Sailormoon A Story 5
Outer Senshi Series Story 6
"Living and Dying"
Jackie Chiang
http://sailorneptune.simplenet.com/

Notes: This strange story came to me while I was thinking of stories.  At
 first I classified it as another Haruka-Michiru story, but as I thought 
about it, it was so far fetched and dark that it fit with "Minako" and "Life
 and Death" in the SMA series, so I placed it in both categories.  I hate 
doing that, don't you?  Anyway, I'd classify this as PG-13, since I can 
handle and I'm not far past 13, but for definitely borderline, perhaps R in
 some respects for violence and situations.  Any anti feelings towards
 Haruka and Michiru holding hands, kissing, sleeping together, etc. should
 be promptly disregarded upon beginning this fic or else should make the
 author think twice about this.  Once again, no, it's not hentai.

With regards to the title: Yes, it is too similar to "Life and Death."  But to
 be quite honest, I haven't a clue what else to name it.  "Life and Death" 
would be a far more apt name for this fic, if one could name two fics the
 same, but alas, we can't.  And the general theme of this fanfic _is_ living
 versus dying.  So I suppose everyone will just have to get over it if they
 feel that I'm getting too uncreative.

Quick Copyright notes: This is a fanfic based on Bishoujo Senshi Sailormoon,
 an anime/manga created by Takeuchi Naoko.  Characters belong to her and
 all others associated with rights [Toei, Bandai, Kodansha, etc.], but the 
story line and ideas are by _me_. 1997 - Jackie Chiang

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She dusted off the cover of the book with the rag.  Her throat clogged when
 she saw that it was a photo album.  Fighting the urge to drop it, she
 carefully opened it.  Upon seeing the first page of photos, she closed her
 eyes, shutting it quickly.  Sighing, she ran her hand through her hair.

She wondered to herself whether... she remembered her.  She wondered how
 she was doing, how she was getting along with her life...  Probably.  She 
was always a very dedicated person, particularly once they had broken up.

Broken up...  She smiled to herself bitterly.  Shaking her head, she placed
 the book into the large cardboard box on top, then closed the lids, sealing
 it with some tape.  Standing up, she lifted up the box easily, then went
 down the attic stairs to the hallway, where she set it down.

I'm finally going back, she thought to herself, staring out the window.


Ripped across, the tiny droplets slowly running down, slowly, slowly, 
slowly...


She stood on the stage, staring at the crowd without really seeing them.  
Her first performance back in Tokyo in four years.  She had a right to be
 nervous.  She had been surprised to find out, upon reentering Japan from
 Europe, that her offer to perform for charities had been literally leapt
 upon by the various organizations that had heard of her from her life before
 in Tokyo and the rave reviews she had received in her tours across Europe
 and America.

With her music, she had only improved, which was unbelievable considering
 the incredible amount of talent she had professed at fifteen, sixteen, seventeen,
 eighteen, nineteen years of age.  As of now, she was twenty-three and 
recognized universally as one of the greatest violin players - almost 
unanimously the greatest female violin player - of the century.

She accepted it with a shy, polite smile, behind it, a strained tension.  The
 enormous pressures of being famous and gifted had gotten to her, gotten to
 her a long time ago.  She dealt with it better on some days, worse on 
others.

It might have been a mistake to return to Japan, she reflected.  This was 
where she had been appreciated the most, and thus it would be worse for her,
 but she missed her home, missed the diversity, culture, atmosphere...  She
 also missed her friends, but she would not meet them again if she possibly
 could.  Hopefully they would avoid contacting her; it would be best for 
everyone that way.

The audience was already cheering and applauding for her.  She smiled, then
 brought up her violin- which she had had ever since she had turned fifteen,
 keeping it in perfect condition- to underneath her chin, fitting the rest
 beneath it.  With her right arm, her fingers grasped the bow delicately,
 then after wavering for a brief second, began to play.

A slow, romantic piece, tinged with a melancholy sadness.  Like her life.  
Closing her eyes, she let her mind delve into the music, playing for her, 
drawing the purest, rawest human emotions from the strings of the instrument.

Music was one of the few consoling items at her bidding.  Several years ago,
 ever since leaving Japan, other luxuries had faded from her life, other
 rewarding things that she knew she could never regain...  So she had been
 driven back to the basics of her life, what she could never lose for they
 were her life- music, art, water.   The violin, the brush, the sea.

She drew her music to a close, feeling a pain go through her as she had to
 pull herself out of her own, private world where things were hers to control
 and where she could be safe from everything that could hurt her.  She bowed
 slightly to the standing ovation she received, smiling sadly at the flowers
 thrown towards the stage.  Flowers that would give their lives up for her,
 flowers that would soon wither away and die, only because of a single night
 when their purpose was served, left alone and abandoned.

Walking off the stage, she had not gotten a few feet past the curtains when
 a sharp shock cascaded through her system.  She reached out, her fingers
 grabbing the velvet, attempting to steady herself.  Instead, she fell to
 the ground, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out in pain.  It'll go
 away, it'll go away, she told herself.  It always does...  Just a minute or
 so of pure agony, and it will fade...  Her breathing was harsh, deep; she
 felt suffocated, as if she couldn't get enough air into her body.

Then the pain slowly began to ebb, and her breathing returned to normal as
 she drew in long, deep breaths.  Slowly she got to her feet, brushing off
 her skirt, then continuing on towards her dressing room as if nothing had
 happened.

Upon entering her room, which had white walls spaced apart from each other
 at a comfortable size.  A vanity table was set up in the front, opposite of
 the door.  Her violin case was lying on the table, and she carefully placed
 her violin inside, shutting the cover and snapping the locks shut.  She
 sighed, folding her arms over the top and resting her head down.

There was only one thing she had to do now...


She sat up in the darkness, wiping the tears from her face without emotion.
  Another nightmare, another dream.  Another sleepless night... another 
punishment.  So as long as the dreams haunted her, she would never be free
 of the guilt that she felt, of the terribleness of living.

Without turning on the light, she got out of bed, walking to the bathroom. 
 It was a familiar path, even in darkness... Particularly in darkness.  Many
 a time had she walked exactly like this, at this exact time, in this exact
 way.  Inside the bathroom, her finger flipped the switch.

Staring at herself for a moment in the mirror, she wondered how she had 
come to this, but ignored her reasoning.  She had tried reasoning with 
herself; she had even gone to see a psychologist.  Neither had done much,
 only to make herself hate herself even more.

Reaching into the side drawer, she pulled the object of her desire out.  
Staring at it, she felt the same sickness rise up inside of her, the horror
 and self-disgust she always experienced.  She shoved those emotions 
aside, running it under the water from the sink, then cleaning it with alcohol.

Kneeling down in front of the toilet, she held out her left hand over the 
bowl, pulling back her shirt arm...


She was simply another person in the crowd, to them.  Those around her 
ignored her, or perhaps didn't recognize her.  She _had_ been gone for a 
while, and she hadn't allowed any picture of her in the newspapers or on 
television.  That had been a stipulation, she had told the organizations.  
No major publicity or no performance.  They had agreed readily.

Sighing, she pulled back her sea-green hair into a ponytail.  She rarely cut
 it except for minor trims once in a while, so it was long, falling past the
 midway of her back.  Long hair was for the youthful, she had heard, and 
though she was still only in her early twenties, she hardly felt young.  Yet
 it helped her deceive others that her life was fine.

She lifted up her wrist, staring at them.  The scars had turned a light 
white; they would become so faint in a matter of days that no one would 
notice them.  She always cut deep, but for some strange reason, her body 
refused to show the depth or the pain she experienced, hiding them quickly.
  She smiled to herself, thinking that one day, perhaps soon she hoped, her
 body would be unable to do a thing.

Turning her mind away from the morbidity of her thoughts, she focused on the
 scene in front of her.  Down below the stands in the large stadium was the
 racing track.  People around her were screaming and yelling and irritating 
her ears, but she could deal with them.  There were plenty of mechanics 
and racers and cars setting up for the upcoming race.

Her blue eyes alighted on one racer in particular.  From this distance, she
 could see that the person had short, blond hair and was considerably taller
 than the rest of the people around him.  Her, she corrected herself.  A 
woman, not a man.

She smiled slightly, wistfully recalling her in the days before.  Shaking 
her head, she berated herself for clinging to the past.  She was beyond that
 point, as was the other girl.  Remember.  The last time you saw her, you 
were screaming at each other, yelling.  She hates you... provided she 
remembers you.

The other girl down on the ground looked upwards, and the other looked away,
 avoiding eye contact.  She won't see me...  But will she feel my presence?
  Before, they could always know when the other was around.  They always
 could feel when something happened to the other...  But that _was_ before,
she reminded herself.  Before they fell out of love.

Falling out of love.  One thing she'd never want to experience again.  It 
was too painful, one of the reasons she almost drove herself to suicide.  Of
 course, there was a larger reason.  Death of a loved one.  Maternal 
instincts said that one should never bury one's child...  Maternal instincts
 did not dictate reality.

Yesterday, she had went to the grave.  It had been raining, suitable.  She
 had nearly cried when she had found the headstone, but she had controlled
 her displays of emotion.  She was good at that.  There were dead flowers 
there, indicating a lack of visitation.  She had hurled them away.  She 
wanted to leave something there, but knew that whatever she did would never
 be enough.  What sort of gift can be appreciated by the dead, other than 
life?

Not that life was so wonderful.  She knew, it hurt.  That's why she played 
games with life, terrible games, dangerous ones.  Slitting her wrists was 
just one of the few, perverted things she could do in flirting with death,
 yet she was somehow 'civilized' enough to know not to go much beyond that.

She wished her old friends could see her.  Perversely, she could see them
 looking at her with disgust and horror, loathing, despising her.  That 
would be preferable than living alone, hating herself, she imagined.  Then 
she could finally be pushed to kill herself.

Leaning forward, she felt an odd chill go through her, as if someone was 
watching her intently.  She turned around slowly, looking up to see a black
 haired man staring at her. When she looked directly at him he look away.  
Attractive, she supposed, but why had he been looking at her like that?  She
 turned back around, unable to shake off her fears.

The race began, and the crowd was swept up into even louder screams and
 cheers.  She remained sitting, staring at the track with a blank expression
 on her lovely face.  As she watched the car- car 910- she remembered the
 day when she first rode on a motorcycle with the rider.

She had wrapped her arms around her waist, holding tightly as the other had
 told her to do.  They had been going so fast...  It was a wonderful 
experience, everything she had knew it would be. The excitement had 
enflamed her, brushing the danger of it all...  And it was even better because
 they were together.

And when car 910 crossed the finish line first, the seat in the stands that
 had held the quiet, sea-green haired girl was empty.


