Wake Up
(based on La Chanson des Vieux Amants, 
lyrics by Jacques Brel, music by Gerard Jouannest)
Songfic, Part 1/1
By: Loralei Fairhill
Rated: PG-13 (There's a bit of language here, 
children! And some adult themes, which I've 
deemed inappropriate for younger readers. So, 
if you think that you can deal with it, stay. 
If not, I ask only that you don't flame me 
for what I've written here. ^^;)
Genre: AR (Or a slight twist on the pre-Crystal 
Tokyo era)


Caution: You are now descending into the wild 
and wacky world of Loralei Fairhill's 
imagination. Please fasten your seatbelts and 
hold on tight! ^_^

*waves* Hello! Loralei here. Now, I know that 
you were probably expecting another chapter 
of Stairway to Heaven, but I'm afraid I'll 
have to disappoint you. The next book in 
that series really has absolutely nothing 
to do with Mamoru, so I don't think it would 
be very nice to send it in honor of his 
birthday! ^^; Such is the case: I've created 
this instead. Yes, it is a song fic and yes 
the song is French.** WAIT! Don't go!! 
Please . . . It's important to me that you 
stay. This is a tribute to the fact that we 
truly paint Usagi and Mamoru's relationship 
to be perfect, when it reality, it may not 
be. Going with the lyrics of the song, I've 
decided that this is the way I'm turning. 
I really don't want to give anything else 
away, so without further adieu, here is my 
fic! 

**note: translations will be provided after 
every verse. I have tried to get as close 
to what the lovely Jacques Brel who wrote 
the lyrics for song intended to say, however, 
my French is not fluent, and these are not 
literal translations, they are merely what 
I could manage with a huge Larousse 
dictionary and fluent mother. ^_^







     The dark-haired man sleeping alone 
in the bed quickly swam towards consciousness. 
His eyes slowly opened, revealing deep blue 
irises that darted to the side and stared 
longingly at the empty spot beside him on 
the bed. He sighed and rolled over, trying 
to forget his pain.
     
)0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0(
Bien sur, nous eumes des orages
Vingt* ans d'amour c'est l'amour fol
Mille fois tu pris ton bagage
Mille fois je pris mon envol

Of course, we had storms
Twenty* years of love it's crazy love
A thousand times you took your baggage
A thousand times I took mine as well
)0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0(

     Just as he was falling back into a 
troubled sleep, the phone rang, its grating 
sound jolting him out of his misery momentarily. 
     Perhaps it's her . . . calling to 
tell me that she's coming home, he hoped.
     He groggily made his way across the 
bed to where the phone lay on her night table, 
and a fresh wave of sorrow washed over him 
as he picked up the portable from its charging 
station.
     "Hello?" he said into the receiver.
     "Mamoru-kun, where is she?" the female 
voice at the other end asked without 
introduction. "We've been worried about her 
for days; she hasn't told us a thing about 
what's bothering her. And they said she never 
showed up at her doctor's appointment two 
days ago. . . . You two fought again, didn't 
you. Did she leave? When? Do you know where 
she is?"
     "Doctor's appointment?" he asked 
curiously. "She didn't say a thing about 
that to me--"
     "And that's just as well!" Rei yelled. 
"You really hurt her!" She lowered the volume 
of her voice, trying to keep herself calm. 
"She went to confirm her belief that she was 
pregnant . . . Mamoru-kun, I need to know when 
she left."
     He remained silent for a moment, 
confusion clouding his thoughts. A baby? he 
asked himself. He decided not to discuss it 
further with Rei; she already seemed quite 
upset about it. He would have to ask Usagi 
about it when she came home . . . if she ever 
came home.
     "Yesterday," he said painfully, "she 
left me yesterday." He sighed heavily and 
continued, "And if I knew where she was, 
Rei-chan, don't you think I would be there 
right now, trying to find her and make 
amends?"
     "So you two did fight . . ." Rei 
mumbled.
     "Yes, and what of it? Isn't that a 
normal thing for us to do now?" he snapped.
     Rei didn't answer.
     "Besides . . . there was nothing I 
could do," he admitted, defeat and loss 
embittering his voice.
     "What do you mean there was nothing 
you could do? There had to be something!" Rei 
cried.
     Mamoru didn't respond. He simply put 
the phone down on the night table and walked a 
few feet away. He could hear Rei screaming his 
name, telling him he had to talk to her, from 
where he stood across the shadowy room, but 
he had already decided not to pick it up again. 
After a few moments, he heard her end click 
loudly, as if she had slammed her phone back 
onto the hook angrily.
     He opened the brass-knobbed door across 
the room from him and walked down the corridor 
to a small, overcrowded room, where he slumped 
down onto a pillow strewn twin bed. Head 
cradled in his strong hands, he began to weep.  
     
