[Well, it's over.
Finally I finish this fic. It's been a long, emotional journey. I can't say that I'm happy I wrote it, but I do like it.
Haruka, Michiru, and all other Bishoujo Senshi Sailormoon characters are owned by Takeuchi-sama, Toei, and/or Kodansha. Not me. Never have, never will.
Story by the one and only Michie.
Please write a review, good or bad. I haven't been getting a lot of feedback, and I'd like to get some more!
I've always liked the thought of Haruka and Michiru sleeping in a giant white bed, arms wrapped around each other, thinking of nothing else in the world. Even in this angst-filled fic, I used that metaphor. I like to think of that as a metaphor for a love immune to everything around it.
Enjoy, and once again, please review. ]
Four: Death
The dark of night comes like a velvet cloth. It muffles the world, smothers it, drugs it into a deep sleep. But I can't sleep; not now, not for a long time. It hurts all too much.
I sit up in bed, the white, fluffy bed that we once shared. I used to think of it like a cloud, a gorgeous, white, soft cloud. And every morning, I would wake up from the sunlight streaming in the window, with my arms wrapped around her. And she would be pressed up against me, with her arm resting lightly over my chest, her breathing soft, gentle. And I would smile at the wonderful moment I was in. If there is one thing I don't want to forget, it's that.
But now, everything's dark. My bed has become a prison, a jester, taunting me. It won't let me sleep; no, it's me who won't let me sleep. But the bed is the one who is laughing. In the fading light of summer, slowly turning into a misty fall, the bed is no longer white. It is gray, tainted with death. This place is no longer my sanctuary; it is my cell that I have been condemned to.
There has to be a way out of this. I can't sit like this, wishing for what once was and will never be again. I can't sit like this every night, each week, month, year, for the rest of my existence. I'll fade away in the night, like a mist that burns away in the coming morning. I'll simply disappear, like the fading light of summer into autumn. Like a wraith, like a ghost. I have no spirit to go on like this. My soul is with her.
And I smile to myself. Maybe I'm healing, since I'm no longer talking to Michiru in my head. But then I am saddened. Maybe I'm forgetting as well.
I can't sleep, but of course, I realized this long ago. So I get up and walk downstairs. The house is dark, silent. Setsuna must have gone to bed long ago; the last I checked, she was typing away on the computer. And Hotaru was fast asleep when I checked on her. Michiru would be proud; see? I'm not forgetting about my duties as a parent entirely.
I glance out the window. There are the gardens you so carefully tended, like a second child. Gorgeous roses, white ones. White roses always remind me of you. You always liked such a flower, bringing them home for special occasions and the like. I turn away. Those days seem like a millennium ago.
Wandering into the kitchen, I run into the table, striking my knee against it. I curse softly under my breath. I wander over to the sink to get a cup of water, and rest my hand on the counter next to it. The dark lights above my head shine, the glass twinkling in the moonlight. I remember you used to wash the dishes in here after dinner every night, with the soft lights on. Sometimes you would hum to yourself, and I'd secretly listen. I miss the sound of your voice so much...to just hear it again, I would give anything.
I feel something moist trickling down my hand on the counter. I look down; the palm of my hand is dark with blood. Without realizing it, I had cut myself on a knife that was on the countertop. I lift up my hand, examining the injury. The blood is starting to dry, and isn't flowing anymore. It wasn't deep at all.
But the sight of the blood brings back memories deep inside of me that would best stay there. A single gunshot, a screaming crowd, and her. Holding her gently, screaming, not wanting to let her go. Horrible, heart- shredding memories that I'd been trying to keep down for the past two days. Memories of something that should never had happened.
I looked at the knife. Shining silver blade, worn wooden handle. To have been able to cut my palm just like that...it was sharp. And that brought back memories as well, memories of the birth of another blade, but that one came from my heart. She had died there, then, as well. But then I was dazed, stunned. I didn't comprehend that. And when I did, I knew then what I had to do for my mission. But there was something else that even I didn't realize then, but do now.
I killed myself because I had lost all hope.
Not hope for a future; no, Sailormoon could bring that. With her, there is always a future. No, hope for my future with her. And when she died, I knew that such a hope was gone. But inside of me, with that talisman, there was hope for the planet. So, when my hope died, when I died, I gave a new hope to the world.
And then, back then, death had been the solution. With death, there comes rebirth. And of course, I am a soldier. We're both soldiers. So there is always a future for us.
To bring her back, to create a future together, I have to die. So maybe that is the solution I need now. It is so simple. We're separated by my life, so I have to end it. And then we can be together.
I gently press the blunt side of the blade against the inside of my wrist. For the first time in days, I'm happy. We will get another chance together, for a life together, in whatever generation, in whatever form. Michiru, I will meet you again; we won't be separated. Neither life, nor death can keep us apart.
But just as I'm about to cut, there's a thought. Your funeral is tomorrow. What would they say if I don't show up? Sure, I'm a wreck. I have no energy; I haven't slept or eaten in days. But how would that present you, as a person? The lover of someone pathetic enough to kill herself right before your funeral. I can't do such a thing to your reputation, to their memories of you. So, I put down the knife, not for myself, not for them, but for you. I want them to remember you as the elegant woman, the musician, the artist, and by a select few, the gorgeous soldier.
So I'll wait, but only for a while.
I climb back up the stairs and into bed. And there, I sleep for the first time in what seems like an eternity. Why? Because in a few days, I'll be with you once again, and that is just where I want to be forever.
And I'll be free from this pain that has become my life, and I'll be free of this life that has become full of pain. Death will set me free. Set me free, so I can be with you.
[End]
[Thank you so much for reading this from beginning to end!]