Running down the steps, she stopped in the dark hallway that led to the exit
 farther down.  Pausing, she leaned against the wall, trying not to cry.
  Dammit, she thought she was over this.  She had told herself that she felt
 nothing towards the other girl, that watching her race was one of the last
 things she had to do before she could convince herself that she had done
 ever possible thing plausible to make up for what had happened in her past.

She rested her head against her arm that was against the wall, sighing
 miserably.  Always trying to fake yourself out, always trying to deceive
 yourself, never making it work...

She decided then that she would go through with it, finally.  She had done
 all that had needed to be completed; there was simply nothing left to live
 for.

A hand touched her shoulder.  She whirled around defensively, seeing that
 same black haired man from earlier before.

"I'm sorry," he apologized.  "I thought something was wrong with you.  I
 wondered if you were sick or something."

She let out a drawn in breath, smiling weakly.  "No, thank you.  I'm fine."

"You're a very pretty woman," the man said, not leaving.  He remained 
standing in front of her.

She gave him a smile, disturbed by his voice and his eyes.  "Thank you..."
  She tried walking past him but he blocked her way.  "I'm sorry, I need to
 get past you.  Could you please move?"

He grabbed her arm, saying, "I'd like to have dinner with you."

"I'm busy," she said coldly, trying to take her arm away.  He wouldn't let
 go.  She felt herself panicking.  Why the hell won't he leave me alone?
  "Please let go."

"Maybe you didn't hear me," he said, his dark black eyes threatening, 
pulling her against him.

She kneed him in the groin, and when he yelled out, letting go of her arm,
 she ran as fast as she could towards the exit, realizing too late that she
 should have run the other way.

She fell onto the stone ground as he grabbed her.  She screamed out, "LET
 GO OF ME!" and kicked his hand with her shoe, drawing blood, but he 
ignored the pain, covering her mouth with his hand.  She bit him, and he 
cried out in pain, and she screamed again.

"Shut up!" he snapped, slapping her across the face, the ring on his finger
 cutting her cheek.

Suddenly hands grabbed the man off of her.  She could hear the man yelling
 out as he was punched repeatedly.  Then the sounds stopped, and his body
 sank to the floor unmoving.  She slowly sat up, and as she looked at him,
 she saw the blood running down his face, the slumped position he was in.

"Are you ok?" the voice of her rescuer was muffled behind his helmet.  So
 he was one of the racers.

"Yes, thank you," she said softly, standing up to face him.

Slowly he took off his helmet, revealing short blond hair.  She took a step
 back from him.

"Ha-Haruka?" she whispered, her hands tightening at her sides into fists.
  She had only wanted to watch her race, not see her...

"Michiru?" the other said, equally as unsure of what to do.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, turning around.

"Michiru, you're sure you're all right?" Haruka asked politely, her voice 
neither cold as Michiru had expected nor warm as she hadn't.

"Yes, I'm fine," the green haired woman answered.  "I was just about to be
 raped, I'm as great as anyone can expect to be..."

"I'm not going to hurt you or anything," the blond said carefully, not liking
 the sarcasm in the response she received.

"I'm fine," she repeated, walking away, quickly.  She hadn't gotten more than
 a few steps before her ankle began to hurt, and she fell down again.  She
 bit her lip, trying to stand up again, but the pain was too unbearable.

Haruka's arms were around her, helping her up.  Michiru leaned against her
 for support.  She looked into Haruka's worried eyes, and that turned out to
 be too much for her as she began crying against her chest.  Haruka gently
 put her arms around her waist, holding her, not saying anything.


She flinched as the alcohol stung against her cut.  Haruka paused, then 
continued wiping the cotton ball damp with the liquid.  When she had cleaned
 off all of the blood, she threw the ball away, then put the alcohol back
 into the cabinet.

Michiru carefully got off the bed, then caught herself from falling.  She
 shook her head, then carefully stepped on it.

"You're leg's twisted," Haruka said after bending down to examine it.  "It's
 not that bad though, you can still walk."

The blond studied her for a few moments.  She was still amazingly beautiful
 after four years, probably more so than she had been at nineteen.  She
 had stopped crying after a while, murmuring to her that she was sorry for
 that outbreak.

Sorry.  She was always sorry.  She had been sorry the day they had argued,
 the day they broke up.  She had been sorry when Hotaru had died, sorry when
 she had told Haruka she couldn't marry her, sorry when she had left...

The girl wandered around the apartment, albeit difficulty, stopping in 
front of her case of frames.  She read all the trophies Haruka had won, all
 the awards and honors she had earned.  She picked up a picture frame of a
 pretty blue haired girl and Haruka.  She set it back down, turning her head
 to smile at Haruka slightly.

"She's lovely...  Your girlfriend?"  she asked politely.

"Was." Haruka's answer was short and uncomfortable.  She didn't like the 
idea of talking about her past lovers with the girl, who had been more than
 one with her.

Michiru nodded.  "She looks nice...   You probably shouldn't have broken
 up with her, but then again, you'll find someone else..."

She went over to the window, lifting one of the shades of the blinds to look
 outside.  From her view, she could see a nice view of the city, quite pretty.
  After a moment, she dropped it, then glanced at Haruka, who she knew
 she was making uncomfortable.  That would have made her feel better,
 had she not been nervous either.

"I have to be going...  Thank you for helping me."

Her gratitude was ignored by the other.  "Why are you here?" Haruka 
asked coldly.

Michiru's smile faded.  "I didn't want to see you," she said, looking her
 straight in the eye.  "It was only bad luck that you happened to be the 
one saving me."

"If it hadn't been for me, no one else would have."

"I know." She seemed accepting of the coincidence that Haruka had saved
 her from rape, now.  "If you hadn't, I know what would have happened to 
me...  But I would have gotten over it."

Haruka had a shocked look on her face.  "You would have gotten over it?  
What's wrong with you?" she demanded.  "Don't you care if he had 
succeeded?"

"Honestly?  No." She smiled.  "I really must be going now."

The blond girl didn't move.  "You don't care?" she repeated.

"Care? What an odd word to use.  No one cares about me, least of all 
myself, Haruka.  You don't seem to understand that." The girl fell silent.

The other stared at her with disbelief, then reminded herself that if she
 was messed up now, it was none of her concern.  "Which hotel are you 
staying at?  I'll drop you off."

"I'm not staying at a hotel," Michiru said quietly.  "I'm living here now."

"What?  You mean permanently?"

"That's usually what living connotes," she replied dryly.  "Don't worry,
 it's nowhere near here, so we won't run into each other again."

"You didn't want to see me, yet you came to see me race?"

"Flattering yourself isn't a good thing," the other murmured, "but yes,
 that's what I intended doing."

"Why?" Haruka asked.

"Why, why, why...  That's something I ask myself everyday," Michiru 
whispered, as if to herself.  "Why this, why that, why does fate do all these
 things to me..."

"Your outcome you did to yourself," the blond said, her voice unforgiving.

"True." She laughed shortly.  "I really screwed my entire life.  You should
 be happy that I left you, considering how much I mess up everything."

Haruka felt both angry and sympathetic towards the girl.  Something was
 obviously not quite right with her anymore, but to say that she should be
 glad that the girl left her...  "That was the worst day of my life," she
 said bitterly, "when you said you didn't love me anymore."

"The worst day of mine was when Hotaru was buried," Michiru said calmly. 
 "I'll let myself out."

The other girl stopped her, touching her arm.  "I said I'd drop you off."

"Fine, do whatever you want." She felt tired, and she was developing a 
headache.  She walked past the girl but before she reached the door, the
 terrible pain hit her again, causing her to nearly black out.  Gasping, she
 crumpled to the ground, trying to breath in deeply.  Not now, she told 
herself, God, not now.

Haruka was trying to help her somehow, but she shoved her hands away,
 whispering, "It'll go away soon, it always goes away."  Shuddering, she
 wrapped her arms around herself, still taking in deep gulps of air.  
Finally the pain left her, and she sighed, exhausted.

This time she let Haruka help her stand, too weak to say no.  The girl
 helped her lie down on the bed.  Michiru protested, saying she had to go
 home, but Haruka wouldn't hear any of that.

"You're not leaving," she said firmly, though her voice was gentle.  She
 touched the scar on her cheek.  "You said it always goes away...  You have
 these attacks often...?"

She nodded slowly, closing her eyes.  She whispered, "Only once every few
 days, though sometimes twice..."

"When did they start?  Have you seen a doctor?" Haruka pressed.

"They started... after... I moved to Europe," she murmured, close to sleep.
  "I didn't want to see a doctor about it...  It's nothing..."

"What do you mean it's nothing?  This is serious if they've been recurring
 for the past four years!" Haruka snapped angrily.

Michiru smiled, saying, "I told you, I don't care what happens to me..."

"Go to sleep," Haruka finally said, standing up.  Walking over to the door,
 she flipped off the light switch then left the room, closing the door 
quietly behind her.

The green haired girl sighed, drifting off to sleep.


"Michiru-mama..." a voice whispered.

She turned over, feeling freezing cold but burning hot at the same time.
  Not again...

"Hotaru-chan?" She smiled weakly, squeezing the girl's hand tightly.

"What's happening...?" The violet haired child whispered, her face pale,
 breathing slowly.  Her dark hair spilled around her head against the pillow,
 and her eyes were much too dark for her nearly white skin.  "Am I... going
 to die?"

"No, of course not," she answered, wiping her face quickly with her hand.
  Her smile brightened, forcing herself to look fine.  "You'll be out of 
here in no time...  You'll get much better, I promise."

"You're... lying again," the girl murmured tiredly.  She tried laughing, but
 it came out as a weak cough.  "Haruka-papa... told me your signs..."

She reached with both hands and grasped the other's.  "I won't let you die,
 Hotaru-chan.  You can't go."

Hotaru shook her head, then moaned at the pain.  "No..." She got out slowly.
  "I'm not afraid... Michiru-mama...  I'll be... with my real mama then, 
won't I?"

Michiru closed her eyes, keeping in the tears.  "She'll be there..." Her
 voice broke.  But I won't be...

The child let her hand drop away.  "I'm so tired...  I wish God would just
 take me away now...  It hurts so much, mama."

The green haired woman gently stroked her hand over the tiny girl's forehead.
  She dropped a kiss on her cheek, embracing her carefully.  "I'd take the 
pain for you, Hotaru-chan... I wish I could..."

"I love you, Michiru-mama..." Hotaru whispered, before her eyes shut and 
she was asleep from exhaustion.

"Hotaru-chan..."


"NO!" She screamed at the nurses and the doctor, covering her ears.  She
 sank down into her chair, refusing to speak, look at, or listen to anyone 
in the room. 

"Miss Kaioh-"

"Shut the hell up!" She shouted.  "You're lying!"  She covered her face with
 her hands, trying to ignore those around her.  Lying, lying, lying...

