I OWN them! Both of them. I do:-D Sees lawsuit pending and runs.

Paris 1986

The little girl's blue eyes filled with tears. Just moments before she had been with her class on a field trip to the zoo, but now rough hands were dragging her toward a small nondescript car. The child struggled, but her cries were muffled as she was shoved into the trunk and all light was cut off as the lid slammed shut.

In the heat of the enclosed space the child fought for air. She was soon hyperventilating as she exhausted herself kicking and calling for help in her native language. She quickly passed out. When she woke up she was gagged, tied and propped against a filthy wall. Her throat was so dry that it hurt to swallow.

She could hear him on the phone whispering in French. "That's right. I want one million American dollars. Unmarked bills." The conversation continued and the man scowled as the person he was speaking to said something distasteful.

"Of course, she is still alive." His gaze flicked to where the child sat trying to press herself into the corner and become invisible. "I will let you hear for yourself."

The little girl was like a frightened mouse as he hauled her up and dragged her to the phone. She thought he might remove the gag but instead he grabbed the flesh under her arm and pinched it cruelly, twisting the tender skin. The child screamed in pain. Even through the rag in her mouth the sound was audible. In the ensuing silence as she sagged, letting the blue black sparkles of pain subside, she heard her father frantically calling her name on the other end of the phone. She tried to answer through the wad of cloth in her mouth, but with the pain still fogging her senses it was all she could do to breathe.

"If you know what's good for you sir, you will pay the money. Or I will start to send your daughter back to you - in pieces." He slammed the receiver down and the child tripped over her own feet as she retreated, closing her eyes and hoping to be rescued. Meanwhile her captor moved nervously about the tiny apartment, muttering to himself and sometimes the girl.

"Do not cry! If your father pays the money, no one will get hurt."

Hot tears slid down the child's cheek as she thought about her mother. It was with this thought she drifted off into an uneasy sleep. She was awakened when the man hauled her up again and dragged her through the grimy foyer.

Colorful lights flickered over the walls in the dimness

"This is an officier de police judiciaire, please surrender the child to her parents."

"Go away!" Her kidnapper shouted out the window.

"Monsieur, you will get your money. Please release the girl. The house is surrounded. There is no where for you to go."

The little girl felt rising elation at the thought of rescue, but her kidnapper's hard hand still bit into her arm. His eyes flickered around the room as he desperately weighed his options. He looked down at his frightened victim. Their eyes locked for one moment in time before his gaze hardened into a cruel mask. Briefly he reached her and she scrambled for the door, but it was locked. In seconds he was upon her and now the solid nozzle of a gun pressed against her jaw.

With that the man threw the front door open, dragging his captive with him. A spotlight centered on them and temporarily blinded the girl, but in a few moments she could see dim figures moving in the darkness beyond the circle of light.

"No one move! I will kill her!" He held the revolver to the child's temple.
The girl wriggled, trying to get free. His tight grip was hurting her.

"Please monsieur. There is no reason for all of this. Her father has agreed to pay, just let her go."

"You are trying to trick me." the man spat. "All of you. I will take all of you with me!" He turned his gun out toward the light, trying to aim at the shadowy figures through the blinding glare.

Suddenly a sharp rapport sounded and the little girl felt something hot fall on her shoulders. Only later would she learn that it was her captor's blood. He'd been shot through the head. A policewoman ran forward and scooped up the child and handed her to some medical workers. They removed the gag and checked her for injuries.

"Papa," she croaked, throwing her arms around her father. He held her tightly, then her mother pressing in. Her beautiful elegant mother, weeping tears into her tattered school uniform. She clung to them, afraid of ever letting go of them again.

Tokyo 2005

In Michiru's hand the paintbrush quivered as she fought to suppress the sudden onslaught of painful memories. It had been so long ago that she had forgotten much of it. Sometimes the details of the kidnapping seemed more like a dream. Her memories of her senshihood were much more vivid. The only true and indelible memory of her childhood had been of standing on the seashore staring out where the sea kissed the sky and knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that she would find her destined one. It had been the summer she'd turned nine while sequestered away on a Mediterranean island to recover from the trauma of her ordeal. That one hope had been enough to banish the lingering fear and loneliness.

"Michiru?" The low voice brought her out of her musings.

"Hai." The lovely young woman smiled up at her best friend. Setsuna was carrying two teacups and she offered one to the violinist.

"You seemed lost in your own thoughts."

The other woman sighed. "Hai. How is Hotaru doing with those applications?"

The garnet eyed woman smiled. "She passed the exam for Tokyo University, but I think she has her heart set on that nursing school in the US."

The violinist frowned. "I don't like her going so far away, but I suppose children have to grow up someday." She took a sip of tea.

Her friend tossed her hair back over her shoulder. "She'll be all right."

"Who will be all right?" Their daughter came in and stood near her mamas.

"You will." Michiru answered matter-of-factly with a smile.

"Setsuna-mama?" Her face lit up. "Is that lavender tea?" The garnet-eyed woman surrendered her teacup to her child who took a quick sip.

"Have you thought any more about Tokyo University?" Setsuna asked. "It's a v ery prestigious college, not many students from your high school will be accepted."

"I was excited that my scores were high enough to get in." Hotaru paused thinking back to all the late nights of hard study. "It was a relief," the violet-eyed girl finally allowed.

"All thanks to your 'education-mama.'" the violinist teased as Setsuna flushed. It was true that it had been the time senshi who had encouraged... more compelled her daughter to do well in her studies. That had been one source of friction between the two women. Setsuna had wanted Hotaru to take advantage of cram school while Michiru saw it as stealing her possibly only chance at a normal childhood. In the end Hotaru's voracious academic appetite had settled the question.

"What's for dinner tonight?" The vibrant eighteen-year-old looked expectantly between her mothers.

"Whatever you fix," Setsuna countered patiently. Since it was Sunday and all of her parents were home, but no one was going to volunteer for kitchen duty.

The teenager made a sulky face, then she looked at her mothers out of the corner of her eye. "Can we order pizza?"

"That's too expensive." Setsuna finished her tea.

Michiru winked at her daughter. "Besides it's not healthy," she admonished.

The dark haired young woman groaned and sprawled on the floor. "Nothing that tastes good is healthy."

"Now you sound like your Haruka-papa."

"Or Usagi-chan."

The women exchanged amused looks.

Michiru reached down to stroke her hands through Hotaru's silky black hair and the younger girl scooted closer and leaned against the violinist's knee.

They sat together enjoying the companionship.

"I don't really have to cook dinner do I?" Hotaru looked up with pleading dark eyes.

Setsuna made an amused sound. "Why don't we go out?"

When her companions looked at her surprised. "To celebrate Hotaru's success," she added.

Their teenage daughter rolled to her feet and gave her mama an enthusiastic hug. "Just let me put on my make up!" she called as she raced upstairs.

Michiru was gathering up her brushes and putting away her paints when she sent an amused glance at her friend. Setsuna collected both teacups and stood up and looked at the artist with uncharacteristically dark eyes. "Who knows how many more times we'll get to do this," she said with a tinge of sadness in her voice.

The violinist smiled softly. "Hai." They paused both thinking back over the past few years they'd spent together as a family. The sound of the bathroom door upstairs pulled them out of their nostalgic reverie. " I'll go tell Haruka." the artist said as she placed her brushes in a can of paint thinner to soak.

Setsuna nodded and disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.

When she finally located the blonde, her lover was attacking the punching bag that she had in the garage. Haruka was wearing running shorts and a sleeveless T shirt and Michiru paused for a moment to watch the muscles ripple beneath the taut skin as the blonde shifted back after an assault on the target. Haruka drew herself in then fired off a round of punches before jolting the heavy bag with several powerful kicks. Seamlessly, she whirled into a back kick that sent the bag flying almost straight up and them plummeting back down jerking the chain hard, Michiru thought that the whole set up was about to come loose from the ceiling.

Apparently her lover thought so too because Haruka stared up with wide teal eyes. And then captured the swinging target and checked its security.
"Shimatta," she whispered and Michiru couldn't suppress a giggle.

Her lover glanced up in surprise.

"Hey," she said and a soft smile graced her lips.

Michiru couldn't keep the flare of desire out of her eyes and Haruka laughed and gave her a seductive look.

The violinist smiled at her partner. She was so attracted to this woman.

