Gundam Wing Fan Fiction / Sailor Moon Fan Fiction ❯ Sanctuary : Haven ❯ Chapter Four ( Chapter 4 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

For all those who waited patiently for this new chapter, and my Angel-nee-chan who is never online when I am.

Chapter Four

Index:
Empath = A person who has the power to feel what another person feels

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There were nights.

Nights when she shifts uncomfortably on her bed, unable to sleep. Nights when the pillow and the wall was never enough to block out the sounds coming from the next room. Nights when she would shiver and curl under her blanket and clamp down her ears not wanting to hear the screams that were not there, but in her head. Nights when she draw herself into a ball not unlike a child and mumble incomprehensible to herself and deny, deny the screams that were coming from beyond the walls.

Silent nights.

Screams of pain. Screams of pleasure. Screams of suffering. Screams of tears. Sobbing, crying, screaming until the person's throat was hoarse and could no longer make any sound at all.

Still nights.

Sounds. Sounds of metal, cloth, wood, glass, water, paper, sounds of everything coming through the not-thick-enough insulator of the wall. The never thick enough insulator that would never be able to block out the voices and soft comforting whispers, even when she couldn't hear them.

Soundless nights.

Everyone had a limit, one they would never want to pass. A line drawn not to be broken, least you suffer the consequences. A boundary for themselves that they knew must not be surpassed, for fear of what they would become.

Horrifying nights.

But what you do, if you're already there?

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She couldn't get the bottle of burning liquid down her throat soon enough. She popped the cork with bare hands and claws, pealed the label off so she wouldn't have to see it later feeling guilty, and brought the rim to her lips, not caring of the flowing trail escaping her lips and down her throat.

It was too quiet tonight.

Too silent and too noiseless. It felt like she was alone in the world, even though she knew they were next door. But no sounds came from the wall connecting the two rooms; she could not hear even the sounds of their breathing, could not even feel it. She was alone tonight; her heart never felt so empty as it did on these nights.

The alcohol wasn't taking effect fast enough, it never did. She chugged down the bitter tasting fluid wishing for oblivion. She didn't want to know what was going to happen, she didn't want to wonder. Her stomach was starting to burn and she could never hold her breath long enough for her own liking.

Gasping as she pulled the bottle away from her lips, she wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve. She couldn't stop her body from shivering; she placed the bottle on the ground next to her chair, uncaring if it fell over and clasped her hands together in a sign of reverence and did what she could only do. On nights like these, there was only one thing she could do.

She prayed.

Please let Usagi be alright.

No one came out of a war perfectly fine and unchanged. No one left a war unaffected in anyway.

Just like how soldiers couldn't come out of a war unscarred.

Just like how perfect soldiers never escapes from a war perfectly sane.

She was never a religious girl, but if it would save them -all of them- she would believe in anything. Her hands were pressed up tight against each other as she let her head fall to the connecting palms.

Please be alright.

She felt it then, in her heart and in the silent air that never stirred.

The screaming had begun.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

She wasn't sure how she was supposed to feel.

He was back. Finally. But he hadn't changed one bit: the distance between them had not decreased at all. She had hoped - no - expected him to change. He had been gone for so long, the war had been over for so long. What had he been doing?

He had not changed one bit, not that she could see anyways. The coldness in his eyes, the stiff awareness in his body, down to the very last monotonous syllable he had spoken in. Nothing had changed, not one bit. She couldn't understand why she felt elated and she couldn't understand why she felt disappointed.

He hadn't changed; he was still the Hiiro that she knew.

He hadn't changed; he was still the Hiiro that she knew.

She stared blankly out the window, her emotions in a jumble, undecided. "Should I welcome you back?" she whispered, " Or curse your return?"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

She snuck out quietly from the bedroom door, her clothes held in a jumble in her arms. She looked back to see if he was still sleeping peacefully and he was. Closing her hand over the knob and she slowly shut the door, twisting the handle gently and letting it slide back to hear the lock click softly into place. She crept softly across the room, making sure to make as less sound as possible. As she entered the living room, she froze. Sighing and looking down at the clothes held together in her slim arms, she let them drop to the carpeted hotel floor. She looked back up to the room and raised her hand to scratch her head in frustration.