"Michiru!" Haruka forced her arms down, holding her hands tightly, staring
 at her intensely.

"Haruka...  She can't be...  They're wrong," she whispered softly, the pain 
in her eyes so terrible that the blond had to look away for a moment.

"Michiru..." She put her arms around the girl in an embrace.

"Let go of me!" Michiru shoved her away, roughly, much to the horror of her
 friends.  Ignoring them, she ran out of the waiting room towards Hotaru's.
  She stopped outside of the window, staring inside.  Around the girl's 
still form were people, too many people, all dressed in white, a color that
 she would never wear again for three years.  She opened the door, trying to
 get to Hotaru, but she was gently led out by the staff, firmly told that
 there was nothing that she could do, and they were sorry about her loved
 one's death.

She slammed her fist against the glass, crying for the first time.  Deep, 
wrenching sobs that she hurt her chest, hurt her throat.  Repeatedly, she
 kept pounding her fist on the window.  Haruka had reached her when the
 staff was pulling her away, saw the blood running down her hand, knew
 without asking that her hand was broken, as was the glass window.


The scene shifted again, this time to one of her fantasy's imagination.  It
 was dark, pitch-black, so much that she couldn't see her hands or herself.
  She stumbled along, feeling sharp rocks beneath her shoes, felt their 
pricks of warning as she tripped on them.  Around her, there must have been
 trees everywhere, for she ran into their branches, which ferociously pulled
 her hair and cut her face.  Her skirts were torn by things along the way,
 most likely thorn bushes... 

She could tell that she was bleeding when she felt the warm liquid slowly 
make its way down her legs and arms and face.  She continued onwards, 
unsure of where to go.  She finally tripped over something, landing on the 
ground and the pointed rocks, crying out as they bit into her skin.

Then the sky turned a bright red, and everything around her were in shades 
of that color, mostly bloody.  She fumbled as she tried standing up, but she
 was pulled back down by an invisible force.

Around her she could hear giggling.  She hated that sound; it made her skin 
crawl, sickened her so much, terrified her.

"Had enough, Michiru?" a voice sweetly asked.

The girl looked up, staring in horror as she saw the figure of Hotaru appear
 before her.  She had an innocent smile on her face, seemed perfectly healthy
 and lovely.  She wore a lavender dress that Michiru had sewed for her with
 Setsuna for her 10th birthday, and her hair was neatly combed, her shoes
 brightly polished.  The only source of color in the stark red world...

"Ho- Hotaru-chan?"  She nearly cried upon seeing her.

Hotaru had a vicious smile play on her lips.  "Look what you did to me, 
Michiru.  You promised me, you swore to me that I'd live...  And see?  You 
lied to me!"

Her skin slowly became paler, turning white, as she held out her hand towards
 the girl on the ground.  Michiru tried to look away, but the same force that
 held her down kept her gaze focused on the child.  The skin soon melted
 away, dripping down, revealing her skull.  Her eyes turned dark black, melting
 away as well.  Her beautiful clothes became tattered and full of holes.

"Why did you lie to me?!" Hotaru screamed as her bony hands reached around
 Michiru's neck and tightened.


She awoke, sweating and hot, her pulse racing.  She closed her eyes tightly,
 willing herself to sleep again, but the impulses were too strong.  Fumbling
 out of the bed, she went to the door and quietly left the room.

She stumbled in the hallway, thinking that if she used the bathroom in
 Haruka's room, she'd find out about her activities later on and probably
 confront her.  She didn't want the girl interfering any more in her life.

Finding the bathroom in the hallway, she quickly shut the door behind her.
  Nearly pushed to the edge, she opened drawers frantically, searching for
 a blade.  She had to get those images out of her mind.  Obviously not
 realizing the noise she was making, she was surprised when Haruka knocked
 on the door.

"Michiru?"

"I'm fine," she called back, still looking.  She finally found one in one
 of the drawers.  Taking it out, she slammed the drawer shut.

"Why didn't you use the other one?" Haruka asked from outside.

"Leave me alone," Michiru snapped.  She held her hand over the sink, glancing
 quickly up at her reflection before shutting her eyes and slashing her
 wrist quickly.

She couldn't keep herself from yelling out.  Staring down, she noted that
 that last cut had been particularly deep.  But was it deep enough, she 
wondered.

"What are you doing?!" Why did she feel so terrified?

"Nothing!" Michiru shouted back.  "Just get the hell away!"

She cut her other wrist as well.  Tonight... she thought to herself.  I 
really... want to die.  She watched the blood slowly ooze from out of the
 cuts, running down her hand into the sink.  She sank to her knees, feeling
 weak.

"Michiru?  Michiru!" Haruka was banging on the door.  She kicked it open
 finally when she heard no response.

Tenoh Haruka had never fainted once in her life.  She had never once seen
 something that made her feel violently ill.  She had never, in essence, 
been close to someone who was near death at their own will.

She saw all these in the scene in front of her, and more, and it was all she
 could do to keep herself from breaking down right then and there.  She
 managed to cut off the waves of nausea she felt at the sight of so much
 blood everywhere.

Kneeling down beside Michiru, she lifted her up, cradling her in her arms,
 just wanting to touch her to make sure she wasn't dreaming.  "Michiru, 
what the hell are you doing?" she whispered.

The other girl closed her eyes, murmuring, "I don't know...  Just let me 
die, please let me die..."


Haruka sat in the chair next to the bed, watching her sleep.  She had a
 peaceful look on her face, which oddly contradicted to what she was doing
 last night...  She had cleaned her wrists, tightly bandaging them to stop
 the bleeding.  As she was doing that, she noticed faint, pale scars on
 both wrists, a telling indicator that Michiru had done this before, several
 times.  After getting her to sleep, Haruka had gone to the bathroom and
 thrown up.

Now she was just sitting, bemused, watching the girl who she had loved so
 much, thinking about how she still was in love with her.  She had been so
scared when she had found Michiru, pleading with any sort of god above to
 not let her die.

Love was frightening.  She had never been so frightened in her life at that
 scene.  God, what the hell was wrong with Michiru?  Why would she do such
 a crazy thing as to play around with death like that?

She knew the answer though...  Ever since Hotaru had died, she hadn't been
 the same.  At first, she had been in denial, acting as if nothing had 
happened, cheerful and happy.  Afterward that phase, she had gone into 
depression, locking herself up for days at a time in her room.  Later, once
 she had accepted Hotaru's death, she had decided to severe all her ties
 with everyone.  First Setsuna, then the younger girls, finally Haruka.

They had, before Hotaru fell sick, talked about getting married. It wasn't
 accepted by anyone, but it could be done.  Not that marriage was entirely 
important, as they loved each other, and that in itself was enough, but they
 both wanted to be fully committed to each other.  After Hotaru died, a few
 months later Michiru had calmly told her that she no longer loved her and
 that she could not marry her.  Haruka remembered the intense pain she had
 felt at those words, and in light of that pain screamed at Michiru, trying
 to talk some sense into her.  Michiru had said some hurtful things herself,
 then turned and walked away.  Haruka hadn't seen her until the day before,
 when she rescued her from being raped.

Michiru awoke suddenly, her eyes opening.  She tried sitting up, but Haruka
 set her gently back down.

"You need to rest, Michiru."

"Haruka..." She whispered.  She lifted up her hands, seeing the wrists 
swathed in cloth, and sighing.  She murmured, "I was going to finally kill
 myself last night."

Haruka blanched at her nonchalance.

"You should have let me die...  After all that I've done to you."

"I wouldn't let you die," Haruka said firmly.  "You don't deserve to die."

"I don't deserve even death?" Michiru questioned, laughing.  She took it in
 the wrong connotation, purposely.  "I'm not worthy of dying..."

"I didn't say that!"

Michiru smiled, her face against her pillow.  "I don't deserve to either 
live or die..." she said.  "Living, to fulfill the meaningless of my life, 
dying, to rid this world of my presence...  But to live means I must be 
doing something worthy, to die means to be free of all pain..."

"Michiru...  What's wrong with you?" Haruka forced herself to ask her the 
question.  "Why are you torturing yourself like this?"

The girl turned her blue gaze to the ceiling.  "Life, death, they're both 
the same.  Both provide no answers, no solace, both are the only paths one
 can take..."

"You're still not over Hotaru's death..." Haruka concluded quietly.  She
 touched Michiru's hand, whose focus shifted back to her green eyes.  "There
 was so little you could do...  Why do you blame yourself?"

"You don't understand..." the green haired woman murmured.  "Hotaru was the
 closest thing... I could ever have to having a real child of my own...  I 
loved her so much...  And she was a part of us, you and I, and Setsuna 
too...  When she died I knew I'd never have anyone like her again..."

"You want children?" She was shocked.  True, they had all loved Hotaru
 dearly, and she had heard Michiru make vague, wistful comments on what if
 Hotaru had some siblings to play with.  But never had she imagined that the
 other had truly wanted more.

Michiru laughed.  "I did..." Her bandaged hand touched her heart.  "But I
 knew I could never have one, because I was with you...  Love is strong,
 but it doesn't perform miracles..."

Haruka was silent, feeling oddly blamed for Michiru's life.

"But...  I also promised her... that I wouldn't let her die," she whispered.
  "But she did... and I lied to her that things would get better...  And they
 didn't!"

"She was sick, Michiru, you know that...  A million promises couldn't
 have changed it, no matter how much we wanted it to..." She pleaded
 softly, attempting to coax reason into the girl.

"I remember..." the girl on the bed whispered, her eyes hazy, giving no
 sign to having heard the blond woman, "how we always used to go to
 the park together...  Setsuna and I would set up the blanket on the
 dark green grass, and it was a light, red checkered pattern...  Hotaru
 had helped us make it for that purpose...  And you and she would run
 around, chasing each other, and I recall feeling so happy to have the
 three of you with me... And I would feel so lucky to have such pleasures,
 since others weren't so fortunate...

Her hand clenched up, causing her to wince in pain, but she continued
 in her monologue, Haruka simply listening to her words.  "And then
one time we went to the amusement park with all the younger girls...
  And Chibi-usa and Hotaru would always go off together, giggling, 
forcing Usagi-tachi to go on all of the rides with them, especially the
 roller coasters...  And she was so happy with Chibi-usa, her first
 friend...

"Then Hotaru became sick...  We paid for the best doctors in the
 world, and they couldn't do a damn thing to save her, could they...
  Some rare disease that only struck one in every 1 million or 100
 million people or some other damn number that they used to
 explain their failure...  And she grew so frail, so pale, so tiny...
  It was like how she was before she became Mistress 9, but worse,
 because she could barely move, scarcely speak...  And she always
 whispered how much it hurt, and why couldn't the pain ever go away..."