Part of her soul dimmed as she reminded herself that this was Haruka's last night home for a couple of weeks. They would have to make the most of it.
"We're going out for dinner." she offered casually.
Surprise flashed in Haruka's eyes. "What's the occasion?" "Well you're leaving tomorrow." Michiru couldn't hide a smile.
"So that's a reason to celebrate eh?" the blonde cocked her hand on her hip, sounding miffed. "Never! But you're going to win right?" Michiru teased.
"Of course," Haruka said with an answering grin.
"Just be safe," Michiru lectured lightly. "Don't let any more upstarts run you off the road"
" Hai. What was he thinking! Bakaya"
"Language," Michiru interrupted her partner.
Haruka's lips curved sensuously. " I don't recall you complaining about my mouth last night"
"As I recall you were doing quite a bit more than talking with it"
A light flared in the dark teal eyes and Michiru felt a frission of excitement down her spine. Haruka's fingertips were suddenly hot on her cool arm. Despite the chill of the garage Michiru felt quite warm.

The door flew open and the lovers froze. "Are you coming?" Hotaru poked her head in.

"Hai!" both her parents answered simultaneously.

Haruka let Michiru go in first. "Just let me take a quick shower." The blonde ran her fingers through her sweaty hair.

They heard a groan from the living room. "Setsuna-mama, I'm going to star-ve!"

"Eat some raisins," came the calm advice.

"Teenagers these days," Haruka muttered and Michiru let out a laugh. The racer hurried upstairs her heavy footstep causing the squeaky step to groan. The violinist made her way to the music room to turn out the lights, caught up in her own musings of love and family, her heart was awash with a feeling of deep contentment.

He sighed as he closed the mailbox, still no reply. There was no reply from her. Maybe she was just too busy with other things going on in her life to write to him. Then again there was that certain someone else. Jealousy tore through his gut. He still remembered the way she'd been smiling at him in the pictures. Letting him know that he was the one - the only one. Maybe if he could talk to her, she would understand his devotion.
She would see that they were soul mates.

He walked to his computer and felt a warm tingle in his stomach as her image flashed on the screen. He loved her so much. He'd even made her his wallpaper image. She would laugh about that and think it was sweet. He pulled up several search engines and typed her name. He was almost giddy at this point. Each one would pull up different articles with information on his beloved and he could go over them at leisure.

His eyes flicked over the screens. Nothing new . . . nothing new . . . wait . . . her name. Was it the same person? He read and reread the online journal entry. This young girl was just learning English and one of her first entries in her new journal on her web page was about her wonderful teacher. He read the name and reread it. It had to be. Of course she would love children. She was perfection.

A few more clicks revealed that the child had posted all of her contact information online asking for pen pals. This was a start! A key to the woman he loved. An hour later the travel plans had been made and he was on his way. He could just imagine her porcelain face lighting up when she saw him. She would realize that he was the one who had written her those poems and letters full of passion. It would be wonderful.

It was midday when Michiru boarded the bus that would get her within walking distance to the house she shared with her little family. With Setsuna and Haruka bringing home much of their money lately, Michiru had taken on some of the duties that would be expected of a housewife and mother. Despite her notoriety, she had successfully co chaired many of Hotaru's PTA groups. The aqua haired woman had felt that it was important to remain involved with the school and a lot of things had come down to office politics. It wouldn't have done for Hotaru to not have a parent to represent her. Now that their daughter had successfully graduated and was contemplating colleges, Michiru had to find new ways to fill up her day. When she'd seen the advertisement for Ikebana, Japanese flower arranging, she had signed up immediately. Once a week they had classes in Tokyo and Michiru would come into town and treat herself to lunch at a small restaurant and go to class. The teacher was being especially hard on the artist, constantly showing dissatisfaction with any of the violinist's floral arrangements. Michiru had recognized the woman on the first day as the aunt of a young man whose affections Michiru had spurned in high school. Such was the way in Japan, the conflict was indirect and unresolved, but Michiru still felt that she had learned a lot from the other students work and her own experimentation. She had connected well with an older woman named Ayano who told Michiru stories about her strong willed daughter and continually griped about her salaryman husband.

The violinist had to be tight lipped about her own situation, but she enjoyed the friendship while she could, knowing with a tinge of sadness that once the course ended she was unlikely to see the other woman again.

Today she had been especially grateful for the distraction. It wasn't something that she could easily explain but the violinist had found it difficult to sleep well the last few days. At first she thought it was only that she missed her lover, but now when she did sleep she suffered from nightmares and a dark sense of foreboding had settled over her heart. She could distract herself from the feeling, but it never quite dissipated.

The aqua haired woman turned her thoughts to the days that stretched ahead. With Hotaru finally have some free time they should go to a movie, it might not be easy to get tickets though - movies sold out fast in Tokyo. Michiru slid her backpack purse from her shoulders as the house came into sight. She pulled out a key ring with small plush chubby Uranus key chain on it. For Michiru it had been love at first sight, but Haruka had hated it from the moment she'd laid eyes on it. They'd settled on making it a private joke between them and Haruka took to referring to her tiny counterpart as "Pudgy-chan." Michiru smiled at the memory as she opened the front door. She slipped her shoes off and stepped inside. From there she whirled into action finishing all of the lingering chores in time to have dinner ready by eight when Setsuna would return. Hotaru showed up at 7:30 and helped by setting the small table in the front room.

"What did you do today?" Michiru asked curiously as she took an elegant mouthful of rice.
"We just hung out."

"Did you visit any museums? Or go to the library?" Setsuna questioned.

The younger woman flushed and finally admitted, "We went to a club downtown. They have karaoke."

"You're not even a college student yet," Setsuna observed, "And already you are behaving like one."

"I'm not out at the bars all night, Setsuna-mama." Hotaru protested. "I'm here spending my evening with you two."

"With a couple of old ladies." Michiru sighed. "Such a pity." She winked.

Setsuna made a strangled sound as she choked on her wine. "Old ladies! Speak for your self!"

The violinist and her daughter immediately burst into giggles while their housemate gave a small smile.

After dinner was finished and the dishes cleared away, Michiru went into the living room to read. Shortly Setsuna joined her to unwind by embroidering a bit.

"Your next creation?" Michiru snuck a peak and the time senshi's current project.

Setsuna was busy stitching flowers into the gauzy linen. "Hai. It's for Hotaru."

"Her high school graduation was lovely don't you think?"

"I think you enjoyed it more than she did," Setsuna observed.

Michiru flushed slightly. "Well, Haruka and I didn't have a formal commencement." Her blue eyes got misty. "I can't wait until she gets married."

"Haruka will just die." There was a note of anticipation and barely surpressed glee in the time senshi's voice and her aqua haired housemate shot her a suspicious look.

With a smile and a shrug Michiru returned to matters at hand. "But first we have to get her through nursing school."

Setsuna made a small sound of displeasure.

"You don't approve of nursing as a career." Michiru sat back, a little surprised. Before Setsuna had taken the job at the observatory, she had worked for a while as the school nurse at Hotaru's school as Haruka and herself had finished up high school.

"It's not that." Her housemate corrected, carefully making another delicate stitch. "It's just... that I worry for her. What if she depends too much on her abilities as a senshi? There will be times when she can't save them..."

"If their destiny decrees that they die?" the violinist asked softly.

Setsuna merely nodded. Silence descended. Who would know better than the senshi who had been ordered to stand by and let time unfold as it saw fit? She hadn't been able to stop the wars or death she'd seen. Pluto was barred from reaching out and alleviating the suffering of others. Of course, she would know the harsh toll it took on one's spirit. They all knew of their daughter's tender heart. Once Michiru and Haruka had taken the little girl to the park where they'd caught a lovely white butterfly. The impetuous child had always loved the delicate creatures and begged her parents to let her keep it. They'd placed it in a small insect cage. The next day the butterfly had been dead. It was hard to tell who had been more traumatized Hotaru or Haruka-papa at having caused her child distress.

However, the violinist knew that the girl had later mentioned the episode to Setsuna again so it must have affected her quite deeply. Sometimes all three parents worried that the senshi of destruction might rebel against the burden of solitude placed on the outers. She cared so much for the world around her and desperately loved the future small lady.

Laughter sounded upstairs where Hotaru was on the phone breaking the elder women out of their somber mood. Both smiled as the indistinct sounds of girlish chatter floated down to them. A squeal caused them both a moment of alarm, but a joy filled shout assuaged their fears. "Haruka-papa!"

Michiru felt her heart leap.

Shortly the laughing teen finally handed off the phone to Setsuna. When the dark haired woman finally gave the phone to the violinist, the time guardian and Hotaru excused themselves to give the couple privacy.

Michiru was still curled on the couch where she'd been reading when Haruka had called. The family had all exchanged pleasantries and now she was saying goodnight.

