The air quality, if you had to put a word on it, was superb. Far finer than the condition of Old Quebec's streets, if you could call them that. Birds sang and wafted on that fresh breeze, undisturbed and aloof. Much like Minako wanted to be. The evening aroma of dinners and diners turned sour in her nostrils. The anesthesia had yet to wear off and Carbie was the only one she felt safe with.

Minako waved her fingers over a small black plastic disc, hesitated and glanced up at the mostly cybernetic woman seated across from her. Carbie had a habit of producing a low volume gear-like click thats repeated every three seconds. Precisely. Minako was sure she could make three jumps, maybe, if she…could…just—

"B, I'm trying to think," Minako said.

"Why? You won't play chess with me, this shouldn't be hard at all for you, Minako," Carbie said as evenly as her pondering cycle of clicks.

Minako grimaced, conscious of the strange sensation of blinking. Her hand automatically went up to the patch, but she recalled Conroy's order to leave it be; regular function would come in time.

"So how does it feel having an electronic eye?" Carbie asked, training her monovision on Minako's dour face.

"It's not," Minako said. She took hold of the piece and jumped it over three of Carbie's red discs on the checkerboard. "King me."

"Oh, that was a good move…I can't believe I'm losing to a blonde," Carbie said with zero inflection. "Does that sound like some kind of reference to you?"

"Ah, yeah, I think so…Aladdin. When the Genie is playing with the rug," Minako said with a measure of satisfaction.

"I was thinking of Rodney Dangerfield," Carbie said, placing a disc on Minako's victorious piece. "It's not what?"

Minako's right eye traced the two jumps that Carbie cleanly executed and smirked. She studied her movement opportunities and said, "It's bio-system. Good use of what you paid me."

"Oh that's good, but I think this game is over," Carbie said.

"I think you're wrong," Minako said with brazen confidence. As she searched, however, all she could see was capture for her king and two remaining pieces.

"Sorry, Mina. Another game?" Carbie said, knowing Minako was not about to press on in the face of utter futility. Minako nodded and together they arranged the pieces to their starting positions. Without any hesitation, Carbie made the first move.

"Sell much of Makoto's…uh, crochet?" Minako said as she recalled its name.

"It's fall. People like the warm covers," Carbie said. "Tell her to drop by some time. I have her cut."

Minako quirked a brow, or tried, then relented when it wouldn't move over the patch. She frowned and said, "You didn't get her message, then."

Carbie did some quick calculations after Minako carefully shifted another piece. She sat back and said, with some concern, "I have not. That sounds like a terminal stop."

"A what? Oh…I get it. Yeah. We..we're leaving," Minako said and waited for Carbie to move. She did nothing, but asked:

"Why?"

There were so many reasons. Too many. Minako didn't know where to start, and stammered through a few points that Carbie took for granted as part of her daily routine. Emotionally exhausted, Minako said, "I'm very sorry, Carbie."

"My name is Carbarella, Minako. Figured you should know, since this is the last time I'll see you," Carbie said and Minako reasoned she sounded glum, if that was possible.

"I'm not going to miss this…place…world…whatever," Minako said though a sigh. "Maybe I'll miss some people..."

"Like Beck?"

"No, no…I…" she said and then stopped short., but offered: "You."

"That's kind. You're not going alone, are you?" Carbie asked softly, which for her was a lower volume. Her voice seemed small, and Minako's heart ached in response.

"I'm going with Usagi and Makoto…and her husband…" Minako said, then: "And Carl."

"You know that's not what I mean," Carbie said.

"Don't do that to me, Carbie," Minako protested. "He's a retired Glitterboy pilot…and…"

"And what? Word is he's honourable to a fault, and easy on the eyes," said Carbie, who let loose a little trill that sounded like an appreciative whistle.

"Yes, you're right, but I—"

"I'm sure you don't need me to tell you how rare a good man is anywhere on Earth," Carbie added.

"I know that, and I don't—"

"You've been with him for two years now and I've seen you together. He makes you feel safe, doesn't he," Carbie said in continuation.

Minako's smile was telling, but even so she said, "Makoto makes me feel safe, but it's not the—"

"But he's a man." Carbie laid definite emphasis on the last word and the conversation came to a grinding halt. The checkerboard was the furthest thing from Minako's mind. Had she done the same to Steinbeck by treating him like a matter of convenience?

"He might be everything I've ever wanted," Minako said after a while, the conjugation of feelings, notions and reality forming a clear picture.

"Whose turn is it?" Carbie asked, then said, "I don't think you sound confident about it."

"Mine," Minako said and the word languished in her mind. Was Beck hers? Did she want him to be? Her stomach growled; the eye and socket began to tingle wildly. Minako gave a cry and clapped her hand to the patch.

"Hm, that seems uncomfortable," Carbie said, flatlining the observation pulse.

"Ugh! Uh...Ah, uh, it's okay, Conroy said this would happen. It's…" Minako said and her body relaxed as the tingling ceased. Experimentally she hooked her thumb under the patch and lifted it slowly. She blinked and felt her left eye watering.

"Tear ducts and everything. It's a beautiful color match, Mina. Conroy is a true artist. I am in awe." Carbie's tone was regular and varied just half an octave up or down from her speaking tone when she sought inflection of any sort. She meant every word, though.

