Chris Davies Bubblegum Crisis Best of All the Years II Episode 3 (To review: (Priss Asagiri has come, through difficulties, to live in Crystal Tokyo, in the thirtieth century, as related in "Best of All The Years" and "Together Again: 2937 Chapter". She has found a way to make a home there, and she is not alone, having rescued Sylia Stingray from her apparent death in the destruction of Genom tower. Priss had discovered that Sylia had been in love with her, and begun to realize that she felt the same. Whatever happened, they were together again.) (Unfortunately, that was just the beginning of new trials for both of them. Priss was confronted with the fact that Sylia's biological and cybernetic modifications meant that she might not be viewed as human in Crystal Tokyo, while Sylia was horrified to learn that her journal had been published, revealing much of her life that she wanted to keep private. Unfortunately, Priss chose to deceive Sylia by claiming to be a clone of the original Priss, as her memories of the years between 2033 and 2041 were still indistinct. Furiously, Sylia attacked and rejected Priss, leaving them both uncertain as to their future. Sylia's later discovery of the truth of Priss' lie worsened her mental condition, but she was pulled back from the brink of suicide by the Black Knight Sabre -- the same mysterious figure who had, unbeknownst to Sylia, saved both her and Priss in Genom Tower.) SYLIA Do you know what it is to doubt your own senses? I never had, before this. If I doubted everything else, I never had cause to doubt the information which my eyes and ears gave me. Sometimes my senses did not provide enough information to make accurate deductions, but I had never before this moment seen anything which caused me to doubt that I could be seeing what I was seeing. I stumbled out of the restroom, and drew a deep breath. "Ms. Stingray?" I looked up. It appeared to be the woman called Lady Mars, and she seemed to be standing a few meters away, looking at me with an expression of what I believe could be called ... concern. "Are you all right?" I think she asked. "Yes," I lied. And then my legs gave out from under me and I collapsed. At least, I thought that was going to collapse, but I was interrupted halfway to the ground. Mars was holding me by the arms, her face now more shocked than concerned. "If this is your `all right', I'd hate to see your idea of `on the verge of death'," she said, probably not meaning for it to be as much of a snap as it was. "I'm sorry," I replied. "I have ruined my life beyond all hope of recovery, and been told that I still have to go on living. It is causing me some distress." Lying hadn't driven her away, so I decided to try telling the unvarnished truth. She blinked. "Told by who?" I opened my mouth to tell her, and found that I couldn't. Ah well. Perhaps silence would suffice where truth and lies had not. She stared at me, and slowly nodded. "Okay, you don't have to tell me. But ... I really don't think that your life is *ruined* --" "And what would you know about it?" I snapped, counterfeiting anger. It's such an easy emotion to imitate. Mars didn't seem to respond to my barb, instead spending a long moment gazing at my face. She smiled sadly, and shook her head. "You remind me of her, you really do. The frightening thing is, she wasn't half as smart as you're supposed to be." Involuntarily, I asked, "Who do I --" "Friend of mine. Her name was Serena. She died ... a long time ago." There was ancient pain on her face. "Any time anything went wrong, she was always the first one to blame herself. Oh, when it was obvious that it wasn't really her fault, she didn't *blame* herself for what had happened ... but she always found a way that she could have been stronger or better or more equal to the challenge ..." Mars tightened her grip on my arms, and slowly pulled us out from the half-crouch we'd been in since I had begun to collapse. "... and maybe that was my fault," she said at last. "You see, I was the one who kept pushing her ... to be all that she could be. There were others, of course, but ... I think I was the one who did it the most." "Why are you telling me this?" I asked. I didn't want to know about this woman's lost loves, I was having enough problems with my own. "Because like I said, you remind me of her." And then her tone hardened. "And no matter how much I think that it was my fault that she started to blame herself for everything, when I *started* pushing her, she was always ready to throw in the towel before the game had even started. Just like you are --" "I --" I interrupted. Mars interrupted my interruption. "You're going into battle without any expectation of victory. And frankly, when the stakes are this high, that's something no soldier can afford." "Pardon me, but I believed we were talking about matters of the heart," I slowly grated out. I dislike being interrupted. "Love is a battlefield," she said, smiling. I looked away, irritated. "Of course. I would have to arrive in a world where everyone is as obsessed with eighties rock as Pr-- as certain people are." Mars sighed. "Look ... Ms. Stingray, it's pretty clear to me that you've put a lot of effort into your loosely termed 'relationship' with Priss, *and*," she said, interrupting my mouth opening, "more than would be required to have a good working relationship with an agent-slash-pawn. Unless you'd like to try convincing me that you know the preferred musical styles of the other two?" "Nene enjoyed technopop, Linna preferred whatever Vision was recording at the time," I said, guessing. "Try Gregorian chant, in Nene's case." I turned to look at her. She was, not surprisingly, smiling faintly. "At least, according to Jupiter," she added. The smile went away. "Ms. Stingray ... I'm begging you. As her friend. Go back to her." "I ..." Cannot? Should not? Ought not to? Fear to? Do not want to? "Do not deserve to? True," I murmured. It is the only time I can recall ever having spoken without realizing it. "False," Mars snapped. "Look, I'm revising my opinion of you. You remind me of Serena, but you sure as hell remind me of *Priss*, too. Neither one of you wants to forgive yourself for *anything*!" And with her words, the truth of the problem became readily apparent. I could almost have wept with