Title: Only Shadows ... (Part I of ?) Author: Charis E-Mail: shadow_senshi@geocities.com Rating: PG-13, for sexual overtones (but hey, if Disney can get Hunchback a G rating ...!) As timelines go ... no, that would be telling. Figure it out for yourself. Full author's notes at the end. So without further ado .... Disclaimer: SailorMoon and all associated items are owned by Naoko Takeuchi-sama and various other personages and associations far more powerful and wealthy than myself. This is not intended to infringe on those ownership rights in any way. No money is being made from this fanfic, yada yada yada. Comments and constructive criticism more than welcome! Flames will be cheerfully forwarded on to the IRS or some other deserving entity. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ (Niamh) It's raining torrents, it's colder than ice, and I sit here huddled beneath the meager shelter of a small rocky ledge wondering whatever it was possessed me to go out in weather like this. Already my cloak is drenched, my hair plastered down against my skull. Arms hugged around my knees, I scoot back further -- an exercise in futility. There is no more cave behind me; I'm stuck. Nowhere to hide, and too exhausted to run anymore. I can only hope the storm which has forced me to take refuge here hinders _his_ progress as well. If I cannot manage in this weather, and he can, then there is no hope left for me. Overhead, lightning crackles. I count one, two, three ... six miles before the thunder booms. 'Storm-child,' it taunts me, 'I have conquered.' There is nothing left in me to shout defiance. I cringe from that reality, even as I curl up tightly in my sodden cloak, praying for Morpheus' sweet oblivion .... Some time later, I awake with a start to find him watching me. Instinct makes me try to get back, but I am up against solid stone. He laughs then, a horrible dry sound. "Ah, darling, did you truly think you could escape me?" Odd, it is, that though his soul is so dark, his appearance is pure light. Blonde locks, rain-damp, curl about his pale face, while impossibly vivid blue eyes regard me from under thick gold lashes, beaded water sparkling like crystals. He still wears the midnight- blue clothing from that fateful meeting, silk shirt and wool pants molded to the graceful lines of his body by the damp. My eyes linger on the sensual curve of his lips, and I feel a flush heat my face, remembering his kisses. But the man I knew and loved all those ages ago is no more. _She_ has changed him, as she has in every life. Sister-mine, must we ever be adversaries? Darkness and light, blackness and fire ... but I have forsaken both to walk in the shadowed grey of uncertainty. Hoping to escape this pain .... It seems I am to have no choice. Tears and rain mingle on my face as I stand to face him, eyes like day meeting his midnight ones. A single word, torn from my heart in anguish. "Why?" He doesn?t answer, but the arc of his hands describes a spell, and I am only dimly aware of the impact before the world goes dark around me. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ (Jadeite) There's something about her .... I have to admit, as I lift her into my arms in preparation for teleporting out of here, that she's beautiful. Hair that's a red so dark it's almost black, those eyes of hers like a summer sky, skin like alabaster -- I have never been one to wax poetic, mind you, but looking at her, it's so easy .... Breaking that train of thought, I tear my gaze from her black- cloaked body, looking skyward instead. Rain falls on my face, feather-light kisses of water as I gather the power. We shimmer, and are gone. Teleportation, though it may seem instantaneous, isn't. At lest, not for me. We reappear first in null-space-time, a nowhere of shifting black-on-black. Here, I can spend time healing, which is the primary use -- great for combat, of course -- or for a myriad of other purposes. Sometimes I've come here to be alone, to brood. This time, though, I'm not sure why I stop. Or why I stare. In this bleak dark I can see it clearly, the faint shimmering light which edges her body. To be certain it's not the cloak, I peel sodden fabric away. It's not that. Her pale body shines, literally, with this silver glow. As I watch, though, I become more aware of that body of hers. Her question comes back to my mind ("Why?", with such agony). Why, indeed. Why do I feel this pull to someone I've never met before? There are fragments of memories that haunt me, both nightmares and waking dreams, and I search my soul for some relationship, some hint of where I might know her from. For surely there, in dreams, is the key to all this. With a start, I take a step back away, stumbling over my own feet in my haste. No! It -- it can't be! She stirs weakly, eyes fluttering open to look up at me. A faint sigh escapes her lips, resigned or exasperated, I can't be certain. "Always like this. Always it comes down to this." "Wh -- who are you?" I am ashamed by how my voice breaks. She shakes her head, that red-black hair spilling over her face. "I didn't think you'd remember." So much sadness in her voice. "My name, in this life, was Kagami." "Kagami?" I echo, certain I have mispronounced it terribly. "Close enough. the first time we met, though, they called me Niamh. 'Twas back on the Moon in the Silver Millennium. You were one of the Earth prince's closest friends, while I served as one of the Moon Queen's advisors. We were ... close." "Lovers?" for some reason, the word as it leaves my lips is bitter, and I immediately regret it for the pain that flashes across her face. "Sometimes," so softly, I can barely make out the words. As if that single realisation is the key to my past, I stumble once more, the weight of all those years, of that long-ago life and its subtle, complex tapestry of emotions and senses driving me to my knees. Memories dance about me, a bright, shining mass, but I can see within it darkness too -- and knowing that, being more familiar with it, I focus on the darkness. Even what I see there hurts terribly, as much as the pain I saw on her face did. Darkness not by my own choice. Darkness because of a foolish mistake, made back when I and my soul were both quite young. Darkness which has made me lose all those I love, time and again. Darkness which has ... made me kill her? "No ...." That strangled voice cannot possibly be mine, and yet I'm certain that it is. The next thing I am aware of are her hands on my shoulders, gentle reassurance. "It's alright, Jed," she murmurs. "I'm here." The tears are still running down my face as I look up at her. "I don't want to hurt you again, Nia. Get away from me before I do." She shakes her head slightly, kissing my cheek. "You won't." It's not blind trust, but before I can wonder at what it is, she kisses me again, lips pressing briefly against mine. I taste the salt of my own tears, a contrast to her sweetness, and hear, as if in a dream, my faint, disappointed cry as she moves back. "I still love you," she says. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Author's Notes: I have no idea what spawned this story. No, truly -- this one came out of rare rainy weather in the town where I live, together with being rather down that day, but that was just the beginning of things. Maybe one in a series, here, I don't know yet. There's slated, at this point, to be a Part II ... depending on how inspired and / or long-winded I get, there could be III, IV, and so forth and so on. Have you figured the timeline out yet? I don't want to spoil the ending of it, so if you really want to know, you've got my e-mail. Subsequent sections are planned for no specific future date, although I'm looking at the next month, barring unforseen trouble with school, work or mundane life. This _is_, in retrospect, much more of an "emotional" piece than a lot of fanfics out there, and it's just how I write. Sorry to those of you who don't like that style -- can't really help it. For the die-hard pronunciation freaks: Niamh is pronounced like "knave", only like "kneeave". Or something like that. On a mythological note, Niamh was a woman of the Faerie who shows up in the Irish legends of the Fianna. That concludes your author's rambles. Until next time ... ja ne! ~Charis~ 1999.03.16 (Happy early St. Paddy's Day!) PS - any and all spelling errors can be contributed to the hour of typing (5:30 in the morning?) and a sticky keyboard. :) http://www.geocities.com/Area51/5849/