead."

Another look passed between the two older Outers. "Usagi-sama would have
never wanted someone dead just because they hurt her. That's not how she
thinks."

"But--"

"She might want him dead for someone else's sake, though."

The two women were silent. "Oh God," Haruka said, shaking her head.
"You're right, Hotaru-chan . . . damn--" Setsuna glared at her, "--I never
even considered that. It all makes perfect sense now . . . "

Suddenly Haruka wrenched the wheel to the right, going in the opposite
direction of the Hikawa shrine.

"Haruka!" Setsuna scolded her crossly. "What do you think you're doing?
The shrine is the *other* way!"

"I mustn't do it," Haruka spat angrily. "I can't make her mistake, Setsuna
. . . and she most definitely made a mistake!"

"What are you talking about?!" Setsuna cried. "Have you gone completely
insane? You turn this car around RIGHT NOW, Tenoh Haruka, or I swear
I'll--"

"We're here," Hotaru said coolly from the back.

Setsuna looked up. Before her was the beautiful 'mansion by the sea'
Haruka and Michiru lived in, now dark and dim. The sky around it was cloudy
and gray. All three could feel the evil emanating from the house.

"What are we doing here?" Setsuna asked nervously. "What's going on?"

"I can't just ignore what's happening to Michiru-chan just because I'm
afraid of it," Haruka realized. "If I do, I'll end up like neko-chan and
Mamoru-san. I have to face her."

"Are you really sure that's a good idea?" Setsuna protested, panic causing
her voice to waver. "You don't know what kinds of forcing are manipulating
her."

"Doesn't matter," Haruka gulped. "She'd do the same for me."

Setsuna reached out to stop her, but a light tug on the cranberry skirt she
wore stopped her. Hotaru shook her head at Setsuna, indicating what both
knew: nothing would stop Haruka from doing this.

"Fine," Setsuna gave in. "Do you want us to go in with you?"

"You two should go on to the shrine," Haruka said. "There are other cars
I can take."

"Haruka," Setsuna groaned, "I don't have a license."

"You're telling me that after a thousand years you never learned how to
DRIVE?!" Haruka was indignant.

"That's not the--"

"Just drive carefully," Haruka instructed. "I'll see you guys later."

Setsuna reluctantly stepped into the car and started the ignition. "At
least henshin first," she warned sharply as the car started roaring away
from the boyish senshi.

"Uranus crystal power, make up!"

Now she was alone.

* * * * * * * *

"The infection has continued to spread," the doctor confirmed for the
unhappy Tsukinos. "It has ceased to respond to any of the antibiotics we've
given her." He continued on grimly, adding, "Usagi's body refuses to accept
the new heart, and with her immune system gone, she has no defense against
illness. Her lungs are nearly full of fluid, and we have detected lesions
on the brain. She's had seizures several times in the past few days."

Ikuko held her husband's hand, silent tears dripping down her cheeks.

"I get the sense she stopped fighting a while back," the doctor finished.

Kenji looked stricken.

"There is nothing more we can do except help make her passing easier during
the next two or three hours. I'm sorry."

A wrenching cry was let forth into the night.

* * * * * * * *

With slow, steady steps, Haruka approached Michiru, who was fully absorbed
in her terrible music.

"I wanted to say I'm sorry for not supporting you," Uranus said quietly.
Michiru didn't even look up. "I should have understood how important this
is to you. I mean . . . I still love you, Michiru-chan. I think we can
work things out."

The music continued come from the piano.

Familiar music, Uranus suddenly realized, coming from the piano. Well, the
tune was the same, but in her memory the music was different . . . soft,
tinkly . . . kind of like a music box . . .

. . . or a locket.

Uranus gasped as she realized the song the locket had played was no longer
the Moonlight Densetsu, but Michiru's twisted new rendition.

"It's you," Uranus choked out, unable to tear her eyes away from the piano.

Michiru turned around slowly, and Uranus gasped again, feeling the blood
drain from her face. Michiru's clear azure eyes were now a dull shade of
indigo, blackening before her eyes.

"It's you," Uranus repeated mechanically, taking a step back. "That
Requiem. I understand now! Michiru-chan, please baby, you have to stop
writing. It's killing--"

"Get out," Michiru rasped, voice laden with malevolence. "Get out,
Uranus."