the release of the strain of not knowing, except that knowing didn't make the solution any closer, as far as I could see. "I don't know how." She stopped. "You don't know how to forgive yourself?" I shook my head. "I don't know how ... to forgive." I could ignore what they did. I could wait patiently to make them pay -- whether in humiliation or in blood would depend on the occasion. But I had never even thought of forgiving my dearest friends in all the world for their occasional lapses. An angel of vengeance cannot ever forgive. But I ... A thought experiment. `You will avenge my death by (1) killing the one who personally killed me, and (2) bringing about the destruction or downfall of the ones behind him,' is a finite mission statement. An non-volitional unit -- for lack of a better term, a robot, one lacking the minimal self-awareness of Genom's stupidest boomers -- having completed the aforementioned mission, would in all probability be expected to self-destruct, or at minimum shut down and await reprogramming. I possess no instructions which suggest that I should do either. It follows, then, that I am not a robot. Which suggests that, having completed the aforementioned mission statement, I should be able to determine what my *next* mission should be, if I have not received orders to the contrary. I have received no orders to the contrary. ... I ought to be more than an angel of vengeance. The second in which I worked all of this out passed, and I realized that Mars was staring at me. "I ... need to learn how to forgive," I said at last. It was an inane statement. She didn't laugh. Instead, she slowly nodded. "Yeah. That can be a hell of a thing to learn." Mars paused, and then there was a flash of insight in her eye. "I know a place, though ... a good place to learn pretty much anything." "Please tell me more," I said. I don't think she realized that I was begging, pathetically. PRISS Ryouko Mizuno made a really satisfying crunching noise when she slammed into the ground. I couldn't really pay too much attention with it, since I was kinda focused on pulling out of the dive in time without passing out. Aerial combat in the Mark 11 hardsuit wasn't as easy as I'd thought it would be. I pulled it off, and circled around her -- not unlike a vulture -- for a few minutes, before she finally rolled up into a seated position. "I concede defeat," she said after another minute to get her bearings. "No shit?" I asked, more than a little startled. "I believe that the terms of our duel were, to the knock out," she said, not looking up at me. "I *did* lost consciousness, ergo, I am the vanquished. Honor has been satisfied." As I came in for a landing -- which for my money is probably the hardest part of this flight mode thing -- I lifted the visor of my suit. "So, this is it? No shouts of protest that I cheated, and I shouldn't be expecting more challenges to set things right?" "Neither from myself, nor from any member of my unit," Mizuno said, wearily getting to her feet. "Should anyone bearing a `Mizuno's Madmen' unit insignia give you any trouble, please do not hesitate to inform me." Y'know, I have never been able to figure out why people figured that I've turned into a squealer, just because I'm not a punk anymore. If any of her boys tried to start something with me, I'd kick their asses all the way back to base, but I'm damned if I'm gonna rat people out. She was staring up at the holographically created sky of the training ground where we'd had our little tete-a-tete, a finger tracing the path of the air battle. She finally nodded once. "Yes, I think I see where I went wrong. Despite my knowledge that your suit operates on radically different principles of flight than my own does, I still instinctively tried to stay out of close combat range -- since contragravity fields interfere destructively with one another, mid-air close combat between CG-equipped battlesuits is akin to suicide." "Right," I said. I hadn't known that, but since she was trying to keep as much distance between us as possible, I figured there must be *some* reason for her to avoid melee. "You closed with me, grappled, and then ... deactivated your flight mode. The extra weight was more than my CG equipment could handle, and so it shorted out before I could adjust it. We fell, and you managed to pull out while I didn't." Mizuno nodded again. "Excellent tactics. Lady Mars was quite correct to decline permission to intercept you, earlier -- a fall from that altitude would probably have killed me." She nodded, once, and tapped on the wrist of her battlesuit -- which looked about as substantial as an old softsuit -- causing the deflector field to deactivate. The blue face protector vanished, and she pulled the mesh helmet back off of her head. "A good fight. I learned a great deal. Thank you, Ms. Asagiri," I shrugged. Why not? "Call me Priss," "No," she replied. "If you'll excuse me, I think I shall go and seek medical aid." And that was that. As she headed off, I popped the suit's seals, got out of it, and got dressed. It was then that I started to wonder what the hell I was supposed to do with it -- the suit, I mean -- now that I had it. I couldn't see putting it in the closet of my apartment; even if I did trust the neighbors not to run off with it, how was it supposed to recharge? I heard a footstep, and looked towards the entrance. Raye was standing there, smiling faintly. "I'm given to understand that you gave one of my marines a lesson she won't forget soon." I didn't see what the big deal was, so I just shrugged. "Someone told me that she'd probably wind up being on my ass for screwing around with the fair maidens of the realm, so I figured I might as well get it over with. It's weird, though ... I figured she'd be more pissed off when I kicked her ass than she was." Raye frowned, slightly. "Don't believe everything Sheila tells you, okay? She has a grudge against Ryouko *almost* as big as Ryouko's grudge against her, so I wouldn't believe anything Sheila said about her without independent verification." "So she's not so homophobic that she keeps her eyes closed in public baths so no one can accuse her of peeping?" I asked, quoting something Sheila'd said to me earlier. "I don't know anything about that," Raye replied, shaking her head. "But I