TWO

Author's note: when I write dialogue in ( ) it should be taken as being spoken in Japanese.

I know that there's a time difference between California and Tokyo, but even with that knowledge it's seeming impossible to get in touch with anyone. Phones ring and ring, text messages go unanswered, and I know email isn't going to work very well, but I try anyway. I used to have to show Usagi how to check her email again every few days or so.

There's probably a simple explanation, even though our phones aren't ordinary cell phones they might not work across international lines, still I find myself watching scuff marks arrive on my shoes as I walk from the bus stop to work, rather than looking around. It's been so long since we've had to use them for that sort of thing. Still it's another day where I find myself looking for tangible proof that our time as senshi even existed and it wasn't just some kind of hallucination.

But then there are those message boards. They weren't that hard to find but they've given me another reason to be worried. Some of it may just be internet rumors and paranoia, and I'm trying to think of it that way and be practical about it, but there are some recent reports and a couple of news links that I need to analyze more thoroughly but they're speaking of a couple of attacks here in the States, and one mentions a person in a strange costume coming to the rescue. It could just be someone from a fast food restaurant who happened to be right there, my brain points out to me, you're home sick and you're being silly, you're grasping at straws. Minako's had reason to travel around perhaps it was her, perhaps it was her.

I could try and call her and ask. She could make graphics on her computer and do her own web page so she's going to know how to answer email, but I'm being silly. There's nothing going on.

Still at a slow time I find myself browsing through the hospital records looking to see if there's anything unusual, as there isn't anything at our hospital, at least for a few days.

"Meezoonoh," the head nurse, who always like to remind everyone she's from "Tayx-uss" calls me over to help with a patient. I'd been making lists of supplies that we need to order, and mentally composing and recomposing an email to Minako when she shouted.

A family has come in. Their daughter is presenting strange symptoms and they're babbling about family histories of diabetes and epilepsy. Something about the way the young girl is staring blankly ahead jolts me in the stomach. She has none of the classic signs of either condition. We have to move her to the actual ward, and schedule MRIs. I try not to panic. It's just because I was reading about those things last night, I tell myself. They're fresh in my mind. Still I make notes and suggest putting in requests to Tokyo for their records from that time. It doesn't hurt to be thorough.

It weighs heavily on my mind as I leave the hospital. I have plans to scour further through actual news archives for the past few weeks, and see if I can network with other hospitals and find out information. I'm not sure how much headway I'll make. If there really are youma here how could I have missed it? What am I going to be able to do by myself? Can I afford to get everyone else over here? Would they be able to come? I'm getting ahead of myself...and then the horrific thought hits...could I have brought them over here?

"Ami!"

I turn around.

Harris is running towards me, slightly out of breath and waving his hands. He stops a few paces away and I toy with the strap of my bag, "You were miles away, again!" he chides, "You have to take me with you."

"What?"

"Never mind. Never mind," he waves a hand, pushing off my apparent misunderstanding.

"I'm so-"

He reaches a finger towards my mouth and I flinch back, "Don't apologize to me," he says. He looks hurt that I moved away, "You're entitled to thinking time. I just—I wish you would have more talking time. I—it must be hard being away from all your family and on such a time sucking course of study."

I try to look innocent and quizzical, but wind up blushing instead.

"Don't try to say you don't have the English words to explain. You're smart enough to be doing medicine-"

"I do," I admit, "I just...it's very strange and it's very...I feel you wouldn't believe me and I'm too cowardly to demonstrate. I don't even know if I could demonstrate," I amend.

"Alright," he says, "When you're ready."

Why does he have to be so nice? I chew on my lip.

"Is there anything I can do to help with this? Short of taking shots in the ass?"

"Maybe, for now, you can just take me to the grocery store?" I can't face another evening attempting to eat greasy Chinese take-out while tapping away at search engines finding old reports from Tokyo and comparing symptoms of this, and symptoms of that, and scaring myself more and more about having brought youma to California.

I want help from home. It would be enough just to have a friendly kick in the head from Rei-chan, telling me to stop making more out of this than it is, and reminding me of my tendency to over-analyze myself into panic and paranoia. Something like you're being stupid it's more likely sun stroke, although the girl was found on the evening of an over cast day. Is there such a thing as cloud stroke? That's more likely from Mako-chan.