"I can't," she protested pitifully. "I can't leave you like this. You
have to stop." This must have been how Mamoru felt, Uranus realized in an
odd moment of clarity. Helpless and utterly lost.

With that, the last pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

"Michi-chan--" Uranus sobbed, tears streaming down as she collapsed to the
ground. "Oh, Gods, Michiru, my love, my life--"

"GET OUT!!!" A frenzied burst of energy crashed into Uranus, flinging the
door open and sending the woman out with it.

For a moment, though, she thought she saw Michiru's eyes turn back to
their usual azure, staring pleadingly at her. "Libera me," she whispered before
reverting back to the twisted black-blue color. That Michiru laughed at
Uranus's pain.

"MICHIRU!" After crash-landing on the lawn, Uranus was too terrified to
try to confront Michiru again. Shivering with cold and some unknown
affliction, she stumbled away, too afraid to even go in the garage.

* * * * * * * *

"Now that we have a clearer picture of Mamoru-san's motivations--"

"It's the locket!" An exhausted Uranus collapsed onto the straw mat lying
in the doorway of the Hikawa shrine's fire room. Four Inners and two Outers
were sitting around said fire, finally exchanging knowledge. "The locket's
doing everything!"

"Calm down," Setsuna ordered, helping Makoto pick Uranus up and sit her
down properly. "What happened?"

Uranus took a deep breath. "Rei-chan," she gasped, "do you remember the
song in the locket?"

"Right!" Rei cried. "It was changed. Warped."

"The song was from Michiru-chan's Requiem."

For a moment, everyone was silent. "'The song you hold in your heart will
be your death march,'" Hotaru whispered.

"What do you mean?" Uranus turned wild eyes to her. "You said that the
Wraith was in Usagi's heart."

"I did say that."

"Then what does it have to do with the song?" she yelled, grasping neither
emotion nor sanity.

"Haruka-papa," Hotaru said quietly, "I never said it was inside her chest.
You misinterpreted."

"Wait," Makoto cut in, "if it's not in Usagi-chan's heart then . . . "

"The locket," Rei's eyes grew wide. "Remember? When I attacked, the
Wraith was forcing energy into the locket, which must've transferred to
Michiru-san, Mamoru-san and Usagi-chan. This thing has some sort of hold on
them and it's using the locket to do its bidding."

"But what does it want?" Minako protested. "Why would it go to such great
lengths to execute this plan?"

"Because it needed them," Hotaru spoke up. "It wanted to die, but It
couldn't. So It needed someone to die for It."

"Die? I don't understand," a frightened, wide-eyed Uranus stuttered.

Ami fiddled with the computer she was holding. "I may have something,"
she said slowly, looking into the fire.

Six sets of eyes were instantly on her.

"I broke the code this morning," she said quietly, "but I didn't get time
to look over the information. There were still some basic security measures
I had to bypass--nothing time couldn't fix. Then we got the call . . . and
I had to crack the Boston Globe's archive . . . "

"So you broke into the database?" Makoto asked anxiously.

"I broke into the Silver Millennium's Criminal Files," Ami said flatly.
"Our Wraith is an old, old friend of ours."

"Why am I not getting a good feeling about this?" Minako groaned.

"Oh, you can't feel the love in the room?" Rei said caustically. "Get on
with it, Ami-chan."

Ami took a deep breath. "The records match the Silver Millennium's File
on a woman by the name of Natsuki Mayumi, Countess of Beryl," she read from the
screen. "Lady Beryl, it seems, was an ordinary Earthly denizen before
becoming the psychotic vessel of a hell-spawned demon-goddess."

"Pleasant." Minako made a face.

"Wait . . . are you taking about the Crazy Lady?" Uranus asked, leaning on
Setsuna heavily.

"Crazy Lady?"

Setsuna blushed. "During one of the rare opportunities Uranus had to
visit me during that time period, we, ah, came up with that code name for her."

"Because she was insane," Uranus explained needlessly, staring vacantly
into the distance.

"Right." Setsuna shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "That too."

