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antivanrufflesTitle: The Lonely Road
Characters: Kunzite, Mamoru.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Angst, hints of SilMil violence.
A/N: I give up formatting for LJ so meh it can be ugly looking.
I know the others are fully awakened. I am sure by now they are gathered by our prince’s side; pledging their loyalty, proving their faithfulness, and repenting for their sins. And I am certain he has granted them pardon. I long for that, ache with it, but I cannot face him, not when I have betrayed him time and time again. He is too kind, too forgiving, and while I know he would give me the peace I seek… I am unworthy.
The Lonely Road
The main road leading into Asgat in the Sükhbaatar Province was truly little more than an unpaved path, made up of more potholes than dirt, the gravel long since scattered and gone. The battered old Fiorino pick-up heaved from side to side as it made its plodding course down the road, jostling its driver along with his luggage and supplies. The vehicle had once been pristine white, but was now a dirty, muted grey after much travel and little cleaning, getting dirtier still as it kicked up clouds of dust. Inside the cab the radio buzzed and hummed, but no music or voices were heard, just the static of dead air. The driver paid this little attention, though, his mind focused on more important things. Like the fact that he was too close. Mongolia was too close, then again, anywhere in Asia was too close by his estimation. However it was difficult and tiring to constantly fight against the pull to be with his prince.
Growing up in County Cork Ireland, Sebastian Kearney had always known he was different from the other children. It had little to do with the colour of his hair or his considerable size--though the other children were always fond of teasing him--but more to do with his strong sense of honour, duty, and purpose: a sense of something more than just playing games and attending elementary. As Sebastian grew into adulthood the weight of a responsibility he couldn’t name settled on his shoulders. With it came dreams of fire and ash, screams and blood, and memories he was forever trying to escape. He fled from Ireland, constantly moving in hopes of finding peace somewhere. By choice he lived a solitary life, never staying any place long enough to make friends. He preferred it this way, never having to explain things--the headaches, the nightmares, or the year long disappearance he never wanted to think of again. He traveled the world, picking up as many languages as he could, learning about cultures to occupy his mind. But he always kept away from Asia. He knew it was dangerous to go that far, to give in, but sometimes he wasn’t able to stop himself.
Slowing the vehicle in the middle of the road, Sebastian threw it into park, grabbed his map from where it lay neatly folded on the passenger seat, and carefully got out. The day was overcast; the clouds thick, grey, and low, rippling almost like waves as a strong wind blew in from the east. The land around him was flat, desert like, and sparsely covered with tufts of browning grass and weeds. It stretched out all around him, seemingly endless except for a break in the south east. Tall mountains jutted out of the ground like watchful giants guarding the land. The road he was on ran east to west, not a single soul on the horizon, as quiet and deserted as the lands around him.
Sighing, Sebastian brushed back a wisp of hair before spreading the map out on the roof of the truck. Long fingers traced over the lines of where he had been to, where he was headed. It was too far east, he knew, but he needed to refill his petrol--the spare cans were getting dangerously low--and pick up fresh supplies. He needed to stop in Asgat, no matter how strong the pull was. For a moment he was afraid he would surrender to it, continuing east until he reached Japan. He knew, beyond of a shadow of doubt, that was where his prince was. The more he thought on it, the more he wanted to hop back into his truck and drive until he was at Endymion’s side again. It was overwhelming, all consuming, his chest tightened with the want--the need--to be there. Sebastian leant over the cab of the truck, his face buried in the crook of his elbow. After a moment he slammed his fist against the roof, denting it. He straightened slowly, roughly rubbed his hands over his face and letting out a trembling sigh. He was stronger than that, he would not give into it. He would not be weak.
Slowly his hands drifted down his face, the platinum stubble scraping against his palms, and he gave his cheeks a few hearty slaps in hopes to gather his wits. When he finally felt in control again, he picked up the map, folded it quickly and got back into the Fiorino. The engine whirred back to life, and he started down the road again. The draw of his prince growing stronger with each mile east, but he was determined to master it.