"You sound tired." Haruka's voice was also fatigued.

"I am," she confessed. "I haven't been sleeping well lately."

"Why?" her lover's tone switched to concern.

"I don't know. I just have a strange feeling lately."

"About the Koneko-chan?"

"No . . . I don't know." The artist sighed in frustration. "I just can't relax."

"Have you tried playing your violin?"

Michiru smiled that her lover knew her so well and understood that the challenge of playing a difficult piece would do her more good than a bubble bath. "No, not yet. When will you be home?"

"Just as soon as I can." the blonde answered tenderly. "Goodnight, Michiru."

"Goodnight, Haruka."

She hung up and lay back on the couch staring up at the ceiling with the phone cradled against her chest. Lately she'd been plagued with an intense unease. More often than not the darker memories from her childhood would assail her at inopportune moments. She felt that those events had no more hold on her life, so why was her mind returning to them? Michiru didn't worry about fate or her destiny anymore, not since it had come to contain Haruka and the others, but she wasn't one to discount an ill omen. Tomorrow she might speak to Rei-chan. She tidied the living room, returning the cordless phone to its cradle and made her way upstairs. She changed quietly into her nightgown and crawled into bed. Without her lover there to keep her warm she often awoke chilled. With a sigh she snuggled under the down comforter.

Sometime late in the evening the front door opened and Michiru heard familiar footfalls making their way down the hall. She leaned up and watched as Haruka put her luggage in the closet. She listened to the soft rustle as her mate changed. Then there was pressure on the mattress and she was being pulled into strong arms. Her lover smelled her hair and sighed in contentment before spooning around Michiru and pressing her lips to the smaller woman's temple. When she became aware of the tension in her beloved's body, she realized that the artist was still awake.

"Go to sleep," she whispered and Michiru found she now could.

Blue eyes opened to the sounds of birds outside her window and soft lemony streams of sunlight brushed the violinist's hand through the open curtains. Michiru rolled out of bed feeling more secure than she had in the last few weeks. Having her partner home had restored her sense of balance. She checked the clock and then hurried through a bath before drying her hair. She went to pick her clothing for the day. She finally decided on a blue summer dress and a pair of white sandals.

As she passed the bed, Michiru looked down at her sleeping lover and smiled. An eye opened and looked up at her. Her partner rolled over and stretched before laying back and smiling up sleepily at the artist.

"Ohayo."

Michiru reached out and took Haruka's hand.

"I'm glad you're home."

The blue-green eyes were serious now. The blonde leaned up at the same time pulling Michiru back down. The violinist felt the same desire as she shrugged out of her robe. Meanwhile Haruka was kicking her boxers and the covers off the end of the bed.

Haruka never got her tank off and she merely lifted the hem of Michiru's chemise out of the way as they came together, the violinist's leg going over the racer's hip. Their tongues met as they worked to get the last of their clothing out of the way.
She clung to Haruka gasping as their nude bodies collided. Haruka kissed her desperately as her fingers found what they were searching for between her girlfriend's legs and they began to rock together.

Michiru strained against her lover as the tension built. Her hand going to hold Haruka's flexing arm. She arched into her beloved's embrace, gasping as shudders consumed her.

It was Michiru's turn now and she enjoyed watching as Haruka's exotic eyes went dark with pleasure. She pressed her lips to the blonde's throat feeling more than hearing the low moans torn from the taller woman.

After the passion between them exploded, they held each other in the drowsy aftermath. Michiru's hands lightly caressed Haruka's sensitized body. She looked up, intending to tell her partner that she loved her but Haruka took her lips and they kissed tenderly expressing feelings that no amount of "I love you's" could ever convey. Michiru pulled away reluctantly.

"It's late. Come on, I have to get dressed. You do too."

Haruka rolled on her stomach and curled her arms under her head. "Why?" she inquired playfully.

Michiru acted as if she were going to pinch one of the perfectly rounded cheeks t hat Haruka was so magnificently presenting to her.

The blonde quickly scooted away. "Oi! Hey, Michiru . . . touch me gently," she muttered into her pillow.

"I have to give lessons today."

"And I could just stay here . . . like this." Haruka's eyes were mischievous as she sat up, crossing her legs.

Michiru gave her a warm look and went to get dressed.

He slipped his car in behind the other that was navigating the rural road. He'd found the girl easily enough. Everyone had been so helpful when he'd explained he was looking for his "friends." He had followed the child for two days and was growing frustrated until finally he had seen her come outside with her violin. Now he was on his way to her house. He knew it. Soon he would see the light of his existence in the flesh.

Michiru had just tossed the last sock in the washer when the doorbell rang. She glided through the living room to admit her excited students. She looked out and threw a quick wave to the cars outside before leading the children back to the music room.
She looked forward to this every week. She loved to teach and help these children develop their gifts. Some of her older students were becoming quite accomplished. Haruka sometimes teased her about the student surpassing the teacher. To be truthful the senshi of Neptune wouldn't really have minded. She wanted to see some of them attain the dreams she would never be able to fully fulfill. She might be able to still do some concerts, but there would be no permanent position for her with a symphony nor any extended travels. As far as she stretched the invisible cord of duty that tied her to Japan it would always inexorably draw her back home.

She turned her attention back to the young man who was just finishing the assigned piece. With an experienced eye she assessed his strengths and weaknesses easily.

"Very good Hi-chan. But you must practice more and watch anime less." She eased the sting of her instruction with an encouraging smile.

The young man bowed quickly. "Hai sensei."

Michiru didn't not dwell on the performance, but moved on quickly. "Next" she called and another child stepped forward to play.

As she let the children out after the lesson the violinist was struck with a deep feeling of unease. She stood at the door and scanned the road. They were fairly secluded here and there wasn't much traffic. Perhaps she was just overreacting. Unaccountably chilled, she went in search of her lover. Haruka was in the back of the house on the phone. Michiru had no doubt that the blonde had several details to iron out before she left for her next race. Haruka looked up and caught her lover standing there and raised a finger.

Michiru shook her head lightly, telling her lover not to worry about ending the call quickly. The violinist could entertain herself. She just felt reassured having reconnected with the tall racer.

He watched the house quietly. It had been his plan to go to her after the children had left, but then the blonde boyfriend had come out to check the mail. He wanted her all to himself for that first meeting. Soon though...very soon. Even though his plans had changed he couldn't bring himself to leave ...just yet.

The next day Michiru was full of nervous energy. She's made the beds, dusted and hung up the clothes her lover had helped her fold, now she was going over the house again and making a list of more chores that needed to be done.

She walked into the living room and ran into Haruka who was heading toward the garage with one of her bike helmets.

"Oh. Haruka, were you going to ride today?"

"Yeah, I was thinking about trying out that new motocross track."

"Maybe I'll come with you."

The blonde looked surprised.

"Sure," she said thought her expressive eyes looked anything but. Michiru liked to come to her competitions, but usually when Haruka went to practice, Michiru was making tracks for the shopping district.

"Or maybe instead we can go to a museum or even the aquarium?"

"Eh Michiru, what's wrong?" Blonde brows furrowed.

"What? Why do you ask?"

"You haven't left my side since I came home. It's not like you." Haruka said it affectionately, but there was a little confusion to her tone.

It was true. Michiru had never been a clingy girlfriend. She was very self-assured of her place in Haruka's life and heart. It was true she preferred Haruka's company to anyone else's, but she never wanted to smother the free spirited blonde.

The violinist sighed. "You're right. I'll stay here."

"Are you sure?" Haruka gave her a speculative look.

"Of course I am. I think I may go ahead and start dinner." The beautiful violist smiled brightly.

The blonde checked her watch. "So early?"

Michiru's smile lit her eyes now. "I'm going to be ambitious." She gave her lover a quick kiss. "Go have fun."

The blonde paused then nodded. Reassured by her mate's tone she headed out the door and Michiru had the house to herself.

The bike started outside and Michiru listened as it pulled away. She had to swallow back a moment of panic, but she sternly scolded herself and went to the kitchen, pulling out various pots and pans.

She lost herself in dinner preparation. The artist had prepared a light rice pudding and was now starting on a complex soup.

The cordless phone rang and she caught it with one hand as she started to grab something from the refrigerator.

"Moshi moshi." she called thinking it might likely be her daughter or Usagi-chan who since her marriage might call any one of her senshi for housekeeping tips.

There was silence. "Moshi moshi." she tried again nudging the fridge closed with her hip.