"I beg to differ," Minako protested, raising an eyebrow. "My general
impression of Beryl-sama was that she was only after Endymion. The sorts of
things people get tangled up in for love . . . " Minako sighed and looked
out the window, "before you know it you're gone. I mean, would Mamoru-san
taken life if not for Usagi?"

"Blondie's got a point, Uranus-san," Makoto chimed in. "We're still
missing pieces. How did Beryl come back? I'm pretty certain that
Usagi-chan sent her dooown."

"Ah . . . not necessarily," Setsuna winced. "There are stories of
emotions so fervent, they leave a 'mark' behind when they leave. A mono-focused
consciousness. If I had expected that Beryl-sama would be left behind in
such a way I would have warned you long before, but . . . " Setsuna gazed
at the empty-eyed Uranus, "I guess even monsters love."

"Exactly," Minako agreed forcefully, "but what is this thing doing?"

"My best guess is it's using Michiru and the Requiem to extract revenge on
Usagi," Setsuna replied. "This thing probably wants to rest. As long as
Usagi is alive, it probably can't."

"So this thing possessed Usagi-chan and Michiru-san," Makoto reiterated,
"and now we have to figure out a way to release them?"

"At least one of them," Rei corrected her. "If my hunch is correct, if we
can remove the hold from one, it will weaken the monster. Usagi and Michiru
have created a sort of symbiotic relationship. Whatever affects one will
benefit or hurt the other equally."

"Interesting," Uranus murmured.

"What is?" Setsuna asked sharply.

"It just sounds too easy, that's all."

"That's because that's all there is to it," she said tersely. "Do you
understand now?"

"Of course," she whispered.

"Then who should we save?" Setsuna queried. "We'll follow your lead."

"What?" Uranus looked at her wildly. "Why me?"

"Who, in your opinion, would be easiest to exorcise the demon from?"
Setsuna didn't answer Uranus's second question.

Uranus stilled. Her head was spinning, throwing excuses and information at
her from every turn.

Her love or her duty.

"Uranus?"

Duty.

"Are you listening to me?"

Love.

"Uranus, do you have an opinion or not?"

Duty.

"Uranus?"

Love.

"Uranus, are you going to answer me or not?"

*Libera me.*

"Love," she mumbled.

"What was that?"

She snapped out of her reverie. "Michiru would be the easiest. Usagi's
illness is driven by the music Michiru composes. We stop Michiru, we buy
time."

"We don't know that," Rei protested. "This thing is turning Michiru into
another like it. It's far easier to expel a spirit from a body than it is a
mind!"

"I *said,*" Uranus ground through clenched teeth, "we will find Michiru."

For a moment, no one moved. Uranus sighed. "Are we going or not?" she
snipped harshly.

Suddenly the senshi were in action, preparing . . . no.

"Uranus-papa?" Hotaru innocently stared up at her, holding her henshin
stick while the others transformed. "You're so white."

Unsurprising but disturbing nonetheless. Uranus steadied herself on the
sill. "You six meet me at the house," she called as she bolted out the
door. "There's something I have to do first."

Well, maybe the senshi hadn't realized it (Well, Saturn may have suspected
something, but she had said nothing to countermand Haruka's stipulations),
but Uranus had made the hardest decision of her life that night.

Her Princess. Her Love. How could she abandon either?

One was her reason to breathe, the other her reason to live. She never
imagined it would come to this, that she would be forced to choose. Mamoru
should have been there, protecting and caring for Usagi, so that she could
take care of *her* love, or at least what was left of her.

That was the *real* reason why she was climbing up the fire ladder that
night, scaling the apartment complex at a ferocious rate. So that she
wouldn't have to feel so bad for being selfish.

Tonight there would be no fear.

Tonight there would be no hesitation.

Only action.

Only suffering.

And no one knew where it would take the senshi.

* * * * * * *

Chiba Mamoru was tired.

He was tired of being locked in his despair, tired of waiting for the last
vestiges of his sanity and humanity to wing away with Usagi. Tired of
waiting for the end.

Long ago, before he had met Usagi, he had been 'gifted' a bottle by a
cruel classmate, a bottle that Mamoru had saved for an occasion like this.
Somehow, he had never shaken away his doubts and his fears, that he truly
was a monster, that Usagi would someday realize this and leave him.