Articles of clothing littered the room; a pair pants laid lazily over the chair, shoes and socks made a path towards the direction in which she had came from, her skirt was flung over the lamp, her purse laid fallen open with her possessions spilled out across the couch and her bra hung off the television antenna.

She sighed and gave up, walking around the room she savage what was left. She picked up the bra from its hanging post and put it on, reached for the pair of panties laying on the floor, jerked the plaid shirt off the coat hanger by the closet and turning around to the pile she had left on the floor, pulled out a pair of wrinkled blue jeans. Completing the ensemble with a pair of white socks and running shoes, she took one last look of the apartment before closing the door behind her as she left.

If the weather had been as cold as it was on Earth right then, she would have had more trouble going out as she did, seeing she hadn't brought a coat with her. But the colonies had man-made weather and it seemed the ones in charge had chosen a late winter for this year. There was wind, but not too much, so her choice of clothing was alright for the short visit she had planned.

She reached the mansion a short while later, but didn't want to alert anyone of her presence, so she chose to enter from the back door. The servant's entrance, so no one would take any notice of her. She climbed over the fence with little difficulty; she was after all, a former super heroine - and will probably be again in the future. The servants' quarters were empty today as she entered; he must of known she was coming.

She crept up the stairs letting her feet plant themselves firmly on each step and crushed the carpet underneath with her shoes. There were no other noises in the house other than the sound of carpet squished under her feet. The silence allowed her to clear her mind and prepare for the event that was to come. She walked up to the top of the grand staircase and stopped; turning left she began the last steps that would take her to the floor she wanted.

The door was beautiful. Hand crafted by a master, it had to be. With their wealth, the sisters would have not settled for anything less, and their father had always been indulgent to them with his money if not his attention. Made from the best quality of wood and made into art under the hands of a true artist. Yes, the crescent moon and the stars engraved upon the door clearly showed her, that yes, this was the right room.

The door did not squeak, as she pushed it open, not that she had expected it to anyways. The servants had did a wonderful job of keeping the room tidy and clean, if they were allowed in here of course. The room had all the cheery and cute atmosphere a room for a five-year-old girl should have. Stuff toys lined the left wall, a bed fit for a princess was placed on the far centre wall, cheerful cartoon pictures hung in majestic frames along the right and the room was empty of all people.

Except for her.

And one other person.

He sat with his back on the wall, one leg stretched out in front of him, one leg tucked towards the other knee of the stretched leg with his hands crossed over on top of his foot, his shoulders were slumped and his face was turned away from her, staring at the strawberry-cream coloured wall. His eyes suggested that they might not be seeing the same thing.

Slowly, as if resigned, she walked over to the unmoving figure. Each step closer to the boy made the weight of her shoulders seem heavier and she just wanted to let them fall downwards in exhaustion.

It had been so long since the last time this had happened.

It had not been long enough since this had happened.

He still wore the tuxedo from the night before, all proper and sparkling white with barely a speck of dust on him. The only difference she could see was that he had loosened the black tie from his neck, it looked as if he had tugged at it as if he had been choking, and the top most button had been undone. His black dress shoes lay discarded - kicked off - by the side of the bed, his socks thrown on top of them.

She made her way towards the bed, stopping only when her knee bumped into the mattress. She stared down at him, her eyes starting to fill with tears. She and her heart sank in the same moment as she sat down upon the bed.

He still did not notice her.

Her hand trembled as it reached out towards him and landed softly upon his knee. She did not dare to take a deep breath in this still air, for she did not know what the reaction would be to the disturbance. So she waited, silent and still for his response.

He did not blink or he snap to attention. Instead he slowly turn his head to wards him, his eyes still looking at someplace that was not where they were and his facial expression never changed. His legs retracted towards him as his arms reached out towards her, his eyes looking up at her in a muddled haze for a moment before they dropped downwards, uncaring.

His arms encircled her waist, locked tight and his head buried itself in her lap. No muffle sounds came from him, no words of explanation or any expression of clarification. The only movement that came from him was the shaking of his body and the tightening grasp of his hands around her.