"Good afternoon." came the accented voice, she couldn't place where it was from though.
"It's me. I just wanted to hear your voice."

The violinist's lips tightened with slight irritation. "I believe you have the wrong number." She said sharply and replaced the receiver.

Michiru tossed a towel over her shoulder and went back to slicing vegetables. The phone rang again. She ignored it. A minute later the answering machine in the living room picked up. "We are unable to take your call, please leave a message after the tone." the dis-embodied voice floated into the kitchen.

"Did you get my letters? I know you did... I know... your boyfriend wouldn't let you reply would he? It's ok now because I've come all this way. We can finally be togethe.." beep

Michiru took a bite of carrot. This man obviously had the wrong number.

The phone rang yet again and she sighed. 'Here we go again.'

beep "Answer the phone! I know you're there, Michiru. I know he left an hour ago on a bike." the voice sneered. "I know that the front gate is open. I see the pink roses growing next to the door. I know no one else is in the hou..." beep

The food in Michiru's mouth turned to ash. 'Masaka.'

This time when the phone rang Michiru was standing over it. Of course the baka caller ID wasn't showing up.

The answering machine clicked on. "Pick! Up! The! ..." The violinist was shaking with rage when she snatched the phone off the hook.

"Do NOT call here again. Do you understand? Never!" She slammed it down. The phone was ringing again in seconds and she reached down and unplugged the unit.

With the answering machine off, the ringing continued to echo through out the house as she went on a mission and soon the upstairs phones were muted as well.

With her anger spent, she wondered what she should do next. She went to the nearest bureau and pulled out her communicator then thought better of it. It was easy to forget that she had a cell phone now and while Setsuna wore her wristband to work, this wasn't a senshi emergency - yet.

She noticed her fingers were shaking as she dialed the emergency number. Another thought hit her and she padded back downstairs to lock the front door. This was one of the things she had appreciated about their isolated location. In the daytime their doors rarely were locked. She leaned against it and thought about whom she should call.

At that moment someone knocked and Michiru jumped.

"Kaioh-san?" He called; his pronunciation was off enough to alert her.

Survival instincts in overdrive she backed away quietly.

"Kaioh Michiru?" The voice was going up in pitch. "Michiru open the door!" It was an order.

"Good afternoon, please state the nature of your emergency," the calm voice sounded in the violinist's ear.

From the shadow of the stairway Michiru saw the knob turn as the intruder tried to get in.
"Someone is trying to get into my house. I need the police." The violinist was surprised at how composed she sounded. At the operator's prompting she gave her address. "Please hurry," the violinist urged the dispatcher.

The man outside began to beat on the door and Michiru made a decision. In two seconds her henshin pen was in her hand and her blue eyes narrowed as she locked in on the door. The operator's voice faded from her mind as she focused on what she needed to do.

Suddenly a familiar voice joined in and the violinist paused. She knew the neighborhood officers and had had them over for tea several times in order to get to know the local law enforcement. She hurried to the door and opened it cautiously. Standing on her doorstep was an uniformed man and a pale foreigner who watched her with bright eyes. His gaze chilled the artist and she held fast to the door prepared to use it as a weapon if she had to try and keep him out.

"Kaioh -san," the young Koban officer greeted the woman.

In moments another policeman was there. He leapt gracefully off his bike and joined the crowd on the Outer senshi's doorstep. He blushed then bowed also. "Kaioh-san. How can we be of service to you?"

Michiru was starting to relax. "This man tried to force his way into my home."

"You don't know him?" the first officer clarified.

"No I've never seen him before." Michiru shot a glance at the man who sweating and seemed to be suffused with a nervous energy. He was watching her so intently. She felt her stomach twist.

"Wh-why are you lying?" he said in a low hurt tone. "I've written to you so many times. I don't understand why you're doing this!" His voice was now a shout and the alarmed officers moved closer. One trying to take the man's arm.

Michiru decided it was time to end this. " I do not know this man. It is obvious that he thinks he knows me, but I wish for him to leave my property."

At that moment he lunged for the artist and caught her wrist. The two officers dove at him as Michiru twisted free. "We were meant to be together!" he yelled.

One of the officers was apparently proficient in Okinawan Karate and he smoothly forced the larger man to the ground. A third Koban officer appeared. It seemed that if the beautiful and sweet Kaioh-san was in trouble there would be nothing spared to ensure her safety.

The first two officers continued to subdue the raving intruder while the third officer went to call for a patrol car. In half an hour the man was on the way to the police station and Michiru was thanking her rescuers. She smiled and bowed, waving as they left, but when the door closed she pressed herself against it as waves of shock rolled over her. She made her way to the kitchen where she ignored her earlier efforts and made a quick cup of tea, adding several cubes of sugar to help her through the shaky feeling.

She took a deep breath and dialed another number.

"Meioh Setsuna," a cool, calm voice sounded over the line.

The aqua haired women took a relieved breath and launched into her story. When she finished the line was quiet until her friend responded.

"You're all right though?"

Michiru nodded to the phone then realized she was still rattled. "Hai."

"I'll come home early. Don't worry."

"Hai," Michiru said again in a neutral voice.

Dinner forgotten she went upstairs and glanced surreptitiously out her window. Nothing.

She lay down on her bed and turned instinctively toward Haruka's side. She pulled her lover's pillow close and held it against her all the while simply listening.
An hour and a half later she heard someone try the knob. She rolled to her feet and grabbed her cell phone quickly descending the stairs to where she could see the foyer.

The door opened and someone paused at the threshold. Michiru hurried the rest of the way down to find her lover taking off her shoes.

"Haruka!" she exclaimed happily and the blonde smiled up at her.

"I thought you might like to go out."

"Tadaima," came another voice.

"Setsuna?" Haruka looked surprised. "What are you doing home so early?"

Garnet eyes met blue. "I haven't told her yet," Michiru confessed.

"Told me what?" the blonde asked slowly.

Two days later, Michiru stepped outside and slid the sunglasses onto her nose. She had just finished speaking with the consultants for a private security company.

The firm was asking her agency for all of her fan correspondence that they had on file so that they could evaluate just how many potentially dangerous individuals were obsessed with her. It had already come to light that man they had arrested and deported had been sending her letters of escalating passion for years.

Haruka had been the one to make sure Michiru spoke with someone as soon as possible. Worried for her lover's safety the blonde had pushed Michiru to take this step. Due to the her high publicity career as World Champion, the racer had a small security task force at her disposal. Granted the blonde's fan base was from a much younger and wilder demographic than Michiru's. Haruka had been catching girls' attention since grade school. She'd even had a fan club at Michiru's own school, quite a feat considering she was the star runner of their archrival. At Mugen things had gotten even more out of hand as the racer's pencils and any unattended personal items began to disappear as trophies. It had gotten so bad that Michiru had taken to keeping a spare tie for Haruka in her locker. She could still remember the blonde's low irritated cursing as her strong fingers looped the silky fabric of yet another tie into the proper shape after her last one had gone missing during gym class.

Most of Michiru's fan base consisted of older more refined individuals. There were some young people, but mostly it was the sophisticated crowd who patronized her concerts. She chuckled to herself as she thought about Seiya's half-hearted attempt at seduction. A fan of hers indeed.

The violinist walked quickly to a nearby bus stop. All of the talk of security and changing the locks to add in a dead bolt had been stressful and now she just wanted to throw caution to the wind. When the bus going downtown arrived the violinist stepped aboard and found a place to sit. The outside world rushed by in a whirl of color and Michiru lost herself in thought. Buses would do, but it wasn't her favorite way to travel. She preferred the privacy and freedom she felt in her girlfriend's car. The convertible was still parked back in the firm's garage. Unfortunately it was hard to find a decent parking space in the shopping district.

When they arrived at the appropriate area, Michiru exited into a crush of people. As a lifelong resident of Tokyo it didn't bother her at all. In fact, there was some security and anonymity to be found as she lost herself in the flood of people. At her favorite store she entered and slipped off her dark glasses as the thrill of the hunt suffused her with excitement. Michiru loved to shop, especially for cosmetics.

She saw a display for set of the new fine point pens that catered to the high school crowd and thought of Hotaru.

The days had long passed when they could delight their daughter with only a pencil board or gashapon figure.

"Are you Kaioh Michiru?"

Blue eyes blinked and she looked over into the expectant faces of a young couple. The violinist nodded slowly and smiled. She was used to being recognized every now and again.

"Can we have your autograph?" the young woman asked excitedly and her companion fished out a pen and some paper.