The childproof seal cracked open.

His love. His addiction, his most exquisite pleasure. Since the Harvard
incident he had reveled, though terrified of himself all the while, in the
thought of her, his, and only his, for all time. His obsession. His object
of pure, shameless lust. And yet he wondered if it was not that she was
his, but that he was hers. She could live without him, whereas he, he . . .

He removed the little cotton ball from the top.

It was his duty to do this, after all. He was her protector, and where she
was going she would need all the protection she could get. Long ago he had
promised himself that wherever she went, he would follow her. He had broken
that promise too many times. Now was the time to live up to it.

One, two, three, four . . . how many now?

Taking a gulp of sake, he felt . . . happy. Warm. After all, she was
going to die, and at least now he would be able to go with her. She would never
be alone, and no one would ever hurt her again. Not as long as he followed
her.

The bottle dropped to the ground.

He smiled in elation.

* * * * * * * * * * *

When Uranus leapt into the shadowy apartment, she never expected to see
Mamoru actually out of bed and sitting on the couch, playing dumbly with a
rose in his hands. He showed no sign that he realized Haruka was there.

"Mamoru-san."

He finally looked up. "Yes, Uranus-san?" he asked, smiling at her.

Uranus cocked her head in confusion. "Are you all right?"

"As fine as I'll ever be."

"That's nice, considering your beloved is dying alone in a blank white
hospital room attached to about sixty machines."

He stopped messing with the rose and looked down shamefully. Uranus took
this as a sign she had affected him.

"Shouldn't you be there with her?"

Nothing at all.

"Well, shouldn't you?"

Nothing again.

"SHOULDN'T you?!"

"She told me she didn't want to see me again," he whispered in a tortured
baritone. "She said to stay away."

"And the one time you *actually* LISTEN to her..."

Tears fell. "You don't understand," he muttered, trying to keep his voice
controlled. He took a long draft of sake.

"Make me, then."

Mamoru turned vacant, aimless eyes in her direction, unable to focus on
her properly. "Have you ever," he whispered hoarsely, inundated with emotion,
"loved someone so much that it made your lungs cease to function? That
merely touching your beloved's skin was so thrilling you thought the shock
of it would kill you? That you were so desperate, so utterly worshipful of
this other human being, so reliant upon them for your entire sense of self
that the mere thought of losing that someone could make you psychically
ill?"

She hadn't thought about it until now, but something bubbled up from deep
inside her and confirmed that she indeed felt these things for Michiru.

"And have you ever felt that in order to protect that love and life, you
would gladly destroy whole Universes for one small woman?"

Now she realized.

"It's attached to you too, isn't it?"

"What?" He blinked uncertainly, trying to comprehend.

"The demon . . . it's inside your heart too," Uranus whispered. "Of course
it is. Usagi's heart is your heart, just as yours is hers. Two as one."

"I don't . . . "

"Mamoru-san," Uranus explained as if to a small child, "the demon wants
you to kill yourself so it can further its hold on Usagi-chan. You *can't* do
this, Mamoru-san. If you do, the Wraith will win."

Mamoru stilled completely, staring into space.

"But it's already too late, isn't it?" she cried softly. "Too late for
you. You're dead. How could you help your love now? Well I charge you with
this, Mamoru-san: how could you NOT?!"

He turned, slowly, and Uranus bored her eyes into his. The harsh light
started to ebb, thankfully; now maybe she could reason with him.

"How can you sit here and let her slip away?" she asked in disbelief.
"How? Maybe you've patted yourself on the back for your courage,
Mamoru-san, but in the end you are nothing but a coward! Love is not about
wasting away! It's about fighting, about being willing to suffer, about
saying the words AND THEN LIVING UP TO THEM!!!" she was screaming, her lungs
burning as she gulped in oxygen.

"And it's SCARY!" she yelled, continuing when her breath returned. "It's
terrifying to know that someone has that much power of you, that they can
cause you so much pain, but it's worth it, Mamoru-san, oh God, it's worth it
a thousand times over. Love is all we have to hold onto. It's about being
willing to burn so for a couple moments we're happy! Because you know what
we are doing in those few moments? LIVING. We're ALIVE. I dare you to say
that surrounding yourself with books or pills or even racecars could make us
alive."

