"I was educated, I was trained, I was a Presbyterian and I knew how these things are done. I knew that in Biblical times if a man committed a sin the extermination of the whole surrounding nation -- cattle and all -- was likely to happen. I knew that Providence was not particular about the rest, so that He got somebody connected with the one He was after." -- Mark Twain _____________ _Separation_ Chapter One: Time Dark Ferret / Ferchan / Marybeth Mareski Haruka drummed her fingers on the tabletop dangerously. The aides, mercifully, gave her a large breadth, but that left no random victims upon which to take out her aggression. If anything, that fed it. She was approaching fury. Michiru recognized the situation and did not take it upon herself to manage it, as the same unadulterated irritation grew like a fungus inside her. Meetings were all very well and good, but the secrecy was unforgivable. In their opinion, it clearly stated they weren't trusted. There was little solace to be found in the fact that none of the other senshi had been informed as to the meaning of this little escapade either. In fact, that fact made the situation more disturbing, that there was something so secret that even the Inners couldn't be told. The senshi had hoped Usagi would make a better queen than a senshi. For the most part, their fears had been appeased. Usagi made a decent queen. Well, no, that wasn't quite fair. To the subjects, Usagi made a uniformly wonderful queen. But Michiru had never had much faith in the opinions of the common people, and for good reason. She had spent her entire life as superior to her contemporaries, in the comfortable contempt it bred. She felt no shame in holding people as stupid; everything she had ever seen simply enforced her opinion. Some of the people had even loathed her blindly, back when Christianity was in fashion. The religion was now dead in Japan. She took a bit of satisfaction from that. No, to be perfectly honest, Usagi made only a decent queen. She was spectacular at the outside of things, at the public face, at the concern for all living things, at making people love her. She was a politician's dream puppet, one for whom one could write pretty speeches and proceed to keep on the seat of power for eternity. On the inside, however, she was simply infuriating. "Goddamn it, I've been sitting here for an hour," Haruka growled. "How much longer?" She spoke to the air. The aides remained far across the room. Seven senshi sat at the long table. The chair at the head, of course, was empty, as it was used only for the queen. Usagi had once mentioned a round table, to avoid the trappings of power. The table never came. At Usagi's right would sit Setsuna, but for the woman was always busy with more important things. In a way, Michiru envied her for missing all of the Important Meetings which were simply get-togethers in the guise of business. None of the Important Meetings to date had been anything for which the senshi were actually required. But then, it wasn't hard to recall all of Setsuna's other duties, and the necessary emotional detachment of outliving your contemporaries. And besides, Usagi meant the best. In a way, the meetings were sort of cute. It was nice to think that Usagi cared so much about seeing them. On the other hand, that she disrupted their lives to such an extent was maddening. Crystal Tokyo knew only peace, which left the senshi free to pursue other activities. These activities were interrupted when Usagi decided she wanted to see them. Normal people settled for parties. Of course, Usagi hardly had time for parties. To the right of Setsuna's chair sat Hotaru. It cheered Michiru just to see the girl. Often after these meetings the three of them would go out for drinks together, though it was still unnerving to see her little girl consuming alcohol. Luckily, Michiru was good enough to realize that Hotaru was hardly her possession, and not even her real child. The thought hurt, sometimes. To Hotaru's right was Minako. A hundred years had done a bit to soothe her bubbly congeniality, for which Michiru thanked the kami every day. She had spent a few years moonlighting as an idol singer before growing bored of the work. She still plotted new ways to be adored. The thought amused Michiru somehow. When they had been civilians, Michiru and Haruka had been on the outer reaches of fame, close enough to bask in its light but not be burned. Now the senshi were an extension of the queen, and the whole situation was much more military. The traits that had made them famous were just amusing anecdotes now. The senshi were close enough to fame that the heat was uncomfortable. Minako wanted to leap into the fire, craved first- degree burns and injuries. Perhaps she didn't realize what the media did to celebrities in a free country -- perhaps she didn't care. Michiru fancied it the first, and found the naiveté ˘oth amusing and appalling. Ami, to the right, took advantage of the time to read. She had a very busy schedule shaping the minds of young children. Michiru smiled slightly; she could hardly imagine a better person to do it. Children prepared their whole lives to get a chance to attend Mizuno Ami Preparatory Academy. Ami felt bad that the competition was so fierce and was currently trying to change the testing system so that it wasn't so grade-orientated. She was eager to look at the personality of the individual, probably from having gone to school with Usagi. If the system worked, it could be assured that it would be adopted across the country, and perhaps the insane stress of entrance exams would ease a bit. Ami had spent half of her adolescence in juku; if she could accomplish something like that, she'd probably consider her life complete. Across from Ami sat Rei. The raven-haired girl did not totally believe that the peace would remain. Michiru wondered briefly what it was like to be on guard for a hundred years. Did she look behind each corner expecting a threat? Did she allow herself to sleep heavily at night, thinking there might be a thief or a murderer waiting beneath her window? 