Touch & Go Carousel Rated R got a letter from a messenger i read it when it came it said that you were wounded you were bound and chained you had love and you were handled you were poisoned you were pained oh no you were naked you were shamed if there's a chance i would take it this desire i can't kill take my heart please don't break it i will crawl to your foothill i'm frightened but i'm coming please baby please lay still oh no i'm not coming for the kill -The Tea Party, "The Messenger" In retrospect. Two of the most terrifying words in the English vocabulary. It means an event has taken place that cannot be changed. That the players involved have found their lives unalterably affected in some way. Nothing can be done to change the past. In retrospect. Words used to examine the aftermath. The pensive thoughts can bring with them pleasant memories and haunting demons. In silence or in speech we find ourselves debating if that thing of the past had been right. If it had been wrong. If it could have been prevented. If it was necessary. Was the change worth it? Was it worth the passion or pain? Have the ends justified the means? Can you still look that other person in the eye the same way now? If you can, then there is the chance that "in retrospect" has been good to you, or that you were good to that which demands a reflection. Like those within the realm created by Naoko Takeuchi, we all ride a carousel of emotions, a neverending cycle of doubts and laughter, of tears and screams, of anger and love. Sometimes we will always find ourselves coming back to that one place in our lives. One single moment in our history that brings with it everything the senses can recall, embodied in the purest emotional cocktail. Ask yourself now, in retrospect. Was it worth it? Do you regret it? Can you look into her eyes, and tell her that you love her? TOUCH & GO CAROUSEL Perhaps it shouldn't have happened this way, she silently reflected. Perhaps it should have been upon another night, in another place, with other people. Perhaps it should not have happened at all. But it had happened regardless. So what then? What then? If she smoked, she might have had the urge to light up a cigarette. Let the orange glow of the burning embers bring minute sparks of light to the darkened apartment. Then she might draw in a deep breath, only to exhale and blow the grey mist out through the open French doors of their balcony. But her lover would have objected to such a vulgar thing. Especially now, when they were left to sleep or recline in the afterglow. And she had no desire to start. She sat with her back propped up against the bottom left corner of the doorframe, the balcony's elegant double doors flung wide open to the world around them. Upon her chest she wore a wrinkled, white dress shirt. Sleeves rolled back to the elbow, only the middle button done up, barely covering her naked body. The lights from the sea of buildings and neon signs all around them, above and below and across the street, shone bright enough to flood the darkened room with veils of scant illumination. Revealing only shadows and silhouettes. The details would come with the sunrise. But for now, there were only the breaking hours of the early morning. Here was a time when most of the city seemed to sleep. The lights outside remained unchanged. The drone of passing traffic on the streets beneath them stayed constant. But the noise that accompanied the world they woke up to in the daylight hours; all that was gone. Sleeping peacefully like the one in the bed. Wrapped up comfortably within the white sheets, wearing them like a warm second skin. Arms and legs tangled amidst satin, with a blanket of golden hair covering an angelic form. She returned her gaze to the nocturnal cityscape. The others might learn of this. By way of intuition or observation or confession, she didn't know. Nor did she care. This wasn't, so to speak, their affair. For the time being it did not concern them. Rumours abounded of empathic bonds between the Inner Senshi, of how they could sense the extreme emotions of each other in the backs of their minds. Fear, ecstasy, desperation; they all applied. She doubted the validity of such a thing. If this became known, it would be because of the expression their guest would be wearing when she went to visit them. Because of small mannerisms and gestures that would be subtly changed...but not subtly enough. It was hard to hide inward change when you wore your heart on your sleeve. Then again, it seemed that the sleeping young soul lying in their bed had spent years perfecting the flawless mask. A calculated, endearing smile to conceal the manic-depression. In making the facade become the puppet you wish to dance in front of the masses, you risk becoming the puppet of the mask. Always a question of who was truly pulling the strings. And what strings would be cut or frayed with tension until they snapped. She hoped that tonight would have found such marionette strings cut instead of