do know that I've never seen her act like that with anyone *except* with Sheila. And before you ask, yes, I *do* know what that might mean, and no, I don't think so. And besides, it's none of my business." I grunted my understanding, and jerked a thumb back towards my suit. "So what am I supposed to do with this thing now?" She looked at the suit for a moment, rubbing her chin. "Well ... as a Palladin of the Realm, you're entitled to store a few `tools of the trade' in the Palace or in any military base *in* the Realm, and I think it wouldn't be too hard to scare up a recharging unit. Sound okay?" "Sure." She turned back to look at me. "Soooo ... got any plans for this evening?" Okay. Before anyone says *anything*, I *know* I should have seen it coming from a thousand miles away. But I didn't. The idea strangely did not occur to me that she would set me up immediately after stating that someone *else's* love life was none of her business. You wanna yell at me for not being paranoid enough, go right ahead. *Sylia's* the one who's supposed to be paranoid, not me. "Not really, no." "I've got some stuff to do around here, but afterwards, what would you say to a few drinks at the usual place?" "`Yo drinks'," I said, smiling. She nodded. "Right. Meet you there in about an hour?" "Sure thing." I should probably pause and bring some people up to speed. When I got out of the hospital after I helped Raye break up a bunch of terrorists, I wound up going out for drinks with her. We talked quite a bit, about quite a few things -- like why my eyes are `a shade of lavender so brilliant that in her angry moments they almost seemed to be on fire,' to quote Leon's autobiography. (Who knew he was a hack in addition to everything else?) That was when she also made the proposal that I come work for her, destruct-testing battlesuits. What I probably didn't mention was just where we'd gotten these drinks. Well, there's this little public house just outside Crystal Tokyo's city limits. No, I'm not gonna tell you exactly where, I'd like to be able to drink without hordes of fanboys watching my every move. Suffice it to say, if you need to find it, you probably will. I dunno how quite to describe the place -- it just feels good. I mean, most of the times that I went drinking in my `youth', I was trying to just blot everything out. Social drinking was something which never really clicked with me, even when I was with the Sabres. But here ... I was laughing at people's jokes, telling my own ... empathizing, I guess. They got me to sing karaoke. I *never* sing karaoke. That should tell you something about the atmosphere in Flannery's Place. Anyway, I said seeya to Raye, and headed out on my hovercycle, out along the coastal road. (No, it doesn't necessarily lead to Flannery's, but I like riding along it.) I finally got to the mildly chaotic parking lot around fifty minutes later. It was a little after six, so it wasn't really crowded, but there's no real parking protocol in this particular joint's lot -- you just find a place large enough for your vehicle, and cut the CG. I noticed Raye's bike in among the mess while scanning for my space, and figured that she'd gotten her work done early. So I went in and Sylia was at the bar. It was that quick. I mean, I didn't even notice that Raye *wasn't* there, Sylia's presence grabbed hold of my eyes, fixed them to one particular spot, and said, `Don't move or say anything or do anything, you clueless wench.' "So, every drink, regardless of contents, is four credits, paid in four one-credit coins, placed in that cigar box? On the honor system?" she was asking Tom Flannery, the chief bartender, as I began to stare gapingly at her back. "Basically, yes," Tom agreed. "Although I'd prefer to refer to it as the self-respect system, frankly. And it's really only three credits, unless you'd care to exercise the option. Declining the option means that you can take a credcoin back from the box." "The option," Sylia said, and in her voice I could hear the small, just slightly sarcastic smile on her face. "Let me guess, the option to make a toast and throw the glass in the fireplace?" "Good guess," Tom said, smiling right back at her. "The toast part is right, but throwing the glass is optional. The fact that we can't guarantee that we get all the glass swept up tends to annoy the recycling squad." Sylia shook her head. "It is, I suppose, a relief, that the greats of science fiction are still remembered ..." "Oh, you mean Spider? Yeah, he was a good kid." She was very silent for another moment, and then nodded. "Let me guess, were I to ask you to explain that comment, I would be set upon by the moderately unattractive piano player who is even now standing behind me with a blackjack in hand." She was about a third right. No one in their right mind would call Rachel unattractive -- she's gorgeous for a woman in her early fifties -- and I've never seen her play the piano. Actually, Flannery's doesn't have a piano. But she *was* standing behind Sylia, blackjack resting in her right hand. And I was standing a few feet closer, wondering what the hell I ought to do, since there was no way in hell I was going to let Rachel hit her, and there was no way in hell I was going to be able to *stop* Rachel from hitting her, since I'd seen Rachel take down a couple of self- described martial arts masters in the handful of times that I'd been to Flannery's thus far. As was so common, Flannery defused the situation by saying, "It's okay, Rachel, not a prying question." Rachel nodded, and stepped back. I breathed a little easier. Not much though. "You see, I died in 1973, of what scientists were just starting to identify as complications arising from a certain immunodeficiency syndrome. While I was in the terminal stages, I *did* meet Spider Robinson, when he was just starting out as a professional writer, and I think that he based a character in his stories on me. Or possibly on a gestalt of me and several other people he knew who died of the plague. Anyway, I was fairly lucky in that I managed to arrange for my body to be put in cryogenic storage after I died, so that I could be brought back if anyone ever found a cure. Unfortunately, they found a cure for AIDS long before they found a cure for being flash-frozen, and with all the