Leather and Lace

By: Maidens of Konan (aka KittyLynne with contributions from Adriana Morgan)

Disclaimer: Fushigi Yûgi is owned by Watase Yuu, Shogakukan Comics, Pierrot Studios, TV Tokyo and Pioneer! The rights to the original plot, dialogue, and the lives of any original characters appearing in this story belong to the author(s). Please do these ideas, prose or characters without express written permission, or risk the wrath of Soi raining down upon your miscreant person.

Notes and warnings: Reincarnation story that does not take Eikouden into account. Alternative pairing. Spoilers for TV series and first two OVAs. Overall rating: M for strong language and adult themes/situations.

Chapter One

There was no turning back. The great forces of justice, faith and good will had sent him onward, the world and the life he had known left far behind him as the consequence of his actions. Unfettered by physical imperfection, he glided through the mists of time and space, drawn forward by the bond that united his consciousness with the single image that resided there; a beautiful, smiling young woman garbed in flowing red silk and a headdress befitting a goddess.

He had been born to protect the woman. He had loved her with every fiber of his being, would love her for all time. No sacrifice made for her was too great. A love like this was worth dying for...and living for, all over again.

The shimmering light beyond the void extended itself like a warm hand, beckoning to him as if he were an old friend.

He stretched out and grasped hold of it, letting its energy fill and shape him.

He was very close.

All he had to do was remember...

Sergeant Detective Dante Tager jerked and cursed as the incessant beeping of his bedside clock jolted him awake.

Muttering, he slammed his hand down on the snooze button, taking a grim satisfaction in hearing the anguished chirp the alarm made as it was cut off. A bleary-eyed glance at glowing green numbers had him dropping his head back onto his pillow with a sigh of disgust. It was Monday, his least favorite day of the week, and six frickin' a.m- and of course he'd purposely set the damn alarm for this time. Still, it was annoying to know that he could have had a full thirty minutes of sleep before he absolutely needed to bolt.

On the other hand, the loud grumble emitting from his stomach was an effective reminder that not getting up right now meant missing out on breakfast, something he needed more in starting his day than a few extra minutes spent lolling in bed. He stretched out his shoulders and arms, and then clambered out of the queen sized four- poster that looked like three people had slept in it instead of just one, pausing only to toss the bedspread over the rumpled sheets in lieu of making the bed. He yawned widely as he raked long strands of fire-red hair out of his face with both hands, then hitched his flannel pajama bottoms back up around his waist before ambling off to the bathroom to perform his usual morning abolutions.

After that, it was on to the kitchen where a cup of freshly brewed automatic drip coffee and a bag of his favorite pastries awaited him. It was quick work to fill a mug and snag a jelly doughnut, then walk with them into the living room and up to the picture window that spanned a good length of one wall. Taking a large bite of pastry and a long swallow of coffee, he basked in the reflected warmth of the early morning sun while gazing out at the picturesque view that lay beyond the double paned glass. His house was the most modestly sized rambler in his neighborhood, but that hadn't mattered to him when he bought it. What sold him on the place was that it was almost at the pinnacle of the foothill on which the development was built, which meant he had an unobstructed view of Pike's Peak and the rolling terrain of the city he called home.

Colorado Springs, Colorado was famous for having more sunny days year round than any other city in America, and he could tell that today would not be an exception; the only areas not presently illuminated by the sun were capped by the range of mountains that bordered the city's west end. The monoliths themselves were still shrouded in shadow, their majestic purple-hued peaks starkly outlined against a cloudless azure sky.

Dante's gaze picked out the flag waving on the rooftop of the US Olympic Center, the old growth trees lining the downtown sector, and finally, the distinctive red rock mounds at the foot of the mountain range, one of his favorite of favorite spots in the city, a park known as the Garden of the Gods. It was fun and invigorating to view and explore its ancient volcanic formations that stood like sculptured works of art amidst lush clumps of pines, prickly sagebrush and desert flowers on horseback whenever he had the chance.

Huh. Free time. With the way this latest case is goin', it'll be weeks before I get within smelling distance of a stable.

Still, he couldn't complain. He had a pretty dang good life overall- a nice house, beautiful surroundings, friends he could count on, making a more than decent salary doing what he loved to do; he was living the American dream. The only fly in paradise would be his not having found the right woman to share his good fortune.

Dante frowned. That lack of accomplishment had really been biting at him lately. Though he hadn't wanted for female company after he'd moved into the Springs, the dismal fact was that barhopping and clubbing got old, not to mention that young women that were drinking to excess three days out of the week weren't likely to prove to be the love of his life. Getting fixed up with relatives or friends of friends hadn't been the way to go either. Out of a baker's dozen that had been thrown at him, only one had managed to pass the test as being worthy of a longer look.

