"Why are you looking through those old newspapers?" "I'm not sure," Rei murmured. Minako leaned over her shoulder, blue eyes scanning the bold headlines, trying to discern the miko's purpose. "I had a strange vision while I was meditating this morning, about a little black-haired girl. It seemed to be old, and I got part of a date, so I thought there might be something about her in one of these newspapers. I don't even know her name." "Why do you even have these papers?" Rei shrugged. "I don't know. Grandpa keeps them. Oh, here's something. 'Daughter of scientist Tomoe Souichi killed in lab accident.' There's even a picture." Minako turned the page and both stared at the picture of the little girl with purple eyes and black hair, killed so tragically years earlier. "That's her," Rei whispered. "Tomoe Hotaru. I wonder who she was." Minako shrugged and fell back on Rei's bed, staring at the ceiling. "Who really knows? She may have been one of us once. Where's Usagi?" "Oh, she went to the beach with her family. Some of her cousins came to town and they are entertaining them. Makoto and Ami are helping Motoki and Mamoru fix the damage to the Crown Arcade from the storm earlier this week. I would have helped, but I had to find out who the girl in my vision was." Rei glanced over at the blonde sprawled in her bed, and she laughed. "You have no idea how much you act like Usagi sometimes." "Me?" Minako pushed herself up on her elbows and grinned, blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "I do not." "Take it from the person that has spent the most time with her. Yes, you do." Rei smiled, staring at the idol stretched out on her bed, feeling a strange warmth fill her frame. Minako stared at her, intense blue eyes boring into the miko. "You're a lot like her," she whispered, reaching out her hand. Minako twined her fingers with the older girl's, both freezing at the contact. They could feel something pulling them together, pulling them closer, and Rei jerked her hand free, falling against the door. "No," she whispered. "I . . . I can't. I can't do that to Usagi. You're a lot like her, and it's confusing me." "I'm not confused," Minako whispered, closing her eyes. "I'm sorry, Rei. I didn't mean to hurt Usagi-chan. I know you love her. Maybe in another life . . ." "Maybe," Rei whispered, standing up. She walked over and pulled Minako to her feet, kissing her forehead gently. "Why don't we go to the Arcade and see if Mako-chan and Ami-chan need any help?" "Sounds like a plan." *~*~*~*~*~*~* Rei and Minako were in no real hurry as they headed for downtown Tokyo. They walked from Hikawa Jinja, seeing no reason to take the bus, the picture of Hotaru in Rei's pocket. She felt a strange connection to the girl and couldn't leave it behind. They didn't notice the crowd, their minds focused on more important things. Minako watched Rei as they walked, absorbing every image. Her beauty and grace, her fire and courage, her power and her fears; all were revealed to the blonde singer. In return, Rei watched Minako, deciding that she was only attracted to the parts of her that were like Usagi. She was a famous, responsible singer, mature and revered in more than one country, but she was still young in her mannerisms, her misuse of certain phrases, that sparkle in her eyes, the bounce in her step, and the way she bonded instantly with the group. She had problems with some of her classes, same as Usagi. She often failed exams because she couldn't be bothered to study. She had a cat, too, a white one with a crescent moon on his forehead. His name was Artemis, and Luna beat him up every time they got together. He took it, knowing that the female was in control in their relationship, and Minako laughed every time that poor little male ran for the safety of her arms. All of a sudden, the pair of them froze, looking up, staring at a couple standing on the other side of the doors to the Arcade. The man was tall, hair a dark blonde, protective eyes a dark green, his entire stance that of an athlete, a warrior. On his arm, shielded from the dangers of the street by the man, was a slender woman with wavy aqua hair and blue eyes that held a very deep fear. She looked at Rei and Minako, straightening almost imperceptibly, as did the blonde, in recognition. The four stared at each other, forgetting the world around them, forgetting their destinations, sensing the power that bound them. None of them moved until the doors to the Arcade opened and Mamoru stepped out, his presence physically separating the two pairs. He glanced at Rei and Minako, smiling, then he glanced at the strangers, and he stepped back. The aqua haired woman recoiled from his presence, trying to escape, and Minako realized that she was afraid of men. Then her partner . . . that fine bone structure, slender body shape, long fingers, stance . . . of course the blonde was a woman. "Go back inside, Mamoru-kun," Minako murmured, her voice taking on the timbre of command she barely remembered from another time, another life. He obeyed without question, leaving the four women to their introductions. "I'm sorry about what happened to you," Minako whispered, stepping closer to the pair, blue eyes locked on the aqua-haired woman. "He's a friend of ours, and he means no harm. He would never hurt you as they did." "How . . . how did you know?" The woman's voice was soft and musical; if it was not so full of fear, it would have made any man tremble. She was a musician; she had to be. "The way you reacted. I've seen it before. My cousin in England was . . . attacked, and I helped her afterwards. I feel