'No,' Michiru mused, 'Usagi's window most likely.' The poor girl had been reared in the cradle of duty. She could hardly give it up now, even if she could choose. After first realizing how Rei spent her freedom, Michiru had felt a bit of pity for the woman. Recently, she was starting to wonder if there was some wisdom in the philosophy. Everyone simply assumed that because they had only seen peace, they would continue to only see peace. There had not been a conflict since Galaxia. There was no reason to suspect that bad things would come. 'Save for that bad things always come,' Michiru thought dryly. To simply expect peace was incredible hubris. After all, why should some be gifted peace while others have only war? To receive peace, one must be prepared for both. Rei's problem, Michiru believed, was that Rei was not prepared for peace. To Rei's right sat Makoto. She taught hand-to-hand at the Palace to the more promising soldiers. Most of the bodies under Makoto's training ended up as well-honed killing machines, ineffably loyal. It was these people that served as the queen's personal guard. Makoto only trained half the year, however; the other half was vacation. She likely wouldn't have taken it but for Usagi forced it on her. So far as Michiru knew, Makoto's vacation was an honest vacation, and she did nothing in particular while away. To Makoto's left sat Michiru. Her hundred years had mostly been spent in leisure, pursuing her art and music. She had had a little assignment a few decades back to ferret out international spies, but couldn't remember one since. The fact that their leisure had lasted so long made her uncomfortable. She remembered a time that seemed not too long ago in which she had been fighting almost constantly. If danger came again, she was not sure she would be entirely prepared. She did a few things to alleviate that fear. She and Haruka still trained once a week, for six hours every Tuesday. Tuesdays they always went straight to sleep. It had turned into a private joke between them. To Michiru's right sat Haruka. Kami-sama, what to say about Haruka? Very much a realist, she would have bargained on the passion in their relationship fading with the passing years. It hadn't. What to say about Haruka, the woman with the velvet voice and catlike smile? About the sparkle in her eyes that always threatened consumption at her hands? About the thick, sandy-blond hair Michiru had spent hours running her fingers through? Nothing that hadn't been said, surely. Their relationship had easily endured a hundred years, would endure a thousand more. That the Outer Senshi were placed closest to Usagi was interesting and surely not coincidence. Traditionally, the role of the Outer Senshi had been to protect the Moon Kingdom, which easily enough translated to Crystal Tokyo in present time. Neo Queen Serenity, however, was the highest authority in the land now, and she had to be protected. The job was the Inner Senshi's in the Moon Kingdom, and still theirs, but the futility of bodyguards obviously not so powerful as the queen eventually became apparent. As Crystal Tokyo had a fairly decent military to be used solely for defense, King Endymion had ordered that the Outer Senshi protect the queen. The term 'king' was somewhat laughable. Mamoru's official title was Royal Consort, which was a pretty way of saying that his power barely filled a thimble. There was nothing legal binding the Outer Senshi to the protection of the queen. It was all simply mind games, meant to shame them into obedience. Unfortunately, they were very effective mind games. That was the way of things. Their seats at the table were reminders of their promised loyalty, meant to show clearly the way of things. It was hard to credit such guile to the queen, but no matter where the arrangement stemmed from, it was guile nonetheless. The aides jerked to attention. Michiru sat a bit straighter, taking this as a sign that Neo Queen Serenity would soon enter the room. Haruka made the same assessment. "About bloody time," she grumbled, scooting her chair in and sitting at what amounted to military attention. Two pages pushed the massive double door open from Serenity's side and held it open with not a little effort. One of the aides cleared his throat. "I present to you Neo Queen Serenity," his voice came, rumbling pleasantly. 