Michiru smiled and began to write her name. She was rarely able to entertain fans this way - especially with Haruka around. She and the couple were attracting attention and several more people joined the group. At first the questions started slowly but more people recognized her and soon she was surrounded by a crush of people calling out her name.

"Michiru-san what's your favorite flavor of Pocky?"

"When will your next CD be out?"

"Are you looking forward to you European Tour?

"Kaioh-san how is Tenoh-san?"

"Is it true you two are secretly married?" A young woman with spiky red hair was checking her fingers for rings.

"I read that you were carrying his baby!"

"Yes, is it true that you have a secret love child?"

The questions were coming so quickly that Michiru was afraid to answer lest she find herself on the cover of the tabloids tomorrow. The crowed pressed in as it grew. She'd been recognized by fans before and had enjoyed an afternoon of autographs and light discussion, but today she suddenly felt trapped and claustrophobic. Trying to override the sense of panic that was enveloping her she backed up until she felt a display check her progress.

"Michiru-san!"

"Are you all right?"

Black sparkles shimmered before Michiru's eyes and she swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry.

"Kaioh-san are you all right?" A firm hand took her elbow and suddenly the crowd was moving back as store employees and security surrounded her. Moments later she was in a back room and a nervous sales girl was offering her a cup of water.

The manager, a gentleman with long gray hair and concerned eyes, appeared. He escorted his shaken customer to a back exit and offered to call a taxi for her. The artist shook her head numbly and excused herself.

Michiru left and quickly walked the several blocks back to her car in quiet thought. The tension in her shoulders caused them to ache, but she didn't care. She stared at the ground and simply focused on making it back to the convertible.

Once at home the artist locked the front door and leaned against it, trying to slow her heartbeat. She felt strangely disconnected from her surroundings. She went to her studio and began to pull out paints. Pouring her frustration and passion into the work she soon had created a vibrant wall in bold colors that made her feel trapped and despondent. Throwing her brushes in the sink she went hurriedly to her bedroom and pulled out her swimsuit and beach bag. She needed to connect with her element, but something stopped her and she simply sat on the edge of the bed staring at the wall while half an hour slipped by.

She heard a voice downstairs then Haruka came in tossing her keys on the night stand and shrugging out of her jacket. The blonde was complaining about the traffic from Suzuka into Tokyo. She stepped out of her closet and noticed her girlfriend's unusually pale face. The blonde paused in the middle of taking off her shirt.

"Michiru?"

It was dusk when they made it to the beach. Michiru didn't care. After Haruka opened the car door for her, she scampered down to the beach and hurled herself into the welcoming embrace of the waves. It was nighttime before she dragged herself back to shore Haruka was stretched out on a towel in the moonlight while a gentle breeze fluffed her bangs.

Michiru sat down beside her feeling better than she had in weeks. Seeing her girlfriend's closed eyes, the violinist reached out and touched the blonde's chin with a cold finger.

"I'm awake." Haruka answered the unspoken question.

Michiru laughed softly. "It's cold."

"Only to fish."

"Hmph." The aqua haired woman rolled to her side and lay her head on Haruka's shoulder wrapping her arm around the blonde's waist. Her partner wrapped a strong arm around her, cuddling the violinist closer. The lay looking up at the stars while the sound of the waves rushing into shore relaxed them. Michiru could feel the seawater that had still clung to her seeping into her lover's clothes. A short time later Haruka shuddered.

"You're right. It's cold."

Michiru sat up and gathered her things, slipping her cover up over her shoulders. "Hai and it's late."

"Are you ready to go home?" Haruka asked sliding a protective hand around her lover's hip.

"As long as it's with you."

A month passed quickly as Hotaru made final plans and Michiru was bound for England. That night she brushed her teeth and donned her silk nightgown that hugged her body and emphasized her soft curves. After applying perfume to her pulse points she stepped out of the bathroom - to find that she had time to kill. Her eager lover was not waiting for her on the bed, but rather had disappeared entirely except for the open suitcase.
Since Haruka was lost for the moment in the controlled chaos of packing and their room currently looked like a windstorm had swept through it, Michiru slipped on her robe and wandered down the hall to her daughter's room. Hotaru was stretched out on the bed her fair skin bathed in the blue light from her purple Mac laptop. Her dark head bobbed gently to the sounds of J-pop music coming from her Ipod. For a moment the aqua haired woman simply leaned against the doorframe smiling at her child. Violet eyes suddenly noticed her and glanced up. Seeing her mama, Hotaru turned off her music and scooted over to make room for Michiru to join her on the bed.

Little blinking boxes filled the entire computer screen.

Hotaru typed into one of the boxes. "My Michiru-mama's here."

Immediately the violinist found herself greeted politely.

"Instant Messenger" Hotaru explained with a smile.

"So this is what you spend all your spare time doing," Michiru teased. "And here I thought you were reading."

Hotaru made a face and then resumed typing quickly into a blinking box.

sukebepop: Is your mama still there?

darklight0106: Hai She's scolding me for chatting when I should be indulging in more intellectual pursuits.:-p

sukebepop: Education-mama, eh?

sukebepop:-/

darklight0106: No, not like my other mama

sukebepop: Oh yeah I forgot.

sukebepop: Hotaru has two mamas

sukebepop: XD

darklight0106: Hai and proud of it

darklight0106:v

sukebepop: b

A frown was knitting the violinist's brows together. "They know your first name?"

"Hai," Hotaru answered absently as she typed quick replies into other boxes.

"You're telling these people your real name?" A moment of parental panic overrode Michiru's usual hands off approach to child rearing.
The young woman paused. "I've known her forever Michiru-mama. It's ok."

"How can you really know someone over the Internet?"

Hotaru shrugged. "I just do." Her mother could tell the teen wasn't pleased to have her judgement questioned in such a way. Besides she was almost a college student not a grade schooler Michiru mentally scolded herself.

The aqua haired woman sat up and kissed her daughter. The young women merely smiled, her concentration elsewhere.

The violinist's past made her wary, but she didn't want to be paranoid. Maybe she should see someone? There was no reason to become alarmed, but the experience a few months ago had definitely had more of an effect on her than she liked. She couldn't remember the last time she'd answered the phone.

Michiru returned to her room just in time to see Haruka shooting several pair of folded socks across the room and into her open suitcase.

"And the crowd goes wild." Mischievous teal eyes found her girlfriend's and she grinned. Michiru giggled as she closed the door her lover momentarily banished her worries. The taller woman caught her lover and pulled Michiru against her and lazily danced her around the room.

"You seem happy tonight."

"Hai."

"But you're leaving tomorrow so should I be jealous?"

Haruka leaned in and whispered throatily. "Maybe."

The blonde spun Michiru around and deposited her on the bed before climbing on top of her.

He had read that she was going to London now -just the first leg in this tour. He was still furious about how she'd brushed him off. After all they'd meant to each other. She'd let them take him away. Her government had sent him away! That was all past now. He'd find her and make her realize what a terrible thing she'd done.

Michiru stared out the window at the clouds flowing by beneath them as they headed for Heathrow airport. Beside her was an agent from the security firm. He was polite but impersonal. She hadn't wanted a bodyguard but the security firm had insisted, especially after her panic attack in the city a month ago.

She had complained that she didn't need a bodyguard, but Haruka and Setsuna had only exchanged glances that had warned her that arguing was futile. She might be a senshi, but she was still mortal and they wanted her kept safe. With a sigh she hugged her violin case closer.

Once the plane landed, the artist rose and put on the dark glasses she often wore these days. She slipped easily through the crowd of people unnoticed and unrecognized. Lingering always at her elbow was her bodyguard. The violinist indulged in a moment of irony that she a sworn protector of humans now needed to be protected from them. Michiru's escort leaned over to politely collect her luggage.

At that moment she looked up into a pair a burning eyes and felt her heart stop. They seemed to be staring intently at her, her heart stopped. The man suddenly waved ...to someone behind the artist.

"Miss Kaioh?" She turned to face the young security agent, her face pale. "Are you all right?" he asked concerned.

"Hai. I-I'm fine. I just need to sit down for a bit," she lied, not wanting to admit that fear had gotten the better of her. She wasn't used to living in this cage. It had no visible walls but trapped her just as surely. Her thoughts were dark as they stepped into the car that had been sent for them.

The chauffeur pulled up at her hotel a luxury boutique hotel called Threadneedles. The violinist made a note to herself to pick up a souvenir for Setsuna. At this location she was only two miles from Barbican Center where the London Symphony Orchestra played. As she stepped into the lobby her eyes couldn't help but be drawn to the stained glass dome over head.