Fun, outgoing, intelligent and pretty, Sandy had seemed to be the perfect companion for him- a dedicated ER nurse who understood about the stress and tedium of paperwork, working crazy hours and double shifts, and how frustrating dealing with red tape and a chain of command could be. He liked her wicked sense of humor, and that she never made him feel as if he had to placate or kowtow to her. After they'd been dating for six months, it was time to take things to the next level.

Or so he thought until the woman had showed up on his doorstep the very night he'd planned on proposing to blindside him with the news that she'd reconciled with her surgeon ex-husband.

Numbed by shock, he had silently listened to her shamefaced apology and hurried explanation of how, when and why. She and her ex had never stopped loving each other. The attraction had never died, but both had been too stubborn to make concessions to fix things, until seeing his ex-wife enjoying the company of another man had woken the ex-husband up to the fact that he could be losing her for good. Physical and emotional contact had been renewed, counseling had been sought, and the necessary compromises had been made to patch up the splintered relationship, yada yada yada.

Several scathing comments had dangled on the edge of his tongue as he listened, but he held them back. The hope and joy in that shone in the woman's face as she spoke of her second chance at love made it impossible to hurt her the way he was being hurt. It was pointless to do anything but what he knew was right- to let her go and wish them both well without a fuss. He did so, and she had cried as she hugged and thanked him, adding unintentional insult to injury with the sisterly assurances that they'd always be good friends, and that she was certain that he'd find his own true love very soon.

After she'd left in the taxi headed for the airport and a chartered flight to Vegas, he had plunked down on his front porch stayed there for a long time, staring out at the range of mountains as if they somehow could give him the key to understanding the complex, fickle creatures called women. There had been solace in the fact that unlike women, he could count on the steadfast beauty of the Rockies always being there for him when he got home at the end of a hard day's or night's work.

They were his sentinels, symbols of continuity bestowed with the changing power of nature. They should not be taken for granted as he had done with his relationship. And that was how his morning ritual had begun; with a vow that he wouldn't ignore the mountains or take them for granted as many so many Springs natives tended to do. He would take this time every day to appreciate them for what they were and what they inspired. The wisdom of the ages, locked up in stone, there to interpret for those who took the time...

Too bad all that wisdom couldn't help him interpret his damn dreams.

They'd started almost six months ago, intermittent at first, but in the past week he'd had one every night. In that time, what had begun as hazy watercolored impressions had intensified to vivid memory like depictions of scenes filled with the sights, smells and sounds of the ancient Orient. There were variations in location; sometimes he was in a forest or at the top of a snow-capped mountain; others found him standing in what looked like a temple or a palace. Sometimes he was surrounded by fire, though he never got burned. Sometimes he'd awake with a strange voice reasonating in his mind, at others, to the sounds of battle and the echoing cry of a bird; on more than one occasion he'd detected the faint aroma of incense clinging to his nostrils.

The one constant in every dream was how they ended- with the appearance a mysterious young woman who reached out to him as if she were imploring him to save her. Her face was always in shadow and she was always just out of his reach, but just the thought of making contact never failed in bringing on physical and emotional responses that lingered after he was wide awake.

Was she a manifestation of unfulfilled desire and a byproduct of a very active imagination? Maybe, but yet he couldn't shake the feeling the whole thing went way beyond fantasy, that the woman's existence was tied to his, and that the bond defied rational explanations.

Of course, he wasn't about to seek out anyone's opinion on the matter. Family and friends worried enough about him and what he did for a living. This was not one of those things that he could discuss without the expectation of being perceived as having mental health or chemical abuse issues.

Stuffing the last bite of doughnut into his mouth, Dante hastily washed it down with the rest of his coffee, hoping the infusion of sugar and caffeine would help him shake off the restless feelings this kind of musing provoked. Dream analysis wasn't his forte, and deep contemplation wasn't his style. As far as he was concerned, the visions could serve as reinforcement for his belief that those who kept the faith and kept moving forward would eventually get the ultimate reward.

Like the woman reaching out to him, for example. Sure, it would be a hell of a lot easier if he knew who she was and what she looked like, but maybe that was part of the message-that nothing worth having in this world was easy to get, and that love was not found with the eyes but with the soul.

Dante smirked.

If that was the case, then his spirit guide knew him well.

He'd never been able to resist a challenge.

If the woman meant for him existed in his dreams, he'd find her in reality.

He was sure of it.

"Ooooh, where did I put those keys?"