She let her hand fall to the top of his head, and gently smoothed back the hair. She let her hand glided comfortingly down towards his nape before lifting, and settling back where it had begun and did it again. She touched and held him like a mother would a child.

The rhythmic movement did not seem to calm him one bit.

It was the price of empathy. Though it was a gift to some, to others it was a curse. To know what others were feeling, to know what to do to help them, to feel what others felt. It could sometimes heal, but it could also sometimes harm. The price of knowing another's heart - sometimes better than the person themselves - came at a price.

Everything always came at a price; this was no exception to the rule.

Empathy meant knowing another's feelings. Knowing another's thoughts. Knowing what another felt. But the price of this knowing was that there was always another. At birth empaths always had another beside themselves in their hearts. They were never alone, thus they could not become lonely very easily, it could be seen as a gift, but that also meant they were never alone.

It was a concept that could only be understood by another empath.

It was always about someone else and never truly only about yourself. Empaths were never alone in their hearts, their feelings always restricted to having to take in account of everyone else's feelings as well. Empaths could not be selfish without hurting themselves, and thus if an empathy did not learn how to block properly, it was destined they could not be selfish and could only be giving.

But sometimes, giving became too much. Always thinking about someone else became too much. Empaths were humans, and humans are selfish creatures. They cannot always think of another, sometimes they need to only think of themselves, or they would be driven insane.

" Quatre." She whispered.

A sound came from him; it could have been a whimper or a sob, before the emotions flooded her like a dam had burst open. Quickly she pulled up her shield, constructing layer upon layer as fast as she could until she could not feel the swirl of heady emotions around her and confined her own inside herself. She pulled and strained until all her emotions lay only within her own heart.

She strained until she knew no one single hole laid in her shields. She strained until she could not feel her brother within her. She strained until she knew Quatre could not feel her within him. Not one bit.

She felt it in the air, as it grew thick with the emotions pouring out of his heart. She felt it in the air as she drew small tiny breaths as the emotions around her grew so powerful that it eclipsed her own. She felt it in the air as they swirled and emptied from her brother.

And he kept pouring and expelling these feelings within his heart until he could feel himself. Until he could tell the difference that who he was from whom everyone else was. He threw out all the images, passion, sadness, joy, pain that were not his own. He threw them all out until he could feel only himself in his own heart.

This was his moment she would not wreck it. This was his liberation, his release from the chains imposed upon him by his gift. For a few moments he would only be himself. For a few moments he would only know himself.

For a few moments he was going to be tainted - and for a few moments he was going to be selfish.

And finally she let the tears fall.

She stayed with him until his form stopped trembling. She stayed with him as he fell into a dreamless sleep. She stayed with him until his hold on her relaxed. She stayed with him until his breath was no longer laboured. And she stayed with him until he smiled contently in his sleep.

Then she fled.

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Dorothy stepped on the leaves fallen to the ground, discarded by the trees. She had escaped from her hotel room sometime only after a few minutes she had woken up with the common after effect headache known as a hangover. The room had felt too stuffy and far too quiet for her and she had to get away.

She had quickly brushed her teeth, washed her face, changed into a new set of clothes and almost ran out of there. She had missed the elevator by 2 seconds but she hadn't minded, she took the stairs instead opting for some morning exercise that included running down 18 flights of stairs.

She wanted so desperately to go somewhere where she could be warm and feel less lonely, but instead she ended up walking in the almost deserted park at the ungodly hour of 11am on a Thursday. It was very quiet and she made noise by stepping on the crunchy leaves as they covered the ground, as they were apt to do in autumn.

She had on a pair of blue jeans, orange tank top and a yellow windbreaker, finishing it off with running shoes and white socks. Simplicity had been her theme today. A stick of lip balm and a comb were in the right pocket of her jacket while a wallet with not a lot of money and her hotel keys were in the left. She hadn't really taken time with her appearance today, but she didn't really think it mattered seeing the park was almost deserted.

All the children and teenagers were off to school seeing as how it was a weekday, and the older generation had to work. Meaning the only people around were either the skippers - who would have much more fun planned than a walk in the park -, the elderly and the occasional puck or orphan. She felt a pang in her heart at the thought and swiftly pushed the thought away for a later date to think about.

