Sailor Moon Fan Fiction ❯ My Heart Will Go On ❯ Memories of You ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Sailor Moon or the songs incorporated with this story, I'm just borrowing the characters and screwing with their lives to my amusement for a bit. No harm done (p.s DON'T SUE!)

Warning: This fic is rated R for *takes a deep breath* character death, strong language, drug abuse, thoughts of suicide, non-descript nonconsensual sex, shoujo-ai, and anything else I might add. ^_^ This story is not for Michiru (Michelle) fans or fans of the HarukaxMichiru (AmaraxMichelle) pairing. OOC-ishness, slight AU (not a lot of senshi scenes), slight Michi-bashing and uber untraditional pairings.

Anime and manga storyline (Hotaru is with the professor, Setsuna half lives with Haruka and Michiru and the other half at the time gate, Chibi Usa's in the future and Mamoru is in the US.) Set post Stars and after my other fic, Caught In The Rain. (though it doesn't really come up) Attacks may differ `tween NA, Japanese and Manga names and be from different seasons.

This story's pairing is HarukaxMakoto (AmaraxLita) and depicts alternative lifestyles (girls-loving-girls, people.) If this offends you, then don't read it! No flames, though constructive criticism (keyword, constructive) is allowed and welcome. Please read and review!

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My Heart Will Go On

Chapter One: Memories of You

Depressed.

It was a word Tenoh Haruka had never used to describe herself. But now the word didn't seem strong enough to express the feeling that had come over her. The deep unyielding anguish that had flooded her soul since that day, the tears that fell without warning or obvious meaning when ever she thought how alone her house felt now that it lacked a certain blue-haired angel.

Haruka was beyond depressed.

The tears fell again as she thought about it, in long rivulets of saline tracks down her reddened cheeks. In the back of her mind, the only part not occupied by thoughts of her beautiful Michiru, she couldn't help thinking that she must look rather ridiculous sitting there on her bed, cigarette clamped between her lips, eyes red-rimmed from lack of sleep, sobbing as though the world itself had come crashing down and she had been the sole survivor.

It felt that way at least.

What had brought on this particular bout of uncontrolled grief? Haruka had gone to light her cigarette, the nicotine a vice she felt she absolutely needed to go on after *it* happened, and was almost positive that she could hear Michiru clearly saying in her stern yet gentle voice that, "Smoking is very hazardous to your health!" And Haruka, probably out of habit had turned to say something cocky in return when she realized that Michiru *wasn't* there and couldn't have possibly have said anything.

With the thought that her sanity was slipping and the reminder of her lost lover weighing heavily on her mind, Haruka had fallen back into the hell she had been living in for the past week.

Gripping a pillow that lay beside her on the bed, to her chest she buried her face in it, her cigarette forgotten and cried until she was sure her eyes would shrivel up from lack of liquid.

The pillow, which had been Michiru's, smelt faintly of the woman that had used it. A mixture of the herbal shampoo she used and the perfume she had worn since Haruka had met her. Scents uniquely Michiru that only served to make Haruka cry all the more harder, if that was at all possible.

Haruka didn't like crying, saw it as a weakness, avoided it at all costs. But that was before. Before any of this happened. Before Michiru died. And she didn't care who saw her cry now.

She had cried that day. Cried so hard, that she could scarcely breathe, so hard that she had had to be sedated by the doctors. And she prayed, to a god she had rarely prayed to before, even in the throes of battle, to take it all back. To bring back her Michiru. But no such thing happened.

She could still remember, though she had tried to forget, when the doctor had walked in after hours of waiting for news on Michiru. And they had told her the last thing she wanted to hear. That Michiru had been severely beaten, raped and left to die in an alley by some bastard that no one had seen or been able to catch.

Of course they didn't say it quite like that. They used sugarcoated words, saying how very sorry they were and how horrible it was when things like this happened. And the inners and Setsuna had been there, all crying and saying how they understood how she must be feeling. But they didn't understand shit, couldn't possible understand when it hadn't happened to them. Of course they had all lost Michiru. But Haruka hurt from it the most.

That was a week ago. Seven grueling painful days. Haruka's world had shattered. Without Michiru there was no point. No reason to work. No reason to go out. No reason to eat, if you didn't count the alcohol she'd drank the night before, `til she passed out in a drunken stupor. No reason to get up in the morning, though her dreams had become haunted with visions of the girl. No reason for anything at all without that reassuring smile she missed so much and that she'd never see again.

As far as Haruka was concerned it was her fault that Michiru died. *She* should have gone out that night instead. Haruka remembered so well the last time she had spoken to the girl.

It had been late, almost eleven and Haruka had been sitting on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table (much to Michiru's displeasure) watching the highlights of a race on the sports channel. She vaguely remembered Michiru saying that they'd ran out of *something* that was very important and that she'd wanted Haruka to go out and get it. Haruka, not turning away from the TV had argued that she hadn't wanted to miss her show and that Michiru was quite capable of going out herself. Michiru, in a very un-Michiru-like-way had grumbled out a string of curses and left slamming the door behind her without even saying goodbye. She never reached the grocery store.

And even in sleep, where Haruka hoped to escape the troubles of her waking life, she was plagued by dreams that left her physically sick, shaking and screaming out for the person she had loved.

In the worst of the dreams and the one that occurred most of all, Haruka would be walking down a street, where'd she'd come to an alley and hear a scream. Turning into the alley she'd find Michiru being raped and when she'd try to pull the man off her, she'd be shot or hit and fall slumped against a brick wall, feeling no pain, but incapable of moving. She'd forced to watch the man take Michiru, her lover sobbing and crying out for someone to save her, incapable of helping, until everything faded to black when she'd presumably succumbed to her injuries.

And with the fear of her nightmares and the dark thoughts pervading her soul, Haruka had fallen so deep into depression that nothing at all mattered. And no one could save her.