)0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0(
Et chaque meuble se souvient 
Dans cette chambre sans berceau
Des eclats de vielles tempetes.

And every piece of furniture remembers
In this room without a cradle
The lightning of the old storms.
)0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0(

     "Usako . . ." he whispered, "why did 
I blame you? It . . . it wasn't your 
fault . . . it was mine. I didn't protect 
you well enough . . . I started too many 
fights . . . left you too many times . . . 
oh, Usako, I'm so sorry . . ." he said 
through his tears. "I was unworthy of your 
love. . . ." He rent his clothing in agony, 
misery clouding his vision and haunting 
his soul.
     His world spun and swirled as he 
thought of his beloved. It was impossible 
for him to resist thinking of her. She had 
been his everything, and he had broken her 
beyond repair. He never meant a word of the 
harsh, barbed phrases he had plunged into 
her heart, but still he had said them and 
could not prevent himself from doing so.

)0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0
Plus rien ne ressemblait a rien
T'avais perdu le gout de l'eau
Et moi celui de la conquete.

Nothing resembles anything
You've lost your taste for water
And me the taste for conquest.
)0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0(

     Mamoru lifted his face, and upon 
seeing the clear window in front of  him, 
slunk over and regarded the world beyond. 
His tear-stained eyes searched vainly for 
the beautifully familiar figure with streaming 
golden hair spiraling down from twin buns. 
Alas, she did not appear, and he turned away, 
the sharp ache in his heart gaining strength.
     He remembered all their arguments, 
and how every little word remained as 
piercing as shards of glass driven into 
his love for her, slowly making it bleed 
and fall to the floor in an unconscious 
heap. He remembered how he made her cry 
time after time and how, afterwards, he 
didn't know how to heal the hurt he had 
caused. But he knew that every awful 
sentence bricked the wall between them 
higher, till it reached to touch the 
cloudy heavens, and drove her away from 
him completely.
     He collapsed slowly onto the 
carpeted floor, his body wracked with sobs.
     "What can I do? I've done her so 
much evil . . . and she didn't deserve 
it . . . if only I could wind back the 
years. . . ."

)0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0(
Oh, mon amour, 
Mon doux, mon tendre, mon merveilleux amour,
De l'aube clair'jusqu'a la fin de jour,
Je t'aime encore, tu sais, je t'aime.

Oh, my love,
My sweet, my tender, my marvelous love,
From the clear dawn until the end of day
I love you still, you know, I love you.
)0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0(

     "He doesn't understand . . ." the lithe 
blond woman mumbled quietly to herself. "No 
one can understand. . . ."
     She slowly trudged down the busy Tokyo 
street, eyes focused on an invisible point ahead 
of her. People pushed and jostled each other 
around her, but she took no notice, and they 
didn't touch her. She had traveled all of the 
day and night before, and that day as well, 
without a scrap of rest. Her feet were sore 
and blistering, and her face was lined with 
fatigue, however, she did not notice, so 
intent was she on making good her escape.
     She had taken down her hair long ago 
from its customary buns and trailing ponytails 
and had traded them for two large, braided, 
scooping arcs of hair tied in place on either 
side of her head. She felt that her new 
hairstyle was a protective disguise in case 
anyone she knew happened to pass by. She 
wore dark sunglasses against the sun's 
brilliant rays, which also served to aide 
in her in her masquerade. All in all, if 
someone who knew her had seen her, they 
would have most likely never recognized her. 
     Suddenly, she stopped walking and 
stood motionless in the middle of the busy 
sidewalk. Again, she thought miserably. 
I'm back here again! Why can't I just leave 
him behind, dammit?!
     She glanced up to the dark window on 
the sixth floor of the apartment building. 
She gasped as she thought she saw a familiar 
face at the window, appearing to be searching 
the crowd below for her.
     Usagi's heart gave a sudden lurch. 
Could it be that he still cares about me? 
she asked herself. Her mind screamed "no" 
over and over.