She doubted the others were giving their choice of clothing any more thought than her today. Absently she had pulled out the comb and started on working out her tangles from her hair before she knew it. There weren't much, and not soon after she stuffed the comb back into her pocket but only after she had picked all the hair off of it. And leaving behind several strands of her hair as a sign of her presence, she moved on.

The air was chilly and the wind picked up a little, signalling there might be a storm in a few days. Colony weather was so easy to predict sometimes, while other times people cursed the technicians for surprising them with an unexpected heavy snow or shower. She only wished everything was as simple as the weather.

She had reached a small pond, and staring at it, she looked down to see tadpoles and fish swimming from one side of the water hole to another. There was something to be said for melancholy, but tilting her head back and looking up to the sky weren't bringing any words to her mind.

She wondered when they would be back in England. The small but comfortable house on one of the less busy streets, the pretty and pert garden filled with colours of many followers, the safe and silent neighbourhood, the tolerant and friendly people, and the life they had created away from the wars and this past. She missed it, longed for it. She wanted to go back to Earth, the Colonies held nothing but bitter memories and pain for her.

" It seems the birds are migrating to the south again." A voice commented behind her.

She whipped around to stare at the new arrival, knowing who it was before she even saw him, for she knew that voice almost as well as her own. The soft and gentle melody that played itself over and over again in her dreams, and in her nightmares so many times there was no way she wouldn't be able to recognise who it belonged to.

She gave him a half smile, it was all she could manage at the moment, and looked back up to the sky. And for sure, there were flocks of birds she hadn't noticed before, flying overhead. They formed many different patterns as they swarmed together in a crowd and navigated towards a warmer place. But she wondered where they could go, trapped in this dome of man made city floating out in space.

" What south?" she questioned.

" Pardon?" he looked at her confused.

" Where can they go," she clarified, " in this closed up environment. There is no place for them to fly to."

He blinked at her, " I suppose they usually go to the Migration Dock."

She cursed at herself inwardly for her own idiocy. Of course that's where they went, she had lived in the Colonies for 16 years of her life, she knew where the animals went. There was a special dome for the 'migrating' birds to go to when they 'migrated' for the winter located at the south end of each colony. The dome, called Migrating Dock, was opened during the fall for the birds to go to and closed for the winter, only to release the birds again in the spring. Such was the pattern here in space.

" Ah, of course. How stupid of me to forget." She had been on Earth and its wonders for the last few years, she had forgotten that up here in space, nothing was the same.

Nothing was free.

But then again, she wondered who decided that birds were free. Even though they could fly as they desired, if there wasn't a branch to rest their wings, they might even regret the having wings to fly. The true freedom might mean having a place to return...

" We all do that sometimes." He said smiling.

She stared back down at the pond, and try as she might, she could not stop the emotions from taking over her heart. All the frustration, confusion, hurt, anger, pain, bitterness and the bittersweet joy she had kept at bay since yesterday, flooded her heart at this moment and she wished she were anywhere but here.

With him.

She wanted to run, away and far from here, from this person who had taken the time she had been silent to walk up and stood next to her. From this person who looked over at her with a concerned gaze, feeling the turmoil in her heart even though her face was impassive. From this boy she loved, and from this man she was scared to face.

She might have had time had she any warning her emotions would tumble so much and so fast in such a violent manner inside. She would have come prepared of she had known she would run into him. She wouldn't be here if she had known.

But she hadn't and she had to do with what she had got. As quick as she can, she gathered the skills taught to her with living with Usagi for a year. Living with half-empath who was a very sensitive girl even if she hadn't had the gift, made the option of learning the ability almost a necessity.

Slowly, as fast she could she began building. Piece by piece, each placed with care, secure and safe, she constructed her shields. Living with Usagi had given her the choice of learning this skill; being the privacy-valued person she was made the option necessary.

She could never be as strong as Usagi was at it, and her shields would never match up to those of her housemates, but it did the job. She created a filter if not a wall for her emotions. Instead of freely flowing inside her heart and bared naked to any empath around, they wouldn't be able to feel her emotions as if it mixed with the very air they breathed. Instead they would be able to only feel what a normal but very sensitive person would.