Asgat was a tiny town just outside the Province capital of Baruun-Urt. It was a rather bleak place, Sebastian thought. The homes all small and identical, the whitewash now turned dingy brown, and everything looked in ill repair. Sebastian regretted leaving Baruun-Urt, now more than ever. He had been stupid, there was little for him here; all it had done was carry him east. Cursing himself, Sebastian pulled the truck into the only petrol station in town, and proceeded to speak to the attendant in broken Mongolian. Despite his heavy accent and rudimentary knowledge of the language, Sebastian managed to get his truck and spare cans filled, and the name of a small inn that would take him for the night. Tomorrow he would get whatever supplies he could and head back west.
Driving down the dirt roads he kept an eye open for the place he needed, finally locating it after a second trip down the main street. The “inn” was little more than a glorified house, no yard to speak of and the same dingy brown colour as all the other buildings in town. The woman who ran it was tiny, her face lined and wrinkled like worn leather. Her eyes were keen though, and she grinned widely when he asked if she had space for the night. She bobbed her head and guided him upstairs to the vacant bedroom. Everything in the house was small, the stairwell and hall narrow, the doorways short. It took all of Sebastian’s grace to fold up his large frame and not fall over as he shuffled into the tiny area. He thanked the innkeeper, she smiled again, told him she would prepare dinner in an hour and left quietly.
Alone again, Sebastian sighed, and turned to inspect his room; it consisted of nothing more than a small bed he wondered how he would ever fit on, a washbasin in one corner, and an old dresser with a chipped mirror. The walls were plain, the paint peeling, and a threadbare rug covered the wooden floors. He sat down his bag by the door and slowly eased himself onto the bed. The springs creaked under his weight, the mattress sagging considerably. Before he had even settled his full weight, something snapped and creaked even louder. Sebastian shot up, afraid he’d broken something. He carefully inspected the bed and found it to still be in one piece--just old. However, he thought it best if he slept on the floor that night.
Sebastian decided he did not want to stay cooped up in the tiny space for long, and quickly settled his things. He made sure he had all of his important documentation on his person, and made his way downstairs. The innkeeper was nowhere in sight and he was oddly thankful for that. In a strange way, she reminded him of his own grandmother back in Ireland whom he hadn’t seen in years. And looking at the innkeeper only made him feel guilty about that fact, even if he knew it was for the best.
Night was falling as he stepped outside, the darkness slowly creeping up the street, reaching out like deathly fingers. It might give most people pause for thought, but Sebastian had been fighting the darkness for as long as he could remember, and he paid it no mind. Moving down the main street the inn was located on, Sebastian turned left at the end on to a cramped side street that reminded him more of an alley. As he continued down the path between two buildings, his feet kicking up small clouds of dirt, one of the shadows moved, becoming solid.
“Kunzite,” a voice breathed behind him. Sebastian fisted his hands at his side and took a deep breath, counting silently to keep from whirling around; he knew that voice. He would never forget that voice--no matter how long.
“I am called Sebastian now, Endymion.” He turned slowly and took in the man before him as he stepped out from the shadows. Handsome with jet black hair, and a strong stance. Some of the features were different, or slightly changed from his previous life, but the eyes were ever the same. Deep, rich navy blue.
“And I am called Mamoru,” he said softly. Sebastian nodded, mentally testing the name before speaking it, “How did you find me… Mamoru?”
“You know how, I am just as connected to you as you are to me,” Mamoru spoke slowly, his English very careful but only slightly accented. Sebastian had known that fact, or figured it, at least. He idly wondered for a moment if he’d been careless on purpose, maybe he had wanted to be found?
“I shouldn’t have come here,” he breathed, lifting a hand to run it through his hair. “It was a mistake.”
“No!” Mamoru growled in frustration. “Are you so stubborn? We are supposed to be together. Not scattered around the world. The others have returned but we are not whole; we need you.”
Sebastian snorted, the sound echoed around them, bouncing off the brick wall of the building behind them. The night had fully settled now making it difficult for Sebastian to see Mamoru clearly, between his dark clothing and hair. However he could still make out his eyes: sad, pleading, and unwavering blue.