)0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0(
Moi, je sais tous tes sortileges
Tu sais tous mes envoutements

Me, I know all your enchantments
You know all my spells
)0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0(

     She turned away and looked directly 
at the glaring sunlight slanting onto 
the windshield of the black car parked 
in front of her. She silently battled 
against falling under the bewitchment 
he unknowingly cast over her each and 
every time she saw him.
     "Can it be possible that I still 
love him, too?" she whispered to herself. 
"No!" she denied, "it's not true! Our love 
is dead," she said, a tear slowly falling 
from her tortured eyes. "I won't go 
back . . . I won't!" She took off running, 
not caring one bit that she was pushing 
and shoving the people in front of her 
out of her way with utmost disregard 
for their well being. As her wan form 
faded into the distance of the hurrying 
crowd, the people who she had knocked down 
began to mumble about her lack of manners. 
Had she heard them, she wouldn't have given 
a damn what they thought of her, so far 
was she gone with depression.
     Tears streamed down her sallow 
cheeks as she ran, and she angrily wiped 
them away. No one's going to see me cry, 
she thought vehemently. No one's going to 
see I'm weak. I'm the Champion of Love and 
Justice! I've . . . I've been through worse 
trials than this and come out on top! Stop 
crying, for Kami-sama's sake, she berated 
herself.
     But there was that voice in her 
head, contradicting her wavering resolve, 
saying: Don't let him go, you can't let 
him go . . . he is yours and you are his 
until the end of time, the end of 
everything. . . .
     Usagi shook her head to rid herself 
of the voice. No matter what it says, she 
told herself, I can't go back! Never . . . 
he is not for me any longer . . .! 
     Despite her efforts to hold them back, 
the tears came tumbling down, falling over 
her gaunt face, dripping onto the dirty 
pavement, streaming off her face in rivers 
as she continued to run. She passed by Crown 
Fruit Parlor, never giving it a second glance. 
She passed the park where Mamoru's old 
apartment building resided. She looked away, 
overcome by emotions and the physical pain 
of tearing herself away from her love. 
All she could think about was escape. Escape. 
Escape.
     Her feet pulled her off the sidewalk 
track, taking her into the park. She tried 
in vain to stop herself from running, knowing 
that she was going to be in a place with so 
many memories. Too many good memories, things 
she would think about and then change her mind. 
She didn't want to go back in that direction. 
It was too upsetting. But her feet kept moving, 
and she was powerless to stop them. Her fate 
was inevitable. She would reach the rose garden 
and stop. She would be overcome by the thought 
of him. She would feel the pull in the back 
of her mind, telling her she had to return to 
him, no matter had what happened, that the 
past was of no concern, that only the 
future was important. And there would be no 
future without the two of them, side by 
side. . . . Only this time, she stopped 
before she reached the garden. She suddenly 
gained control of her legs, and skidded on 
her sneakers to a screeching halt. The world 
spun, melted, converged into a pool of 
mismatched colors. Usagi slumped to the ground 
in a dead faint.