Which was basically nothing if you weren't staring at her and wondering about her and what her feelings were.

She concentrated on erecting her shields, as it took much concentration and was stubborn in not looking over at her companion, so she did not see him stiffen and look at her with wide eyes as he felt her slowly but surely lift the pressure of her presence on his heart.

A million things flashed by in his unreadable eyes, as she was not watching. Slowly, as if a decision had come about that he did not know about, he reached out towards her with his mind.

No.

Mind was wrong. He was an empath, not a telepath. His power came from his heart and not his mind. No matter how powerful it might be, or how much any one told him different, or even how many times told him his power of empathy was almost bordering on telepathy.

Even he forgot sometimes.

He showed no indication outwards on his face or his movements as he stood standing perfectly still while he steadily focused his power on her and reached - reached - towards her heart. He felt her putting up shields, and as surprised by the fact he was, he wanted to test those shields. How strong they were, how long they would last. And how much power it would take for them to come tumbling down.

He pulled back, and if her expression of looking inwards rather than at him, showed she had not noticed his action. He watched her carefully, questions building up in his head like snow on the ground during a blizzard. Who taught her how to create such a shield, how did she manage to learn, and why did she feel she had to put them up.

He had felt them, only grazing over them carefully in the equivalent of placing your hand on a wall and letting it slide carefully across the flat plane. They had felt like silk: soft, smooth, and just as slippery. Her shields rather than blocking off his power from her, discouraged them, letting it slip by like a pebble in a stream rather than a dam forcing back a river.

Her shields weren't very strong, it wouldn't take much to bring them crashing like rumbles to the ground. In fact it would take very little. It was full of holes and very vulnerable, open to attack if any empath took the chance to. Like he was taking now.

Dorothy kneeled over and clutched at her heart as a blinding pain ripped through her. She gasped for air, feeling as if she was choking as her lung constricted to the pain. It hurt, it hurt a lot. But it didn't hurt as if she had cut herself or broken a bone. This hurt was a different sort of pain.

Her heart was hurting. It made her want to cry, scream, and yell at the world's injustice. It felt like her heart was laying in pieces on the ground and no one seemed to care. It tasted like bitterness on her tongue and a balm to the darkness in her thoughts.

She felt like her heart was breaking.

It wasn't physical pain she was suffering from, it was emotional.

But this pain wasn't new. Hadn't been new to her for a long time. For about a year and a half actually. For about as long as she knew Quatre Rebarba Winner, the man standing next to her. For about as long as she loved this man standing beside her, and just as long she knew she could never have him.

The heartache was becoming almost too much. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes and her body contracting in the response to the urge to cry. If she didn't take control of her body now it would no doubt being to shiver and from there she would be undone.

She took a deep breath and got off her knees. She couldn't get her hands to unclench from the fabric of her shirt above her heart though; it hurt too much to do so. She wanted her bed, her feather mattress she crawled onto countless nights for the same reason, her peach sheets she would curl herself under for a feeling of protection, and her soft pillows that she would soak with tears.

" Excuse me, Mr. Winner." She said in a rush with her trembling voice.

He didn't say anything and she didn't want to look up at him. Her eyes focused on the ground beneath her feet as it disappeared beneath her, she ran. She took off in the direction the hotel was in and fled.

She knew that it was shameful.

Dorothy Catalonia did not run away from her battles.

But it would have been more shameful to her if she had let him see her tears.

She ran half-blind up the stairs and back up to her room. Her sight was beginning to get bleary but she tried her best to fight back the wetness gathering in her eye. When her fumbling fingers finally got the key to open her door she rushed in as if Hell were on her heels and quickly and violently slammed the door shut. She locked the door and hurried to the bedroom, uncaring that her shoes were still on or her jeans were muddy from kneeling on the mud from the park, she threw herself onto the bed.

And promptly burst into tears. So consumed with her sorrow she had not noticed the man she loved had gazed after her retreating form as she ran from the park.

And the stark clarity of his eyes that could've meant anything as they stared after her.

*** Owari No Shou ***

Hiasobi: I know this chapter took a lot of time but all I have to say is that murder is a crime, and if you kill me you won't be getting anymore updates at ALL. (: p)

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