“You don’t need me,” Sebastian whispered, ducking his head to avoid the gaze of his prince. “I turned my back on my title, my kingdom, my prince. I slaughtered innocents, hacked them down like they were nothing. I still hear their screams, can feel their blood, warm on my hands, seeping through and staining me. I am tainted and rotten, and I do not deserve any redemption! That is what you offer; I know that, but I cannot take it.”
“It is not offered, it is given. That was not you, the true you. It was corruption and darkness, but it is gone now. You have been absolved.” Mamoru took a step forward, his hand lifted as if to place it on Sebastian’s shoulder, but stopped at the last moment when Sebastian gave a bitter laugh. Mamoru dropped his hand, fisting it at his side, “Will you not believe me?”
Sebastian shook his head, disbelieving and unable to face Mamoru a second longer. He turned toward the building to his left and leant against it, head resting on his forearm. Sebastian was sure he looked the perfect picture of defeat, his shoulders slumped and his right hand fisted tightly at his side. The darkness seemed to close in around him, deafening and choking. Or perhaps that was his own despair? He heaved a sigh, the sound pitiful to his own ears, and tried to collect his thoughts.
“Have you ever read the Count of Monte Cristo?” he asked suddenly, and did not wait for reply. “Dumas wrote, ‘Only a man who has felt ultimate despair is capable of feeling ultimate bliss. It is necessary to have wished for death in order to know how good it is to live.’ I’ve often thought about that. One thing Dumas failed to take into account is if the ultimate despair stemmed from your own hand.” Sebastian took another deep breath, he almost wanted Mamoru to interrupt, to say something, but the other man remained quiet. Listening. “I only ever asked for the sweet oblivion of death because I know that’s the only way for me to pay my penance. My life on earth is forever a reminder of what I did, a reminder that I deserve no forgiveness. No bliss.”
“Sebastian…” Mamoru choked out and took a step forward, dirt and pebbles crunching under his feet.
“No!” Sebastian roared as he whirled around, anger giving him purpose. “I should never have come this close, let you know I was here. I was weak, and I’m sorry, but I can’t let this stand. No matter what you think, it’s wrong. You’re too kind… you always were,” he ended on a whisper. Sebastian turned away from Mamoru again and hung his head, feeling all the more guilty for having yelled at his prince. His emotions were suffocating him, and he felt dangerously close to tears for the first time since he was a child. Sebastian was shocked out of his pity when he was shoved back against the wall, Mamoru’s hands fisted in the front of his shirt, eyes glowing like blue gaslight -- hot and dangerous.
“You are a fool! A stubborn, selfish fool!” Just as soon as the anger came, it seeped out of Mamoru, ebbing out like the tide. He slumped forward, his face crumbling slightly as tears threatened to spill, but he did not relinquish his hold on Sebastian’s shirt. “Whether you think you deserve salvation or not, that is not a choice for you to make.”
“Are you playing god now?”
“I am doing no such thing! But here you are, deciding if you are worthy of absolution. Imposing some self-righteous exile out of some twisted sense of atonement! I will not tell you if you should be forgiven or not, but I will tell you that you never will be if you do not at least try.” Stepping back, Mamoru wiped the sleeve of his shirt across his eyes like a child. “We are broken. Everyone tries to be happy, to act normal, but it does not work. Because nothing is right. They pledge to me, but they need you. They need a leader, someone to guide them, and I am not that person…. because I need guidance as well. I need you.” He stopped suddenly, his voice thick, and swallowed. Sebastian could only stare at Mamoru, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he tried to reign in his emotions. “I do not know you in this life, but I would like to. You are my friend, my mentor, my teacher.”
Sebastian bent his head and pinched the bridge of nose, the tears finally spilling. “How can you be so quick to forgive? How can you just look past all the crimes and injustices, like that!” He looked up at Mamoru and snapped his fingers. “How can you do that?”
“Because I love you. That is perhaps not what I should say, but after spending so much time with Usagi, it is hard not express feelings like that. Kunzite was Endymion’s best friend, and they loved each other like brothers. I desperately want that again.”