"Beautiful," she whispered.

It didn't take long until she was being shown to her executive suite. The room was cheerful and far from sterile or ordinary. The bed was swathed in a golden down comforter and the plush carpet gave slightly under her shoes. She carefully set her violin on the bed and headed for the rest room. She quickly unpacked, carefully taking out her evening gown and hanging it up, being sure to fluff out any potential wrinkles.

She was aware of the tension in her body. This would never do. Her muscles were strung as tight as her bow, she didn't even want to imagine how she'd sound if she tried to play. The aqua haired woman debated for a moment and then made a quick call to the concierge.

When she hung up Michiru felt a slight thrill of anticipation and pulled off her traveling outfit. Placing it folded neatly on top of her suitcase. She slipped on the complimentary robe and pulled up her aqua locks into a tight bun just then there was a knock at the door.
She opened it to reveal a petite blonde.

"Hi. Did you call for a massage therapist?" The accent was American.

Michiru gave a relieved sigh. "Yes, I'm glad you're here."

It wasn't long before the therapist was working over the violinist's taut shoulders She found a pressure point and pushed deep forcing the muscle to relax. Michiru groaned as pain shimmered down her side as the compression did its job.

"Too much pressure?" the woman worried.

"Just a bit. I have to play tonight," the artist confessed.

"Oh are you a musician?"

"Yes, I play the violin."

A sharp rap on the door interrupted them. Michiru stiffened. "Miss Kaioh? Is everything all right?"

Michiru stifled a chuckle. "Hai, I'm fine." She heard the soft footfalls as the security agent departed.

"Who was that?" the therapist asked. She sounded irritated. "You tensed back up. I'd just gotten your shoulder worked out." She began smoothing stokes that heralded the traditional Swedish massage.

"He was my security agent." Michiru sighed and relaxed.

"That's better," the blonde said sounding pleased as the tension began to drain from her client's body.

"My partner thought I needed protection," the violinist revealed drowsily and didn't see when the therapist gave her an odd look.

"I guess you can't be too careful these days," the masseuse finally agreed. "There's so much crime in the world."

"Hai," Michiru agreed as the smooth strokes started on her leg. Her mind danced briefly over her life. So many villains, her heart sighed. The kidnaping had made her stronger and it was that event that had so clearly illustrated to her that sometimes lives had to be sacrificed for the greater good. Haruka had agreed when they'd discussed it back during that dark time when they had stalked those with pure hearts. What a bittersweet relief it had been to realize that their lives were those required. As a result of her senshihood, Michiru had long ago become accustomed to the thought of dying, but she'd rather do it bravely on a battlefield than be stalked this way.

The masseuse had moved to her head and with a soft tap to a shoulder she indicated that the time was up. Michiru started from her inner musings. After the woman had left the artist took a quick bath to remove the massage oil. Pulling out her hair dryer, curling iron, and assorted cosmetics she set abut getting herself ready for the performance.

The London Symphony Orchestra was superb that evening. The conductor was delighted to entertain the Japanese violinist and to have her play with them. No royals were present but there were several members of the upper elite. There was a cocktail party before the concert and the beautiful, rich, and famous were all present for the occasion.

Michiru just wanted it to be over so she could return home to her family. So far there was no sign of her panic attack and things were running smoothly.

When her time came to take the stage, years of hard practice came to fruition as she put all she had into her playing.

There was thunderous applause when she finished and after the second encore Michiru went to her dressing room. There was a bundle of dark red flowers on the dressing table. They gave the violinist a moment's pause because of their dark blood red color. Hesitantly she took the card.

"Come home soon. I'll meet you there. - Haruka" Michiru smiled. She suspected that Setsuna had a hand in prompting these but she was touched that her partner had sent them all the same.

There was a knock at her dressing room door.

"Come in!" she called, thinking it was her security agent returning to tell her the car was ready to go since Michiru had wanted to return to the hotel as soon as she could.

The door didn't open and she rose with a sigh and opened it to reveal a young man in his early twenties. His complexion was sallow and the expression behind his glasses was intense.

"Good evening," she said politely, determined not to be afraid.

He stared at her for a second and cleared his throat. "Hello."

She took a small step back and he followed her.

"Michiru." Something about the tone bothered her. It was too intimate.

He reached behind him and she tensed for a moment, but he merely pulled out a copy of her latest CD and a marker. "Would you sign this for me?"

Michiru let out a breath and quickly scribbled her name and nothing else. She just wanted him to leave as quickly as possible.

"Good night." Although it didn't reach her eyes, she smiled as she closed the door. She had a last glimpse of him looking at her the expectant look that was quickly replaced by disappointment.

She leaned against the door and let out a sigh of relief. When she got back to the hotel she was going to order something decadent from room service and not even bother to set the alarm. Maybe the rest would help with her paranoia.

After she had changed, she made a phone call to make sure that the car was waiting for her.
There was a sharp sound at the door. She checked her makeup and then answered the summons.

It was the same young man from before only this time he held a pistol.

Michiru's nostrils flared then took in a sharp breath as her mind sought to override the urge for flight. There was nowhere to go.

For a moment they hung in limbo together, hunter and quarry - predator and prey. Then he fired.

A panicked shriek tore itself from the violinist's throat. There was no way she could dodge a bullet in civilian form. Fortunately, he was too far away and missed hitting her in any vital spot, but a sharp blow to her shoulder followed by blossoming pain told her she'd been shot.

"Why?" Michiru screamed at the man as he stepped forward to get into better range.

"I'm sorry. It's the only way."

Michiru licked her dry lips. "It's not the only way." Her sleeve felt wet, but she didn't dare look at her throbbing arm. If she did she might go into shock and her attacker would win - and dammit she wasn't going to let him.

He trained the barrel on her again.

Refusing to be a victim, the artist let out a primal scream of rage and flew at him knocking the gun up. This time plaster rained down on them as he fired into the ceiling.

Michiru could hear alarmed shouts from outside her door.

"Miss Kaioh?"

"HELP!" the bleeding woman shouted. Her arms were a blur as she struck every exposed and vulnerable part. Her elbow slammed into the guy's solar plexus, forcing him to drop the weapon with a gasp.

He fought to knock her away, but the artist had tapped into a powerful anger that stemmed from the childhood memories of helplessness and fear. The specters from her kidnapping floated around her, fueling her intense rage. She saw an opening and lunged her nails digging into the soft flesh of his eyelid and raking deep.

She heard him shout with pain and suddenly she felt herself falling, falling backwards into an ocean of darkness as the tide of consciousness retreated.

-
Michiru eased her sore shoulder up against the pillow. A nurse came in with some pain medication which the violinist refused. The artist's thoughts were elsewhere. The woman slipped the tiny plastic cup into her charge's free hand.

Michiru's fingers traced ran over the buttons on the TV remote she held.

"Do you get any sports channels?"

"We get a few," the woman replied as she poured the aqua haired woman a glass of ice water.

"Any that show the Grand Prix?" Michiru was casually flipping through channels.

The nurse suddenly seemed to realize why the patient was so determinedly flipping through the channels.

'The boyfriend . . . '

"Let me ask Dr. Watson. He's quite the fan." She had already turned to go and so missed seeing Michiru place the pills back on the tray table.

Meanwhile Michiru held down the channel button. Her eyes fixed on the tiny set suspended from the corner of the room. There was no way she was going to miss Haruka's race, even just watching her lover would relax her until she could be in Haruka's arms.

The sounds of a crowd caused her to pause and she gave a sigh of relief as she settled back to watch the cars roll off the start.

"In pole position we have Fernando Alonso. Behind that is Kimi Raikkonen of McLaren. Schumacher, then Miller and Morales of Vinyri..."

'Morales, the test driver?' Michiru bit her lip. 'Where is Haruka?'

There was a soft sound and she glanced up to find her partner silhouetted in the door frame. The sight of Haruka's lean frame never failed to cause her heart to skip a beat . . . or two.

Haruka looked unusually pale as she moved to the side of the bed. Her tan fingers reached out and touched the edge of the crisp white sheet. The blonde didn't like hospitals, had never been comfortable in them. Michiru's azure gaze was drawn to where tapered fingers worried the edge of her sheet. She glanced up into dark teal eyes that were suddenly full of naked emotion.

Haruka cleared her throat, but when she spoke her tone was still thick. "When I heard . . . I had to come . . . I had to see for myself that you were all right. I know you told Setsuna to tell me not to come until after the race . . . " The violinist had asked that Setsuna call, because at the time she had been afraid that if she heard that familiar husky voice she might lose her resolve and start to cry. She wouldn't be that weak.