Her voice drifted off, and she smiled again, but an emotionless one.
  "And I lied to her, telling her repeatedly that she would get better...
  And in the end she finally died, and I was so happy and so sad at
 the same time...  Sad because she had left us, because selfishly
 I never wanted to let her go... But happy because she wasn't
 feeling any pain anymore..."

"Michiru..." Haruka longed to ease her pain, seeing how it had so
 dramatically shifted the girl's mind set...  She was so... not insane,
 for she obviously wasn't, still intellectually there... but perhaps
 unbalanced.  Suicide for God's sake...  And such a twisted method
 Haruka had before only associated with troubled teenage girls who
 were abused and beaten throughout their lives.

"I'll keep trying." The green haired girl's eyes shut, but her lips moved
 to say the words, firm words that's very meanings scared Haruka. 
  "You won't always be there to stop me...  And one day, whether it be
 tomorrow or next week or next year, I'll succeed...  And then my
 miserable existence will finally be over..."

"Why are you telling me this?  Don't you know that I'll never leave you 
alone now?" Haruka whispered.  Did she really want to die?  Her chest
 and her head hurt, her mind still rejecting the fact that this person who
 suddenly meant so much to her once more, who always had, could
 simply cherish the thought of death.

"I'm saying this so that you won't be surprised..." Michiru smiled.  "And
 keeping constant watch over me won't do a thing...  I watched over Hotaru
 while she slept... But I must have let my guard down for one second, and 
in that second she tore herself from out of my grasp, ran away from me to
 death's open arms..."  Her laugh was bitterly unpleasant.  "God, suicide's
 making me poetic."

Her voice lowered again, after a pause.  "I'm so tired...  Can a person die
 from exhaustion, I wonder..."

Haruka brushed her hand over Michiru's forehead, feeling that it was warm.
  She kept her hand there for a moment.  "Michiru...  Please don't try
 anything dangerous."

"I can't say that I won't ever..."

"Then at least for a few days?" the other asked, trying not to plead with 
her.

Some of her terror and resorting to near begging most likely came off
 onto Michiru, for her face was puzzled as she stared at Haruka.  It
 seemed as though she suddenly realized how much of a burden she
 was to the girl, even though they had only just met.  It was odd saying
 that, but it was true.  Michiru wasn't the same person she had been before,
 and she never denied that, even to herself.  But Haruka...  She couldn't
 tell if the blond had changed dramatically or not; she certainly didn't
 know her as well any longer, so perhaps...

The green haired woman nodded slowly.  After all, even if she hadn't
 wanted her to, Haruka had helped her.  She owed her at least some
 minor comfort.  "All right...  Not for a few days..."

"Thank you."  The other dropped a light kiss on her lips before settling
 back into her chair to watch her.

The girl on the bed controlled her shock, which was easy enough to do.
  She had been controlling her emotions- whatever was left of them-
 ever since her daughter had died.  She had controlled herself when she
 had told Setsuna that she no longer needed a mother to care for her,
 controlled herself when she had told the Inner Senshi curtly that she
 was no longer willing to be Sailorneptune, controlled herself when she
 had handed Haruka back the ring she had given to her, controlled
 herself when she said in a cool, dull voice that she no longer loved her,
 controlled herself from crying when she had turned away from Haruka's
 screaming at her, controlled herself...

She wasn't in control.

Thinking thoughts that should have died five years ago, wondering about
 things that could have been- should have been, and trying to analyze
 Haruka's emotions, she soon fell asleep.


The first thing Haruka thought about when she awakened was Michiru.
  Seeing the bed empty- the covers were different and neatly tucked in
 [how did Michiru know where she kept the clean sheets?]- she nearly
 panicked, leaving the room quickly in a frenzy.  A million thoughts raced
 through her mind, but what she saw was unexpected.

The other girl was in the kitchen, making breakfast.  How she found all
 of Haruka's pans and things was beyond her, but she recalled how Michiru
 had always been able to find anything; she'd always been very good 
around the house.

Her sea green hair was wet, indicating that she had showered, and she was
 wearing shorts tightened with a belt and a short sleeved collared shirt.  Both
 looked familiar, and the blond realized that she was wearing her clothes.
  The bandages from around her hands were gone, and there were few signs
 of what had happened from the night before except for white scars on her
 wrists.  They had healed remarkably fast, and the only person Haruka knew
 who could do that had been Hotaru...

Strange, Michiru was exhibiting signs similar to those of the late younger
 child.  The chest pains and weakness- Hotaru had them before becoming
 Sailorsaturn.  The quick healing as well.  The quiet, drawn in personality
 was like that of Hotaru before too.

The girl looked up, seeing Haruka standing near the dining table, then
 returned to her cooking, without saying anything.  She was making what
 looked like the typical American breakfast- eggs, bacon, sausages, toast,
 et cetera.  Quickly, she used tongs to take out the food, setting them on
 different plates with paper towels on them to absorb the excess grease,
 then set them on the table in front of the blond, who had sat down and
 had been watching her.

Michiru got some plates, napkins, and utensils and brought them over
 to the table, placing them down with care before sitting across from
 Haruka.  There was already juice and tea and glasses there.

"You were sleeping, so I decided to let you rest," she murmured.  "And
 I thought you might be hungry, so I made you something."

Haruka stared at her for a moment, not quite understanding her at all.
  But she was hungry, so she began to eat slowly, with her usual good
 manners and elegant class.

"I also showered...  I didn't have any clothes, so I borrowed some of
 yours."  She glanced up at the blond.  "You don't mind, do you?  I'll send 
them over once I get back home, clean, of course."

"No, I don't mind..." Haruka was still at a loss for words.  Michiru
 seemed better, but why this sudden...  She would have said affection, but
 she doubted that to be the cause.   Gratitude, maybe?  She didn't like 
the idea of Michiru feeling indebted to her.  "Aren't you going to eat?
  It's very good."

"Thanks," Michiru answered.  She shrugged, then took a plate, using
 a fork to pick up an egg and drop it on her plate, then cut it with the
 knife half-heartedly. She slowly began to eat.

They ate together in silence, not saying anything, uncomfortable, but
 with a rather tacit truce, which brought some minor comfort to both.


Haruka had driven her home afterwards, and the silence had continued
 between the two during the drive.  Michiru noticed that Haruka still
 sped a good ten miles or so over the limit, and that vaguely reassured 
her that the other hadn't changed drastically.

During breakfast, Michiru had been extremely uncomfortable with the
 blond girl.  She hadn't told her that she had had another nightmare,
 waking up at seven and not going back to sleep.  First she had taken
 off the clothed strips from her hands and wrist, studying the amount of
 healing that had been done during the night.  Then she had showered,
 but remembered that she didn't have any clothes, so she had gone back
 into the room to find some, a towel wrapped around her.  Careful not to
 wake Haruka, Michiru had found some semi suitable clothing, even if
 the shirt was oversized and the shorts kept slipping down.  A belt had
 solved that problem.

Seeing that she was an uninvited guest in the apartment, Michiru had
 gone in search for clean sheets.  Haruka, she hated to admit, was
 predictable in where she put things.  Or perhaps, living with her for four
 years had made her sensitive to Haruka's tastes for organizing, which,
 upon reflection, were not really so predictable had she not known her.
  Predictable in their unpredictability?  She had to smile at that thought.

Upon finding the objects of her short expedition, she changed the sheets
 quickly and easily, wondering why on earth Haruka would need such a 
large bed, then smiling wryly at herself as she noticed the picture of her
 with the blue haired girl.  They probably had broken up recently, otherwise
 she wouldn't still have that picture on her desk.

Picking it up again, she studied it, thinking how pretty the girl was.
  Michiru herself was probably nothing to look at, being in so poor a mental
 and physical state.

As she turned the frame over, the picture had accidentally fallen out.  She 
leaned down to pick it up, then noticed a box under the desk, way back 
against the wall.  Curious, though knowing she should have respected
 the girl's privacy, she nonetheless pulled the box quietly out.  Opening the
 lid, she saw albums, photo albums, each labeled in Haruka's quick, neat 
script.

Friends, school, family.  Michiru recalled that she had never seen Haruka's
 parents before except in a single picture Haruka had shown her when they 
were sixteen.  Wondering if there were any more, she pulled that particular
 book out, opening it.

She nearly dropped it.  The pictures were of the four of them- Haruka, 
herself, Setsuna, and Hotaru- and not her parents as she had thought.
  Telling herself that she was foolish, she turned the pages, studying 
each picture carefully, placing the place and time of each.

Four of them at the park...  Six years ago, June, early.  Hotaru dressed 
up in a Halloween costume as Sailormars.  Seven years ago, October.  
Setsuna, Haruka, and Hotaru, at the beach.  Six years ago, July.  On and
 on it went, remembering, reliving every picture.

Close the book, close it _now_, she told herself.  Close the damn thing!

Go fuck off.

She should have listened to herself as she neared the end of the book.  She
 was near tears, schooling had kept them in.  Then suddenly the pictures
 changed, changed to ones of only Haruka and herself.  On a cruise ship,
 at Haruka's races, at Michiru's violin concerts, at their duet performances,
 at the park, on the beach, in Europe, at school, all five years they had
 been together...  Embracing, holding hands, arms around each other,
 kissing.

"Shit..." She ran her hand through her hair, trying to keep herself from
 breaking down completely.

And it wasn't over.  Then came pictures of just herself, ones she 
remembered Haruka taking, others Michiru had never known she'd had
 to begin with.  Many were of her laughing, or playing her violin, or picking
 flowers, or painting, or anything at all of her.

She finally closed it silently.  Placing it back into the box, she had gently
 pushed the box itself back to its dark position in the shadow beneath the
 desk.  Staring at the picture of Haruka and her old girlfriend, she suddenly
 felt deeply jealous of the other girl, for no reason.  At that moment, she 
felt like doing something murderous to her...  Stabbing her, choking her,
 breaking every bone in her lovely face...

CALM DOWN.  She sighed, her head falling into her hand, resting there.
  Why are you so jealous?  You two broke _up_; _they_ broke up.  But
 still, how could Haruka keep pictures of all of them so close to her, in 
her _room_, and then the picture of her old girlfriend right on her desk?

She shook her head, disrupting her thoughts, then placed the picture
 back into the frame before setting it back down.  Gathering up the
 sheets from the bed, she softly exited the room, but not before pausing
 in front of Haruka for the briefest second, remembering the kiss she had
 given her the night before.

"Michiru?"

Michiru looked up with a start, glancing at Haruka.  She saw that they
 were slowing down, nearing her condominium.  The white European
 sports car stopped, and Michiru unbuckled her belt.  Unsure of what
 to say to Haruka, she finally mumbled, "Thanks, Haruka. I'll return
 these clothes to you soon."

