If I may mangle the words of Dickens himself:
I have endeavoured with this Ghostly little fic to raise the Ghost of an idea which shall (hopefully) not put my readers out of humour with themselves, with each other, with the season, or with me (especially me).
Inspiration thanks to Charles Dickens, and Sailormoon is still not mine. Let the madness begin.
The Earth Kingdom was blanketed in a soft, white snow, beneath a sky dotted with frosty stars. Rich and poor alike slept soundly, unaware of the tribulations of those Immortal...
The lonely castle was cold, and dark, and silent. Even the wild storms outside seemed to have boiled down into a ominous quiet. Kunzite himself seemed almost a part of it all, as he took up his customary position in one of the oddly-formed 'chairs', doing his best, it seemed, to impersonate a glacier.
Drawing his cape around him, he was about to"slip into a light doze when he heard a sound. Opening his eyes, Kunzite quickly scanned the room. He knew he hadn't sent for anyone. Possibly it was his imagination, but Kunzite had never had much of one, really.
"Who's there?" he asked, without so much as turning his head.
There was no reply, but now he heard the sound again; a clear, light, distinctive tapping. Footsteps. Soft and light; a woman's footsteps. For the briefest second Kunzite's expression flickered; then he called again. "Whatever you are, you have five seconds to get out before I kill you."
"It's a bit late for that, Mi'lord."
A youma, delicate, almost pretty, stepped from the shadows, and bowed. Her form was a soft blue, almost translucent.
"Get out of here." he told the creature, readying power to blast her.
"I've been sent with a message for you, Lord Kunzite." she continued, without seeming to hear, "We only want to help you."
"We? I don't know what you're talking about."
"After the clock strikes midnight," the youma went on, "you will have three Visitors. Three." she held up three fingers, and he glared at her.
"I can count, you know. What is all this rubbish? Midnight? Visitors, pah. Get out of here, you stupid beast."
She rose to her feet, keeping her head bowed. "It's for your own good, you see, Lord Kunzite."
"My own... what have you been drinking?! And who are you, how did you get in here?" Kunzite was too tired to worry about keeping his temper. The wan youma raised her head slightly, staring -- not quite at him -- almost through him.
"I was Tetis." she said simply, "I'm dead."
"Dead? What the --"
She was no longer there. Kunzite blinked. I've been working too hard. Shaking his head slightly, he settled back into his cold chair and closed his eyes.
Visitors, indeed.
The End of the Prologue
He heard the last stroke of the clock fading away. Someone was shaking him. Drowsily, Kunzite tried to shove the disturbance away, but it persisted, keeping up a string of idiotic chatter.
He opened his eyes. "What the hell --"
"Good morning!" chirped the blonde figure perched on a rock formation nearby, "Time to go!"
"You --" Kunzite did not allow his jaw to drop. Jadeite giggled, and hopped down onto the floor, tugging at Kunzite's sleeve.
"Hurry hurry now, it's time!" he piped cheerfully, dragging the older king from his seat.
"You're supposed to be in Eternal Sleep!"
"Details, details!" Jadeite kicked the window open and hopped up onto the sill, "Come on, come on, we don't want to be late, do we?" he giggled uncontrollably.
Kunzite backed away. "You're mad."
"Oh, quite probably." Jadeite dissolved into helpless laughter, and extended a hand to the silver-haired king. "Come on!" as the other still held back, the blonde man grew impatient, and, seizing an end of Kunzite's cape, leapt out of the window.
Inexplicably, Kunzite was pulled after him, and felt himself falling, falling, falling; then it was if he was being pushed through something unknown; and finally he found himself standing on a white-marble balcony, the grinning Jadeite seated on a railing.
"Where in the Dark Kingdom are we?" he asked, incredulous.
"Why, nowhere, baka!" Jadeite replied cheerfully, "Think back a little further, dear Kunzite, and isn't it all so familiar?" he laughed, and pointed through the nearby door that led into a large ballroom. "Shall we?"
"No, thanks, you're not quite my idea of the ideal dance partner." Kunzite replied sourly. Laughing, the blonde king seized him by the cape again and dragged him into the room.