like I know the two of you." The green-eyed woman glanced at her partner before answering. "I can sense something, as well." Her voice was faintly masculine, husky and casually sensual, and she knew the effect she had on women. At the moment, her entire attention was focused on her mate, but Minako knew that if the stranger had directed that sexy voice at her, she would have swooned. "My name is Ten'ou Haruka." "Aino Minako. You're that famous F-1 Racer, aren't you? And a pianist and painter. I suppose you are Kaiou Michiru, then? Violinist, painter, and Ten'ou-san's partner." Michiru nodded, and Minako pulled Rei forward. "This is my friend Hino Rei, miko of Hikawa Jinja. The man was Chiba Mamoru, and he would never hurt anyone." Michiru nodded, trying to control her reaction. "I can't help it. I'm sorry. Aino . . . the singer? From England?" "Yeah, that's me." "I didn't know you were in Tokyo." "I didn't know you were coming to Tokyo," Minako countered. "Your manager released a statement that you might not come at all for the exhibition or the concert," Rei added, reaching into her pocket for the article she kept from the previous morning's paper. As she held the paper out, the picture of Tomoe Hotaru fell to the pavement, and Haruka bent to pick it up. Haruka and Michiru stared at the picture, both feeling a deep sense of loss wash over them. That little girl . . . who had she been that they missed her so? Michiru wiped a tear from her cheek, and Haruka struggled to keep her eyes dry. "Who is she?" "We don't know. I had a vision about her, but she's been dead for years. It didn't make any sense. It's one of the many strange things that have been happening around us. I'd like for you to meet my girlfriend, Usagi, and our other friends, but if you'd rather not, that's fine, too." Michiru shook her head, dropping the picture without noticing. "No, I think that we should go in. We aren't sure what brought us here in the first place, but maybe you and your friends are the answer to that mystery." As the four women entered the Crown Arcade, a woman in a light purple suit reached down and picked up the newspaper article. Setsuna's red eyes filled with tears, and she let the picture fall. "Hotaru-chan," she whispered. "Kami-sama . . . I forgot. I forgot that evil gave you life so many years ago. Without the Senshi and their enemies, you were just the girl who died in a lab accident." She felt two strong arms surround her as Tejina, wings invisible, embraced the weeping goddess. "Be strong, Se. You knew that some of the senshi might die." "Did it have to be Hotaru?! She was my daughter, Tejina, the only child I was ever allowed to raise! To have her so cruelly taken before I even knew her . . . it's not worth it. Haruka's wish isn't worth Hotaru's death." "Maybe she was happier, dying as that innocent child and not having to serve evil, not having to fight and die as Sailor Saturn. Maybe she was happier." "How could it be right to lose someone so full of love and life? I don't have the power to fix this, Tejina. I can't bring her back." "I'm sorry, Se," Tejina whispered, tears flowing from her purple eyes as the pair vanished. From the roof of the Crown Arcade, 374 and 557 watched the entire exchange, Urakaze breaking the arrow he had been holding. "There has to be something, Asa-chan! Hotaru is dead because of Haruka! And even Se, daughter of the God of Death, cannot bring her back!!" "We made our complaint to the Council," Asakaze whispered. "Did you see Minako with Rei earlier? She loves that miko, but Rei loves Usagi. I can't believe how fucked up this world has become. There's something terribly wrong, something about one of the senshi making a wish, but the gods will not speak and only Se and Tejina know the whole truth. They're from the correct reality, and only they know how to go back." "Se said that she doesn't have the power," Urakaze whispered. "I believe her. If she could fix this, she would. I sensed the love she had for the girl in the picture, for little Tomoe Hotaru, dead all these years. I sense the love she has for the women who should be senshi. Aren't we supposed to be the ones in control? Aren't we supposed to make them fall in love?" "It's not that simple, Ura-kun," 374 whispered. "Sometimes events spiral out of our control. No matter how many arrows I shoot Usagi with, she will not fall in love with Mamoru because her heart isn't ready. It missed its chance. And Rei might be able to fall in love with Minako, but she will not betray Usagi. Cupids may be powerful, but we are not all-powerful. Only the gods can really fix this." "And the gods aren't listening right now." *~*~*~*~*~*~* Haruka stood in the doorway and watched Michiru sleep, watched her toss and turn, plagued by nightmares she couldn't escape. Haruka longed to comfort her lover, to chase the demons away, but there was nothing she could do. Sighing, she slipped into the bed, wearing only a tank top and boxers, feeling harsh flannel rub against her bare legs. There was a time when Michiru slept in silk negligees, showing off her beautiful body for Haruka alone, but now she covered her entire body except for her hands and head. She could not escape the men from the alley, and Haruka wondered if she would ever truly heal. Weeks ago, Michiru wouldn't be able to sleep until her partner kissed her, caressed her with deft fingers, plunged deep inside and brought her to orgasm, at least once. Then they would curl up in each other's loving arms, Michiru's head pillowed on Haruka's soft breasts, one of Michiru's thighs wedged between Haruka's. They had been so