Uranus took in a deep, shuddering breath. The words, locked inside her
and ignored for so long, suddenly made perfect sense to her. Her spinning world
started to slow, and she found something to hold onto, something worth
fighting for again. The love of the weak was formidable. The love of the
strong was invincible.

It wasn't selfish; it was self-preservation. So went the way of the world.

"I hope you think about what I said," she warned sharply. "Now if you'll
excuse me, my lover has been possessed by a screaming Wraith and unlike you,
I actually have some cajones."

And then she was gone.

The alcohol and the pills were making him sleepy, but somehow Uranus's
words had pierced his hide. He was warm, and not just from the sake. For
the first time in a long while, he felt . . . strong. In control. He
straightened and pulled out a rose.

As Tuxedo Kamen, the pills' effect on his system slowed. Now he had
enough time to get to the hospital and try to do something. What that was, he
didn't know, but he sensed the battle had not yet begun.

For better or for worse, he would fight the fight.

* * * * * * * *

"What took you so long?" Pluto asked, staring at the swirling clouds above.

"Unfinished business."

"I can't imagine what could be so important right now," Jupiter remarked,
blowing away a stray hair.

"I had to give a little pep talk."

Saturn broke into a wide smile.

"Whatever." Mercury was typing furiously into her system. "We need to
secure the area," she announced. "The Inners and I can use our Planet power
to do that. Are you three ready?"

"Check."

"Check."

"What, no Wraith-bashing for us?"

"Jupiter," Mercury warned, "time is of the essence."

"What will we do?" Uranus asked hesitantly, clenching a fist.

"You three will go inside."

* * * * * * * *

Gods, how tiny and fragile she seemed attached to those damned machines!

Tuxedo Kamen searched around warily, looking for Usagi's family or anyone
else in the way. By an odd coincidence, there were none. He did not know
they were currently being informed that their daughter would take her last
breath within a few hours.

He knew that anyways. Even with the machine her struggle to breathe was
so demanding there was no way a body that weak could take such punishment for
long. A few spare tears dropped from his eyes. He approached, quietly
brushing the bangs out of her half-glazed eyes.

"Usa-ko," he whispered gently, almost reverently. "If I had it all to do
over again I would do so many things differently . . . but I can't. I
*can't,* Usa-ko. All I can ask now is that you give me the chance to
change. Don't leave me here with my regrets." His tears sloshed onto her
marble face.

As he let out a choked sob, his eyes focused upon the glittering object on
the countertop. The locket.

As if possessed, his hand reached out to touch the gleaming black stone as
it played its haunting song.

* * * * * * * *

She led.

Saturn and Pluto flanked her, good backup if it should come to that. Was
this really her home? It looked so black, so grim. Like a tier of Hell
rather than a seaside cottage.

At its nexus, hovering in the air, was and emaciated, shadowy form with
cobwebs of aqua trailing down her back. The eyes were nearly white and
glassy, frightening in their inhumanity. She swirled among intense energy, lost
in the ecstasy as the Wraith's power composed for her.

Then a burst shot forth. Electric heat and light surrounded Uranus but
somehow she managed to remain standing. Looking back painfully, she saw her
comrades, twin victims, slumped against the wall. Glaive and Orb alike
were nowhere to be found.

But she had always known this was her battle. How kind of the Wraith to
acknowledge that.

She wiped away a bead of sweat and looked up.

Michiru locked eyes with her and curled up her lips.

* * * * * * * *

Tuxedo Kamen felt black power swirl and electrify around him, sucking him
into the dark intrigue of the locket. Unholy power surged through but he
held on, desperate to save Usagi yet. There was time, he kept reminding
himself. Precious time that could not be wasted on fainting.

When he opened his eyes the area was black save a dim light in the
distance. Slowly his eyes adjusted and he made out a stone staircase. The
dim light was getting stronger and approaching from another direction.
Slowly he realized it was a torch, and someone was holding it.

Once the figure grew near, he gasped in recognition. She, on the other
hand, simply smiled and opened her mouth.

* * * * * * * *

"I've been waiting for you."

* * * * * * * *