"Will you get off the clothes thing?" Haruka snapped as she turned off
 her car and leaned against the steering wheel.

"What?" She asked, confused.  She had simply thanked her, dutifully
 telling her her plans with regards to the clothes on her back.  She 
didn't want Haruka to think she was taking advantage of her.

"You act as if that's all you wanted to say before you left," the blond
 muttered angrily.  "Don't you have anything more to add?"

"What did you want me to say?" the green haired girl asked, puzzled
 by the other girl's fit.  "I'm sorry we won't see each other again?"

"Yes, we will," Haruka interjected, which startled Michiru with the
 venom to it.  Taking a chance, which was what she did
 best, Haruka said quickly, "I'm taking you to dinner after we go 
shopping."

Michiru stared at her in complete shock.  Finally she managed to
 say, "Are you crazy?  I don't want to see you again, I never did!
  Can't you understand that?" She was on the verge of some large
 emotion, she didn't know whether it was to cry, or become angry,
 or whatever quite yet.

Haruka leaned over, kissing her on the lips, silencing her.  When
 she pulled back, her eyes were dark green, and she looked away,
 murmuring, "Do you want to change?"

The other girl nodded slowly, then opened the car door, slamming
 it as she ran into the building.

The girl left in the car sighed, leaning her head against her arm
 which still rested against the steering wheel.  Haruka, Haruka, Haruka,
 she told herself mockingly.  What the hell are you doing?

Trying to get her back...?

She looked up as she heard a door close, seeing Michiru slowly
 walking towards the car.  She was wearing a light blue blouse,
 a white skirt, and white sandals.  She opened the door and got
 inside without a word.

"You look nice," Haruka blurted out.  Nice?  Try drop dead gorgeous
 for once.

Michiru didn't say anything except smile slightly, which made Haruka
 feel foolish for saying anything at all.  She started up the engine again,
 and made a turn, heading in the opposite direction towards the main
 city.

"Why are you taking me shopping?" Michiru inquired lightly.  "I have
 a sufficient amount of clothing."

"You always liked doing it, and I thought you might want to feel
 better," Haruka told her, not including the 'after last night' part that
 Michiru sensed anyway.

"I haven't been using too much make-up recently," Michiru murmured,
 as if trying to substantiate the other's reason a little bit more.  "I suppose
 I need to buy some."

Haruka glanced at her, surprised, turning her attention back towards the
 road.  First off, she wasn't wearing _any_ make-up, except for perhaps
 faint lipstick, which had always been her favorite cosmetic. Secondly,
 she seemed reluctant to go, not excited, though it might have been
 the idea of going with Haruka that was distasteful to her.

"You look great without make-up." STUPID.  Why did you say that now?
  Now she has _no_ reason to go with you anyplace.

"I'd forgotten how sweet you can be, Haruka," the other remarked drolly,
 smiling faintly.  She stared down at her hands, then touched her ring
 finger on her left hand.  Flipping them over so the palms faced up, she
 stared at her wrist.  Her right cut was almost totally healed, the left still
 slightly reddish white.  She sighed softly, then covered her right hand
 over the other, turning them over once more.

Michiru leaned her head against the headrest of her seat, shutting her
 eyes.  She felt suddenly tired again, unusually so.  Depression had
 reasserted its authority over her, and for no particular reason other than
 pure maliciousness on its part.  She had promised Haruka she wouldn't
 try anything for a few days...

Promises were meant to be broken.  That's what she had told herself as
 she was in the bathroom, contemplating, then setting the blade back down.
  And that's what she told herself now.  Haruka might want to make her feel 
better- maybe even her own self, so later she could convince herself that 
she had tried something- but after tonight, she assured herself that they
 would never meet again.

Her fingers touched her mouth, thinking that Haruka had kissed her twice,
 both meaningless, brief ones unlike the type they used to share.  But
 were they really meaningless, she wondered.  Most definitely.  Haruka
 had never expressed anything other than a sort of vague friendship between
 them.

Friends kissed.  [Not on the lips]  Shut up. [You wanted it to be more than
 a friend's kiss.]  Right, that's exactly it: I want to romantic with Haruka again
 so I can tell her to go screw herself again.  [No, last time you used different
 words: Go fu-]  Shut up!

She rubbed her temples.  She felt Haruka's hand on hers, and she looked 
up warily.

"Do you have a headache?" she asked sympathetically.

"It's all right," she lied softly.  "It's gone now."

Haruka brought Michiru's hand to her lips, kissing it gently.  Michiru 
drew her hand back in, undeniably shocked and uncertain.  Deciding that now
 was not the time to analyze reemerging feelings, she turned her attention to
 the outside, realizing that they had entered the main area of Juuban, where
 all the rich stores were.

Juuban...  Usagi-chan must have moved years ago.  Twenty-two.  She 
should have married Mamoru by now...  Started a new life together
 perhaps.  Jealousy spread through her.  They were always reassured
 by the knowledge that they would have Chibi-usa.  A child...   While
 she...  Hotaru...  They...

"Usagi-chan and Mamoru-san live across the city now," the blond next
 to her affirmed, as if answering the unspoken question that had been
 at the surface of her mind.  "Mamoru-san's a lawyer...  We always knew
 he would be something great...  Usagi-chan's a teacher.  Sort of ironic
 that..."

"Ironic..." Michiru echoed, her dark blue eyes staring blankly into Haruka's
 green ones.  "Life... is full of its little ironies..."

The other wanted to reassure her, to tell her something positive, something
 that would make her _live_ again.  Yet...  There was nothing she could
 possibly say that would bring back Hotaru.  The strange maternal 
dependency on a child...  Had that been stronger than her love for her 
partner?  Apparently it had...  Strange.

Haruka herself had never felt nearly as maternal as Michiru or even Setsuna.
  Perhaps fatherly towards Hotaru was a better description.  "Haruka-papa"
 indeed...  Was it true, then, that mothers shared some sort of significant,
 deeper bond than fathers did?  Did mothers love their children more than
 their lovers?

The green haired woman smiled faintly, her smile vague and soft, her eyes
 a dark, dullish blue.  Murky eyes, sometimes vibrant as the depths of the
 oceans, carefree as the splashing waves, or deep, dark blue, a haunted
 color.  Her eyes fell upon Haruka's left hand, confused as she finally noticed
 the significance of the ring.

Their promise ring- hers, Haruka's, Setsuna's.  For Hotaru.  Haruka still had
 it on... after all these years?  Maybe...  Maybe Haruka had felt just as
 strongly upon their child's death?  She grew strangely circumspect, asking
 herself why she had never wondered how much Haruka had really felt...

But Haruka had always been the strong one for her, the less emotional
 one.  During Michiru's depression, she had been there, trying to comfort
 her, trying to relieve her pain.  Selfless, never showing Michiru an ounce
 of anything but tender love.

The car found a parking spot against the sidewalk quite easily, quickly.  
Fortunate, since usually it was a killer to find any ideal spot; one almost
 always had to park in a garage or simply not take a car and use a taxi.
  Michiru got out, closing the door behind her.  Shading her eyes, she
 glanced around the street at the sight.  People walking around, laughing,
 talking.  Juuban always was a rather peaceful area.

Haruka touched her elbow, and she glanced at her.  The blond smiled, then
 draped her arm over her shoulder casually, lightly, in a friendly fashion.
  Like a sister would to her sibling.  The other silenced strange turmoil from
 inside of her, and she followed Haruka's lead as the blond led them to some
 of the stores.

In front of one of the windows of a certain shop, Michiru felt an alien emotion
 from inside of her.  No, not alien...  Just... Unused.  A small tinge of
 excitement, anticipation.  She bit her lip, and her eyes wandered over the
 lovely dresses displayed.  One elegant ballroom gown, white; an airy
 summer dress, sea green; a soft violet skirt and cream top.  Very pretty.

The last time she had shopped seriously was...  Too long.  Shopping had
 become a chore for her, and she always quickly purchased clothes that
 were plain, nice, fitted, inexpensive.  But to truly search for outfits...

"Do you want to try one on?" Haruka murmured in her ear.

She pulled herself away from the display, telling herself that she was
 foolish.  "No...  No, I... don't need any more clothes..."

"Don't you like them?" She tapped her hand lightly against the glass.
  "They're very nice."

"Yes, they're quite beautiful," Michiru agreed readily.  She shook her
 head.  "But-"

Haruka took her arm firmly in her hand, leading her towards the door.
  Michiru was wise enough not to fight her, not to make a scene that
 would be useless.  The other woman was a great deal stronger than
 her, particularly now.  Still, she flushed a little bit as she entered the
 store.

Haruka inquired at the desk for two of the dresses displayed in the
 showcase.  The young woman, red curly hair, bright orange eyes,
 nodded eagerly, politely.  She fetched some dresses of the same
 style, the size of what Michiru had whispered to her.  Haruka had
 seemed surprised at the number; she had lost a good deal amount
 of weight, her dress size falling by two since she had last seen her.

"This was a mistake," Michiru said, her head tilting upwards to glare
 at the other.  "I don't need any clothes."

"So you've said several times already." She seemed amused.  Her
 fingers brushed over the silk blouse, rubbing gently the material of the
 sleeve between her fingers.  "This is somewhat old...  The material has
 thinned somewhat.  You never used to wear anything for more than a
 year."

"I like this," the girl retorted, defending herself, turning her head away.
  She stared down at the glass counter, suddenly noticing the jewelry
 on display there.  She bent over, studying some of the pieces.  Gold,
 silver, bronze.  Her eyes were pulled to a gold necklace, light, thin,
 with an oval aquamarine stone at the end.  She smiled.  "It's pretty,"
 she commented.

"Do you want to buy it?" Haruka asked her.

Startled, she looked up.  She smiled again, briefly.  "It's pretty,"
 she repeated, "but no...  I wouldn't know what to do with it.  It's
 pointless buying a necklace for yourself that you'll never wear
 anywhere."

"It's odd seeing you reluctant to buy things." The blond gave her a 
measuring look.  "I remember how you used to always drag me around
 to every store, and you'd practically buy the whole place out and
 make me carry around all your boxes."

The second woman turned her head to look outside the window, where
 she watched people scurrying around.  "That was a long time ago,
 Haruka.  I'm not the same person."  I don't even know who she is or 
if I can bring her back anymore.

Haruka sighed softly, then changed her demeanor as the red haired
 clerk walked out with the two dresses.  She had them draped over
 both arms, carefully, and she motioned with her head towards a
 door near the side.  "That's the dressing room."

The blond nodded, putting her arm on Michiru's shoulder and
 walking with her as they followed the other woman.  They were
 silent as they listened to the woman chatter, passing racks of
 clothes and displays.  Michiru felt dazed, having forgotten how
 many and how nice clothes could be.