Sebastian felt ashamed, all this time spent worrying over what his prince thought. What the others thought. What she thought. Sebastian had figured things were better this way, but never once did he take into account how his prince might feel. On impulse, and uncharacteristic of him in any life, Sebastian stepped forward and hugged Mamoru hard. The other man returned the embrace with equal force and they stood together for a long while. When Mamoru finally pulled back, he chuckled a little bit, “I said you were selfish, but maybe I am the one who is? Failing to see reason for my own gain.”
“Reason never was your strong suit, and you usually never quit once you set your sights on something. I believe Serenity is a perfect example of that.” They shared a laugh over his words, but it slowly died out until only the sounds of the night were left.
“What do the others say?” Sebastian finally asked.
“The Shitennou? They miss you, like I do. They truly need their commander.”
“And what of your princess… Usagi is it, now?”
“She forgives more easily than I do,“ Mamoru chuckled. “She wants to see you again; wants things to be whole again.”
“What of…. of her?” Sebastian knew Mamoru understood whom he meant, and fresh guilt welled up again. He hadn’t thought of her in a long time…but that was more for his own sanity than anything else.
“Come back with me and find out for yourself.”
“You and the princess might offer forgiveness, but she never will. We both know that.” Sebastian was not bitter, he knew it was the truth, but pain still cut through him like a knife.
“As I said, how will you gain your absolution if you never even try for it? She has bits of who she was, we all do, but she is very different from Venus. She might surprise you.” They stood staring at each other for a while, slightly strained, but at least the night seemed less oppressive now. The stars were out, glittering and flickering gently above them like the fresh hope that was blooming in Sebastian‘s chest.
Mamoru smiled slowly, nodding his head, “Come friend, let us go home.”
With a sharp intake of breath Sebastian jolted awake. He blinked rapidly against the darkness, well aware of the walls around him, making him feel claustrophobic. The feel of the hardwood floors underneath him and the feel of the rough blankets tangled around his legs. He was soaked with sweat, but his body was chill. He could hear no other sound than the rushing blood in his ears and the pounding of his heart. He stayed perfectly still, letting his breathing and pulse slow. A dream, nothing more. But the dream had been so real, so tempting. And he couldn’t help but wonder if that would be the outcome if he were to give in and find his prince.
“No,” he whispered with a shake of his head. That was not for him. Slowly he picked himself up and organized the small bed he had made for himself on the floor. He returned the blankets and pillows to the bed in the corner, washed quickly with the small basin and dressed. Sebastian took paper from his bag, wrote a quick note to the innkeeper thanking her for the room and left a tip for her troubles. In a matter of moments he was loading his bag into the back of the Fiorino and climbing inside. The tank was full, so were his spare cans, supplies would wait until he returned to Baruun-Urt or whichever city he found next.
If Asgat was a quiet town during the day, it was downright eerie at night. The buildings seemed even more rundown, the moonlight filtering through the clouds giving them a haunted look; the shadows shifting and moving like ghosts. Sebastian thought that fitting as feelings assaulted him. There were spectres of the past clawing at his mind, promises of the present gnawing at his heart, and the realizations of a future he would never have tearing his soul.
It took every ounce of strength he possessed to head west, away from it all. The urge to be with Endymion, his shitennou….and her…was overwhelming. He felt ill as he drove away, the want of it was like a stabbing pain in his chest. Though with every mile it lessened into a dull ache. An ache he was used to. An ache he could live with--that he would have to live with. So he kept driving, a little faster than he should, ignoring the bumps and holes that rattled the carriage of the truck.
He had made it several miles outside of Asgat when the sun started to rise behind him; bathing the world in yellow and orange, and a myriad of shades between. Most prevalent was gold, and that sent another pang of melancholy through him as he thought of a beautiful woman, face framed in golden locks, and realized he would never see her again. Sebastian’s grip tightened as he fought the urge to crank the wheel and turn the truck around. Instead he took several deep, shuddering breaths, and continued down the deserted road. The lonely road that would take him away from his possible salvation, instead leading him into his own personal hell. Redemption would never be his.