"Now you have to tell me what's going through your head," Harris tells me as we get out of the car, there was small talk on the trip to the store for a little while but then I lapsed into silence thinking again about everything, "What is so funny that you're laughing like that? I don't think I've ever seen you laugh like that before."

"I'm crazy," I tell him.

"They do say there's a fine line between genius and insanity," he admits, "But I'm more likely to be crazy than you," he locks up the car, "It's in the DNA."

I shake my head.

"Fine," he says, "Don't explain," he sounds hurt.

The light bulb goes off in my brain as I realize I can explain it without involving any of my history, "I was thinking about sun stroke because of something going on at work, but then I decided it would have to be cloud stroke because of certain things, and it reminded me of that show your sister was watching and that made it funny because...because I'm silly."

"No, no," he says, "That is funny, but I don't think you really have to worry about make believe people. Cloud strike...pssh," he makes a mime that looks more like something Rei or Minako would do than Makoto, "You'll sort it out."

Of course he has no idea why what he just said cuts me to the quick and scares me even more about ever explaining anything to him, "I just need a few things," I tell him, "and then you can take me home."

He has to run again to catch up with me as I cross the parking lot.

"I can hold out and not talk just as long as you," Harris says, as I'm rummaging through the frozen food cabinets, losing my last hope that I can find something that will help me not be home sick. They have some spring rolls and some shrimp tempura. There are some boxes which are supposed to be easy microwaveable Chinese take out, "Please—tell me what's wrong. What did I say? I thought you were making fun of things as well. What the hell?"

I can feel the tears pricking at me, "Why is there nothing like sushi here?"

"We can go to a restaurant," he says, "or maybe at the fish counter-"

I feel like snapping back, that's not the point but suddenly I can hear strains of an all too familiar melody whining out from inside my purse, and I dive into that instead. My hand is trembling as I lift the phone to my ear, and flip it open, not even daring to look at the caller ID to make sure that I remembered whose ring tone that was correctly, "Moshi-moshi,"

"Moshi-moshi, Ami-chan!" she says, jubilant, then after a pause, "(Are you okay?)"

"(Yes, I'm fine. I just—what are you? I mean—how did you? I didn't think the phones were working-)

"(They do...it's just...hey-)

"(It's so wonderful to hear from you!)" I feel my cheeks flushing, "(Things have been so strange, and you know I can't even find sushi here in the store! And the ramen tastes like paste)"

"(When did you eat paste?)" Minako asks. I can almost hear her shaking her head, "(Anyway, that's not important.)"

I try to slow my breathing. Harris seems a little overwhelmed by the sudden language switch and is watching me enthralled.

"(Are you sure you're okay?)" She continues.

"(Mostly. There've been some very...strange things happening, and...)"

"(Okay. Um...we can talk about that-)" there's a strange sound on the line and then says, "Oh, I'm sorry, excuse me. I wasn't paying attention. Go ahead," in English, "(Ami-chan, I have a favor to ask you)."

"Where are you?" I ask, wondering if the phones can reach all the way from Europe to America, which is where I thought Minako was, or perhaps they can reach within the same continent, especially as they haven't seemed to be able to work from America to Japan.

"Is everything alright?" Harris asks me.

"(Who is that?)" Minako asks.

"(A friend. He brought me shopping. You didn't answer me. Where are you?)"

"(Well, that all ties in with the favor...how close are you to the Los Angeles airport)?"

"(You know. I have no idea)," I turn to Harris, "How close are we to the Los Angeles airport?"

"It's about ten-fifteen miles away, why?"

"I think my friend needs picking up there..." I say, as I hear Minako exclaim happily, upon overhearing what Harris said, "Would that-"

Harris shrugs, "Why not? Maybe it'll cheer you up some."

Minako's squeal of response is so high-pitched I have to take the phone away from my ear for a moment. She is in the middle of apologizing when I replace it, "Just call me when you get here, okay? Okay!" and she hangs up.

"I suppose we'll have to get you food later," Harris remarks, "Come on."