Title: For Want of Sleep—part 3 Author: Lilac Summers salaices@stanfordalumni.org 10/29/03 Be afraid, for the end must be at hand. The first sign of the apocalypse is upon us: I have updated! Some said hell would freeze over first, and I'm not too sure it hasn't, myself. In any case, I really hope you enjoy this. Part 4 will be out before I have grandchildren. :) Lilac --….-- signifies thought ======= separates real time from dream time ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ FOR WANT OF SLEEP Part 3 The door shut with a certain note of finality that left her fidgeting in the bed. It seemed uncharacteristically huge to her, this wide expanse of sheets and mattress. She wanted Mamo-chan here with her, holding her close, warming her up, filling the bed so that she didn't feel lost and little and insignificant. It would be so easy to just call out his name...even whisper it softly.... She knew he would hear it in his mind and his heart and come running, slipping into the bed with her to gather her close and murmur that he loved her as she let him take the fear away. His arms would sweep around her to cocoon her from the cold, his warm breath playing over her ear as she reveled in the feeling of his heart, pumping sure and strong beneath the hand she would splay over his chest. Slowly she would come to realize that her heart beat in tandem with his; it would surprise her again, as it always did, that they were tied so intimately. Her own breath would slow and soften as she cuddled close, her tired eyes would begin to dip down... -wake up, you can't fall asleep!- ...down as her brain and body would fall into rest... -don't you dare fall asleep!- But it was really quite impossible to listen to that urgent little voice in the back of her mind, as her limbs seemed to be sinking into the mattress. No matter that she knew the horror awaited her on the other side of consciousness, her body refused to move, her eyes refused to open. She tried with a growing sense of panic to open her eyes, to fumble out of the lethargy that covered her body. Yet even the panic was subdued, as though buried under layers of cotton. All she could focus on was the mental picture of her Mamo-chan holding her in sleep as her breathing evened up and her body sunk--so very tired--with relief into the bedding. -WAKE UP!- And she slept. ====================================================== The teacup he'd been staring at for the last twenty minutes fell to the floor and shattered. The sleeping pills he'd mixed into her chocolate had finally worked. In exhausted sleep, Usagi could not maintain the subconscious wall she'd placed around herself; the terror, desperation, and hopelessness she felt flooded into him with the strength to drop him to the floor, clutching his head. He hadn't thought--hadn't imagined--she'd been hiding all this. ====================================================== Pain. It would be the first thing she'd remember, the last she'd ever forget. Flame seared her skin, leaden ice froze her veins, and all the while, her head seemed determined to crack in two. If the feeble light from her "pure heart" kept her from actually being killed by the forces that protected the self-made universe, it did nothing to dull the pain. The strain immediately made her lose her transformation, all her energy lost in forcing a path into the foreign dimension. The degree of the pain was too ridiculous for Usagi to even consider screaming--she was too caught up in agony to think at all. Then it was gone, leaving her reeling, panting, crazed. The abrupt secession dulled her other senses for a moment; however, clawing her way up from near-unconsciousness had the unfortunate side-effect of returning her sense of smell. The stench reached her first, an amalgam of ashes, flesh, blood, and the darker, underlying essence of death. It reached out like a corporeal hand to take her by the throat and squeeze, so strong it clogged her throat and made her stumble. She covered her nose with her hands and tried to take short breaths through her mouth. The air was so thick she could actually *taste* it as it coated her tongue and teeth like invisible slime. She stopped breathing altogether until she turned blue, and gasped in reflex. Only to gag again. The cycle continued for several moments more. It was just a smell, she had to tell herself. If a smell brings you to your knees, how can you even hope to help Hotaru? She forced herself to take a deep breath to get used to the stench. It almost hurt going into her lungs, the smoke stinging her eyes. --get used to it and move on.-- Her head reeled, vision swayed, then slowly focused as her sense of smell dulled with the passing seconds. Pleased with the minor victory, she reached for her broach to transform. Nothing happened. Confused, she unclipped the bauble and shook it, as if it might jar some lingering magic lose. Again nothing. Usagi allowed herself a resigned shrug before pinning the broach back onto her shirt. She only hoped that when she needed to fight, the power would obey her again. Carefully—even more wary since she no longer had the protection of her sailor suit—Usagi ventured forward, the faraway light coming closer and closer. Though it had looked white from the distance, she came to realize it wasn't. It was reddish around the edges. The closer she got, the more distinct the red became. Something inside her told her to brace herself. A smell like that had to have a source, and it wasn't going to be anything pleasant. The darkness around her had lightened into shadow. When she stopped to try to focus, she could just make out dark figures writhing along the side of the "road" she walked on. Alarmed that they--for she thought they were human-- needed help, she edged towards one