)0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0(
Tu m'as garde de piege en pieges
Je t'ai perdue de temps en temps

You saved me from trap after trap
I lost you time after time
)0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0

     She awoke to the glare of the 
sunlight in her face, falling through 
the trees to blind her with its brightness. 
She was still lying on the ground. No one 
had even thought to help her. She sighed 
again and bravely held back the tears. 
Picking her up when she fell was what he 
did best; he was her protector, her savior, 
her knight-in-shining-armor. But no more, 
she thought despairingly. No . . . no more.
     He isn't really mine. No, he belongs 
to her, that red-haired woman who I saw him 
with the other day. The one who wrapped her 
arms around his neck and kissed him full on 
the mouth with so much passion. "He didn't 
even force her off!" she mumbled incoherently. 
"He just let her kiss him . . . and I saw!" 
she cried out. "I saw them together!" 
     Slowly she picked herself up off the 
ground and dusted off her grimy clothes. 
"But I understand. I did the same thing 
once . . . but that man meant nothing at 
all to me, and it was only one misplaced kiss 
on his part . . . I've seen Mamo-chan with 
that woman before, just never . . . 
never . . . physically attached to 
her. . . ." She sniffed. And the tears 
threatened their torrent again.  

)0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0(
Bien sur tu pris quelques amants
Il fallait bien passer le temps
Il faut bien que le corps exulte

Of course you took some lovers
We had to somehow pass the time
It was necessary to indulge the body
)0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0

     Of course, she thought, I can't tell 
him about our child now. I'll have to go away 
and raise him or her by myself. (AN: No Chibi-Usa 
yet, minna, she doesn't know what the gender of 
the child will be!) All alone. Maybe I could go 
to America. Or Canada. Or France. Or . . . I 
don't know. I want to stay here . . . but where 
is here? Just a place with too many good memories, 
too many missed opportunities, too much pain.
     She sniffed again. Maybe my parents 
will take me back in. I know that running 
off to live with Mamo-chan before marriage 
was not what they wanted for me . . . and 
I think they'll like it even less when 
they find that I'm carrying his child and 
intend to keep it. . . . But perhaps 
they'll be forgiving and let me stay on 
a while until I can get my own place.
     She started to walk out of the park, 
and shook her head at her own stupidity. My 
father will never let me step back into 
that place until I'm married if I have a 
child, she thought suddenly. He wouldn't 
even let a man within five feet of me when 
I was a teenager. Just think of what could 
happen . . . and if Mama doesn't take my 
side . . . mine is a lost cause. No, I'll 
have to think of another way to leave him 
behind.   

::two days later::

)0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0
Finalment, finalment

Finally, finally
)0()0()0()0()0()

     The deed was done. She sighed and 
looked over the computer print-out of the 
release again. Then she glanced around at 
the small one-bedroom apartment. It needed 
a lot of work, but given time, she could 
make it her home. She could make it their 
home, hers and her unborn child's. There 
was enough space to put in another wall 
and make a small, but comfy room for her 
baby. It would have to do until she could 
save enough money to rent a larger place. 
     She sighed again. She had finally 
convinced herself that all was for the best. 
Mamoru could have his stupid red-head and 
she could have her child in peace. There 
will be no fights between lovers in this 
house, she thought, not altogether happy 
with her situation, but at least she was 
not as depressed as she had been a few 
days prior.
     Change was what she thought she 
wanted, but now that she possessed it, she 
wasn't so sure. She had thought, What if 
I told him about the child? What if he 
left that woman to be with me when he 
knew? What if . . . what would happen, 
she thought, while beginning to pace 
across the linoleum floor of the kitchen, 
if he did want me back when he found out? 
Does that mean I should call him? 
     Call him . . . there is a logical 
reason for the kiss . . . one that you do 
not know yet . . . call him . . .  a voice 
urged suddenly from the back of her head. 
It was the same voice that had tried to 
take her into the rose garden of the park. 
The same voice that had brought her back 
to their apartment time after time when 
she tried to run away. It was the 
resounding, echoing, pulling thrum of their 
soul-link that she knew they still shared. 
She promptly squelched the voice as best she 
could, then went back to her planning.
     "If he can't be adult enough to 
come and find me," she said to herself 
childishly, "then why should I bother 
trying to seek him out? He has 
her . . . obviously, I'm not needed anymore."