The young woman reached up then for her lover and the blonde hesitated for a moment when she saw the IV cord running to the needle embedded in Michiru's delicate hand. It was only a pause of a mere second and then Michiru found herself enfolded in strong arms that held her firmly and gently at the same time. They embraced each other, each the other's only anchor in this world.

Now that her soulmate was with her the aqua haired woman suddenly found that her strength deserted her and she sagged in the blonde's arms. Haruka gently eased her back against the pillows and arranged them making sure Michiru was comfortable. She noticed her lover's wince and the teal eyes went to the pills left behind by the nurse. Their eyes met in silent communication and the violinist took the medicine without protest. She could tell it pained her partner to see her hurting. Pale fingers caught Haruka's own and stubbornly drew the racer's hand into the violinist's lap.

The blonde chuckled and eased her hip onto the hospital bed. Then she leaned back wrapping her arm around her partner. Michiru snuggled in finding her lover's embrace and familiar scent more comfortable than any hospital pillow. They watched in silence as Nick won the race and stepped out of his car looking tight-lipped and unlike his usual genial self.

"He was worried for you," Haruka offered drowsily and her fingers moved where they were linked with Michiru's as if she were reassuring herself that her lover was really there.

"Hai," was the only answer Michiru could offer as the pills Haruka had cajoled her into taking took affect and she fell asleep nestled against the blonde's shoulder.

Haruka watched her, shock had given way to relief when she'd seen her alive and well. Slowly, gingerly the blonde eased out of the bed. She wanted to know what's Michiru's condition was and how soon she would be well enough to travel because there was no way Haruka was leaving her here alone.

Her mind still reeling the sandy haired woman stepped out to get a breath of fresh air. She needed a moment to clear her head.

"Tenoh-san?" A questioning voice pulled her back from her thoughts. She recognized him as the agent from the firm. Blue green eyes narrowed .

The man took a step back as the racer focused in on him, her eyes smoldering and her expression thunderous.

"I'm sorry about Kaioh-san..." He started to apologize but she cut him off sharply.

"You have a lot of nerve speaking to me of this!"

The man seemed startled but not surprised at her fury. He was ashen as he expressed how sorry he was that Michiru had been hurt at all. He wisely refrained from offering any excuses. The blonde continued to regard him in stony silence.

After he left, Haruka let out a deep breath and ran her hand through her short hair attempting to calm herself. Perhaps she had been too hard on him. He had been doing his job and getting the car, but deep down she had to admit the thought of something happening to Michiru frightened her. How could she live without her best friend and partner - the love of her life.

"I hate that you missed the race," Michiru lamented a week and a half later as they waited for the wheelchair to take her down to the service exit so that they could make their getaway.

Haruka made a dismissive sound. "I'll win the next one."

Michiru cocked her head. "Monaco, ne?" She had always enjoyed that race because of the beauty of the track as the cars raced through the downtown.

"You're coming with me," Haruka stated matter of factly.

One eyebrow raised. "Oh?"

The blonde blinked. "Did you want to go home?"

Michiru shook her head vehemently which caused Haruka to chuckle.

Two days later in Monaco, Yamura, Haruka's mentor and chief designer fussed incessantly over Michiru, making sure she had plenty of water as he deemed it the best thing for her. He also had a bed fixed for her in the team motorhome where the violinist napped while Haruka fine-tuned her car. It was amazing how an entire herd of noisy team members could be silenced with a well-placed glare from their champion and Michiru was able to get some much-needed sleep.

The day of the race Haruka paused at the door to the room Yamura had Michiru in. Before she left to get in her car, she gently opened the door and saw the small figure curled up under the blankets. Tenderness tugged at the racer's heart and she approached the bed and leaned down to place a soft kiss on her partner's temple. Smiling she rose, careful not to disturb her lover's injured shoulder, and left, determined to win this race as quickly as possible. She would win for Michiru.

As soon as the door snicked shut blue eyes opened and the violinist rolled over and reached for the glass of water that had been left for her.

It was difficult but she bathed carefully and got herself dressed. The violinist hadn't realized how dependant she'd become on her lover's help the last few days.

Michiru took a last look in the mirror and was frustrated because her hair fell in a haphazard waterfall around her shoulders. There was no way she could pull it back with her arm in a sling. She was very careful to follow the doctor's orders, she didn't need a permanent injury. She would be able to play the violin again. It was a question Haruka had beat her to asking, the blonde worried about her mate's ability to pursue her passion. The memory warmed Michiru's heart. She followed the racer's career with equal devotion.

She slipped on some sandals and took her track badge looping it over her neck. She wanted to see Haruka win the race. She hurried out into the open air. Monaco was her favorite race because of its downtown course. As she made her way to the garage from the paddock, people smiled and spoke to her.

The violinist had made it to the garage where the rest of the pit crew was watching the race on monitors. Wagner and Yamura were outside in the Pit monitoring the race along with a few other engineers. The artist's heart stopped as the cars rolled off the start line. This was the most dangerous part of the race.

Yamura was focused on the race and Michiru could hear the exchange over the radio. At the same time she was carefully watching the monitor and feeling her adrenaline surge as she watched Haruka's car navigate the racetrack.

"Haruka-chan, you're half a second slower in every lap. Trulli will be catching up to you soon!"

"Hai," the reply was terse as the blonde worked on maintaining control of the car.

"And put some pressure on Webber! Push! Push! Push!" the chief mechanic ordered his racer.

"Yamura, sir.. just look at those front tires, they're almost worn out," a technician briefed the small man.

Michiru looked to where the younger man was indicating a screen.

"We have no choice but to gamble. Most of the front runner tires are in the same condition. Nick is in the 6th place and Haruka is in 4th place now. Even if Haruka does get to 3rd position, there's no way to catch up to Kimi and Alonso... Not unless something happen on the track. These are the last eight laps."

"Damn this track is twisty," Haruka mumbled into her mic.

"What's that?" Yamura asked back. There was no answer as the racer began to close on Webber. Slowly she ate away his lead reeling him in and readying to strike, but he kept her behind him. Haruka stayed calm, but as their war raged on they caught up to a slow moving Minardi that was a lap behind them.

There was no way to get around the slower car as they were in the middle of a tight hair pin curve and then the three cars passed into the tunnel.

"He didn't," someone said in awe from behind the violinist. But sure enough the red car had pulled out and passed both of the other drivers, sliding home neatly in front of the Minardi as they barreled toward the outside.

Webber seeing what had transpired was determined to reclaim his lost position and haphazardly pulled out only to hook the Minardi and crash into the wall, taking the other car with him. Debris was scattered across the track and Michiru held her breath.

"Safety car is out," someone else reported and Yamura smiled wolfishly.

"That is very good news," he said softly. Michiru admired the fierce look on his face and knew that her lover couldn't have better mentor. Yamura wanted to win as much as Haruka did.

All of the cars lined up behind the safety car, effectively closing the gap between all three places. This meant Haruka didn't have to worry about catching up to the two lead cars. The safety car was doing it for her.

As soon as the pieces of nose cone and fiberglass were cleared from the tunnel, the safety car returned to the pit, leaving Kimi Raikkonnen trying to hold back an antsy Tenoh Haruka. With five laps to go the gloves were off and Vinyri and Mclaren were battling hard for 2nd place neither willing to give in.

The blonde effectively kept the pressure on her opponent. Michiru was pleased to see cracks forming in the younger driver's technique. It was soon apparent that her lover was wearing down her opponent. Finally in one corner Kimi misjudged giving the quicker Viyri a chance to slip ahead.

With only two laps to go Haruka is just five seconds away from Alonso and closing. Her car was lighter due to a clever refueling strategy. As they once again neared the tunnel on the last lap Haruka was showing no signs of giving up.

Excitement surged through Michiru as it came down to the wire. Could the blonde pull a win from this? Of course, she could but would fate allow it? The two cars shot into the dark tunnel. Rumor had it that the F1 cars moved at such a speed and their tires had such grip that they could in theory drive on the top of the tunnel. It was several tense heartbeats for the crew as the two vehicles became lost in the shadows for a moment. The second car suddenly nosed out of the single file line. Michiru marveled at her daredevil mate. Twice in one day? In that second Haruka employed the exact same tactic and got most rewarding results as she flew by the surprised Alonso and took the win.