'Avoid the trappings of power indeed,' Michiru thought, frowning slightly. By all rights, the senshi should have been dressed as senshi. However, these meetings weren't viewed by the public, and generally Serenity desired their collective presence as people rather than senshi, which tended to make the pomp and circumstance more forgivable. A third page lifted her excess dress from the floor as she made her way to the head of the table. It all had a very medieval taste to it, somehow. Michiru expected to look down and find herself wearing a bodice any moment, or perhaps see Haruka decked in a shirt of chain mail, a dragon breathing fire by the window. It was said that magic and science performed the same task. In this time of advanced science, she could see it developing so fast as to collapse in on itself, implode without any pomp or circumstance and leave magic to lead the way. Crystal Tokyo should have been a city of magic, after all, as it had been magic which had made its throne and put its queen there. Oh, they liked to call them "powers" or "abilities". But what else could one call summoning a tsunami to one's fist but magic? Michiru had seen so much magic her head swam with the volume of it. How pleasant would it be to throw off the shackles of technology and live without the complications of so much necessity? But magic had its own shackles, probably more than she knew. Still, perhaps if they existed side by side, the chains of each would lessen ... But her thoughts digressed and the meeting had not even began. Another aide pulled out the chair at the head of the table, nodding respectfully to the queen. She smiled at him before sitting down. Somehow everyone melted at Usagi's smile. Now, of course, her smile was more refined, more elegant, more ... fake. More able to be summoned at any time, more for the sake of others than herself. More corrupt. For anyone who had witnessed her smile in Tokyo, the new smile was a bit hard to bear. Still, everyone present had borne far worse for their queen. Neo Queen Serenity turned a smile to the table, a bit more genuine this time. "Minna-chan," she said simply, happiness exuding from her breathy voice. The Inner Senshi returned a like smile, happy laughter spicing the air. The smiles of the Outers were small in juxtaposition, but very much there. "Anou ..." she began, then caught herself and laughed. "I haven't done that for a while," she chuckled, and Michiru, realizing it as truth, laughed with her, along with most of the table. "What I tell you today is for your ears only." The statement had once brought wary glances towards the aides. By now, however, most if not trusted then at least respected the staff enough not to accuse them of leaking to the media. Oh, it happened occasionally, of course, but the last time Michiru could recall had been in excess of a decade, which was an incredibly good track record, and all but invincible in the face of the corresponding American performance. She had paused long enough that the expectant eyes on her were growing impatient, and she suddenly laughed again, gleefully. "I'm expecting." The response from around the table was unanimous. "Nani?!" Serenity giggled. "Expecting. You know, pregnant. In the family way. With child. Breeding. Knocked u--" "We understand," Ami put in quickly. Haruka kicked her chair back, grinning. "Ne ne Koneko-chan, who's the father?" Assorted giggles from around the table, Michiru's included. Serenity aimed a grin at Haruka. "I regret to inform you that the Royal Consort is doing his job quite admirably. I won't be needing your assistance." Michiru giggled. "Not for a few years yet, anyway." Haruka turned to the other woman and pouted. "You wouldn't want me to leave the bed cold, would you?" "Ara --" Serenity coughed. Haruka's chair returned to the floor with two simultaneous claps. Serenity paused a moment before shaking her head remorsefully. "It takes so little to get you two going," she said solemnly. "Ara, could we hurry up with this?" Michiru queried innocently. Haruka visibly swallowed a retort. "Speaking of which," Makoto said, "where _is_ Mamoru-san?" It had taken a while to break Mamoru's Gallant Male mindset, a long bit of peace to assure him that his sword wasn't needed out of the bedroom. Since then he had accepted his role as valued trophy wife (if somewhat regretfully) and tended to appear most every place his wife did. That he didn't today was suspicious. "He needed a break," Serenity replied simply. "Usagi-chan," Minako asked, "how far along are you?" The woman smiled gently, happiness exuding from the expression. "Two months," she answered, caressing her stomach fondly. "Seven months until I see Chibi-Usa again." Haruka frowned at the elevator keypad. "Do you remember which floor it is?" "Thirty-three, perhaps?" The blonde shrugged. "As good a guess as any," she answered, and punched in the corresponding key before leaning against the wall reflexively. "I feel bad that we never use the suite," Michiru commented. "To have such an extravagant dwelling and never use it. Something seems wrong about that." She paused. "And we're hardly protecting her while we're away." Haruka ran a hand through her hair. "Is that what this is about?" She looked up and smiled reassuringly. "Look, there hasn't been war for a hundred years. There hasn't been a whisper of wrongdoing. Everyone loves Serenity." The two women stepped out of the elevator. Michiru shook her head as they walked. "Do you ever think that there hasn't been a whisper of wrongdoing because we haven't looked hard enough for one?" Haruka