Finally I finish this fic. It's been a long, emotional journey. I can't say that I'm happy I wrote it, but I do like it.
Haruka, Michiru, and all other Bishoujo Senshi Sailormoon characters are owned by Takeuchi-sama, Toei, and/or Kodansha. Not me. Never have, never will.
Story by the one and only Michie.
Please write a review, good or bad. I haven't been getting a lot of feedback, and I'd like to get some more!
I've always liked the thought of Haruka and Michiru sleeping in a giant white bed, arms wrapped around each other, thinking of nothing else in the world. Even in this angst-filled fic, I used that metaphor. I like to think of that as a metaphor for a love immune to everything around it.
Enjoy, and once again, please review. ]
Four: Death
The dark of night comes like a velvet cloth. It muffles the world, smothers it, drugs it into a deep sleep. But I can't sleep; not now, not for a long time. It hurts all too much.
I sit up in bed, the white, fluffy bed that we once shared. I used to think of it like a cloud, a gorgeous, white, soft cloud. And every morning, I would wake up from the sunlight streaming in the window, with my arms wrapped around her. And she would be pressed up against me, with her arm resting lightly over my chest, her breathing soft, gentle. And I would smile at the wonderful moment I was in. If there is one thing I don't want to forget, it's that.
But now, everything's dark. My bed has become a prison, a jester, taunting me. It won't let me sleep; no, it's me who won't let me sleep. But the bed is the one who is laughing. In the fading light of summer, slowly turning into a misty fall, the bed is no longer white. It is gray, tainted with death. This place is no longer my sanctuary; it is my cell that I have been condemned to.
There has to be a way out of this. I can't sit like this, wishing for what once was and will never be again. I can't sit like this every night, each week, month, year, for the rest of my existence. I'll fade away in the night, like a mist that burns away in the coming morning. I'll simply disappear, like the fading light of summer into autumn. Like a wraith, like a ghost. I have no spirit to go on like this. My soul is with her.
And I smile to myself. Maybe I'm healing, since I'm no longer talking to Michiru in my head. But then I am saddened. Maybe I'm forgetting as well.
I can't sleep, but of course, I realized this long ago. So I get up and walk downstairs. The house is dark, silent. Setsuna must have gone to bed long ago; the last I checked, she was typing away on the computer. And Hotaru was fast asleep when I checked on her. Michiru would be proud; see? I'm not forgetting about my duties as a parent entirely.
I glance out the window. There are the gardens you so carefully tended, like a second child. Gorgeous roses, white ones. White roses always remind me of you. You always liked such a flower, bringing them home for special occasions and the like. I turn away. Those days seem like a millennium ago.
Wandering into the kitchen, I run into the table, striking my knee against it. I curse softly under my breath. I wander over to the sink to get a cup of water, and rest my hand on the counter next to it. The dark lights above my head shine, the glass twinkling in the moonlight. I remember you used to wash the dishes in here after dinner every night, with the soft lights on. Sometimes you would hum to yourself, and I'd secretly listen. I miss the sound of your voice so much...to just hear it again, I would give anything.
I feel something moist trickling down my hand on the counter. I look down; the palm of my hand is dark with blood. Without realizing it, I had cut myself on a knife that was on the countertop. I lift up my hand, examining the injury. The blood is starting to dry, and isn't flowing anymore. It wasn't deep at all.
But the sight of the blood brings back memories deep inside of me that would best stay there. A single gunshot, a screaming crowd, and her. Holding her gently, screaming, not wanting to let her go. Horrible, heart- shredding memories that I'd been trying to keep down for the past two days. Memories of something that should never had happened.
I looked at the knife. Shining silver blade, worn wooden handle. To have been able to cut my palm just like that...it was sharp. And that brought back memories as well, memories of the birth of another blade, but that one came from my heart. She had died there, then, as well. But then I was dazed, stunned. I didn't comprehend that. And when I did, I knew then what I had to do for my mission. But there was something else that even I didn't realize then, but do now.
I killed myself because I had lost all hope.
Not hope for a future; no, Sailormoon could bring that. With her, there is always a future. No, hope for my future with her. And when she died, I knew that such a hope was gone. But inside of me, with that talisman, there was hope for the planet. So, when my hope died, when I died, I gave a new hope to the world.
And then, back then, death had been the solution. With death, there comes rebirth. And of course, I am a soldier. We're both soldiers. So there is always a future for us.
To bring her back, to create a future together, I have to die. So maybe that is the solution I need now. It is so simple. We're separated by my life, so I have to end it. And then we can be together.
I gently press the blunt side of the blade against the inside of my wrist. For the first time in days, I'm happy. We will get another chance together, for a life together, in whatever generation, in whatever form. Michiru, I will meet you again; we won't be separated. Neither life, nor death can keep us apart.
But just as I'm about to cut, there's a thought. Your funeral is tomorrow. What would they say if I don't show up? Sure, I'm a wreck. I have no energy; I haven't slept or eaten in days. But how would that present you, as a person? The lover of someone pathetic enough to kill herself right before your funeral. I can't do such a thing to your reputation, to their memories of you. So, I put down the knife, not for myself, not for them, but for you. I want them to remember you as the elegant woman, the musician, the artist, and by a select few, the gorgeous soldier.
So I'll wait, but only for a while.
I climb back up the stairs and into bed. And there, I sleep for the first time in what seems like an eternity. Why? Because in a few days, I'll be with you once again, and that is just where I want to be forever.
And I'll be free from this pain that has become my life, and I'll be free of this life that has become full of pain. Death will set me free. Set me free, so I can be with you.
[End]
[Thank you so much for reading this from beginning to end!]