kerfuffle that went on in the next century, I wound up not being brought out until about twenty years ago." Sylia had been nodding as she listened to Tom's story. "I remember reading about quite a few cryogenics scandals in the early twenties," she said when he was done. "`Now that we've got a treatment for leukemia, how do we cure death?' was one headline." "Oh, so you're disentimed too?" And then he decided to notice me. "Regular meeting ground for them tonight. Hey, Priss, how's it going?" A few thousand years elapsed as Sylia turned to look at me. A few *million* passed while we stared at each other. I honestly don't know what I'd hoped to see in her eyes if we ever met again. Reget, apology ... forgiveness, maybe. But the look of mortal terror in those eyes was almost more than I could take. "Hello ... Priss," she said eventually. I nodded, very stiffly, in response. "Do you two know each other?" Tom asked, only semi-facetiously. "I'd say that's a yes, Tom," the talking cat sitting in a basket on the bar replied, hyper-sarcastically. Yes, a talking cat. His name's Caldicott. I don't know how he learned to talk, and right then I didn't really care. I was too busy compounding the mistake I'd made getting out of bed that morning by slowly walking up to the bar and sitting down on the stool right beside Sylia. We both stared forward. Eyes unblinking, and definitely unturning. Tom looked from one of us to the other, before finally nodding and murmuring something that sounded vaguely Gaelic that I didn't catch. "So, what'll it be, tonight?" "Scumble," I said. "I'll need your driver's license, your health care card, and the name and phone number of your next of kin," Tom said calmly. With hands that did not shake very much, I produced both cards and another with Raye's home phone number on it, and presented them to Tom. "Okay, just a moment," he said, and picked up the phone. "Pardon me, Master," Sylia said quite suddenly, using the traditional form of address, "but is that a karaoke machine, over there?" "Yep," Tom replied, as he dialed. "No charge, since it's `Sing-along Night'." Sylia pushed herself off her seat, and slowly walked towards the machine. My head unwillingly jerked around to follow her. I watched as she examined the selection, and nodded to herself. She spoke into the surprisingly quiet mike. "I don't sing very often," she said. "I don't have the voice for it. But ... it was suggested that song can convey that which words cannot. Let's test that theory, shall we?" She tapped in a code, and music began to play. Quiet, elegant piano notes under the sound of wind, leading up to a crash of sound. And then she lifted her voice, and it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever heard. There were nights when the wind was so cold That my body froze in bed If I just listened to it Right outside the window There were days when the sun was so cruel That all the tears turned to dust And I just knew my eyes were Drying up forever I finished crying in the instant that you left And I can't remember where or when or how And I banished every memory you and I had ever made There was a sudden change from the sharp agony of the last line to a gentle whispered caress. But when you touch me like this And you hold me like that I just have to admit That it's all coming back to me When I touch you like this And I hold you like that It's so hard to believe but It's all coming back to me The back-up function of the machine had sampled enough of her voice to make the back-up voices of the soundtrack blend with her own. (It's all coming back, it's all coming back to me now) There were moments of gold And there were flashes of light There were things I'd never do again But then they'd always seemed right There were nights of endless pleasure It was more than any laws allow A cry from the gut. Baby Baby If I kiss you like this And if you whisper like that It was lost long ago But it's all coming back to me If you want me like this The castanets counterpointed her voice *perfectly*. And if you need me like that It was dead long ago But it's all coming back to me It's so hard to resist And it's all coming back to me I can barely recall But it's all coming back to me now Her voice was almost a banshee's wail. But it's all coming back ... And then something very strange happened in the second verse. Her voice changed. She didn't sound like *Sylia* anymore. Her voice had a younger, almost rasping quality that I was couldn't for the life of me identify. There were those empty threats and hollow lies And whenever you tried to hurt me I just hurt you even worse And so much deeper There were hours that just went on for days When alone at last we'd count up all the chances That were lost to us forever But you were history with the slamming of the door And I made myself so strong again somehow And with that, I knew who she had become for this verse. And I never wasted any of my time on you since then I don't think that I could ever have sounded as gentle as the next lines did, though. But if I touch you like this And if you kiss me like that It was so long ago But it's all coming back to me If you touch me like this And if I kiss you like that It was gone with the wind But it's all coming back to me For only a moment, I thought one of the backup voices *was* my voice. (It's all coming back, it's all coming back to me now) There were moments of gold And there were flashes of light There were things we'd never do again But then they'd always seemed right There were nights of endless pleasure It was more than all my laws allow Baby, Baby, Baby When you touch me like this And when you hold me like that It was gone with the wind But it's all coming back to me When you see me like this And when I see you like that Then we see what we want to see All coming back to me The flesh and the fantasies All coming back to me I can barely recall But it's all coming back to me now And then her voice softened to little more than a whisper. There was hesitation and confusion and o so much misunderstanding in that first word. If... you forgive me all this And I forgive you all that We forgive and forget And it's all coming back to me When you see me like this And when I see you like that And she *was* looking at me, and her eyes were running. We see just