being stretched to a breaking point. Such wires that pulled taut the corners of an unwanted smile and made the unwilling body dance to a happy tune should be cut. But cuts could be cruel as well as kind. As she silently intimated in the soothing afterglow of a darkened Tokyo, she felt certain that if even only one string had been cut tonight, it had been done out of compassion and necessity. The others strings would follow. It was only a matter of time. Haruka removed her gaze from the cityscape outside their balcony and its curving, iron-frame balustrade. Blue eyes shifted to the shadows within and found the reason she was now hearing sounds. Hushed, quiet sounds. A woman was gliding across the bedroom, moving towards the open French doors, aqua-green hair draped down over her shoulders. They shared a warm, brief kiss. "I didn't expect to see you up," Michiru said quietly. Not about to shatter the serenity they both enjoyed in this time of night. "Couldn't sleep," she answered. "If it had been any other night, I'd be out riding my motorcycle." A glance was cast upon the golden-tressed youth in their bed. "But right now, my place needs to be here, close to her. If I can't be out with the wind, then this is the next best place for me to be. I can still feel the wind here." "Hai hai." She let one of her hands stretch forth and caress the aqua- haired woman's naked chest. Dressed in liquid moonbeams, Michiru's supple form was more temptation than could be resisted. Temptation that wore one of the most beautiful smiles she had ever seen. Fingers caressed alabaster skin, brushing along the contours, pressing against a nipple, playfully letting the wind following in her wake do most of the teasing. Michiru sighed, eyes momentarily closing as she savoured the delicious tingling of her nerves. Without turning, without looking, a hand reached around back of her and then drew out two wine glasses. The glasses were placed upon the floor between them. A bottle of red wine, '57 European Merlot, became the centrepiece. They had been intending to celebrate tonight. Then their unexpected guest had come calling. One too many burdens had at last cracked the finely polished mask and forced smiles. Something had to be done. Comfort had to be offered. And so they'd left the Merlot and its bottle in the bedroom. Listening turned to soothing and wiping away tears. And then came the unexpected kiss. After that.... Haruka smiled and withdrew her caressing touch, giving her lover a chance to uncork the bottle and pour the wine. The pitch of the bold liquid flowing into its glass cylinders grew steadily higher. With glasses filled and raised, they quietly toasted to the night's unusual gift. "I think we wore the poor girl out," Haruka remarked as she took a sip of the Merlot, looking back at their guest. Michiru let out a suppressed yet amused chuckle. "Ara, there are two of us, and only one of her." To care about everyone else, and save yourself for last. To be the one who's always aloof and comedic, even when the situation is dark. To have the strength and courage to smile when the world is grim. To be seen as the one with relentless resolve, the one who could never let the situation beat her into submission. Such heavy expectations to constantly try and maintain. No wonder she had come to them. Haruka wasn't sure what specifically had triggered the arrival of their friend. No real coherent explanation had been given. Tears had been shed, confessions falling down in cascades of sadness. The first and foremost need was to have someone who wasn't an Inner Senshi see this moment of weakness. Even the strong have their moments of dwelling in the dark. No one can dance forever. It felt odd to Haruka that she or Michiru would be seen as big sisters to the others. There was a degree of detachment that came with their friendship, and that dividing line was one of a soldier's duty. But the relationship could not be denied. Minako had fallen. They were the ones she'd asked to help pick her back up. "This changes things, you know," Michiru said, her voice as calm as the mood neither dared to disturb. "It's always been just you and me." "I'm more concerned about her, admittedly," she replied. "Her seemingly perfect world was toppled like a house of cards tonight. I don't know if what we did will help set them back up." "Does she even want a house of cards again, love? Look at what the last one did to her. She doesn't need answers right now; all she desires is to no longer feel so alone." Haruka nodded, sandy blonde bangs of hair falling down around her eyes. "It still changes everything." "I know." Perhaps it was for the better. They would never know until later. For now, they could only trust in what had been done. love is danger love is bane love leaves you standing out in the rain if love is poison kills through and through there's nothing sweeter to drink than if that poison comes from you -His lordship Chaos hislordshipchaos@hotmail.com http://neoharuka.hispeed.com/chaos/