Miaka Yuuki was in the process of ransacking her apartment.

"They have to be here somewhere! Taka is going to be ticked if I'm late!"

She scurried into her bedroom and began to frantically sift through the clutter of papers lying atop her dresser, then moved to the adjoining bathroom- only to emerge a few seconds later looking more perplexed than ever.

"Why didn't I think to have a spare set made when I moved in?" She inquired aloud to no one in particular. "Taka has a lunch meeting and an international client conference tonight -I won't see him at all today if I don't get going! I suppose I have to call a taxi…let's hope they can get here in ten minutes!"

Something soft and warm brushed against her bare ankles. Miaka glanced down and straight into the blue-eyed stare of the feline sitting in front of her.

"I don't suppose you happened to have seen where I left my car keys, Mizu?"

The Siamese appeared to consider the question for a moment, and then meowed in the affirmative.

"That's wonderful! Could you show me?"

Miaka followed closely as Mizu padded over to the unmade bed and pawed at the sleeves of discarded outfits that were hanging over its side. His mistress hurriedly tossed the pile of clothing aside and much to her delight found the missing keys that had been hidden underneath.

"Zu Zu, you've saved the day once again! Treats from the fish market for saving me from Taka's 'time is money' lecture!" She stroked the cat's silky, smoke-colored fur as the animal feigned indifference. Not fooled by the display of aloofness, Miaka continued to stroke until her pet's back was arching in contented pleasure and the sound of deep purring filled the air.

"That's a good boy." She crooned, scratching her kitty under his chin. "If only you would let Taka see what a softie you are."

The purring ceased as quickly if someone had hit an off switch. Mizu moved out of reach and then turned to give her an offended stare, his crooked tail twitching back and forth in quick, angry motions. His mistress sighed.

"Please understand, it's not that Taka doesn't like you. He just has to keep his distance because he's allergic to cats! He's going to start on the allergy shots so that you can live with us after we're married. I also told him that he's not to have you fixed or de-clawed, so there's no need for concern!"

A growling hiss said that her attempt to reassure had failed.

"I'm sorry, I really don't want to argue with you. Let's change the subject. How do I look?" The skirt of her strapless sundress billowed around her, showing off the shapely legs beneath as she pirouetted in front of the dresser's long mirror.

At the cat's grudging yet appreciative sounding 'meeee-oooowww', Miaka's smile returned.

"Thank you, I like it too! It's comfortable, and even better, it was a great deal at the discount store!" Her smile faded. "It's not the designer brand Taka likes, but I can't justify spending a half-month's rent for one outfit, especially when he's helping me out with rent in the first place. I wish he'd let me take that other unit in my price range..."

Mizu's stare was unrelenting in its accusation.

"Excuse me, but I did say no to living with him!" Miaka asserted. "It was a compromise, something that was important to me, and that he could deal with," she added, turning away.

If someone had told her ten years ago that she would willingly choose to live apart from Taka, she would have laughed. She had no rational explanation for refusing, since in this day and age, and in this country, living together before marriage was an accepted and respectable practice. After going through the trouble to become proficient in English so she could move to America to be with him, it made no sense to want to live separately.

Yet here she was doing just that, and it felt right, no matter how frustrating she found her present situation! Whenever loneliness threatened her resolve, whenever self- doubts tempted her to give up all semblance of independence, a whisper deep in her heart said to hold on, that better times were coming, and good things were worth waiting for.

After weeks of short phone calls and even less face to face contact, Taka had made a date with her.

Maybe today would be the day her patience was rewarded.

An hour later, after leaving some food and water for her pet, Miaka called out a final goodbye and locked the door to her apartment. Dashing down the outer stairway to the parking lot, she strode across the black asphalt to the flashy, scarlet colored LeBaron convertible that Taka had arranged for her to lease from a dealership. The early morning breeze sent a chill across her exposed skin, but she didn't bother to turn and go back for a jacket. Though it might feel a bit cool now, she'd been living in Colorado Springs long enough to know that a clear, cloudless sky over Pike's Peak was a strong indication of a scorching hot day to come. The sundress was a good choice.

Unlocking the door, she climbed in, tossing her purse into the seat next to her, and then set a bottle of mineral water into the cup holder between the driver and passenger seats. Since her arrival in Colorado six months ago, she had been advised by several natives to make a habit of drinking at least sixteen ounces of water first thing in the morning to combat the effects of high altitude and dry climate, but she would have to put off that little ritual today.

If she didn't hurry, Taka might get tired of waiting. A delay like an emergency potty stop just wasn't acceptable in a world where time was as precious a commodity as money.

To be continued…

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