Characters: Kunzite, Mamoru.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Angst, hints of SilMil violence.
A/N: I give up formatting for LJ so meh it can be ugly looking.
I know the others are fully awakened. I am sure by now they are gathered by our prince’s side; pledging their loyalty, proving their faithfulness, and repenting for their sins. And I am certain he has granted them pardon. I long for that, ache with it, but I cannot face him, not when I have betrayed him time and time again. He is too kind, too forgiving, and while I know he would give me the peace I seek… I am unworthy.
___________________________________
The Lonely Road
The main road leading into Asgat in the Sükhbaatar Province was truly little more than an unpaved path, made up of more potholes than dirt, the gravel long since scattered and gone. The battered old Fiorino pick-up heaved from side to side as it made its plodding course down the road, jostling its driver along with his luggage and supplies. The vehicle had once been pristine white, but was now a dirty, muted grey after much travel and little cleaning, getting dirtier still as it kicked up clouds of dust. Inside the cab the radio buzzed and hummed, but no music or voices were heard, just the static of dead air. The driver paid this little attention, though, his mind focused on more important things. Like the fact that he was too close. Mongolia was too close, then again, anywhere in Asia was too close by his estimation. However it was difficult and tiring to constantly fight against the pull to be with his prince.
Growing up in County Cork Ireland, Sebastian Kearney had always known he was different from the other children. It had little to do with the colour of his hair or his considerable size--though the other children were always fond of teasing him--but more to do with his strong sense of honour, duty, and purpose: a sense of something more than just playing games and attending elementary. As Sebastian grew into adulthood the weight of a responsibility he couldn’t name settled on his shoulders. With it came dreams of fire and ash, screams and blood, and memories he was forever trying to escape. He fled from Ireland, constantly moving in hopes of finding peace somewhere. By choice he lived a solitary life, never staying any place long enough to make friends. He preferred it this way, never having to explain things--the headaches, the nightmares, or the year long disappearance he never wanted to think of again. He traveled the world, picking up as many languages as he could, learning about cultures to occupy his mind. But he always kept away from Asia. He knew it was dangerous to go that far, to give in, but sometimes he wasn’t able to stop himself.
Slowing the vehicle in the middle of the road, Sebastian threw it into park, grabbed his map from where it lay neatly folded on the passenger seat, and carefully got out. The day was overcast; the clouds thick, grey, and low, rippling almost like waves as a strong wind blew in from the east. The land around him was flat, desert like, and sparsely covered with tufts of browning grass and weeds. It stretched out all around him, seemingly endless except for a break in the south east. Tall mountains jutted out of the ground like watchful giants guarding the land. The road he was on ran east to west, not a single soul on the horizon, as quiet and deserted as the lands around him.
Sighing, Sebastian brushed back a wisp of hair before spreading the map out on the roof of the truck. Long fingers traced over the lines of where he had been to, where he was headed. It was too far east, he knew, but he needed to refill his petrol--the spare cans were getting dangerously low--and pick up fresh supplies. He needed to stop in Asgat, no matter how strong the pull was. For a moment he was afraid he would surrender to it, continuing east until he reached Japan. He knew, beyond of a shadow of doubt, that was where his prince was. The more he thought on it, the more he wanted to hop back into his truck and drive until he was at Endymion’s side again. It was overwhelming, all consuming, his chest tightened with the want--the need--to be there. Sebastian leant over the cab of the truck, his face buried in the crook of his elbow. After a moment he slammed his fist against the roof, denting it. He straightened slowly, roughly rubbed his hands over his face and letting out a trembling sigh. He was stronger than that, he would not give into it. He would not be weak.
Slowly his hands drifted down his face, the platinum stubble scraping against his palms, and he gave his cheeks a few hearty slaps in hopes to gather his wits. When he finally felt in control again, he picked up the map, folded it quickly and got back into the Fiorino. The engine whirred back to life, and he started down the road again. The draw of his prince growing stronger with each mile east, but he was determined to master it.