"Look!" he exclaimed, ecstatically, "There I am. There, see!" nearly hopping with excitement, Jadeite gestured wildly at a young -- Jadeite?! -- dancing with a pretty, blue-haired woman.
Kunzite blinked, confused; and then he out of the corner of his eye he saw Nephrite, standing by a punch bowl talking to a group of young women. "Oh, Nephrite..." the silver-haired man snorted and smiled slightly. "Always the lady's man." He promptly did a double-take and stared at his giggling companion. "This -- this?! -- was centuries ago!"
Jadeite nodded and smiled reminiscently. "Ahhh, the good old days..."
"What the hell have you done?!" Kunzite nearly screamed, before realizing they were surrounded by a crowd of nobles. Surprisingly, none of them took any notice.
The younger man chuckled. "Just giving you a little tour, you see. Allow me to introduce myself." he bowed, "I am the Ghost of Christmas Past."
"The -- what? Ghost? You're dead?"
Jadeite shrugged. "Death is relative."
"Do psychiatrists work with spirits? Because I think you need one. So do I, for that matter. I'm just imagining this."
"Of course you are." the Spirit looked genuinely amused, then something caught his eye. "Say, who's that?"
The individual who had captured his attention was standing not far from them; delicately built, androgynously beautiful, wearing white pants and a soft blue jacket, his copper hair pulled back into a long ponytail.
"Zoisite!" the older shitennou cried, taking a step forward, only to be restrained by his companion.
"Steady on, he can't see you, you know." Jadeite caught sight of something else, and laughed. "Look who's here, oh, how I wish I had some popcorn..." perching himself on the arm of a chair, he settled back to watch.
The approaching figure was tall, majestic, clad in white, with a long cape, lined in dark blue. Kunzite's jaw did drop as he recognized himself. This other Kunzite looked -- somehow different... younger? Ridiculous, he was immortal. But still... the word seemed to fit. Younger.
The so-called Ice King watched, spellbound, as this... younger... version of himself approached Zoisite. Through the noise and chatter he could not hear their conversation, nor did he need to, as it was permanently impressed upon his mind. As the two leaned closer for a kiss, Kunzite was so engrossed in watching that he was surprised -- again -- when the alarm was given. A siren blared. He saw the enraged figure of Endymion storming up the steps, Queen Serenity at his heels....
"Oh, how sad." Jadeite sounded just as cheerful as before. "You know what happens now, don't you? Well, my attention span needs work; we'll cut to the chase, shall we?"
"We'll what?" the Spirit was already pulling him away, down the swirling staircase and out into the gardens. Once there, the green foliage began to swirl around them, reforming into a picture of charred destruction.
"What --" Kunzite's breath caught in his throat, "Jadeite -- Spirit -- not this!"
"All a part of the history, dear Lord Kunzite." Jadeite was still smiling his idiot smile, and the other king had the intense desire to stamp it into the ground.
He forgot all about Jadeite, though, when he heard that dreaded phrase again.
"MOON... HEALING... ESCALATION!"
Kunzite felt an irrational terror and shrunk back, not wanting, but being forced to watch as the burning energy swept over the decimated battlefield. It touched him; he felt nothing. But across the way he could see his younger self, shaking, pained, somehow managing to pull the trembling figure of Zoisite close and wrap the cape about them both, as they were slowly torn to shreds by the ginzuishou's energy.
I died. A shudder ran through him, he remembered the betrayals, the evils of Serenity, of Metallia, of all of them, and he vividly remembered dying. Closing his eyes he could almost feel the intense, searing pain, and Zoisite's slender body pressed close to his own.
"Bravo, bravo, what fireworks!" Kunzite was jolted out of his reminiscing by Jadeite's applause. He glared down at the blonde spirit, who didn't seem to have been affected at all by witnessing his own demise.
"You're very nonchalant about all this."
Jadeite grinned and shrugged. "Comes with being dead, dear Lord Kunzite. But then, you wouldn't understand, would you? Still kissing up to great and mighty Queen Beryl, aren't you Lord Kunzite? Aren't you?" he threw back his head and laughed maniacally.