what we want to see All coming back to me The flesh and the fantasies All coming back to me I can barely recall but it's all coming back to me now (It's all coming back to me now) And when you kiss me like this (It's all coming back to me now) And when I touch you like that (It's all coming back to me now) If you do it like this (It's all coming back to me now) And if we ... And her eyes closed, and she let out a single gasp of breath over the harmonizing coo of the background. There was scattered applause from the other patrons. Tom tapped on my shoulder. "Um, sorry, Priss, but Raye specifically said that I wasn't to let you have any scumble. Could I interest you in some Saurian brandy?" "No," I said, amazed that I still had a voice. "I think I'm going home now." Shakily, I arose from my seat, and walked over to where she was standing, her head still bowed as if in exhaustion. She looked up as I drew closer. There was still fear in her eyes, but it wasn't as crippling for either of us as it had been. "Sylia," I said her name for the first time in weeks, "do you ... want to go with me?" She tried to say something, and then settled for a nod. I restrained myself from nodding in response, and turned to the look at the others. "Um, bye," I said. "Bye," the regulars said. Some of the smart alecks waved. Outside, I wasn't too surprised to see her get on Raye's cycle. "A loaner?" I asked, trying desperately to interject some lightness into the atmosphere. "Yes," she replied quietly. "Your friend is ... a good teacher." I didn't have a clue how I was supposed to reply to that, so I gestured for her to follow me out of the lot. SYLIA We rode together in the moonlight. The sun had set soon after I had arrived at the bar, and it seemed that a considerable amount of time had passed since then. The moon was full, and impossibly large. Impossibly. I told myself. Down a strip of coastal highway we rode. I blinked, and realized that we must be on the descendant of the road that had led past Genom's main boomer development lab, in the twenty-first century. There was nothing there, now. Just miles of unspoiled -- or perhaps healed -- seafront. I told myself, I followed her hand signals as she led me back into the city proper. At last, we came to an old, slightly decrepit-seeming apartment complex. I stared as I recognized that this was the place where Linna had lived with her grandparents, shortly after her parents had died. I recognized it from photographs she'd shown us one Christmas. It was either the original, or a remarkable reproduction. For a moment, my belief wavered, but then I focused on Priss and forced myself to believe. She noticed that I was gazing intently at her, and turned to shrug, a nervous smile on her face. "Humble yet mine own," she said as we walked into the foyer. "The neighbors are probably all out boozing, so we should be okay --" There was the sound of a creaking stair, and with an annoyed expression, Priss turned to look towards a staircase. "Yes," she said loudly, "I've brought someone home, and if you think I'm gonna let you hold a party in my room, you're --" A woman stepped into view. She had the most vibrant red hair I'd ever seen, and was dressed in a blue sundress. Her face was still and shocked. Priss knew her, obviously, and just as obviously she had not expected to see her under these conditions. "I ...I heard," the woman said quietly, "that you had a fight with Ryouko, and so I came to see if you were all right, and to see if I could apolo--" She broke off, and closed her eyes. When they opened, any hint of weakness was gone. "Never mind," she almost snarled, and stormed past both of us before Priss could say a word. The door slammed behind her. "Friend of yours?" I asked, trying desperately to bring a little light to our atmosphere. "Yeah," Priss replied. "It's a long story." As I didn't have the slightest idea what I should say to that, I followed her up the stairs to her room. It had the same general feel to it that her trailer home, and later the condominium she'd bought in 2034, had had; very little conscious attempt to maintain order, but everything that was important was available at once. She slid off her jacket. "Um ... I'd say have a seat, but I don't have any furniture, so ..." Our eyes met. She took a breath. "I lied. I'm not a clone. I'm --" "I know," I interrupted. "Mars mentioned it. It --" "But I still don't remember anything after 2033," she continued. "I don't know why, and that's why I lied. I was scared that you wouldn't believe me, and I'm --" "I realized that something like that was probably the case. I should not have been so suspicious. It --" "Would you *please* let me apologize?" she snapped. "No," I replied. "I can't, since I have more to apologize to you than you do to me. I have --" "You what? Sylia, you just got dragged out of a hell on Earth! I don't expect you to be all flowers and milk of human kindness!" "*I* expect me to at the very least be *rational* in my dealings with the woman with whom I'm in love!" I yelled. "And I expect me to at least be able to say that I love you, and I haven't done it even once, so so far we're equal!" she yelled right back. And then we both took a deep breath, and realized just what we'd both said. There it was, out of the proverbial closet. I was in love with her, and she loved me right back. Why then did I start crying? PRISS As she broke down in front of me, I grabbed ahold of her and wrapped her up in my arms. She babbled tearfully, and I babbled soothingly, and somehow we wound up on the floor, holding onto each other like drowning people. "I don't *know* why it's so hard for you to show it," I found myself saying at one point. "Why's it so hard for me to say it? The point is, I knew ... I *knew* that you cared about me, even back then. You think I didn't notice that you smiled when you said you were only coming along with me after Mason to `preserve the Knight Sabres' organization?" "I smiled?" she asked. "As much as you usually did." She'd stopped crying, at least. She shook her head, wearily. "We wasted nearly a decade ... because I heard you singing a song that wasn't even about me ..." "No," I interrupted. "We didn't waste anything. Maybe, if you'd told me how you felt then, I'd have told you to shove off -- because I wasn't