******
Asgat was a tiny town just outside the Province capital of Baruun-Urt. It was a rather bleak place, Sebastian thought. The homes all small and identical, the whitewash now turned dingy brown, and everything looked in ill repair. Sebastian regretted leaving Baruun-Urt, now more than ever. He had been stupid, there was little for him here; all it had done was carry him east. Cursing himself, Sebastian pulled the truck into the only petrol station in town, and proceeded to speak to the attendant in broken Mongolian. Despite his heavy accent and rudimentary knowledge of the language, Sebastian managed to get his truck and spare cans filled, and the name of a small inn that would take him for the night. Tomorrow he would get whatever supplies he could and head back west.
Driving down the dirt roads he kept an eye open for the place he needed, finally locating it after a second trip down the main street. The “inn” was little more than a glorified house, no yard to speak of and the same dingy brown colour as all the other buildings in town. The woman who ran it was tiny, her face lined and wrinkled like worn leather. Her eyes were keen though, and she grinned widely when he asked if she had space for the night. She bobbed her head and guided him upstairs to the vacant bedroom. Everything in the house was small, the stairwell and hall narrow, the doorways short. It took all of Sebastian’s grace to fold up his large frame and not fall over as he shuffled into the tiny area. He thanked the innkeeper, she smiled again, told him she would prepare dinner in an hour and left quietly.
Alone again, Sebastian sighed, and turned to inspect his room; it consisted of nothing more than a small bed he wondered how he would ever fit on, a washbasin in one corner, and an old dresser with a chipped mirror. The walls were plain, the paint peeling, and a threadbare rug covered the wooden floors. He sat down his bag by the door and slowly eased himself onto the bed. The springs creaked under his weight, the mattress sagging considerably. Before he had even settled his full weight, something snapped and creaked even louder. Sebastian shot up, afraid he’d broken something. He carefully inspected the bed and found it to still be in one piece--just old. However, he thought it best if he slept on the floor that night.
Sebastian decided he did not want to stay cooped up in the tiny space for long, and quickly settled his things. He made sure he had all of his important documentation on his person, and made his way downstairs. The innkeeper was nowhere in sight and he was oddly thankful for that. In a strange way, she reminded him of his own grandmother back in Ireland whom he hadn’t seen in years. And looking at the innkeeper only made him feel guilty about that fact, even if he knew it was for the best.
Night was falling as he stepped outside, the darkness slowly creeping up the street, reaching out like deathly fingers. It might give most people pause for thought, but Sebastian had been fighting the darkness for as long as he could remember, and he paid it no mind. Moving down the main street the inn was located on, Sebastian turned left at the end on to a cramped side street that reminded him more of an alley. As he continued down the path between two buildings, his feet kicking up small clouds of dirt, one of the shadows moved, becoming solid.
“Kunzite,” a voice breathed behind him. Sebastian fisted his hands at his side and took a deep breath, counting silently to keep from whirling around; he knew that voice. He would never forget that voice--no matter how long.
“I am called Sebastian now, Endymion.” He turned slowly and took in the man before him as he stepped out from the shadows. Handsome with jet black hair, and a strong stance. Some of the features were different, or slightly changed from his previous life, but the eyes were ever the same. Deep, rich navy blue.
“And I am called Mamoru,” he said softly. Sebastian nodded, mentally testing the name before speaking it, “How did you find me… Mamoru?”
“You know how, I am just as connected to you as you are to me,” Mamoru spoke slowly, his English very careful but only slightly accented. Sebastian had known that fact, or figured it, at least. He idly wondered for a moment if he’d been careless on purpose, maybe he had wanted to be found?
“I shouldn’t have come here,” he breathed, lifting a hand to run it through his hair. “It was a mistake.”
“No!” Mamoru growled in frustration. “Are you so stubborn? We are supposed to be together. Not scattered around the world. The others have returned but we are not whole; we need you.”
Sebastian snorted, the sound echoed around them, bouncing off the brick wall of the building behind them. The night had fully settled now making it difficult for Sebastian to see Mamoru clearly, between his dark clothing and hair. However he could still make out his eyes: sad, pleading, and unwavering blue.