"My, my, these are quite lovely," the saleswoman said cheerfully.
  "And you're quite beautiful, miss, so they'll undoubtedly look 
wonderful on you."  She sighed, but her sigh was a romantic
 longing sigh, so different from the one Haruka had uttered a few
 minutes beforehand.

Simple actions could reflect a variety of emotions.

The clerk wistfully stroked the fabric, remarking, "I do wish that
 I could wear things like this, or that I had the money."  She
 laughed.  "But I love seeing people look so perfect in clothes
 simply made for them, so that's enough."

She opened the door, then placed the dresses on one of the
 hangers.  She smiled, walking out and standing off to the side
 of the door.  "I hope you like them, miss."

"Thank you," Michiru smiled gently.  She went inside, shutting the
 door behind her.

Haruka sat down outside in a chair which was near some mirrors against
 the wall.  The other woman remained standing, humming cheerfully.
  She turned her attention to Haruka.

"Are you her boyfriend?" she inquired politely.

The blond had a funny look on her face, but she shook her head.  "No,
 we're just friends," she said, her voice cracking somewhat.

The clerk didn't notice, but smiled.  "What a shame, what a shame.
  You two look so nice together.  One look at the two of you walking
 in together and I said to myself, 'My, these two simply must be an
 item, they seem like such a perfect couple!'"

Haruka sweat dropped, smiling weakly.  She was, oddly enough, 
often intimidated by chatty women.  She never knew quite what to say
 in the face of their... well, chattiness.  This woman could talk for hours
 on end...  Must be hell for her boyfriend to do anything otherwise.  The
 blond quickly prayed that Michiru would hurry up.

On time, the dressing room door finally opened, and Michiru walked out,
 uncertainly.  She was wearing the sea green dress, and Haruka couldn't
 say anything for a few seconds as she stood up, trying to clear her mind 
of the mixture of thoughts that quickly swirled in her head.  The saleswoman,
 on the other hand, had plenty to say.

"Miss, you look absolutely beautiful!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands
 together in childish delight.  She led Michiru to the mirror so that she could
 look at herself.  "Now see?  This dress was simply _made_ for you!"

The green haired woman smiled briefly at her reflection, then turned to
 Haruka.  "It's nice," she said quietly.  "What do you think?" She walked
 up to her, tilting her head in that way of hers that meant she wanted a 
serious, honest opinion.

"Doesn't she look like a model?" the red haired lady gushed out.  Haruka
 almost kissed her for saying something, because she certainly couldn't.

"Um, yeah, she looks great," Haruka mumbled, shoving her hands in
 her pant pockets, feeling like a teenager again.  Michiru didn't say 
anything, just nodded, walking back into the dressing room.

As the door shut, Haruka sighed, sinking down into her chair.  Michiru
 probably thought she was insensitive now. The clerk glanced at her
 puzzled, but shook her head, clicking her tongue.  Not a couple...
  Really.  It was obvious- yes, quite obvious that the blond man had strong
 feelings for that young woman.

She blinked as the blond man stood up and walked back over to the counter.
  "Wait!  Aren't you going to wait for your lady friend?" she said, hurrying to
 keep up with the other.

"Yeah, I just wanted to look at that necklace she liked," Haruka replied,
 not slowing down.  "Can I see it?"

The woman nodded and scurried around, then opened the glass case with 
a key.  Taking out the necklace that Haruka pointed to, she lifted it gently
 and placed it in Haruka's hand.

Haruka examined it carefully.  Shooting a look at the woman, she said
 casually, "It's real."

"Oh, yes, of course," the clerk affirmed, bobbing her red head up and down.
  "We'd never carry any fake imitations here!  But it's quite expensive, so no
 one has wanted to buy it, and I'm afraid that it'll never be-"

"I'll take it."

She gaped, then remembered her manners and shut her mouth.  "You _must_
 be in love with her, sir!" she said as she busied herself at the cash register.

Haruka quickly paid for the necklace via credit card, then walked back to sit
 in the cushy chair once more.  She put the necklace, in a box, in her pocket,
  and settled back down.  Not a moment too soon, for the door opened again.

"Michiru?" Haruka called after a moment as no one came outside.

"I feel silly...  This is such a waste of time." Michiru sounded upset, closing
 the door suddenly again.  She leaned her head against it, saying, "I'll just
 buy the other dress if it makes you feel happy."

"What's wrong?" The other stood, walking over to the door, her hand against
 it.  "I'm sure you look fine."

"I... remembered the last time... I went to a ball..." Michiru whispered from
 the other side.  "It was when all four of us went to celebrate Usagi's 18th
 birthday...  And we were all happy.  Hotaru looked so pretty, hardly like a
 little girl, more like the twelve-year-old she was.  I felt proud of her...  And 
then you and I, we danced only with each other after I danced with that one
 friend of Mamoru-san's...  Motoki-san I think...  You were jealous, so I 
promised I'd only dance with you for the rest of the night..."

Haruka flushed, remembering what happened after that, even though she
 knew that Michiru probably wasn't thinking along those lines.  "Come out,
 Michiru," she said softly.

The door swung open silently, and Michiru stepped out quickly, looked at
 Haruka for a moment, then turned to go back in to change.  Haruka took
 her arm, holding her there.  The white silk suited Michiru perfectly, fitting
 her well.  The skirts were long and somewhat heavy, but elegantly placed 
on the girl.  Her sea green hair cascaded around her shoulders, and that in
 itself was a lovely decoration.

"You... look... beautiful," Haruka said after what seemed like hours, knowing
 that she was blushing like crazy.  "You should buy it."

"I'll never wear it," Michiru pointed out.  She smiled, touching the silk dress.
  "But it is lovely, isn't it though..."

Haruka touched her face, saying, "Come on, I'll get the clerk to ring it up 
for you."

The other girl shook her head at first, then nodded reluctantly as she saw
 Haruka's expression.  She felt oddly uplifted for some strange reason.  It
 was because of Haruka, she knew, and that left her with the sense of
 being adrift...


Michiru...

She looked up, confused, at Haruka.  "Did you say something?" she asked.

"No." Haruka glanced at her over the bill she was signing.  "Why?"

"Nothing..." Michiru rubbed her neck distractedly, murmuring, "I thought I 
heard someone say something to me..."

'Michiru... Michiru-mama...  Michiru-mama!  Where are you?'

She choked, standing up as mental images flooded her mind.  She
 ran to the bathroom, followed by an anxious Haruka.  She went inside,
 into one of the stalls, slamming the door quickly.

Haruka waited outside the stall, staring at the door, her face pale at the
 sounds from inside.  The toilet flushed, then, and Michiru walked out, 
 ignoring her.  She went over to the sink, turning on one of the faucets.  
She ran the water over her hands, then made a scoop with them, 
splashing some of the cold liquid on her face.  She got a towel from 
the dispenser, wiping her face and hands dry, then threw it away, 
turning to leave.

She didn't say a word as she walked past Haruka.  The other girl wouldn't
 let her go by, reaching out and taking her arm.  Michiru stopped, her face
 bent, not wanting to look at her.

"Michiru?" Her voice was soft, worried, caring.

Michiru allowed herself to be embraced, and she buried her face in 
Haruka's shirt, not crying or speaking.  Haruka felt a tearing feeling
 inside of her.  Her arms held Michiru more securely against her, and
 she whispered her name again.

"It's been a long day, Michiru...  I'll take you home now."

The green haired woman nodded, her eyes cloudy though dry.  
"Thank you."


Haruka parked in the lot, though Michiru protested feebly how it
 wasn't necessary to come in with her- she could do it herself. 
 After getting out of the car, she nearly collapsed, her breathing
 condition coming over her once more.

Right then she cursed her body for betraying her, since now 
Haruka was adamant about playing 'Protector' of her.  She 
didn't want Haruka's help; she only desired for her to leave her 
alone.  She wanted to be by herself.  She went to her apartment
 on the third floor, followed by the other.

Stepping off the elevator, she found her room.  Busying herself 
with unlocking the door, she tried to ignore the fact that Haruka
 was there beside her.  The door swung open after she twisted
 the knob, and she entered, flipping on a light switch against
 the wall.

Knowing that she couldn't very well leave Haruka outside, she let
 her in, indicating where to remove her shoes and where to find
 slippers.  After having done so, Haruka gave Michiru her dresses,
 then wandered around the apartment as the other girl went to 
put them in her room.

The apartment was astonishingly empty.  Furniture was scarce, 
simple, harsh.  A white couch, two chairs, a glass table, and a 
few pictures made up the main sitting area.  The kitchen had a 
small table and two chairs against it.  There was a chair and a 
music stand near the large window, then a different painting stand
 a few feet away.  The violin case was on the chair, locked.

Michiru came back out from her room.  She stared at her for a moment, 
then turned, heading towards the kitchen.  "I'll make some tea before
 you go."

Haruka sat down on the couch, waiting silently until the other 
returned.  Michiru sat down next to her, setting down the tray with
 cups on it.

"Why did you run out of the restaurant?" Haruka asked finally as Michiru
 poured for both of them.

"Just dreams...  Visions of things..." Michiru leaned towards her as 
she set down a filled cup for her, pausing, then murmured, "I'm sorry
 for being an inconvenience to you for these two days.  I truly 
promise that I'll do my best not to run into you again."

"What a silly thing to say." Haruka was irritated.  She ignored the
 tea cup, turning to face her.  "You're never any trouble, particularly
 when you need help."

Michiru smiled, her blue eyes faintly lighting up, as she felt a sudden
 surge of gladness rise inside of her.  Haruka stared at her for a moment
 before touching her cheek with her hand.  The other girl didn't say 
anything, only slowly put her own hand over hers.

"Michiru?" the blond whispered.  The green haired woman lifted up
 her head, silent, but her eyes said a million things more.  Haruka 
lowered her head and kissed her.  The other put her arms around
 her neck, unprotesting.


Michiru awoke, realizing where she was quickly.  She felt her face
 burn, then tried to get out of the bed until she felt Haruka's arm 
draped around her side.  She turned, looking towards the blond girl,
 who was sleeping peacefully.  She studied the face, wondering how
 someone could be so pretty.  Trailing her fingers along Haruka's 
face, she lifted her head up, tilting it so that her face was right 
beneath the other's.  Her mouth was dry, but she swallowed,
 then gently kissed the sleeping woman.

Haruka made a small sound, her arms automatically tightening 
around Michiru, drawing her in closer to her body.  Her eyes opened
 slightly, and she smiled beneath the girl's lips.  "'Morning," she 
greeted softly.

The sea green haired girl laid her head against Haruka's shoulder,
 whispering, "You've confused me so much, Haruka..."

"Michiru?" the other inquired quietly.

"I didn't have any nightmares last night..." She sounded surprised,
 curiously so.