)0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0(
Il nous fallu bien du talent
Pour etre vieux sans etre adultes

We needed more talent
To be old without reaching adulthood
)0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()

     Usagi sat down, inadvertently glancing 
at the phone hanging on the wall across the room 
from her. Then she looked at the floor, trying 
to push the thought of hearing his voice one 
more time back into the far reaches of her 
mind by staring intently at one solitary 
little gray spot in the blue diamond 
design dancing in front of her eyes. She peeked 
up at the alluring machine sitting so 
peacefully on the wall through her thick, 
black lashes. 
     To call him . . . you just have to 
pick up the receiver and dial . . . the 
voice whispered seductively. She tried and 
failed to rid herself of it. It kept up 
its speech. It's not hard to do, Usagi, 
you just punch the glowing buttons . . . 
electricity and the phone company do the 
rest of the work for you . . . and his 
voice is just a few footsteps and finger 
falls away. . . .
     Too late did she try to stop 
herself from getting up out of the hard, 
wooden chair she had seated herself in. 
Far too late, because before she realized 
it, she was lifting her hand and lightly 
tapping the buttons, hearing the beeps 
as each one was pressed, putting the 
phone to her ear and finding that it 
was ringing.

)0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0(
Oh, mon amour,
Mon doux, mon tendre, mon merveilleux amour,
De l'aube clair'jusqu'a la fin du jour,
Je t'aime encore, tu sais, je t'aime.

Oh, my love,
My sweet, my tender, my marvelous love,
From the clear dawn until the end of day
I love you still, you know, I love you.
)0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0(

     Mamoru stirred from his position on 
the floor, stretching his aching legs and 
gradually getting up. The phone was ringing. 
He heard its merciless screech coming from 
the bedroom, the kitchen, and the small oak 
table not more than five feet away from his 
head. 
     How long was I in that position? he 
silently wondered. It can't have been more 
than a few hours--
     The phone rang again, jarring his 
train of thought, bringing him back to the 
present, where his legs hurt like hell, and 
his thoughts formed a confusion of sifting 
shades of gray instead of their usual 
vibrant colors. 
     He slowly made his way over to the 
phone, painfully forcing his legs to move 
although they felt like they had been run 
over by a two-ton truck. He picked it up, 
saying "Hello," in a croaking voice.
     There was no answer on the other 
end. "Hello?" he repeated. "Is anyone 
there?" 
     The sound of light breathing was 
his answer, and a hesitant, "M . . . 
Chiba-san?" from the other line.
     Mamoru gasped as he heard her 
voice. Her voice, so close and yet so far, 
coming from the other end of the phone, 
just like he had hoped and wished and 
prayed for. . . . "Usako . . .?" he asked, 
making sure that it was truly her, not 
some sick, demented joke that somebody 
was playing on him.
     "No, Chiba-san, Tsukino-san to you. 
Usako no longer," she said tightly. 
     "Usako? Why are you doing this?" 
He rubbed his head, confusion muddying his 
thoughts. It was her, but she was different, 
changed somehow. Her voice had a cold, 
metallic quality, not like the lilting, 
sweet one he used to know.
     "Chiba-san, I didn't call to fight 
with you. No, that's not the reason at all. 
I called because . . ." she trailed off. She 
didn't have a good reason for phoning him, 
except that she wanted so desperately to 
hear his voice, she would have done anything 
to have him speak just one word to her.
     "Because?" he prompted. Please, 
Usako, he prayed, please, don't do this to 
us.
     "Well, I just thought it best that 
you know, considering the circumstances." 
She threw the dice. What would he say if 
she told him about the child?
     "Know what? The cirmcumstances? 
Darling you're speaking in riddles--"
     "Stop the endearments, please. 
We're not lovers any longer, don't keep up 
the pretense. I'd prefer it if you didn't," 
she said in a hollow voice.
     "Fine," he answered back, sounding 
a thousand miles away. "What do you want to 
tell me?" 
     "I'm pregnant," she said, dropping 
the bomb full force on his head. 
     His reaction was one of utmost joy, 
but she only heard the silence on his end. 
His face broke out into a wide smile. It 
was his chance with her! It was their chance 
at happiness . . . they could be married 
now, just like he always wanted. He would 
finally have a family. It would be perfect--
     But what if she's trying to tell me 
that she doesn't want to keep it? he thought 
suddenly. What if . . . she wants an abortion? 
His face fell. His dreams flopped onto the 
ground and vanished just as quickly as they 
had appeared.
     "So you want to get rid of it?" 
he asked.
     She gasped. So he didn't want her 
to keep it . . . I might have know he'd be 
this ruthless, she thought, silently cursing 
the bad fortune that she had followed the 
voice's instructions.    