blinked slightly. "I'd never thought about it before," she admitted grudgingly, in her velvety voice. "It hadn't even occurred to me. Do you think something is wrong?" "Not in particular, but ..." "You have a feeling?" Michiru shook her head. "Not even that. It's just that I can't expect that I'll get a feeling every time something is going to go wrong. I feel that by being lax in our guard, we're tempting fate." Haruka nodded thoughtfully. "Things won't remain calm forever, I suppose. It would be foolish to think as much. Moreover, we are Sailor Senshi. We were given these powers to protect her, and instead we've been so ignorant ... we haven't thought." "I had a lot of time to think today," Michiru answered. Haruka smiled crookedly before pausing. "Do you think we should live here, then?" Michiru blinked at her partner's ready acquiescence. She looked up to find the blonde with a gentle smile on her face. "It doesn't matter where I am, so long as I'm with you." Elegant piano fingers drew across Michiru's cheek just before Haruka's lips gently met with hers. They played with the kiss for a bit, gently teasing with playful tongues before Haruka drew away, biting on the other's lower lip to extend the sensation. They stood like that for a minute, just taking in the feel of each other, a feel they had already memorized, but missed every second not felt. "Ne, Michiru," Haruka said quietly, "Do you ever miss Hotaru?" Michiru breathed in the scent of the other woman. "She's not gone, Haruka." "I know, but ... as a child? Do you ever want a ..." "Chibi-Ruka?" Michiru responded playfully. Haruka tensed. "Hey, I'm not offering!" Michiru nestled against Haruka's neck, forcing a silence. "Do you?" Haruka frowned slightly. "Well, there's a lot to consider. Whether or not the child would live as long as we do. Whether we'd have time to take care of it, what with senshi duties. What if we died, Michiru?" "Why are you suddenly so wary?" Haruka paused. "Your talking about duty reminded me of the days when we first met ... how we never survived a week without something evil knocking at our door. How close we came to death. We've died now three times, do you know that?" "How could I forget?" Haruka shook her head. "If Serenity died, we couldn't bring her back. She is the Queen. We're ... well, we're soldiers." She closed her eyes. "You're right again, Michiru. We need to be here. Preventative measures are all we have. We can't believe peace will last forever." Michiru smiled softly. "That is the Haruka that I remember, eyes clear and focused on what must be done. I can't believe we've survived this long without a motive. It's an empty life, without meaning." "Mm. We can start moving in this week." "Absolutely not." Haruka was not prone to automatic protest or complaint. She paused a few moments, forming a response. Michiru provided one. "And why not, if I may?" Serenity looked stern. "I don't want you to waste your lives obsessed with some sort of duty to me." She had no qualms about cultivating the disposition of the stern monarch. Perhaps even playing the role was comfortable. But it was not natural. Haruka and Michiru had known the young, cheery, happy-go- lucky Usagi, and they knew her new firmness was not natural. So it was simply a matter of breaking that adopted countenance until their behavior was their own prerogative. "We were kept for duty," Haruka answered, her voice carrying throughout the throne room, back straight. She was almost posing, so sharp she looked, attractive and impressive. The stance was cultivated, meant to remind Serenity of the days when she had admired and worshipped these women. The effect was not lost on Serenity; the origin might have been, but it was hard to tell. "You were 'kept' because you are my friends," Serenity replied firmly. There was enough of a self-righteous edge in the statement that Haruka had no problem with her reply. "Like Naru?" Serenity looked like she had been slapped. The tall blonde immediately regretted her words. "I'm sor --" "No. You're right." Eyes now glittering with conviction, she continued, "Yes. You were perpetuated partly because of your duty. But you're also my friends. And neither is more important than the other." Haruka didn't argue, for the statement was a battle already half- won, and it was a pleasant thought. Who liked to argue with affection, after all? Serenity continued, "I don't want you wasting your peace in the shadow of duty when I have others to do that for me. I admire you too much to let you do that." So the origin was not lost on her after all. Michiru smiled warmly. "I know, Usagi-chan. But do you really believe can you trust them?" "We've done countless background checks. Most of them are so young they don't have much of a background to check." "You saved the world no less than five times by the time you were their age." Serenity chuckled. "You're paranoid, Michiru-san." "It's my choice, Usagi-chan." "Koneko-chan," Haruka interrupted, smiling her most charming smile, the smile that had in two lifetimes reflected in countless pairs of shining eyes but only one had really seen, "We seek your acquiescence only because it will make things easier. We will protect you with or without your permission, but with it, we don't have to make the effort of being stealthy to _both_ sides." Serenity sighed in