“You don’t need me,” Sebastian whispered, ducking his head to avoid the gaze of his prince. “I turned my back on my title, my kingdom, my prince. I slaughtered innocents, hacked them down like they were nothing. I still hear their screams, can feel their blood, warm on my hands, seeping through and staining me. I am tainted and rotten, and I do not deserve any redemption! That is what you offer; I know that, but I cannot take it.”
“It is not offered, it is given. That was not you, the true you. It was corruption and darkness, but it is gone now. You have been absolved.” Mamoru took a step forward, his hand lifted as if to place it on Sebastian’s shoulder, but stopped at the last moment when Sebastian gave a bitter laugh. Mamoru dropped his hand, fisting it at his side, “Will you not believe me?”
Sebastian shook his head, disbelieving and unable to face Mamoru a second longer. He turned toward the building to his left and leant against it, head resting on his forearm. Sebastian was sure he looked the perfect picture of defeat, his shoulders slumped and his right hand fisted tightly at his side. The darkness seemed to close in around him, deafening and choking. Or perhaps that was his own despair? He heaved a sigh, the sound pitiful to his own ears, and tried to collect his thoughts.
“Have you ever read the Count of Monte Cristo?” he asked suddenly, and did not wait for reply. “Dumas wrote, ‘Only a man who has felt ultimate despair is capable of feeling ultimate bliss. It is necessary to have wished for death in order to know how good it is to live.’ I’ve often thought about that. One thing Dumas failed to take into account is if the ultimate despair stemmed from your own hand.” Sebastian took another deep breath, he almost wanted Mamoru to interrupt, to say something, but the other man remained quiet. Listening. “I only ever asked for the sweet oblivion of death because I know that’s the only way for me to pay my penance. My life on earth is forever a reminder of what I did, a reminder that I deserve no forgiveness. No bliss.”
“Sebastian…” Mamoru choked out and took a step forward, dirt and pebbles crunching under his feet.
“No!” Sebastian roared as he whirled around, anger giving him purpose. “I should never have come this close, let you know I was here. I was weak, and I’m sorry, but I can’t let this stand. No matter what you think, it’s wrong. You’re too kind… you always were,” he ended on a whisper. Sebastian turned away from Mamoru again and hung his head, feeling all the more guilty for having yelled at his prince. His emotions were suffocating him, and he felt dangerously close to tears for the first time since he was a child. Sebastian was shocked out of his pity when he was shoved back against the wall, Mamoru’s hands fisted in the front of his shirt, eyes glowing like blue gaslight -- hot and dangerous.
“You are a fool! A stubborn, selfish fool!” Just as soon as the anger came, it seeped out of Mamoru, ebbing out like the tide. He slumped forward, his face crumbling slightly as tears threatened to spill, but he did not relinquish his hold on Sebastian’s shirt. “Whether you think you deserve salvation or not, that is not a choice for you to make.”
“Are you playing god now?”
“I am doing no such thing! But here you are, deciding if you are worthy of absolution. Imposing some self-righteous exile out of some twisted sense of atonement! I will not tell you if you should be forgiven or not, but I will tell you that you never will be if you do not at least try.” Stepping back, Mamoru wiped the sleeve of his shirt across his eyes like a child. “We are broken. Everyone tries to be happy, to act normal, but it does not work. Because nothing is right. They pledge to me, but they need you. They need a leader, someone to guide them, and I am not that person…. because I need guidance as well. I need you.” He stopped suddenly, his voice thick, and swallowed. Sebastian could only stare at Mamoru, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he tried to reign in his emotions. “I do not know you in this life, but I would like to. You are my friend, my mentor, my teacher.”
Sebastian bent his head and pinched the bridge of nose, the tears finally spilling. “How can you be so quick to forgive? How can you just look past all the crimes and injustices, like that!” He looked up at Mamoru and snapped his fingers. “How can you do that?”
“Because I love you. That is perhaps not what I should say, but after spending so much time with Usagi, it is hard not express feelings like that. Kunzite was Endymion’s best friend, and they loved each other like brothers. I desperately want that again.”