)0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0
Et plus le temps nous fait cortege
Et plus le temps nous fait tourment
Mais n'est ce pas le pire piege
Que vivre en paix pour des amants

And time pushed us forward
And time tormented us
But isn't that the worst trap
To live in peace for lovers
)0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()

     "Well, then," she said. "I suppose 
I should tell you right now that I intend 
to keep it. If that's a problem, you can 
screw off. This child is mine, and I'm going 
to raise it as such."
     He was taken aback at her frigid 
manner. She was not the Usagi he knew and 
loved. Not at all. "I wasn't going to say 
that," he said. "It is our child, after all!"
     "Ours?" she spat out. "Ours?" she 
repeated, treating the word like it was a 
vulgar thing, fit only to be smashed under 
her shoe like a misplace piece of over-ripe 
fruit. "Oh, you must be mistaken. It's 
my child, Chiba-san. You lost all right 
to be its father when you let that woman 
kiss you." 
     "Let her . . .? Usako, what are 
you talking about?" he asked, confused. 
He searched his mind for any time where a 
woman might have kissed him and she could 
have seen. And drew a blank. 
     "Would you like me to refresh 
your memory for you?" she offered, her 
voice pointedly sweet. 
     He swallowed nervously. "I guess 
you're going to anyway, so . . . please 
proceed."
     "Thursday, June 30, this year. 
You know what I received for my birthday? 
A note that read  Meet me in the rose gardens 
tonight at eight o'clock sharp. ~Mamo-chan'. 
And I followed the instructions exactly. 
I was on time for once in my life. I 
waited two hours for you to come, but no 
one even entered the garden the whole time. 
I gave up, thinking I had read the note 
wrong, or you had been held up at work. 
I started walking back to my car, which 
was parked near the entrance closest to 
your old apartment in the Azubu complex. 
And do you know what I saw on my way 
there?"
     "No . . ." he said, "but you're 
about to tell me." 
     "That was a rhetorical question, 
Chiba-san." 
     He winced as she referred to him 
by last name again. "Please forgive me, 
and continue," he said, a bit mockingly. 
She didn't notice the scorn tinging his 
tone.   
     Mollified, she finished, "I saw 
you with another woman, one with red hair 
and a tacky green dress, kissing you 
like there was no tomorrow."
     He shut his eyes against the 
humiliation of the memory she had 
dredged up. That stupid, insidious woman, 
he thought. It's her fault! She cost me 
my happiness and my love's affection. "Yes, 
she was kissing me. I remember what 
you're talking about. But that doesn't 
mean I was kissing her back, or that I 
even remotely enjoyed the feel of her 
wet lips on mine. In fact, it repulsed 
me. You must not have been watching very 
long, because I threw her off as soon as 
I recovered from the initial shock."
     "You . . . what?" She blinked, 
incredulous. He didn't love that other 
woman? It was all a mistake? 
     "I would never do something like 
that to you--"
     "But--"
     "Don't interrupt me!" he said. 
"I'm trying to tell you something."
     "What?" she asked in a tiny voice. 
She sounded so deflated, he thought, like 
all her smart answers and icy cold remarks 
had been thrown out the window.
     "I want you to know that I love 
you. That no matter what happens between 
us, I love you. I know we fight. And I know 
that it's hard to get along with me . . . 
that I've hurt you so many times. But I 
hope you can forgive me and that we can 
try it once more. This time around, I 
won't mess up. Because this time, I don't 
just have you to think of. I have our child, 
too. I have our family," he said.
     "So . . . where do we go from here?" 
she asked. "If I choose to forgive you and 
admit the faults we both made?"