ready to have anyone in my heart. You see? Maybe we needed that time to ... to grow up? I dunno." And then the suspicion center of my brain went haywire. When had I told her that the song wasn't about her? As soon as the thought registered in my brain, she must have felt me tense. She took a breath. "... I was ... advised of that by someone who wants to see us ... together." I felt myself ease. "Raye," I muttered. "Who?" Right, she probably wouldn't know her real name. "Lady Mars," I said. "No," she whispered. I felt myself tense again. "So who?" Sylia opened her mouth to say something, but she gave a fairly good impression of a woman who couldn't say what she wanted. She finally sighed. "The Black Knight Sabre," she muttered. I swallowed. "So you've seen her face, too?" Yeah, I know. I didn't say that I'd seen her face, earlier. But I did say that Raye wasn't happy with what I was telling her, didn't I? So maybe you could have guessed that she figured there was more than I was letting on. She raised her hand to salute. Now, this may come as a surprise to you, but if you lift your hand to salute and you're wearing a hardsuit, you can lift the visor pretty easily. And she did. "You said ... that she was ..." Sylia said slowly. "Yes," I replied. "I'm pretty certain that she was." "Then we've been brought together by a ghost," she said wearily. "I hate magic." "Yeah," I sighed. "So now what?" Sylia shook her head. "I imagine ... that we start building a life together, since all the powers of the netherworld seem to be bent on making us do that." "Do you wanna fight them?" She blinked, and stared at me. "What?" "Do you want to fight them?" I asked her earnestly. "Because if you want to fight to keep us apart, or to ensure that *we* make the choice, not some spirit, I'll guard your back." She stared at me, and for the first time, she lifted a hand to touch my face. "You mean that," she said quietly. "You'd fight ... for my right to be miserable, even though I'm being given a chance at happiness on a golden platter?" "Of course!" I snapped. "Dammit, haven't I *shown* that I'll --" Our second kiss was a hell of a lot better than our first, which is saying something. For a while, we just lay there, holding each other. Eventually, though, the floor started to get a little uncomfortable, so we got up and went to bed. No, I'm not going to tell you all about it, because there's nothing to tell. Sylia was ... very inexperienced, and I wasn't about to start pushing her into anything. So we just slept. And you know, I really do think that's the one thing most couples really should do before they get married -- find out if you can *sleep* together in the same bed. And yeah, we could. Best sleep I'd had in ages. SYLIA I didn't dream. When I awoke the next day, a bit before Priss did, I couldn't bring myself to move. I just lay there, wrapped in the covers and in her. I decided then that what I was experiencing *was* real. Does that seem strange to you? Perhaps it is. I had lost faith in my senses because I had seen something which I knew to be impossible; and the logic of my regaining that faith because I witnessed something which I had believed was impossible -- Priss, sleeping peacefully in my arms -- escaped me. Now, at a certain remove, I think I understand. I was beginning to accept the miracle that surrounded me. Since what had been impossible was now real, if I witnessed something which seemed impossible, I would have to investigate further -- but there was no need for me to doubt my senses. In the next few minutes after I came to terms with reality, I made more decisions than I had made in the entirety of the last week. "Good morning," she whispered as I was embarked on this. "Do you have Mars' phone number?" I asked her absently. "Uh ... yeah," she said, blinking. As I disentangled myself from her and sat up, I made a mental note to apologize for my brusqueness later. But there was work to be done. "I need to contact her, so that I can set up an appointment with the board which examined me, earlier." Priss stared at me for a moment. "Uh huh," she said, slowly. "Sounds like you've made some plans." I smiled faintly. "Wanna let me in on them? I'm *assuming* that they involve me?" The smile died, and I felt panic begin to develop in my heart. "Priss, I ..." She lay back and looked up at the ceiling. "I always hated that, y'know? You come up with these great ideas, give us about half of what we need to know, and let us loose. Then, while we're scrambling around with egg on our faces --" "It's not that sort of plan!" I cried. "I've just decided what I have to do in order to make a life here with --" And then I realized the utter lack of logic in that statement. As though I were still the only one in charge. I collapsed beside her, and tried not to flinch when she avoided personal contact. "We're not there yet, are we?" I asked, wearily, staring up at the ceiling. "I guess not," Priss said softly. And then she rolled over, and smiled at me. "But you figured out how you were fucking up without my having to tell you, so *one* of us is getting there. You just gotta slow down and let me catch up, okay?" I had always believed that anyone who claimed that they were not sure whether to laugh or to cry were merely engaging in hyperbole as to their emotional state. Yet another theory done to death. I satisfied my own urges by resting the top of my head beneath her chin, and shaking my head even as I smiled. "So what are you gonna do?" she asked me. I told her. She approved, and actually gave me some information that helped me improve my plan. A few moments later, I was speaking with Mars; or rather, since she now requested that I use her proper neame, with Raye. "First of all," I began, "I'd like to know where and when to return your vehicle to you." "Don't worry about it," she replied dismissively, over the cellular. "I'll send someone to pick it up later today." I was not at all inclined to deal so casually with the matter, but I decided not to press the issue. "Very well. I would also appreciate it if you could contact Lady Mercury and Lady Jupiter. I stated earlier that I required some time to consider my options. I have done so, and am prepared to discuss my plans for the future with the three of you." There was a long silence. "Good," she