exasperation. "Why are you two so set on sacrificing your freedom to me?" "We'll still have our freedom," Michiru replied. "We'll be doing as we wish, and have what we need: each other." Haruka smiled gently. "Besides --" "They'll have my help." High heels clicked against the marble floors as Rei -- or rather, Sailormars -- approached the couple, nodded her hello. Haruka extended her first two fingers in greeting, and Michiru nodded back. "Rei-chan," Serenity protested. "Why --" Sailormars smiled. "Usagi, how else would I spend my time? Would you prefer I simply sit and worry instead?" "Demo --" "Usagi, we're going to protect you, and you're going to agree!" Serenity was not to consent so easily. "We have fought for peace so that you can live your lives, not protect mine! I can protect myself --" "With child, Usagi-chan?" Haruka interrupted silkily. Serenity halted abruptly. "Are you so sure of these boys that you will trust the life of your child to them?" she continued. "I don't think I would. In fact, I know I don't." Serenity lost the determined glint in her eyes. "Well ..." Haruka smiled warmly. "We'll take care of her, Usagi-chan." "And you," Sailormars said firmly. "Okay?" Michiru put in. Serenity threw her arms out. "Okay! I can't survive a triple attack. I agree." Haruka winked before the three turned and walked out. Serenity wondered why she even tried dissent. The doorman by now recognized them and did not waste any time opening the door, not without a little reverence. An electric door with ID cards would have served just as well, but those rich enough to afford such an apartment liked to have their ego stroked. Haruka and Michiru had outlasted three doormen. Staff rumors abounded as to their possible senshi status. From the laundry workers came word of Te'nou-san's femininity. The mechanics speculated from Te'nou-san's heavenly car that she was the Te'nou Haruka of late twentieth century. The maids gushed about the beautiful paintings signed by Kaiou-san and the gorgeous (and unfathomably old) violins. The maids had a mortal fear of touching them, suspecting (correctly) that a single violin cost more than they would ever see in their entire lives combined. Senshi or not, all were reasons to be revered; the fact the two women were easily identified with counterparts a hundred years past did nothing to lessen the effect. The couple received various hellos as they made their way to the elevator. In a background sort of way, the familiarity was comforting. They had seen the staff change and age, knew some of their personalities, hopes and dreams. The contact was never sought, but a hundred years made for a lot of inadvertent contact. It made the protocol of leaving sort of strange. Did they say goodbye, say sorry for killing the gossip, finally admit to being Sailor Senshi with characteristic teasing grins? The two women had moved out of the old house shortly after Hotaru. It had been a big house even with the little girl filling it with her boundless energy; when the boundless energy turned into the quiet grace of adulthood and filled another house, the rooms seemed large and empty, dwarfing the inhabitants in memories. It was no longer comfortable to be in those rooms; rather than recalling pleasant memories, it seemed more like trying to relive the past. They had felt bad about leaving Setsuna behind, but the woman swore up and down that she understood, that it was no big deal. The three women had been brought together to raise a child, and the child had grown into a fine woman. What to do now but disband? "We're not disbanding," Haruka had protested. "We're friends. Nothing will change that." Setsuna fixed her with those eyes that had seen everything, that had seen such vows and seen them wither and fade without pomp or circumstance. The action might not even have been deliberate, but it nearly made Haruka pale regardless. "Daijoubu," the woman said, in that measured voice that was slightly too dispassionate to be pleasant. "I have duty. This is how it should be." "Setsuna," Michiru interrupted, with enough concern that one could see the older woman almost flinch, "forget duty for once. Try to live your life. You managed it while we lived together, didn't you?" "I had time for it then. I don't now. Destiny approaches." "How much stock do you place in destiny, Setsuna?" Haruka demanded. One could almost see the thrill she took in hearing destiny defamed by one of the Destined Lovers. "How much stock, Haruka? I have spent millennia orchestrating events to operate the Way Things Should Be. I looked after you in your cradles, fended off childhood accidents. I've done so many countless, unnamed things. There are not words to describe what I've done, for no one has ever done them but me. I have sacrificed my life monitoring the flow of Time. That is how much stock." This was no longer a vaguely personal meeting; Haruka debated the cause of her friend's existence and therefore tempted the door of destiny to unhinge. It was almost selfish to question, in the amount of people simply questioning could change, but it was also a sort of twisted altruism, declaring that Haruka cared far more about Setsuna than those countless others. The blonde's feline voice was soft. "Do you ever wonder why things must be this way or that?" "Because they are best this way." Setsuna