Sebastian felt ashamed, all this time spent worrying over what his prince thought. What the others thought. What she thought. Sebastian had figured things were better this way, but never once did he take into account how his prince might feel. On impulse, and uncharacteristic of him in any life, Sebastian stepped forward and hugged Mamoru hard. The other man returned the embrace with equal force and they stood together for a long while. When Mamoru finally pulled back, he chuckled a little bit, “I said you were selfish, but maybe I am the one who is? Failing to see reason for my own gain.”
“Reason never was your strong suit, and you usually never quit once you set your sights on something. I believe Serenity is a perfect example of that.” They shared a laugh over his words, but it slowly died out until only the sounds of the night were left.
“What do the others say?” Sebastian finally asked.
“The Shitennou? They miss you, like I do. They truly need their commander.”
“And what of your princess… Usagi is it, now?”
“She forgives more easily than I do,“ Mamoru chuckled. “She wants to see you again; wants things to be whole again.”
“What of…. of her?” Sebastian knew Mamoru understood whom he meant, and fresh guilt welled up again. He hadn’t thought of her in a long time…but that was more for his own sanity than anything else.
“Come back with me and find out for yourself.”
“You and the princess might offer forgiveness, but she never will. We both know that.” Sebastian was not bitter, he knew it was the truth, but pain still cut through him like a knife.
“As I said, how will you gain your absolution if you never even try for it? She has bits of who she was, we all do, but she is very different from Venus. She might surprise you.” They stood staring at each other for a while, slightly strained, but at least the night seemed less oppressive now. The stars were out, glittering and flickering gently above them like the fresh hope that was blooming in Sebastian‘s chest.
Mamoru smiled slowly, nodding his head, “Come friend, let us go home.”
******
With a sharp intake of breath Sebastian jolted awake. He blinked rapidly against the darkness, well aware of the walls around him, making him feel claustrophobic. The feel of the hardwood floors underneath him and the feel of the rough blankets tangled around his legs. He was soaked with sweat, but his body was chill. He could hear no other sound than the rushing blood in his ears and the pounding of his heart. He stayed perfectly still, letting his breathing and pulse slow. A dream, nothing more. But the dream had been so real, so tempting. And he couldn’t help but wonder if that would be the outcome if he were to give in and find his prince.
“No,” he whispered with a shake of his head. That was not for him. Slowly he picked himself up and organized the small bed he had made for himself on the floor. He returned the blankets and pillows to the bed in the corner, washed quickly with the small basin and dressed. Sebastian took paper from his bag, wrote a quick note to the innkeeper thanking her for the room and left a tip for her troubles. In a matter of moments he was loading his bag into the back of the Fiorino and climbing inside. The tank was full, so were his spare cans, supplies would wait until he returned to Baruun-Urt or whichever city he found next.
If Asgat was a quiet town during the day, it was downright eerie at night. The buildings seemed even more rundown, the moonlight filtering through the clouds giving them a haunted look; the shadows shifting and moving like ghosts. Sebastian thought that fitting as feelings assaulted him. There were spectres of the past clawing at his mind, promises of the present gnawing at his heart, and the realizations of a future he would never have tearing his soul.
It took every ounce of strength he possessed to head west, away from it all. The urge to be with Endymion, his shitennou….and her…was overwhelming. He felt ill as he drove away, the want of it was like a stabbing pain in his chest. Though with every mile it lessened into a dull ache. An ache he was used to. An ache he could live with--that he would have to live with. So he kept driving, a little faster than he should, ignoring the bumps and holes that rattled the carriage of the truck.
He had made it several miles outside of Asgat when the sun started to rise behind him; bathing the world in yellow and orange, and a myriad of shades between. Most prevalent was gold, and that sent another pang of melancholy through him as he thought of a beautiful woman, face framed in golden locks, and realized he would never see her again. Sebastian’s grip tightened as he fought the urge to crank the wheel and turn the truck around. Instead he took several deep, shuddering breaths, and continued down the deserted road. The lonely road that would take him away from his possible salvation, instead leading him into his own personal hell. Redemption would never be his.
~ Fin ~