"Thank you, I wish I could see it," Minako said, eye still watering. Carbie made a sound not unlike laughter, grabbed a cloth and wiped the flat of her forearm. She held it up and though it had a slight ripple, Minako discerned a silvery reflection. Again her hand came up and pressed lightly where black scar tissue had once marred her face. She squinted and so did the eye. Then a real tear slipped down from the corner…of both eyes.

"Oh Mina, why are you crying?" Carbie asked. Minako wiped at the tears with her leather sleeves until Carbie handed her the cloth. Minako sniffed.

"They'll be here soon…and, if you hadn't paid me so generously, I wouldn't…I'd still be scarred," Minako said, a catch in her voice.

"You wouldn't have been happy with a cybernetic eye," Carbie asserted.

Minako looked around, appreciating that her vision was unchanged, or rather, restored. The sky was maroon and spattered with little painterly clouds of burgundy. The nearby rustle of feathers told her birds were perched nearby. A wan smile broke her stoicism and she said, "I would have lived with the scar. Patches are cool. I haven't been through worse, B, but…I won't give in."

"That's a possessive," Carbie pointed out, as Minako cocked her head. Carbie continued, "You have an opponent that the rest of us lack?"

"Yes, only we don't know anything about them yet," Minako said. "Ah, but…we might. It's all vague. I'm sorry."

Carbie's motors hummed as she lifted her shoulders and dropped them with a clunk. She said, "You know nothing is certain here. I think you ought to be grateful for the opportunity."

Minako lifted a piece and held it as she said, "I am. I just wish it had happened sooner."

"If wishes were fishes we'd all be drowning," Carbie commented. Minako set her piece and Carbie quickly answered it with a move. "That's not gratitude."

"Why's gratitude so important? I haven't forgotten my manners," Minako said, defensive as they picked up the pace of their on-board exchange.

"Real gratitude takes the chuff out of a negative experience," Carbie said, capturing two of Minako's pieces.

"Aw…oh, listen to you. That's not like anything you've said before…and we've been friends for…how long?" Minako said with a subtle grin.

"Six years. Don't think I won't miss you, but I have no romantic notion of surviving in a place that couldn't repair me when I need it."

Minako had figured as much, captured a piece and said, "Always practical. Not even to go somewhere safer?"

"Safer? How? You're some kind of spiritual Sailor Warrior, and this enemy sent you here? I don't think that's safe at all," Carbie said. She had a point.

"Yeah, you're right," Minako said as Carbie hopped a piece over three of hers. Minako sighed. "Not even if I asked you?"

The whisper quiet sounds of Carbie's cybernetics joined the nighttime hum of electricity, buzzing of bugs and the chirps of their predators. Carbie made a move, and Minako obliged her. Twice. Minako's respect for the woman ran deep, and so she waited until Carbie said:

"I don't have any reason to stay. Nearly killed by the only man who professed to love me. Cast off by everyone but you. When we met my mind was more robot than human," Carbie said, a gentle but dire confession. "Death has no face. It's meaningless to me. Die here, die there. It's all the same."

"And life?" Minako ventured.

"It's just a crack in the ground, but when I'm with you I like life," Carbie said and something about her inflection struck a chord in Minako's heart.

"You…you mean, you…"

"Yes, I'm in love with you," Carbie said and to Minako it was the most lonely thing she had ever heard. Minako had suspected this, and had stewed over the question of her return for years since they had become close friends.

"I'm flattered," Minako said mechanically.

"I understand you don't know what to do with that, I'm not flesh and blood anymore. And even if I was, you love men," Carbie said by way of conclusion.

"I've never…had a relationship with a woman, but I'd be lying if I said I'd never felt yernings. The senshi are all girls, but I never had romantic feelings about them," Minako said. "They're family, like sisters."

"I don't expect you to love me. I don't expect anyone to love me…oh…I sound pathetic, and I can't cry! I…I'm sorry, Mina…this is a terrible thing to tell you."

The flush in Minako's cheeks set up shop and threatened to take over the village square. Minako's heart had begun to race as a dizzy spell summoned vertigo. She sat still and locked her eyes onto Carbie's monovision sight.

"I don't think…it's me to love women, Carbie. The thought of being loved by you, someone I've come to cherish is…" Minako said and her mind, like her heart, raced. She finally added, "What I mean to say is, thank you. I've been thinking about this for a long time…and I can't ask something so selfish of you."

"Yes you can, and I'm volunteering," Carbie said, shifting forward in her seat, "you're not asking. I'm confessing. I just…I don't want to be alone anymore."

Minako played through the rest of the game, brows angled downward in concentration, heart and mind batting the proposition about like a toy. No, Minako, Carbie's heart, her love, was not a toy. This was very different than Steinbeck, who never said anything but was always supportive and caring. Wouldn't it have been easier to just take him up on that not-at-all risky offer? Love was wonderful, but complicated. Finally the game ended and Minako was again defeated. She leaned back with her arms squared behind her head, then stretched and yawned. Her arms came down with a thump on the table.

"And if I ask Beck to come?"

Carbie let a birthing pause furnish the tension, before she said, "I said he's easy on the eyes. Do what you want. As long as he doesn't hurt you, we could be friends."

It wasn't what she hoped for, certain disaster was around the corner, but a friend like Carbie was a good one, right? Would she tell Beck? Don't get ahead of yourself…he might not even agree to…oh Minako, who are you trying to fool? Of course he will. You're not the Sailor of Love for kicks. This is what it really means. Life was so much easier when she wasn't trying so hard to everything. What would it be like to be a bird?