answered without hesitation. "Because you have been told they are best this way," Haruka replied sadly. "They _are_ best this way." Setsuna was not arguing, for a woman with her grace and surety did not argue. She was simply stating what she knew to be fact. "How can you know without letting each path run its course?" "I see the paths of Time. I see their courses, and what woe these courses bring." Haruka smiled a sad smile to match her tone of voice. "You forget the words we've shared, my friend. You see the courses until so many choices assault the path that you cannot be sure how Time will see the path. You cannot be sure." "And since I cannot be sure, it is best to choose the path that will give me surety for the welfare of the people." "Who gives you the right to influence Fate?" Setsuna looked almost shocked that Haruka would dare ask the question, but she intoned the answer without a hint of that shock. "I was given these powers by whichever hand that crafted me, be it God or Allah or Kami-sama. By giving me these powers, he has given me permission to use them." "By creating murderers, does God give them permission to kill?" Setsuna's gaze was not quite a glare. "I have not killed anyone." "We have killed things given life. Is that not killing?" "They wanted to do harm." "I'm not saying the killing wasn't justified, but it was killing nonetheless." Haruka radiated compassion. "I'm just saying, how do we know that one path is better than the other? There is evil on each path. Don't remained chained to Fate by custom. Maybe one day you'll have a change to break free. Don't hesitate to take it." Setsuna frowned slightly. "Haruka, you don't understand. You don't know what binds me. You can't --" "I know, Setsuna. I know I can't understand. But think about it." Before Setsuna could move, Haruka enveloped the older woman in a hug. It was such an unwonted gesture that Setsuna found herself hugging back. "Sayonara," she had said. Since it must be so. Afterwards, the aquamarine-haired girl had smiled in slight amusement. "Ara, Haruka, how long did it take you to think of such an argument?" The taller girl had smiled slightly and snaked an arm around the other's shoulder. "Several months. Why do you ask?" Now, of course, they saw the woman rarely if at all. Sometimes Haruka played the scene through in her head, wondering if the conversation had been the catalyst that splintered their friendship. Eventually, she always decided it hadn't. Setsuna would have sacrificed the relationship to duty regardless, and Haruka felt the conversation had been necessary. Better, as an American rock star had once said, to burn out quickly than to fade out slowly. His name now escaped her. She suddenly felt old. It was sort of funny, really -- what had she to fear from age? It would not mar her appearance. Could not, actually -- which was different, wasn't it? She remembered the stories of those who had sought immortality and then grown weary of it as their friends passed away and life became meaningless. Luckily, neither of those could happen to her, as her friends were similarly immortal and her life was inherently meaningful. Isolation? She had been isolated all her life. The only thing that had even remotely linked her to the real world was Michiru, and they had promised to be together for a very long forever. Scorn and envy? She couldn't recall not being a target of either. Even without any negative aspects to age, she still felt it her enemy. Women were taught from birth to fear and hate age -- in time, gravity would steal the pertness of their breasts and the firmness of their skin. An utter disgust at the thought of something stealing their beauty kept nations of young girls on alert against the shadowy fiend. Nevermind that age would also fill their empty heads and soothe their sharp edges -- what was on the inside only counted for so much when what was on the outside drove a young man away. Even feeling old, Haruka sometimes felt a sort of giddy elation that she would escape the clutches of Old Man Time, that she and Michiru would not truly grow old together. The thought of it was warm and comforting, but the truth of it was wrinkles and sagging breasts, neither of which (she had to be honest) particularly excited her. Michiru would have been that sort of woman who aged well (which was a pleasant little oxymoron), but the thought of gray streaks in that lovely aqua hair gave Haruka nothing but grief. Therefore, though hating to be petty and commonplace, she was pleased that none of her partner's radiant beauty would be robbed by time. Her own thwarting gravity was not a bad part of the deal, either. Time was in the memories. There was no real way to measure time for beings such as themselves, not by life or death or things accomplished -- not by experience, for slowly experience melted and became the same. Not by years, for years passed with a sort of maddening monotony. No calendars held the sort of time they meant to count, not a thousand calendars piled high like a monument to senility, dwarfing the stacks of common woman. What more joy or pain did the years hold, after all? Did each year hold more for those with fewer? Did a day mean more to a mayfly than a turtle? Did an hour mean more to Haruka than to Chibi-Usa? Hours moved more slowly for the children, for the children move