"I'm glad," Haruka answered, with fine understatement.  "You 
shouldn't be having them every night, love."

"You haven't called me that for a long time." She sighed, her 
eyes shutting.  "You're so warm..."

Haruka stroked her hair until she fell asleep, even after the girl 
had done so.  Dropping a kiss on her head, she held her as she
 drifted off to sleep.


Everything changed that night, the next morning.  Michiru had come
 to the terms with the fact that after that, she could not never see 
Haruka again.  It was impossible to ignore her, realizing many things
 in what they had done.

One.  She was still in love with Haruka.  Two.  Haruka still cared deeply
 for her, if not loved her.  Three.  She wanted them to be how they were
 before Hotaru had died.  She might be wrong, on all accounts, but she
 was fairly certain of the accuracy of each statement.

Michiru didn't understand why Haruka could still make her feel so 
fiercely, even after all this time, but love was undefinable, strange.  Their
 love had always been frighteningly strong.

Haruka was showering; Michiru had already done so.  She was in
 the process of dressing, deciding on wearing the summer dress
 she had just bought the day before.  She happened to glance at
 her left wrist.  It was nearly healed.  She trailed her finger along the
 pale line, thinking to herself that it was indeed odd how for the first
 time ever since Europe she hadn't dreamt about Hotaru dying.  
The dreams were what always drove her to slashing her wrists...  
She grew so scared, so depressed over them, so sick that she
 wanted to die.

She sighed, walking over to the large window in the room and stared
 outside, waiting for Haruka.  She leaned her head against the glass,
 watching the city, but not really.  She felt tears form at her eyes,
 and she didn't know why, couldn't explain it.  Even in her happiest
 times depression set in, controlling her, using her.

She felt arms around her, and she glanced up blankly to see Haruka
 staring at her with her lovely green eyes.  Haruka kissed her neck,
 and a warmth spread through her as she leaned back in her arms.

"It's a nice day," Haruka commented as she looked outside.  The sun
 was high, the sky a clear blue, and people were walking and running
 around in the streets.  Her voice dropped to a throaty whisper against 
her ear.  "But I prefer the nights..."

Michiru blushed, reminding herself that Haruka had always been
 sensuous, amorous, perhaps too much so, and they often exchanged
 sexual innuendoes teasingly.

"You're still wet," Michiru chided her as droplets of water from the
 blonde's hair fell onto her face.

"Hmm..." Haruka agreed.  She smiled down at the girl, saying, "Sorry,
 I was in a rush...  I could hold you forever like this."

"I wish... I could be like this forever..." the green haired girl whispered,
 slowly, softly.  Her gaze dropped.  With you, forever.  Only us, away
 from the rest of the world...  Can't you take me away from everything?
  Why can't all my fears just disappear, why can't my memories of
 the past stop haunting me?  Then we could be happy...  But we won't,
 we can't.  Not until I've been forgiven...  And I never will be.  Why not?
  What sort of cruel fate is keeping us apart...  Or is it just myself...

I love her...  But we aren't meant to be...

"Michiru..." Haruka said, alarmed at the sudden quietness of
 the other.  She was withdrawing into herself again.  Depressed, cold,
 indifferent to all but pain.

"Haruka...  You love me...  Don't you?" Her question was unexpected and
 said with such calmness, such dullness of tone that Haruka wanted to
 shake her.  But underneath that exterior, she saw, was a quiet desperation,
 a need for assurance.

"Yes, more than anything else," the blond answered, her voice determined
 and honest.

"I could drive you away again." She sounded odd, pulling out of the embrace.
  "Would you hate me if I did that?  You would, wouldn't you?  You'd leave 
me.  You'd start anew again, you'd have a different life from mine...  You'd 
forget me, unless you only thought about me to hate me."

"What are you talking about?" She was scared.  Michiru was... losing it
 again...  She tried hugging her, but Michiru tore her arm out of her grasp,
 wandering around the room.  She sat down on the bed.  "I could never 
hate you."

"You hated me once.  You have, that day," Michiru murmured, her hand
 touching her face in a contemplating manner.  "I saw it in your eyes,
 heard it in your tone.  You hated me...  And if we hated each other once,
 it could happen again..."

"Michiru, you're not making any sense," Haruka said firmly, walking towards
 her.  "It's not going to happen again."

"If there's hate, there can't be love." Her blue eyes dropped to the ground.  
"If we hated once... we could hate again..."

"Why are you focusing on this?" The other wanted to slap her, hold her,
 kiss her, make her forget about these crazy things in her mind.  "We're
 together now, we love each other _now_, that's all that matters."

We aren't meant to be...  Funny, it seemed strange saying that.  Her mind
 automatically rejected that idea.  Yet...  If she couldn't forgive herself, she
 would merely end up destroying Haruka as well...  She couldn't let that
 happen.  They could never be together, in any circumstances.  Simply
 allowing them to pursue their present course would only waste Haruka's
 valuable time, her life...  Better to let her go now...  And leave her 
something to spend her life with...

Aren't meant to be.

Michiru looked up, then said, quite coldly, "I don't love you, Haruka."

The blond girl froze, then softly said, "Michiru, what's wrong?"

She stood up, smiled frigidly, her eyes suddenly self assured and calm. 
"It's been fun, pretending.  I always wondered how gullible you were...  So
 while I came here for a short tour, I thought about how it would be 
interesting to see how much I could fool you.  So I did.  And now I know. 
 You'll buy anything."

"What?" Haruka had a strange shocked look on her face.  Her green eyes
 had a denial look to them.  "Michiru, you're not feeling well again...  You're
 not making sense."

The green haired girl flipped her hair over her shoulder arrogantly.  She smiled,
 kissing Haruka on the lips crudely.  Haruka pulled back, repulsed.  "You're
 great in bed, Haruka.  You always have been.   But always so willing to
 play the desperate hero.  You honestly bought all this crap I've been feeding
 you?  God, I must be a better actress than I thought."

Haruka shut her eyes, turning away.  She was trembling.  Michiru's own 
eyes slid away for a moment, and she tried to keep herself from backing 
down.  She was hurting Haruka so badly...  And this was taking so much 
energy away from her...  She felt so dead tired now...  But it was for Haruka.

"See?" Michiru held out her wrist.  "I've always known how to cut it to make
 enough blood come out, but never enough to kill myself...  All I had to do
 is slit it right here and-"

"Shut up!" Haruka screamed out at her suddenly.  "Just shut the hell up!"

Michiru took a step back, but she kept her laugh mockingly light.  "What?
  Can't you stand to see what a fool you are?"

"I hope that you had a lot of fun with your stupid little scheme, Michiru,"
 the girl hissed out, seething, using all of her willpower not to do something
 violent.  "I hope to God that I never see you again, because I'll probably kill 
you if I do."

Haruka stormed out of the room and down the hall, and Michiru could hear 
her slam the front door close.  Then she sank back down on her bed,
 turning over and crying.  Her sobs were so deep, so wrenching, that she
 felt her heart literally tearing apart.  She slammed her fist against the bedpost,
 over and over again as she wept into the pillow, trying to breathe in enough
 air to keep her going.

Tonight...  Good-bye, Haruka...


"She did _what_?" Setsuna was undeniably shocked, as were Usagi, 
Mamoru, and Rei.

The four were together, having gone out to eat together, and they had run
 into a depressed Haruka, who was busy drinking herself into oblivion.  That
 had surprised all of them, since Haruka never became drunk, never drank 
more than 3 glasses of anything alcoholic, and most certainly never gave in
 to any sort of indulgence of that sort.

Haruka smiled, bitterly over her wine glass.  Waving her hand, she said 
casually, "Oh, that it was great fucking me, but that it was all an act, to 
see how stupid I was."

The younger blond girl shook her head slowly.  "No...  Michiru-san's not 
like that...  She'd never do something like that."

"Sorry, Usagi-chan," Haruka replied, then downing the glass.  "But it 
happened."

"I... find it difficult to believe myself," Rei said finally, her violet eyes worried.
  "You said that she pretended to be still not over Hotaru-chan?  And that 
she play acted being suicidal and weak?"

"And made a general fool out of me," the older woman agreed.  "She's really
 great at acting...  Wonder why the hell I never noticed?"

"She may be a better actress than you think," Setsuna said quietly.  She 
gave Haruka a leveled glance with her red eyes.  Haruka glared at her, then
 looked away.  "I refuse to believe that Michiru would act like that... unless 
she was trying to protect you."

Haruka snorted, flipping her bangs up.  "Protect me?  Gee, she could have
 fooled me."

Mamoru was about to say something when Minako came running into the
 restaurant towards the bar.  Her long hair and blue dress were soaked, 
and Haruka finally noticed as she glanced outside that it was raining.  
The blond girl had a desperate look on her face, half crying, half 
hysterical, and she appeared almost crazy as she came up to Haruka,
 grabbing her by the shoulders.

"Mina-chan, what the hell's wrong with you?" Haruka snapped angrily,
 shaking her slightly.  She wasn't in the mood for any dramatics right then.

"Haruka-san," Minako finally blurted out, "Ami-chan called me from the
 hospital..."

The older girl froze for a moment, a feeling of dread coming over her.

"Michiru-san tried to kill herself tonight!" Minako began breaking down.
  Rei and Setsuna turned white, and Usagi nearly fainted against her
 husband.  "Ami-chan's trying... to save her... but she's... It's not 
working!"

"Haruka!" Setsuna said sharply to the girl, who had broken her glass
 with her hand.  Her eyes were tightly shut, and tears were forming at
 the ends.  Dropping the bloody fragments, Haruka ignored the protests
 of the others as she got up and ran out the door.


Her silence was unnerving to the blue haired doctor.  It wasn't like
 Haruka-san to... just _accept_ things like this.  Haruka had been
 brought over by the others, whom she had recently learned had
 caught up with her after she was running aimlessly towards the
 hospital.  In the rain.  Setsuna had tried to calm Haruka down, but
 the blond was in a strange sort of panicked fury.  Maybe not so
 strange.

Ami herself hardly understood the relationship between Haruka and
 Michiru, perhaps never had.  Sometimes she wondered to herself if
 she should have concentrated less on studying and focused on 
having a relationship with someone, but...

Rei and Usagi were attempting to soothe Minako-chan.  Usagi was
 surprisingly strong now, capable, able.  Had Ami not needed to 
be in control right then, she was sure the other girl would have been
 a great deal more stable than she.

"How... did they find her?" Haruka whispered from her seat on one of
 the couches in the waiting area, next to Setsuna and Mamoru.  She
 sounded very calm, but it was Ami's experience that told her that
 she was most likely tearing herself apart on the inside.  Haruka was
 leaning on her knees, her hands, one bandaged, clasped in front of her
 downcast face.