and kneeled a hands-width away. It was so dark...she couldn't make out what was wrong, and it was making some muffled sounds that might be pain. "Are you okay?" she whispered, not quite daring to reach out because a niggling little voice told her to keep away....But "they" might be hurt, and.... --keep away-- ...and if she could help them... --keep away-- But Usagi was never one to turn away. She reached out and the figure turned to her with startling swiftness, latching onto her hand with a surprisingly strong grip. Usagi fell back with a shriek, tugging desperately on her arm as the sounds that the *thing* made became clearer. Laughter. It had been laughing-- hoarse, gurgling chuckles that rolled over her and set her blood roaring in her ears. Usagi, so used to laughter herself, had never known she would prefer a scream of pain instead of laughter. "Let go!" she shouted and continued to struggle, kicking now, desperate as she saw the other dark *things* making their pained progress towards where she struggled. It bit her wrist. Usagi screamed with pain as the laugher around her soared. Her other hand reached for the thing's head as it continued to sink its teeth into her hand. She found hair, wrapped her hand around it, and pulled. The thing stopped biting. It raised its head as Usagi pulled, angling towards her just perfectly enough so that the feeble light from the road could illuminate its features, and Usagi could finally see what exactly had attacked her. It was Naru's face she looked at. Her childhood friend, grinning at her dumbly with a blood-smeared mouth. Usagi's mouth opened, but nothing came out. The scream was stuck in her throat. Everything inside her went cold with the shock. It...it just couldn't be her. "Naru-chan," she managed, not believing, not comprehending as Naru lowered her mouth to another part of Usagi's arm, bit, and it hurt. Coming at her from the right was another *thing*; Usagi's numb brain could see that the light would eventually reflect on thick, heavy glasses so much like the ones Umino wore. This time Usagi's scream broke through. She yanked at Naru's hair with as much strength as she could, feeling the limp reddish strands break under her grip with a sick tearing sound, hearing her own scream merge with Naru's wheezing chortling in some macabre sort of melody. Usagi didn't know how she got free, but when next her mind clicked back on she was doubled over in the middle of the road, cradling her bleeding wrist in her left hand, and sobbing so hard she shook with it. "N-Naru-chan?" Her friend wasn't supposed to be here. How had they gotten to her here? She had to save her. She had to get her out of here with Hotaru-chan, then everything would be okay. Naru...Naru-chan wouldn't attack her on purpose. She had to go back and get her. God, she didn't want to go back. Usagi stilled at the thought. Horror twisted her features. How could she even *think* about not going back? What kind of a person was she to even *play* with the idea of not going back? She forced herself to her feet and dashed for the darkness beyond the road again. "Naru-chan!! Naru-chan!" Where were the figures? There had been so many of them a while ago, all lying by the side of the road. They hadn't been able to walk, where had they gone? "NARU-CHAN!! UMINO-KUN!!" She ventured further, screaming herself hoarse, clutching her wrist as it continued to throb and trail blood. But she couldn't find them. It was as if nothing had ever been here to begin with. Why weren't they there?! --Because they're not real-- that voice inside her told her dully. -–Get used to it and move on.-- She was back on the road again, not remembering the trek back, staring with glazed eyes at her bloodied arm. How could she be sure they weren't real? If they weren't real, why did she still have the bites on her arm? What if the only reason she couldn't find them was because she'd run away the first time? How could she know that Naru and Umino and maybe other innocent people weren't out there, somewhere, that the only reason they weren't getting help was because she'd run away? --Get used to it and move on-- Of their own volition, her feet started moving forward again. Hotaru. She had to remember Hotaru. --They weren't real...they weren't real...-- But the doubt that they were, and that she'd failed her friends, dogged every step. ==================================================== His wrist throbbed. He clenched it with his other hand and hugged it to his body. He could do little more than lay there as waves of Usagi's emotions washed over him, threatening to drown him. He could *see* what she saw, feel what she felt. His only lucid explanation was that it had been building inside her for so long, when she'd given into sleep it had traveled over their link like a freed animal, teeth snarling and sinking into him. She was walking now, he could see in his mind. She fumbled along a dark road, eyes glazed with shock and very large in her pale face. Blood ran down her arm from the multiple bites, but she did not notice. In the struggle, one pigtail had come free and traced the dust behind her. The dim light made the straggling tangle of hair look like a golden rope, as if Usagi wore a hangman's noose whose end had been cut to trail behind her. With an anguished groan he fumbled around until he had finally turned over to lie on his stomach. He tried to orient himself toward the bedroom door, but it was difficult to make out reality from fantasy with the double image of Usagi playing before his eyes as she seemed to phase in and out between the room's furniture. It was easier when he closed his eyes; the scenes continued to run behind his closed eyelids like a little horrific play, but at least the sight of his apartment didn't