Elation filled Michiru as the roar of the crowd became deafening. She surged to her feet only to find her strength had deserted her and she nearly fell backwards Trembling slightly, she pressed her hand to her head. Suddenly someone gently took her arm. It was Wagner, the strategist. He guided the fatigued young women to a chair. A little nausea swept over the violinist and she knew she'd pushed herself too hard. A young woman brought her water. Yamura helped her to a chair in the relative quiet of the motor home trailer and watched over her until his racer arrived.

"Haruka will be back from the press conference soon", Yamura said conversationally.

Michiru nodded slowly. She was so sleepy. As her eyes drifted closed she heard Yamura lightly scolding, but affectionate. "You are a very stubborn child. You should have stayed in bed."

When Michiru's eyes opened again she was leaning against the old mechanic. Her face snuggled into his red jumpsuit -a color her face quickly matched. Pulling herself u pright she started to apologize "Sumimasen." She blinked and then focused on a very concerned pair of teal eyes looking down at her.

"Let's go Michiru," Haruka said gently offering a strong hand to help her up. Michiru slid her good hand into her lover's. When she was up Haruka's arm went around her waist. The violinist started to apologize again to Yamura, but he only smiled. "It is quite all right, Michiru-san. You need your rest."

Michiru wasn't aware of when they reached their hotel room but she noticed she was being undressed.

She leaned into Haruka's embrace and placed a soft kiss on the blonde's naked chest. They eased onto the bed and Haruka positioned Michiru against her. "What about our flight home," Michiru mumbled.

"I cancelled it. Sleep Michiru," the blonde answered and cuddled her girlfriend to her in the azure twilight.

London, England After a short stop in tokyo the couple was forced to return to the scene of the shooting to meet with Scotland Yard.

"But why?" Haruka demanded again. The investigator had been telling them about where exactly Michiru's shooter was being detained and how the complex case would be prosecuted as both the attacker and victim were foreign nationals.

"Well, we don't know for sure why, but it seemed that he had been obsessed with Kaioh-san for quite some time."

Michiru was examining a picture from the young man's apartment. There was a shrine to her that took up an entire wall, pictures and articles about her.

The investigator was interrupted by a secretary who whispered in his ear. Michiru took the moment to slightly reposition herself in the chair. While she was almost fully recovered, sometimes her arm still ached.

"We have a psychiatrist who is an expert in this kind of attacks and she would like to speak to you."

"Kaioh-san, Tenoh-san." The woman nodded politely to the seated couple. They nodded back to her.

"These types of cases are usually motivated by a desire for fame." She went on to explain how Michiru's stalker fit the profile. A young loner incapable of closeness through any other relationship had sought to link himself to the beautiful violinist by becoming her murderer. There was a certain terrible intimacy in the act and the perversity made Haruka physically ill. She leaned forward in her chair and touched her fingers to her lips as her mind began to wander.

Someone else was in charge of her musical engagements as Michiru had switched agencies so now. A move Haruka thought had been a long time in coming. She'd never quite forgiven her lover's agency for stranding them in Europe that one winter. Michiru had joined the blonde's handlers and was now under the management that ultimately answered to the owner of Haruka's Formula One team, a large unpleasant man who would personally see to the safety of his temperamental star driver's beloved.

"In the end, I think, Kaioh-san, that it might be advisable to keep this quiet since attention is what motivates this type of offender."

Haruka nodded. There was no need to encourage more violence.

The woman's face took on an even more serious cast. "I just want to remind you that at any given time a famous person can have several stalkers. Many talented people unfortunately attract those who are mentally disturbed."

The couple was quiet as both digested the information.

The psychiatrist rose and they rose with her. They said good bye and then Michiru sank back into her chair, exhausted. Her partner tucked her hands in her pockets.

Finally Haruka broke the pervading silence. "I guess everyone wants their fifteen minutes of fame," she commented bitterly.

Michiru reached out and rested her hand on Haruka's arm. "There is perhaps even a price to be paid for a normal life," she said thoughtfully.

"Hai," her lover finally agreed.

"Haruka." The soft melodic sound of her name brought the racer's questioning gaze to her partner's face.

"Nani?"

"Let's go home and let tomorrow worry about itself."

Haruka finally nodded and rose offering her arm to support her lover. With a soft smile Michiru nestled her hand in the crook of Haruka's elbow and they left together.

He read again what had happened to her. Someone had shot her while she was on tour. Well if she had been with him instead of that racer she wasted her time with, he would have protected her. He would take her somewhere safe where it could be just the two of them. It would happen one day though, all he had to do was bide his time.

Author's Notes:
Who hasn't joked about stalking H or M or both? I thought this was a good way to explore a scary subject. Stalkers are bad and it can be a thin line between fascination and obsession and actually invading a person's life. I started thinking about this after I saw Nao and Yuhka playing H&M and wondered just how far I might go to meet them :-D Fortunately, not to insane lengths far, but it did inspire this fanfic.

Also Michiru is my favorite character, this was good way to look at her strength and talent- also look at that ... Haruka's even in there too You have to love her)
I highly recommend the book The Gift Of Fear. It's about trusting your instincts and recognizing danger. Everyone be safe!

At any time any given celebrity has multiple obsessed stalkers. The only time you hear about it is when the magazines run out of other news.

Japanese Police resource: http/ French police: http/en. officier de police judiciaire http/news. - French Police Rescue Child Hostages and Shoot kidnapper in head three times.
http/ http/ - this is where I took the part about Hotaru asking after a butterfly she'd caught. Whenever, I see or hear this poem I picture these sweet scenes with the outers parents for just one moment before a sweatdrops appear and when next we see them all three are frantically reading the Encyclopedia Britannica while Hotaru is asleep. ;

To: jenna who read and bounced ideas and sent me an article on stalkers. Thank you!
To: My editor who worked on this even though she was sick with a kidney stone! Hugs the Kate! Fell better and happy late birthday!
To: Ichigo who is always ebcouraging me and proofreading my work. Thank you for everything To: Harukalover my steadfast cheerleader. thank you for always talking to me about fics adn H&M. I am so glad to have met you!
To: Angie who re-proofread this because Kate was high on pain meds. Arrigatou!
To: The immoutos whom I love and treasure who always provide me with love and support. Congratulations Shiokaze on completing 100icon challenge clain on H&M Youa re awesome!
Suiren gave me lovely yummy psychology help on this fic. YAY!
Cngratulations Cursed Soul on your completed Destined Souls. That is one to be proud of. You're awesome.
I know I've forgotten someone and if so I'm sorry I have to publish this now

Source Article for reading:
"Delusional stalkers frequently have had little, if any, contact with their victims. They may have major mental illnesses like schizophrenia, manic-depression or erotomania. What they all have in common is some false belief that keeps them tied to their victims. In erotomania, the stalker's delusional belief is that the victim loves him. This type of stalker actually believes that he is having a relationship with his victim, even though they might never have met. The woman stalking David Letterman, the stalker who killed actress Rebecca Schaeffer and the man who stalked Madonna are all examples of erotomanic stalkers. Another type of delusional stalker might believe that he is destined to be with someone, and that if he only pursues her hard enough and long enough, she will come to love him as he loves her. These stalkers know they are not having a relationship with their victims, but firmly believe that they will some day. John Hinckley Jr.'s obsession with Jodi Foster is an example of this type of stalker.
The typical profile of delusional stalkers is that of an unmarried and socially immature loner, who is unable to establish or sustain close relationships with others. They rarely date and have had few, if any, sexual relationships. Since at the same time they are both threatened by and yearn for closeness, they often pick victims who are unattainable in some way; perhaps she is married, or has been the stalker's therapist, clergyman, doctor or teacher. Those in the helping professions are particularly vulnerable to delusional stalkers, because for someone who already has difficulty separating reality from fantasy, the kindness shown by the soon-to-be victim, the only person who has ever treated the stalker with warmth, is blown out of proportion into a delusion of intimacy. What these stalkers cannot attain in reality is achieved through fantasy and it is for this reason that the delusion seems to be so difficult to relinquish: Even an imaginary love is better than no love at all. These delusional stalkers have almost always come from a background which was either emotionally barren or severely abusive. They grow up having a very poor sense of their own identities. This, coupled with a predisposition toward psychosis, leads them to strive for satisfaction through another, yearning to merge with someone who is almost always perceived to be of a higher status (doctors, lawyers, teachers) or very socially desirable (celebrities). It is as if this stalker says, "Gee. If she loves me, I must not be so bad." As Dean Martin compellingly crooned what could be considered the delusional stalker's anthem: "You're Nobody 'Til Somebody Loves You." It is not unusual for this type of stalker to "hear" the soothing voice of his victim, or believe that she is sending him cryptic messages through others."