more quickly, but when it all came down, children accomplished less than adults. Things of consequence took time -- did that mean that those with less time accomplished less? What did anyone accomplish besides survival, after all? Books are written, read, and forgotten. Even consumed by millions, the words mean no more or no less. Passed on by every generation, yes, but not consequential. Never consequential. For what held consequence but life? Only creating life was of consequence to survival when only survival was of consequence -- therefore, with a thousand years, Haruka would accomplish nothing at all -- less, even, than the common woman. And the thought did not depress her, because she felt it her choice, while the common woman had very little choice at all. But that had nothing to do with time ... The things in the apartment held meaning, certainly, just like they did for any other couple. Their years of cohabitation had provided the opportunity to amass a great volume of things that held value mostly sentimental. (Well, in perspective, of course, for what meant little financially to Haruka and Michiru meant a great deal to a common woman.) Moving meant deciding just what was worth the effort of keeping. It also recalled a great deal of memories. A century's worth, in fact. Clearing out drawers was the best, for drawers held the casual things long forgotten. Trinkets and cards and pictures -- pictures were the best of all, recalling the exact moment with usually at least a bit of humor. They took turns on the drawers. The ones next to Haruka's side of the bed were most entertaining, for they were so obscure as to almost be hard to recall. After an hour or so of perusing the contents, some of them started to look the same. Haruka looked down at the picture in her hand, slapped it against her other hand idly. "Ne, Michiru," Haruka said. "I'm thinking about letting my hair grow out." Michiru turned from her packing abruptly, giving Haruka a look. "Mou, Haruka! Doushite?" "Well ..." The blonde paused. "I've had the same hair for a hundred years. I'm sort of getting tired with it." Michiru closed the distance between her and the taller woman in a few elegant strides before brushing the hair from her eyes with a slender finger. "Ara, Haruka," she said, breathing against the other's ear. "I love your hair." Haruka circled her arms around the smaller woman's waist. "Still. It's been a hundred years. A very long time." Michiru wrinkled her nose playfully. "You'd have to cut it even or else it'd turn into a mullet." "You wouldn't like me in a mullet?" Haruka asked with a fake pout. "Haruka," Michiru said slowly, "you are the most gorgeous woman in the world. But even you could not wear a mullet well." "I'd have to shave the bottom, then. I might as well shave my whole head." "But then I'd have no lovely hair to run my fingers through," Michiru answered sadly. She did as much, as if to prove her point. "Mm," Haruka answered, caressing the tips of her lover's hair with her fingertips. "It's not fair, you know. You could grow your hair out without any trouble at all." The aqua-haired woman smirked. "I never cut mine short." Haruka conceded the point. "Besides," Michiru continued, more sweetly, "if you grew your hair out, it'd be that much harder to seduce innocent girls." Haruka chuckled before pressing closer, her voice dropping throatily. "The only girl I want to seduce is hardly innocent," she answered, her breath caressing the other's lips pleasantly. Their lips touched and they drank in the familiar flavor of each other, a taste of which they would never grow tired. As if to prove the point, they pressed harder, each tongue playing games in which there could be no loser. These were the sort of kisses that went somewhere, and suddenly Haruka realized that this would be their last night in the apartment -- Later, after the sun had set, they lay together speaking the language of love with intertwined bodies just barely recovered. Haruka twining her fingers in the other woman's gorgeous hair; it never failed to amaze her, really, just how much she felt, even still. No -- especially still, for the length of time was really the amazing thing. But of course, there was nothing particularly baffling about her ability to love this beautiful creature; it would be more baffling to discover a person without the ability. She revered Michiru, of course, but it never occurred to her to think that she did not deserve the woman. Not only was she confident by nature, but if Michiru thought Haruka deserved her, who was the blonde to argue? "Ne, Haruka," Michiru whispered, "what are you thinking about?" Haruka smiled softly. "You," she replied honestly, reaching up a hand to caress the other woman's cheek. Michiru smiled and maneuvered to kiss the palm of that hand. They stayed like that for a little while, until Michiru stirred. "Do you think we're right to be so concerned about Usagi's safety?" Haruka paused a moment before replying. "Well, I'd rather we be too early than too late, hm?" "That's a good point." The aqua-haired woman nibbled on Haruka's fingers idly. "Do you think we should set up a schedule?" "What, taking watch?" Haruka smiled, as if the idea was somehow amusing to her. "I think so. What other choice do we have?" "By twos. That way we're not separated, the girls don't get