said at last. "I'm glad to hear it. Um ... I'll get back to you, after I speak with them." "I look forward to hearing from you," I replied politely. We waited patiently for a few minutes. I watched Priss fidget as we did ... and then I couldn't help myself. I laughed, quietly. "What's up?" she asked. "Are you nervous?" I answered her question with another question. "Not really. Anxious, I guess ... what's that got to --" "I'm terribly nervous. But you'd never know it to look at me, would you?" I shook my head. "We're complimentary angles, you and I." Before she could reply to that, the phone rang. I picked it up, and spoke briefly with Mars. The board was going to reconvene in a little under an hour, at the hospital. I thanked her, and offered to park the hovercycle in front of the hospital, so that she could pick it up herself. She agreed quickly. I dislike having people do me favors. Having someone else return something which had been loaned to me counted as a favor. A few minutes later, I had changed into the only set of formal clothes that I owned, and the two of us were riding towards the hospital. Priss insisted on accompanying me, and much of what I planned would work just as well if she was there. In fact, from what she had explained about Lady Jupiter's emnity towards her, some of it might work even better. The enemy of my enemy is not always my friend -- but if my enemy believes that her enemy is a greater threat, she can be easily distracted by her presence. A young man dressed in a page's costume met us at the door, and guided us to the room in which I had met with the tribunal yesterday. Jupiter seemed even angrier than she had been earlier, and her scowl deepened when she saw that I was with Priss. Excellent. I took my seat in front of them, while Priss stood off to one side. I considered flashing her a smile to reassure her that all was working out, but I elected to focus on the matter before me. "Good morning, Ms. Stingray," Lady Mercury said politely. "I understand that you've reached a decision?" "Correct," I replied. "I have had time to ... reaquaint myself with Ms. Asagiri, and from what she has told me, along with my own observations about this place ... I have decided that I *do* wish to be a citizen of the Realm of Crystal Tokyo." Mercury smiled, as did Mars. "We're certainly glad to hear that --" Mars began. "However," I interrupted, "I feel obliged to make certain things *very* clear to you. I no longer have any interest in or taste for mecha design, nor do I intend to pursue a career in the pure sciences. If any of you entertain ideas about using me as a resource, I strongly suggest that you abandon them, *now*." Mercury's smile faded. "Oh, really?" she asked, deceptively mild. It was exceedingly clear to me that she was either offended by my bluntness or shocked by my stated intentions. Possibly both. "Ms. Stingray, I think that you should be aware that we expect all citizens of the Realm to contribute to the Realm in some manner. If you do not intend to work as a mecha engineer or as a scientist, might I ask what you *do* intend to do?" I smiled. "I intend to become a private investigator." As I had expected, Mercury's eyes darted towards Jupiter as I said that. Priss had confirmed my deduction, based on what they had said to me yesterday, that Jupiter was in charge of the law enforcement agencies of the realm. Adding the traditional antipathy between freelance private investigators and professional police officers to the dislike that Jupiter already had for Priss and those whom she held close produced an even more frightening expression of dislike on Jupiter's face. "Really?" was all she said, however. I warmed to my topic. "Yes. Even as a Knight Sabre, I had observed that the part of our jobs which I, personally, enjoyed the most was the gathering of information on which we based our strategies. I believe that I may have been inspired in this by accounts of my mother's exploits, when she was --" "We are familiar with the career of Irene `Rally' Vincent, Ms. Stingray," Jupiter interrupted. "Do you intend to be a detective or a bounty hunter?" "The two careers have a considerable amount in common," I noted. "I can't see any reason that I might not combine elements of both. Can you, Lady Jupiter?" Her green eyes met mine. I began to get a sense of the anger that she bore towards *me*, not just as Priss' lover, but as one whom she held responsible for Nene's death. I met her gaze firmly, and she looked away first. "I cannot think of a reason," she said heavily, after a moment, "that you cannot become a private investigator, should you demonstrate the qualifications for a license to be one." She took a deep breath, and when she spoke again, it was with renewed strength. "However, I will admit that I don't see *why* you felt it necessary to make an announcement of it to us." "I believe that you implied that I should inform you of my decision when we spoke yesterday," I replied. "Also, since I intend to begin permanent partnership and cohabitation with Ms. Asagiri, and since she is some sort of special operative for the realm, I felt that I should reassure you that while I do not wish to work for Crystal Tokyo as she does, all the same I hold no grudges against the realm." For a moment, Jupiter stared at me, her mouth hanging open just a small amount. I knew that she was wondering if she had heard that right ... and I didn't intend to let her know if she had or not. "Well," Mercury said, seeming even more nervous than she had before. "We certainly do wish you the best, Ms. Stingray, although I must say that it does seem to be a waste to use such an intellect as yours for such a purpose --" I smiled at her. "I don't agree. I can't imagine a nobler purpose than discovering things which certain people don't wish to be discovered." Mars was staring at me without expression. I met her gaze with a lifted eyebrow. After a moment, she shook her head, and smiled ruefully. "Unless either of my colleagues have any questions, I think that we can return to the issue of granting Ms. Stingray citizenship." "I have one further question," I interjected. "I have certain philosophical objections to monarchy -- does citizenship within the Crystal Realm demand an oath of allegiance?" "No," came a voice from