The younger doctor cleared her throat.  "Well...  Apparently Michiru-san
 had someone in the condominium have some clothes cleaned for her,
 and he was to drop them off tonight...  He knocked on the door but
 there wasn't an answer, and he thought maybe Michiru-san couldn't
 hear him so he tried the door.  It was unlocked, which was strange, 
and he went inside...  And he found her in the bathroom, and he 
immediately called for help."

Haruka nodded before murmuring, "How much... blood did she lose..."

Ami darted a glance at Setsuna, who nodded slowly.  The older woman
 had her hand on Haruka's shoulder.  "A lot...  We think she might have
 died in another half hour if the man hadn't found her...  As it is, we're
 not sure she'll make it...  Her signs are dropping quickly."

"You're going to do everything you can, Ami." The blonde's tone was 
soft, but Ami knew the underlying meaning to what she said.

"I will." It was all she could say.

A white suited nurse appeared, trying not to sound scared, "Doctor
 Mizuno, please come quick!  Kaioh-san in room 136 has just lapsed
 into a coma..."


She was floating.  She opened her eyes slowly, wondering where she
 was.  She could only see the bright blue of the sky above her...  She
 sat up, looking about her.  White ground surrounded her...  Ground?
  No, clouds.

She got to her feet, noticing she was wearing a white dress that touched
 the ground.  She stood in confusion, staring at her hands.  She glanced
 at her wrists.  No scars whatsoever.

"Am I dead?" she whispered aloud to herself.

"No."

She hadn't expected an answer, and she whirled around, to see a girl
 of about 12 standing behind her.  She had short violet hair, large violet 
eyes, and a white dress...  Wings too.

Her eyes widened.  "Hot... Hotaru-chan?"

The girl nodded, smiling, and she threw herself into the older woman's
 arms.  "Michiru-mama," she said happily, kissing her on the face.

"Hotaru-chan." She was crying as she embraced her, holding the girl to
 her, trying to remember this feeling that she had.

"Michiru-mama." Hotaru pulled away, suddenly serious.  "You're not dead...
  Yet."

"But... you are," the green haired girl said quietly.

"Yes, I am..." The child's voice was accepting, direct, truthful.  "I want you
 to meet some people, Michiru-mama."

Hotaru took her hand, squeezing it tightly before leading her away.  They
 walked a short distance before two more people appeared in front of her.
  Hotaru grinned, waving at them.

The other could see a beautiful woman, clothed in a white dress, with
 long purple-black hair and violet eyes.  Next to her was a man with short
 white hair and kind dark eyes, wearing a white suit.

"Souichi-san?" Michiru was stunned, recognizing him immediately. He
 nodded.  Her gaze turned to the woman, and she said slowly, "Then
 you must be... Keiko-san...  Hotaru-chan's mother."

"See Michiru-mama?  I told you I'd see them again...  I'm with them
 now." Hotaru smiled, pleased. "I'm happy."

"Michiru." Keiko spoke softly, her voice melodic, lovely, like Michiru
 knew it would be.  "Souichi and I want to thank you, Setsuna, and
 Haruka for caring for our child when she was alive.  You raised her
wonderfully into the type of girl I always thought she'd turn into."

"We... never really had the chance to do what you three did for her,"
 Souichi acknowledged.  He smiled, but it was an embarrassed one.
  "I was too obsessed with creating daimons...   After Keiko died I
 was no longer even human.  I brought Hotaru-chan up to be more
 machine than human, though what she needed was love, not what
 I gave her."

Hotaru ran to her father, and she hugged him.  "I love you, Papa." He
 smiled.

"But...  I let her die..." Michiru had a confused mind set.  "You
 can't thank me for letting her do so...  You should hate me."

"You hate yourself alone," Keiko pointed out.  She touched Michiru's
 hand.  "What you did was what any good mother would have done.
  Stayed with her child, loved her, protected her, reassured her.
  You have no control over life or death.  No one blames you, no
 one ever has."

"Except yourself," Hotaru nodded.  She took Michiru's hands in her
 own, leaned close to her ear on her tiptoes and whispered, "I love 
you, Michiru-mama."

"You don't hate me..."

"I never could!" she laughed.  She planted a warm kiss on her
 mother's cheek.  "And like I said before, you're not dead...
  You can't die.  Not when Haruka-papa loves you so much.  You
 have to get over this guilt, which I never placed on you in the first 
place.  Please live again...  I don't want you to be unhappy."

Michiru flushed slightly, then nodded.  Placing her arms around
 the girl, she gave her a hug.  "I love you, Hotaru-chan...  I miss you
 so much..."

Hotaru gave her another smile, and her eyes gleamed with a sort
 of devilish- impossible, in a place like this- shine, and she whispered,
  "A life taken, a life given."

The green haired girl blinked, confused.  "Hotaru-chan?"

Hotaru shook her head, pulling away, back towards her parents.  "Please
 remember, Michiru-mama, be happy..."

And then things went black.


Haruka sat beside the bed, holding her cold hand.  She brought it to 
her lips, kissing it softly.  The tears followed sometime later, when
 she couldn't control them any longer. 

She had wanted to be alone with Michiru, so she had requested the
 Ami throw everyone out and leave her alone.

The doctor had at first refused, but Haruka had harshly snapped what
 difference would it make, they couldn't do anything to help her anymore,
 and then suddenly did an about turn to begging.

Shocked, Ami had consented, so Haruka was now there, sitting in the
 darkness of the room.  She hadn't wanted all the lights on.  The white
 reflecting off hurt her eyes, made things too bright.

The sound of the machines beeping kept beat with her sobs, which
 flowed from her automatically.

Michiru, don't die...  Please, don't die.  I don't think I could lose you 
again...

She recalled her first meeting with the girl.  With Erza Gray.  Erza-san
 introduced them, after a track meeting, which she had won by a mile.
  She had first laid eyes on Michiru then, with a shock.  She was so
 lovely that Haruka had felt embarrassed by her sudden feelings at
 the sight of her.

Two weeks later they had their first date.  They had gone to a 
restaurant to eat, then a movie.  Haruka had kissed her outside
 her door, a long, drawn out one that she hadn't wanted to end but
 she had to because five minutes was a bit too long.  She remembered
 how Michiru had smiled shyly at her, then kissed her again, shorter
 but sweeter, then gone inside, leaving her in the hallway of the
 condominium.  That had been their first [two] kiss[es] together... Both
 their first.

The tears ran down her face onto Michiru's hand.  Why was it so cold?
  It should have been warm, moving, full of life.

She remembered so many things...  Michiru had been such a large part
 of her life...  If she left again...  If she died...  Would Haruka...?  ...Yes...

So emersed in her thoughts and feelings was she, she didn't realize
 at first the hand in hers tightened.  Surprised, she glanced down, as if
 to reassure herself that yes, it was moving.  She leaned over Michiru to
 touch her face with the other hand.

"Michiru?" She murmured.

Michiru's eyes tightened visibly, as if trying to dispel a large headache.
  Her eyes then slowly opened, wavering, blinking.  Finally she saw 
Haruka after a moment.  Staring at her, she said, her voice not above a
 whisper, "Haruka?"

The blond didn't say anything, just began crying, burying her face in
 Michiru's neck.

"You're... crying..." Michiru sounded astounded by that fact, dazedly
 amazed.  "You... never cry, Haruka."

Haruka laughed slightly against her shoulder.  She lifted her head up,
 bringing her face right above Michiru's.  "Don't ever scare me like this
 again." Her voice was dead serious, but gentle, and her eyes were 
 a mix between pain, love, and kindness.

"Haruka, I..." She wanted to tell her how sorry she was.  She wanted to
 tell her how much she loved her.  She wanted-

The other girl leaned down, kissing her, and she found there was nothing
 to say after all.


Michiru got better, remarkably so.  She was happier than she had been
 in months, in years.  She never expressed any sadness when it came
 to talk of Hotaru.  Instead, she always seemed content, showing her
 love for the girl in her memories of her.

Haruka was there for her, always.  She had presented her the necklace
 she had seen in the clothing store earlier the day she was discharged
 from the hospital.  Michiru had loved it, demonstrating her love to the 
other that night.  She wore it everyday after that.

The green haired woman's suicidal tendencies and depression had
 washed away, been cleansed from her soul during that fateful
 meeting with Hotaru.  Dream?  No.  None of her friends had ever
 said it to be a mere figment, a dream, a hope because they knew it
 too.

Even more so, their belief, her belief, was strengthened when Hotaru's
 mysterious words to her had come true.  "A life taken, a life given."
  That deep desire of Michiru's to have a child- Hotaru granted it to
 her, in some way.

Haruka had been thrilled upon the news, knowing instinctively that it
 was Hotaru's way of fulfilling her promise.  The baby was a girl, with
 sea green hair that already grew in the style of Haruka's and blue
 eyes.  A perfect child.  They named her Kanpeki, which meant 'perfect.'


"Love?" Haruka whispered, looking up at her from her position lying
 with her head in her lover's lap.

The other girl laughed softly, tickling her face with a flower.  It was late
 spring, and they were outside in their yard, sitting beneath the cherry
 blossom tree.  The blossoms floated around them, drifting towards the
 ground.

Setsuna was inside the house, with Kanpeki, and Michiru could see
 the woman holding the child, cooing to her, from the patio doors not
 too far away.

"She's a wonderful godmother..." Michiru murmured idly.

Haruka sat up, pulling Michiru against her side.  Michiru leaned her head
 against her shoulder, smiling.  The blond kissed her head, tightening her
 arms around her.

"I wish... Hotaru-chan could have met Kanpeki," the girl said softly, her
 voice wistful, trailing her finger along Haruka's chest.

"She knows her now...  She's with us." Haruka lifted up her chin slightly, 
then kissed her, slowly lowering her down to the grass.

"What's love, Haruka?" Michiru asked her, smiling, as Haruka was bending
 down again.

She paused for the briefest second to answer her question.  "You."


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wow, it's been a while since I did an ending note. O_o  Anyway, this might
 have been one of the strangest fics I've written.  The ending part was
 definitely strange...  I threw in the child part at the end because Tim Nolan
 and Amanda "Greenbeans" Anderson both talked about that idea with me
 to some extent, Amanda even writing a fic about it. ^_-  I blame them for
 getting it in my mind! Just kidding. O_o

Yes, it was rather odd to have, but adopting doesn't, in my mind, have the
 same impact as having a child.  At least, not in Michiru's case.  Over all, I
 figured it was a nice way to cement Haruka and Michiru's [turbulent] 
relationship.

It was overall an enjoyable fic to write.  Special thanks to Tim and Amanda
 for both being H&M fans, giving me that last bit of inspiration that I don't know
 would have come out had it not been for them, and being my two favorite
 authors.  Thanks to anyone who actually read this too. :)