interfere. Usagi's phantom pain continued to run through his body as he began to drag himself towards the bedroom door. Emotions kept ruthlessly crashing into him, becoming a physical weight that pushed his body mercilessly to the floor. Inch by inch, feeling his way with outstretched fingertips, he made his way across the carpet and towards the bedroom. Inside his head, the dream unraveled. Insanity and logic fought a bitter war as he battled to keep his psyche from being sucked into Usagi's memories. A few times he lost his way, for endless moments losing all sense of self and actually merging with Usagi. Only the fierce determination that he had to get to the real Usagi in the bedroom forced him forward. Inch by inch. The few feet of beige carpet leading to the bedroom door stretched into infinity. But inch by inch, he'd reach her. ============================================== She did not know how long she walked along that featureless road. What may have been minutes seemed eons as she had no reference point to gauge the distance. There was simply nothing now, except the bland dirt beneath her feet, the fathomless darkness to her right and left, and the red glow off in the distance. The reddish light became harsher, the smell more unbearable. She forced all her attention on her feet, her dirty mary-janes kicking up puffs of chalky dust. Gray gray gray gray; every now and then she had to stop, rub her eyes, and look at the blue of her school skirt to remind herself that other colors existed. Eyes directed down again, the sudden intrusion of a stark yellow line in what had been an infinite stretch of blandness made her falter. The dirt became asphalt only two steps away from where she'd stopped. Confused, she raised her head and beheld the beginnings of a street, buildings rising from the inky shadows around her. She turned to look back at the way she had come, and then had to blink several times when what met her gaze was a continuous road, flanked by shops and streetlights as if she had been walking in the city all along. The dusky road she'd traveled on had simply vanished. Somehow, she wasn't all that surprised. Resigned, she turned back around and continued, seeking some familiar landmark to clue her in as to what part of the city she was in. She knew it was Tokyo, though she could not place what district she was in. Around her the buildings were crumbling, derelict, disquietingly still. Fidgeting nervously for a moment, she turned an awkward circle as if Ami might pop out of one of the doors and shout "Hey, Usagi! I've figured it all out! Follow me!" What she'd give to have Ami here with her. Any of them. It had been a long, long time since she had faced the darkness alone. Perhaps she had become coddled, secure that a rainbow of skill was always looking out for her. If she bumbled into the way of danger, thunder would strike the threat still until she could get away. If she were confused and out of ideas, a rich fog would lift and give her room to think. If she needed time to charge an attack, golden chains would hold the enemy still until she could attack. If backed against a wall, a ring of fire would surround her like a gentle wall, flames warding off danger. And above all, velvet black would be at her beck and call. For strength, for courage, for love…always there, her shadow protector. But he was not here now, when she perhaps needed him most. None of them were. Only she was here, with her scraped knees, bleeding hands, and failing courage. -But you'll have Hotaru with you soon—she told herself firmly. And if she was here alone, it was for a reason. She gathered the tattered edges of her nerve and draped herself with the invisible armor. She had to fool herself into thinking it would be enough. ====================================================== There was little left of a sprawling city that was once Tokyo. Proud as it had stood in its grandeur of shining glass towers, neon-tinted streets, labyrinthine subways, and jumble of humanity…all that was left were skeletal buildings and crumbling walkways. As for its humanity, it remained in the grotesque piles of bodies that littered the streets. Some reclined in half-open doorways, peaceful-looking in seeming slumber, as if a confused sandman had simply chosen the wrong time to visit. Others lay in crimson-coated pieces, and there was no mistaking the fact that they had been slaughtered by some unknown force. There was no rhyme of reason to the destruction, only a sad finality. Through this, Usagi trudged on sickeningly afraid. She picked her way through rubble, not daring to let her gaze linger overlong on any one sight. There were plenty of bodies, many scattered in her path, but thankfully most lay peacefully over the sidewalks. Corpses. She repeated the word in her mind because she needed to remind herself constantly not to dwell too long on the fact that they were all that was left of people she'd known, or once passed on the street, or simply co-existed with. And as long as she paid attention and stepped carefully, she would be able to avoid the worst of them. She was nearing the Juuban district, which she hadn't realized until she was passing the Crown Arcade and Fruit Parlor. She walked by the front doors, eyes strictly forward, mentally forbidding herself to glance inside. No, she wasn't going to look. She would NOT look. Her head betrayed her long enough to turn and direct her gaze inside, looking though grime-smeared windows. Then her feet followed, stepping over twisted metal and shattered glass, what was left of the sliding glass doors. The arcade was eerily peaceful. No ringing bells, jingling tokens, or teenage boys trash-talking as they hogged the fighting machines. It took her eyes a moment to interpret what exactly it was she