"Shut up!" Kunzite shouted angrily, as across the field his corpse sank to the ground, still clutching Zoisite's to its chest, "I don't want to be reminded of this, any of this --! Just wake me up, for God's sakes!"
"Wake you up?!" Jadeite was near hysterical, "My dear, good, foolish Lord Kunzite -- you're living a nightmare! You've created it yourself! You fool, fool, fool to still live and --! You can't wake up! You can't! Can't! Can't!"
Furious, Kunzite drew back his fist intending knock the crazed Spirit to hell and back.
He struck cold stone.
The End of Chapter 1
He was sitting in his chair, staring at his bruised hand, and the strange, deformed stalagmite he had punched.
"I was dreaming?" he asked no-one in particular.
Someone snorted. "You could call it that, though maybe you've used the wrong tense."
Kunzite knew that voice. He stiffened, and turned, glaring darkly. "You're dead."
"You know it well." replied the figure before him, "Considering you're the one who made me that way."
"I didn't." Kunzite told him, struggling a little to keep his voice steady.
"No? Well, maybe not." Nephrite shrugged, and leaned back against one of the rock formations. "Nice place you've got here."
Kunzite raised a silver eyebrow. "You came from beyond the grave to comment on my living quarters?"
"Hardly." the brunette king folded his arms and glanced around, almost scornfully. "Only trying to make small talk."
"Your small talk usually revolved around your favorite subject, and having it stand here in front of me is quite enough, thank you."
Nephrite snorted. "Witty retorts were never quite your style, Kunzite; though you've had ample time to practice them, I'm sure," he smirked slightly. "But of course, that's why I'm here."
"At least you're halfway sane." Kunzite regarded him coldly.
Nephrite laughed. "You enjoyed the First Spirit's company, then?" he bowed mockingly, "Oh forgive me, Lord Kunzite, I have yet to introduce myself. I am the Ghost of Christmas Present."
"Aren't you supposed to drag me out the window, or some such thing?"
"No." Nephrite raised a contemptuous eyebrow. "What I have to show you is... right here."
There was a pause.
"Big place, isn't it?" Nephrite glanced around. He whistled a few bars of some tuneless song, and the sound echoed throughout the room and back to Kunzite's ears.
"I suppose." The older king was beginning to miss Jadeite's insane laughter. It really was quite a large castle, and the echoes combined by a deceased adversary's presence created a fairly unnerving situation. And it wasn't easy to unnerve Kunzite.
"Well." Nephrite finally said, "This isn't horribly stimulating." He looked Kunzite up and down, "I suppose I'm obliged to give you the grand tour. Come along."
He simply turned and walked through the wall. Kunzite hung back a moment, then threw up his hands and followed. How much worse could it get, anyway?
They stood outside a second-story window, feet planted firmly upon nothing.
"Is this what you used to do for fun?" Kunzite quirked an eyebrow.
Nephrite gave him a flat look. "Just look in that window."
"Why--"
"Just look."
Growling angrily, unsure of why he was obeying an underling -- a former underling. How did rank go, with the dead? Or not dead. Shaking his head, Kunzite wondered just what he had gotten himself into; then he wiped frost off the window with one of his gloves, and peered in.
The room was mostly dark. A small, dying fire burned in the fireplace, providing the only illumination. Kunzite could see it was a bedroom, and upon the soft bed, a man and a woman were sleeping, their arms about one another.
"What--"
"Look at her face." Nephrite suggested, with a hint of cruel irony.
Growling inaudibly, the older man looked at the face of the woman. Her green hair was spread over the pillow, and she was held tightly against her lover, making it a bit difficult to see, but he could make out -- just barely -- that she was smiling.
That was all?
He drew back, inexplicably annoyed. 'What's this all about, anyway? Is this your idea of a stupid joke, looking in through windows--"
"A joke?" Nephrite smiled, and it was not a kind smile, "Lord Kunzite, I assure you it is all in the utmost seriousness." His blue eyes bored into Kunzite's. "You saw her, didn't you," he laughed, "Aren't you glad we weren't here half an hour ago?"
"Stop it." Kunzite growled, his eyes smoldering.