close, in more ways than one. But all of that had been shattered by five men in an alley. Now Michiru only let Haruka hold her when they were on the street; she was too afraid of the men around her not to be protected. That's all Haruka's arm did, protect her. Alone in their apartment, Michiru kept her distance, furtive eyes following her partner's every movement. She wouldn't let Haruka do more than hug her briefly before she went to bed, touching only when absolutely necessary. They never kissed, barely talked, and Haruka's hands had better stay well away from Michiru's breasts, legs, or face. When they hugged, Michiru tensed, and it killed Haruka every time. Even Haruka's sexual innuendos were too much, gone like their intimacy. Michiru refused to share a shower or bath with the racer, unwilling to see Haruka naked. She hated her own body, dressing and undressing in semi-darkness, even bathing with the lights dim. She never took baths anymore, unable to relax into the warmth, restricting herself to short showers. Gone was the sexy, carefree, graceful woman who had asked to paint Haruka years ago, to be replaced by a woman afraid even of her own shadow. Haruka missed her Michiru. The new one never painted, could barely stand to look at her violin, had insisted that the piano be covered with a heavy cloth, took no pride in her makeup collection, and no longer wore even lipstick or perfume. Haruka couldn't play music with her in the room, knew that she would never come to her races, and had no idea what to do. Michiru no longer swam, her bathing suit collection shoved to the back of her closet, never opened the blinds in their room, and only left the apartment with Haruka when she had to. She no longer cooked or cleaned, and mostly she just sat on the couch and watched the news. The worst part, though, was Michiru's new celibacy. Haruka was a very sexy woman, and she could never understand why someone would refuse to ever have sex. After all, masturbation could only be so satisfying. For true pleasure, the perfect partner was necessary. And Haruka found that partner in Michiru. For a little while. Now, she was no longer allowed to go to bed at the same time as her former lover. At first, she had been forced to sleep on the sofa, but now she could share Michiru's bed as long as the younger woman was already asleep and she didn't touch her. No more cuddling until growling stomachs or bright sunlight forced them out of bed; no more early-morning kisses; no more desperate kisses late at night when someone's day had just been too much and she needed release; no more screams of purest pleasure and whimpers of incredible need; no more whispered pleas, talented lips wringing pleasure from all parts of her body; no more sexy grins and teasing; no more long fingers buried deep inside her, fingers curled and finding just the right spot to send her over the edge; no more talented tongue delving into her secret passage, bringing her to orgasm a second time; no more rolling her over and returning the favor, making her squirm and scream. Haruka missed her lover, and she wanted her back. It was so unfair that Michiru was right there, right in front of her, but a pain she could not heal kept them far apart. As Haruka fell asleep, her tears soaked the pillow under her head and she clenched her fists, pulling herself into a ball. Kaiou Michiru died in that alley, and the woman that remained might as well have never returned. *~*~*~*~*~*~* Michiru woke feeling completely safe and warm for the first time in weeks, two strong arms enveloping her from behind. She sighed as her mind tried to discover who her bedmate was, feeling the hands begin to move, their owner awake. She kept her blue eyes closed as the movement became a loving caress, fingers searching for the top of her pants. One hand slipped inside, searching for the source of her warmth, and Michiru's mind filled with images form the alley. "No," she cried, jerking free and spinning to face Haruka. The blonde, only half-awake, stared at her, confused. "I . . . I can't, Haruka. I'm so sorry." Haruka sat up, staring at her hands. "I don't know what I did," she whispered. "I don't know why I went to my race that day, why I didn't stay with you when I knew there was something wrong. I love you so much, but I killed you that day. There's blood on my hands and it's all my fault and I don't know how to wash it away." Michiru swallowed her fear and sat on the bed in front of Haruka, taking the blonde's hands in hers. "No, Haruka. There's no blood here. You're hands are clean. I should have gone with you when you left; I should know better than to walk alone in that part of town. Tokyo is much safer. I tried to fight them, Haruka, but I lacked the power and the training. Some part of me knew what to do, but I couldn't reach it. I shouldn't have been so damn confident. Please don't blame yourself. I like your hands." Haruka looked up, tears streaming down her cheek. Michiru's blue eyes were filled with love and remorse, regretting the choices she made that day. Haruka freed one hand and wiped Michiru's tears away, shaking her head. "Neither of us knew, Michiru. We'll make it through this, I'm sure. I just want us to be the way we were." "We will be, someday," Michiru whispered. "But we have to take it slow. I'm not really in control of my body's reactions yet. I don't want to be afraid of you, but I am." Haruka carefully pulled Michiru into her arms, resting her head on top of the smaller woman's. "We'll get through this," she whispered. "Somehow."
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