behind me. "Citizens of the Realm are not required to swear allegiance, only to accept responsibility." I turned, and wondered when the woman standing there had entered. I hadn't heard the door open. For a moment, I thought she seemed strangely familiar, but I couldn't recall ever meeting a woman with golden hair done up in two long pony-tails with large buns on either side of her head. I wondered why Priss was staring with her mouth half-open. "Ms. Stingray," the woman said, when her warm blue eyes met mine, "it is an honor and a privelege to meet you at last." "Thank you," I said reflexively. "And you are?" "Uh, Sylia, this is --" Priss began. "No one of any great importance at the moment," the woman interrupted. "Lita, would you mind if I took your place in administering the Declaration for Ms. Stingray?" There came a sigh from Jupiter at that, and I looked back to see that the auburn haired giantess had a look of utter defeat on her face. "No ... no, not at all." "Oh, good." The woman smiled momentarily, and then became very serious. She indicated that I should stand, and after a moment I did so. "Ms. Stingray, have you had explained the rights and duties expected of a citizen of the Realm?" "I have," I replied. She took a deep breath. "Then please repeat after me. I --" "I, Sylia Rebecca Stingray --" "-- do swear by --" "-- do affirm --" A corner of her mouth turned up. "-- that I shall exercise the rights and fulfill the responsibilities of a citizen of the Crystal Realm of Earth, while I live." I repeated the words, and the woman smiled broadly. "And I, Serenity, daughter of Serenity, accept your affirmation in the name of the One whose Name is at the Heart of Time. Be welcome in the Crystal Realm, Sylia Rebecca Stingray." For a moment, I stared at her. "Serenity?" I asked. "Isn't that --" "Her Royal Majesty?" Mars concluded, just slightly sarcastically. "Yep." Serenity smiled. "As I said to Ms. Asagiri some time ago ... welcome to our world." I looked past her, to lift an eyebrow at Priss. She shrugged in response -- clearly she had no more idea than I did as to what I should do than I did. So I did the last thing that I ever expected to do. I stuck out my hand, grinned, and said, "Thanks!" in a ridiculously cheery tone. I wasn't expecting her to shake my hand. I think that I'll avoid doing what I never expected to do in the future. PRISS And that was pretty much that. The wedding? It was a small, fairly quiet affair -- Serenity nicely asked the press not to make a big deal about the marriage of the last two Knight Sabres, and they obliged her. Raye mentioned this to me, right before the plans for the wedding started to get together, and hinted that Serenity might appreciate it if she were given the chance to help with the ceremony even more. Having a goddess presiding over your wedding tends to lend an air of permanence to those vows -- modified Christian ceremony, since neither of us believe in anything, officially -- like nothing else in the world will. Raye and Tom Flannery stood up for us during the ceremony. We stumbled through, and nobody took the opportunity to attack any of us. I'm given to understand that it went fairly smoothly for a wedding that sees Serenity's involvement. We kept our original names, with the understanding that any kids -- which could be conceived via normal, natural mucking about with test tubes and DNA, or through a few magical methods they had on hand -- would have a choice of which of our names they'd take. And so we settled down in my apartment, and were together. And life goes on. My name is Priscilla Serena Asagiri. I live with my wife, Sylia Rebecca Stingray, in Crystal Tokyo. I'm a test pilot. She's a private investigator. We fight quite a bit, but we try to avoid going to bed angry. She's learned quite a few ways to avoid doing that. We don't live in a paradise. We don't live in an utopia. We don't live in the best of all possible worlds. We just live. I think the best of all the years are the ones where you're with someone you love, don't you? EPILOGUE The Black Knight Sabre watched as the newlyweds fell asleep in each others arms. Behind her helmet, blue-green eyes glowed with remembered warmth. Then, without a sound, the avatar returned to the heavenly realm, to reunite with her creator. She was already pushing the limits of what was permitted to the divinities in this age of mankind. Still, she would not be who she had once been if she didn't push the rules just a bit. A tiny, almost invisible telepathic suggestion in their minds. When the being of whom the Black Knight Sabre was a part considered her actions, a smile suffused its aura. The being who had once been Nene Romanova approved whole-heartedly of having their first child named after her. THE END Author's Notes As always, I thank the patient and wise Jeanne Hedge for putting up with all sorts of antics on my behalf on the road to producing this necessary epilogue to a story that was finished over a year ago. I likewise thank Sean Gaffney for his forebearance in not killing me while this languished unfinished. "It's All Coming Back to Me Now" was written by Jim Steinman, one of the great bards of the twentieth century. Since I began the original "Best of All the Years" with a pair of his songs, it seemed appropriate to end the sequel with a third. This one was most recently recorded by Celine Dion on her compilation, "Falling Into You". You might also be able to find a recording of it by Pandora's Box. "Bubblegum Crisis" was created by Toshimichi Suzuki and others, and brought to North America by AnimEigo. "Sailor Moon" was created by Naoko Takeuchi and brought to North America by DiC. "Callahan's Crosstime Saloon" and a pair of denizens therof appearing herein ought to be real, but were probably created by Spider Robinson. I have no idea who created Caldicott C. Catt for "Puttnam's Prairie Emporium", but whoever it was was really warped. This story, while incorporating characters from motion pictures held under copyright by others, is copyright 1998 by Chris Davies. Nobody Sue Me Okay? Chris Davies, Advocate for Darkness, Part-Time Champion of Light. "WHAT CAN THE HARVEST HOPE FOR, IF NOT FOR THE CARE OF THE REAPER MAN?" -- Death, in "Reaper Man", by Terry Pratchett. http://www.ualberta.ca/~cdavies/hmpage.html