"Makes me almost wish, you know, if I'd had more time. Maybe... that mortal girl." the brunette spirit shrugged, smiled a little. "But possibly I died for a greater cause." he shook his head and chuckled, "Not to say a successful one. Certainly not."
"Stop it."
"Doesn't it make you feel a little proud, Kunzite? To think-- such control. Such power."
"Stop it!"
"So simple. I always thought I was the manipulative bad boy. Would you like some 'lemonade', Kunzite? You'll see, the way I lived was fine in many more ways than--"
"Stop it!" the older man roared angrily, "Shut up! I don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh, naughty." Nephrite chuckled again and wagged his finger at Kunzite, "I was the better liar, you're no good at it at all."
"I don't have to listen to this!" the Ice King tried hard to preserve his dignity (not to mention his sanity), "It's only a dream. A dream!"
"Is it?" the Spirit folded his arms and took a step backward. Slowly they sank to the ground, away from the window, to Kunzite's relief. Nephrite regarded him for a long moment. "Is it, Lord Kunzite? Do you want to see more? Shall I show you... oh, say, a little girl named Tsukino Usagi?"
They materialized outside another window.
"Go on, look in." the Spirit suggested calmly, "She's asleep, quite peacefully, childishly, and -- I assure you -- smiling. Go on. Look."
"No." Kunzite sounded remarkably like a surly child, "I don't want to."
"Jealous?" Nephrite smirked, "What, Lord Kunzite, aren't you smiling now... in your dreams?"
"Maybe I would be, if you weren't in them!"
"What about the other dreams?" Nephrite laughed quietly as he saw the other man stiffen. "Ahh, I see, there are cracks in the glacier."
"Take me away from here!" Kunzite shouted, furious, "Now! I don't want to see anymore of this! Nor anymore of you!"
"No?" the Spirit smoothed his hair with one hand, and smiled unnervingly, "Well, then, I shall bid you farewell. But perhaps as I parting gift I can show you something more... suited to your temperament?"
Kunzite heard the auburn-haired Spirit laughing as he faded away from the pleasant scene.
The End of Chapter 2
Kunzite found himself standing in the middle of a graveyard. He cursed Nephrite under his breath -- more suited to my temperament, indeed -- and glanced warily around. If the youma had been correct, he should expect another spirit. Unless, of course, she had been counting herself; or unless she couldn't count.
The latter was more likely. Youma on the whole weren't very bright.
But somehow -- he had a sinking feeling that he wasn't getting off so easily. He could feel something watching him, something eerie and not quite natural...
In the dim light, he could barely make out a cloaked figure seated on the ground, leaning casually against a headstone.
"You," he said, and he could barely detect the rarest quiver in his tone, "You're the third Spirit."
It nodded slightly, not enough to shake the dark hood back from its face.
"The..." Kunzite twisted a piece of his cloak around his fingers nervously, "The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come?"
The spectre nodded again.
Kunzite stood in silence for a long time, shifting his boots uncomfortably.
"Well?" he finally said, trying to muster a note of sarcasm, "Aren't you going to drag me to a dinner party, or have me play a Peeping Tom?"
It shook its cloaked head.
"Well, can't you speak? Some Spirit you are." He badly wanted it to say something; the deathly silence was quite unnerving.
The Spirit did not respond.
"I suppose," he went on, quite aware that he was beginning to babble, "that your goal is to drive me insane by pushing me into a long, wandering monologue. I can do that well enough by myself, thank you, and even if I couldn't, I've already had the assistance of two former colleagues, one of whom was a few geese short of a gaggle. So if you don't mind, I'll just be leaving now."
He got the feeling that, if he could have seen its face, one of the eyebrows would have been raised. It shook its head once more.
Kunzite did not leave.
He couldn't, somehow. He was intensely curious, although more than a little disturbed. Having decided that trying to start a conversation would prove to be fruitless, he wandered aimlessly about the cemetery, never straying too far from the hooded figure, whose gaze seemed to follow him wherever he went.
"Bah, humbug." Kunzite muttered to himself, darting a glare at the silent spectre. "I refuse to believe I'm doing this. I'm not standing in a graveyard talking to myself while some damned apparition watches my every move. I'll just wake up, that's all, wake up."