was seeing; for a hopeful minute she thought the arcade was still occupied. She began to step further into the main room before she paused to simply stare in a sort of revolted fascination. Inside, twisted shapes were frozen in mimicry of life. They had died particularly violent deaths, burned beyond recognition till they were little more than pillars of ash, keeping their form through a stroke of sadistic luck. What may have been two teenage boys were hunkered over a game machine. A group of girls sat in a corner booth, meals undisturbed. Their bodies still leaned forward toward each other, clustered protectively as female cliques are wont to do, always as if important secrets were being whispered over the table. And when she turned to the juice bar…dear Motoki, standing still and lifeless by the dusty counter, ash-formed hand clutching the rag he'd used to wipe down tables. She could not cry. She had nothing to shed, for the tableau was too tragic for tears. Tired, she sat at her usual stool by the counter and looked up into the black sculpture of ash that used to be his face. "Hi Motoki-sempai. One Deluxe Choco-Shake, please. You know how I like it." She closed her eyes and imagined he replied, "Sure thing, Usagi!" He'd place it in front of her, a huge glass filled with a tower of chocolate shake, whipped cream, chocolate sprinkles, and a chocolate-dipped cherry. She'd be close to drooling, and he'd grin in the way that used to set her 13-year-old heart aflutter as she gloried in her first crush. "Here you go. Don't drink it too fast, Usagi, it'll give you a headache!" But when she opened her eyes, the counter was empty of anything but thick soot. Motoki continued to grin with a toothless mouth on a featureless face, forever captured in the act of cleaning. "Arigatou, Motoki…" Standing, she dug in her pocket and fished out 500 yen. Funny, usually she never did have quite enough. "Keep the change," she whispered, and placed the coins gently on the counter. When she walked out, she did not look back. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Hours later, she knew she was going mad. She had thought she could keep it together. After the fruit parlor, she had believed that perhaps she was stronger than she thought. Ignore the destruction around her, the senseless cruelty, keep placing one foot in front of the other, and she would be okay. She passed streets that had familiar names but seemed to spark no true recognition in her muddled brain. Everything slowly appeared to be closing around her, buildings and trees flanking her path like evil sentinels. Half-formed ideas flittered through her head as quickly as junked-up fireflies. She had tried going home or to Mamo-chan's apartment. After spending hours seeking the right path, she came to understand the warped city around her shifted, turned her around, kept her strictly on the course it intended for her. So she allowed herself to be directed and continued forward, somnambulant, numb. If she heard weeping to her left, scuffling to her right, or a pitiful "Usagi…usagi…" that may have been the wind or her broken mind…she ignored them and kept counting each shuffling step trod over broken asphalt. "….Ussssagiiiii…." She broke into a run, lurched, tripped, skidded face down and felt the skin tear from her palms and forearms when she broke her fall. "I wish you were here," she whispered to herself as she felt blood begin to sluggishly seep from the scrapes. The salty taste of tears entered her mouth as she rested a burning cheek on the dirty street. Why hadn't he been allowed to be with her through this? To be there to reassure her that she wasn't going crazy, that everything around her was false, to steady her with the caring in his blue eyes. "I wish you were here," she repeated again, lifting painfully onto her feet, not noticing what it was that had tripped her. "I wish…" "Wish you were here, wish you were here, wish you were here, wish you were here, wishyouwerehere, wishyouwerehere, wishyouwerehere…" The sentence had become a warbled litany that she breathed through chapped and peeling lips. Though of course, she didn't wish he were there. How terrible, the thought that he might witness the cracked buildings, corpse-strewn street, and burning sky framing it all like some twisted piece of art. So instead she pretended he was there with her, urging her forward, leading her steps around an out-flung hand, yellow party dress, child's head… Usagi dropped to her knees beside the blank and glassy stare of stolen innocence and retched miserably. She curled into a sobbing heap a few steps away from a tiny patent-leather shoe, biting down on the scraped knuckles of her hand to muffle her cries. "wishyouwerehere, wishyouwerehere, wishyouwerehere" Until exhausted from crying, she wiped a grime-covered hand across her mouth, stood once more, and kept going. Without knowing, her right hand reached out to empty air and curled protectively, holding the hand of a specter that resided only in her mind. And when she suddenly began to scream her mantra into an unhearing crowd of dead bodies, she didn't even notice. But the echoes came back to remind her. "Wish you were here." ===================================================== A few steps and several dimensions away, Mamoru had pushed himself against a corner, curled into a quivering ball as his own tears fell in cadence with Usagi's sobs. His own hand held onto nothing, as well. __________________________________________________________ ======================================================= To be Continued. Hey, it only took me two years to get this out! I'm guessing it will only take, what, three more to get this thing completed? Anyway, one more chapter left. Look for it before the end of this millennium!