lonely, and there's less chance of mistakes." "And weekly shifts, so we're left to our own devices for the rest of the month. After all, none of us have really worked for years. Decades, even." She laughed. "Tuesday sessions for everyone, you think?" Michiru laughed as well. "I hate Tuesdays," she replied, wrinkling her nose playfully. She reached her hand up to clasp the one still caressing her cheek, the two intertwining their fingers in an easy pause. Haruka broke it. "I wonder how much the Inner Senshi will appreciate this," she mused dryly. "Please say this is the last of it, Haruka-san." Haruka laughed. "Hey, you volunteered," she reminded her companion. "You're in better shape than I am, I don't see the big deal." Makoto grunted noncommittally before pressing an elbow against the elevator button. The two women stared at the door until it slid open, then walked in and gratefully dropped the boxes on the floor. Haruka pressed the button for the thirty-third floor, wiping at her forehead. She then looked up at her companion honestly. "Hey, Mako-chan. Thanks for helping." "It's okay, Haruka-san," Makoto replied quietly. The girl -- woman, Haruka reminded herself -- was still not quite comfortable around the blonde, but she was no longer so shy. She even initiated contact, sometimes; that was what Makoto's offer of help all came down to, anyway. Haruka accepted gratefully; she didn't trust just anyone with her possessions, and she honestly did like Makoto. And all the attention was flattering. The elevator doors slid open, and the two women resumed their labor, hefting the boxes and making their way to the chambers Haruka would share with Michiru indefinitely. The door was open, and the two took a few steps in before dropping the boxes. "Well, that's the last of it," Haruka announced ceremoniously. Michiru appeared from the other room, looking remarkably unruffled. "Good. Now you can help me unpack." "Mooou," Haruka groaned, as Makoto laughed. "Not fair. You should carry those heavy boxes up thirty-three long flights of stairs, and then you can tell me what to do!" Michiru smiled at Haruka. "You took the elevator. I'm telling you what to do. Go unpack the bathroom." Haruka groaned again and went off to do her lover's bidding, sparing Makoto a look that made her laugh. Michiru brushed off her hands and smiled at Makoto. "Ne, Mako-chan, thanks for your help. We really appreciate it. We thought that you guys might be mad at us after we started talking about taking away your free time for security." "Oh, no!" the tall brunette exclaimed, as if the idea had not occurred to her. "It was our choice to agree. You guys brought up some very valid points." She laughed. "You have a tendency to do that." "I'm glad. It makes me happy to feel useful again." "Hai!" Makoto agreed. "I felt like I wasn't really helping, training all those guys we never use. I didn't feel involved. I haven't kept watch on Usagi-chan for ages." "I was afraid that you'd take our plan as a suggestion that we didn't trust your men," Michiru confessed. Makoto smiled. "Not at all. When it all comes down to it, they're only civilians with pretty weapons. They don't understand what it means to be Sailorsenshi -- they just can't love her like we do." She grunted in a sort of eloquent way, holding up her hands. "I only trust these fists and Haruka's sword!" The two laughed. It was like sharing a bonding moment. It made Michiru feel good, to actively like someone she had spent so long despising. Haruka popped out from the bathroom. "What am I missing?" she demanded plaintively. Michiru turned to her. "Nothing, dear. We're just talking." Haruka reached her, intertwined a hand with Michiru's. "But I want to be involved," she replied, somewhat huskily. Michiru nuzzled at her neck, closing her eyes at the familiar scent. Makoto by this point was sweatdropping rather avidly. "I think I'll be going now!" she declared, fleeing the room in a shower of sweatdrops. Michiru chuckled. "You're so bad," she accused the woman on whom she was leaning. The woman laughed in return. "Would you have me any other way?" "No," Michiru admitted without any sort of regret. She smiled slowly. "I'm glad this worked out so well. I feel better to have something to do. And to cooperate with the Inners, even!" "It is rather nice," Haruka agreed. She paused, then took advantage of Michiru's closed eyes with a gentle kiss. She could feel the shorter woman's surprise in the way her hand tightened around Haruka's own. This continued for a while until Haruka opened an eye and aimed it towards the bed. "Ne," she started, after they broke off this kiss, "you know, this is our first night in this room ..." "You're insatiable," Michiru laughed. And then she paused. "And no, I wouldn't have you any other way." She went on to prove it. -fin. chapter one- _______________________________________________________________________ Author's notes? Well, just a few. This chapter proved impossible, with a false ending, even, before I cut it. Trust me, I did this for you, because the other ending was ludicrous and disgusting. Email me at with questions, comments, flames, and pretty much anything else you can stick in a text message. I'll be happy to see it. Honest. http://www.otakuwars.org/~ferchan/ _______________________________________________________________________