Maybe Forever

© 1998 by Sardonyx


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Author's Note:

Sailormoon is still not mine. This one comes from a dream I had (as to where the dream came from, I haven't a clue).


Maybe Forever

© 1998 by Sardonyx

The pain was fading, he was floating away, hazy, gray, to what end he did not know. And then all around him was darkening, darkening to a endless tenebrous nowhere. He could no longer feel his body; he had no shape, no form, no nothing.

And for only the second time in his waking memory, Kunzite was afraid.

The faintest light emerged from the blackness, small and pale. He raised his eyes to it; realized he had eyes, had a body, and was kneeling, trembling, on a cold floor.

He blinked, felt the fear grip him. He was weak, completely powerless, unguarded; horribly, painfully vulnerable, and very, very alone.

No, not completely.

Something resembling a desk stood before him, in the cold beam of light. Behind it sat a woman, tall, glacial, with age-old garnet eyes and long, dark hair.

"What are you?" he asked. His voice sounded very small, in the endless, echoless darkness. He was desperately afraid of her, whatever, whoever, she was. He cursed himself and his pitiful state. The mighty Lord Kunzite lowered to such a weak, emotional, paranoid being. Desperate to regain some scrap of his dignity, he stood.

"You are Kunzite." she said. It was not a question. "You are leaving the Timeline."

"Am I dead?" silly, silly question. He sounded as much the wretched fool as he felt.

The woman did not answer. Indeed, she spoke no further word, made no gesture; but instantly he saw his life before him. It may have been an eternity, he did not know for how long he watched, helpless, his conquests, his evils, his dream of a world in Shadow. Some of his old control remained. He did not weep, not even now that he saw (painfully clear) his own blindness, his coldheartedness, his -- yes, indeed -- stupidity.

But the control, what remained of it, vanished in an instant, when the beautiful, jade-green eyes looked up at him. Gods, not this. He tried to tear his eyes away, tried to plead with the cold woman, tried to do anything, anything, rather than stand, again, unmoving, as....

He was reduced to a deplorable wreck, sobbing like a child. The woman, if she was truly a woman, watched with an impartial, expressionless dignity as the last of his life faded away before him. Trembling, his face tear-streaked, Kunzite raised his eyes to her. He no longer attempted to maintain even a shred of his cold reserve. He felt the garnet eyes could see inside him, look through the mockery that was his physical body and see everything, everything. And she knew he was no longer (if ever he had been) a King of stone.

"You see this." she made a vague gesture, to indicate the visions of his existence.

Kunzite nodded, no longer trusting his voice.

"You know, then, what your fate will be." as he opened his mouth, she raised a hand. "Pleading will do you no good. It is not my decision. It is yours."

The words were like a cold knell in his heart, striking deep, painful. But he had known, he would not plead for his deliverance. As she had said, he had made his decision.

And long since regretted.

"Please." his voice did not shake as much as he had expected. "Please, I must... can't... there's something, one thing, one very small thing I have to..."

"You had your chance." her tone was colder than anything he had ever heard, before; so very old, so very wise, so very, very, final. It was something that could not be argued with, could not be changed, not with all the power he had once wielded. And Kunzite no longer had any power, at all.

"Please." he whispered, falling to his knees once again, more from weariness than reverence, no longer caring anything for reputation or appearance, "Please, I must... just this one, small thing... please, if only you could deliver a message, and tell --"

He felt, somewhere before him, a warm, kind light (forgotten), something he could never touch; the sound (familiar) of a soft step, coming towards him, and then (oh, blessed)

"Kunzaito-sama..."

He wanted, then, so badly, to rise, to speak, just this one last time (thank you); but he was overcome with emotion (unfamiliar) and could not move, could not even raise his head. And so it was Zoisite that put his arms around his lover and pulled him close, burying his face in the silvery hair. How long he knelt within his lover's embrace Kunzite could not be sure; but finally he stood, opening his eyes (no longer afraid). Gently, almost as if he was worried that Zoisite might disappear, he touched the younger man's coppery hair, stroked the delicate cheek, and looked down into the (beautiful) green eyes.

Forgiving.

"Zoisaito..." drawing his slender lover into his arms, Kunzite felt a last tear drip down his cheek (no longer ashamed) "I loved you."

"Then it is finished."

The voice of the woman, forgotten, almost startled him. He felt the slightest twinge of sadness; kissed Zoisite softly (one last time, love) and drew back, turning to face her, once more expressionless, dignified.

"Arigato." Kunzite told her. "I am ready, now, for the End."

It was true, then; whatever End there was for him, or if there would be any End at all -- whatever sufferings, torments, he did not care. All was finished. He took a deep breath and stepped towards her; whatever, whoever, she was, this cold, ancient woman (if she was truly a woman).

She looked deep into him again, her garnet eyes now (was it only his imagination) softer, kinder. To Kunzite's surprise, her expression became gentle, compassionate.

And softly, she spoke.

"You have yet to begin."

"--what--?"

The woman motioned for him to turn around.

Zoisite was there, looking up at him, a hand outstretched.

Hesitantly, unsure, Kunzite stepped away from the woman, away from the shadow, and took his lover's hand in his own. The slender man closed his eyes and leaned against him as the soft light about them intensified, taking them to whatever the future held.

As the swirling glow pulled Kunzite away, he looked back, just once more, to the woman.

She was smiling.

- The End -


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