He recalled, as if from the mists of the distant past, Jadeite's parting words.
Turning, he looked over the Spirit, who, as ever, returned his mute gaze. He found himself becoming intensely curious about the stone upon which it was reclining. Circling around to the other side, he found, to his disappointment, that the cloaked ghost leaned against the inscribed side. Taking a deep breath, he circled around again, to face it.
"Whose grave is this?" he asked.
It seemed to blink.
Then it rose gracefully to its feet, and sidestepped, allowing Kunzite to see the faded lettering.
He felt as if a cold hand had risen up and choked him. Shaking, he tried to step backward, but he found he could not move.
He managed a small, unintelligible, strangled noise, but nothing more.
The Spirit's unseen eyes now bored more painfully into him, and he managed to tear his gaze away from the engraving, to stare into the void where its face must be.
Slowly, slowly, almost against his will, he stepped forward towards it, until they were -- not quite -- face-to-face; as the Spirit was a good head shorter than he.
Kunzite's heart pounded in his ears, and he knew he must have been shaking, as he raised a gloved hand to draw back the spectre's hood.
Verdant eyes stared up at him from a deathly-white face.
"Kami-sama." was all Kunzite could say, as he stood riveted to the spot, not wondering whether to run away, cry, or pull the Spirit close and kiss him.
"Why did you do that?" Zoisite asked quietly.
"I wanted to see who you were..."
"You knew."
"...yes." Kunzite pulled off one of his gloves, twisting it about his fingers, "Well... I just wanted to see... you."
"Did you?" the sad wisdom in the wide, unblinking eyes tore Kunzite just as surely as the ginzuishou had, that once, long ago. "Have you forgotten that I said I'd always be there...?"
Kunzite could no longer hold the steady gaze. "No." he mumbled.
"I think you have." the Spirit sounded vaguely sad, "It's true, you know. ...You don't have to do this."
Turning back, Kunzite shook his head mutely, unable to explain. His voice sounded hoarse and broken, even to his own ears. "Why? Why are you doing this to me?"
"Because I love you." Zoisite replied quietly, "I don't want you to do this to yourself."
"But --" Kunzite made a hopeless gesture, in frustration throwing the glove to the ground, "That youma -- Nephrite -- Jadeite --"
The Spirit shrugged a little, "We... wanted to help you. You... possibly... misunderstood..."
"It's the only way..." he muttered in reply, looking down to the snow-covered ground.
Zoisite looked at him sadly, and reached up a to touch Kunzite's face, his hand surprisingly warm. He nodded slowly.
And as Kunzite opened his mouth to ask -- the slender figure was fading, fading, molding away into the cold stone letters upon the headstone; or perhaps it was Kunzite himself who was only being pulled back to the waking world. He heard a cry, perhaps his own, and saw no more.
But he thought he heard the Spirit sorrowfully say, "I'll be seeing you."
The End of Chapter 3
Kunzite was sitting in his chair, surrounded by the walls of the great, cold, dark castle. He could hear Beryl's summons ringing in his ears.
Today, the stage is set, and it can all end.
He did not go to her immediately. He'd let her wait awhile. She wouldn't mind dallying with her Endymion, anyway. And if she did decide to kill him... well, what difference would it make.
Bitch.
He sighed, glad anyway that her summons had awoken him. Lord Kunzite had had nightmares before, but... no, he was better not to think on it. He'd decided long before.
Standing, he walked over to a table where sat a slightly faded photograph, in a gold frame. Picking it up, he looked ruefully at it for a moment, then on a rare impulse, kissed it tenderly and laid it down again. Not long now.
He stepped away from the table, and gathered the energy to teleport to Beryl's throne room.
It was then that Lord Kunzite realized he wore only one glove.
"God save us all."
Without risking further thought, he vanished in a swirl of violet energy.
- The End -
Are there no prisons? Are there no workhouses?
Regardless, it's finally over. I'd like it very much if someone would drop me a note at sardonyx@writeme.com and say what they thought. Final thanks to Takeuchi Naoko and Charles Dickens. Over and out.