)0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0(
Bien sur tu pleure un peu moins tot
Je me dechire un peu plus tard
Nous protegeons moins nos mysteres

Of course you cried a little too soon
I tore myself up a bit too late
We didn't protect our mysteries well enough
)0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0

     "We move on . . . and you come home. 
Please?" he whispered. He held his breath, 
waiting on edge for her answer. Having her by 
his side meant everything to him. 
     Her hand traced a path down her 
stomach. She shut her eyes and said, "I'll be 
there tonight."
     He released his held breath, sounding 
like a great, heaving sigh. "I'll be here," he 
promised, "waiting for you." 

::one hour later::

     Usagi knocked on the door of apartment 
4B, the one that belonged to the owner of the 
building. She looked at the release in her 
hand, yet to be signed, and sighed. 
     I suppose I won't be needing this 
anymore, she thought, as she slipped it under 
his door along with a note explaining why she 
wouldn't be able to rent out the apartment 
they had agreed upon.
     Then she turned on her heel and walked 
down the hall to the elevator. She pushed 
the button, got in, and waited for it to 
start its descent.
     When it reached the bottom, she 
walked out with measured tread and went 
through the sliding glass doors of the 
building out into the brisk twilight air. 
She hugged her thin shirt around her and 
she made her way to the curb, fumbling 
around in her pockets for cash to take 
a cab back to their apartment. She lifted 
her hand into the air, and a bright yellow 
one pulled up, bearing an advertisement for 
Shoujo Comics. She opened the door and 
stepped in, telling the driver the address 
of where she wanted to go.
     He started driving off into 
the not-so-busy streets, and she looked 
out the window, watching the passing cars 
and pedestrians, but seeing only his face 
before her.
     She sighed happily, and the 
voice said to her: You made the right 
choice. You are truly going home.
     
)0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0(
On laisse moins faire le hasard
On se mefie du fil de l'eau
Mais c'est toujours la tendre guerre.

One leaves less to risk
One mistrusts the thread of water
But isn't it always the tender war.
)0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0

          The cab pulled up to 
the complex, and she tipped her face up 
to the window of their apartment that 
faced the street. She saw his face looking 
down at her, his eyes caressing her beloved 
form like the touch of his mouth upon hers. 
She flew into the building and raced up the 
stairs, not even waiting for the elevator.
     When she reached the sixth floor, 
she stopped abruptly, and walked down the 
hall to the door. She knocked quietly, and 
was startled to find him opening the door 
while her hand was still in mid-air.
     He stared deep into her eyes for 
a moment, then drew her close towards him 
into a loving embrace, slipping something 
cold and circular onto her finger at the 
same time. 
     She pulled back, looking at him 
questioningly, then glancing at her hand. 
On it was a ring with two blue stones set 
right next to each other on a platinum band. 
She looked back at him, her lips curling into 
a smile at the sight of the precious gift he 
had given her. They needed no words except what 
she murmured into his ear: "Yes."
     He bent towards her, and captured 
her lips upon his own, his mind singing with hers 
in the joy of finally being together again.

)0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0(
Oh, mon amour,
Mon doux, mon tendre, mon merveilleux amour, 
De l'aube clair'jusqu'a la fin du jour,
Je t'aime encore, tu sais, je t'aime.

Oh, my love,
My sweet, my tender, my marvelous love,
From the clear dawn until the end of day,
I love you still, you know, I love you.
)0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0()0(


--Loralei Fairhill EMSIT 8/3/00

*This should read something like one 
thousand, but it wasn't what Monsieur 
Brel wrote, so I hesitate to change his 
lyrics. I hope I haven't confused anyone. 
They most certainly were not together as 
lovers for twenty years, minna-san. 

Sorry sorry sorry that the french text
doesn't have accents! It bothers me so
much that I put them in, but the ASCII
DOS text won't read them at all and 
turned them into little symbols. This 
setback probably only bothers the
readers that actually CARE about
a good french read. Namely, me. ^^;
Sorry again!

AN: Let me just say how much I've wanted to 
use that song for a fic since I first really 
looked at the lyrics back many months ago. 
I just never had the drive to do it. But 
then I had an inkling of an idea, and it 
grew into something so much bigger and 
Angsty/TAFFy than I ever imagined was 
possible. I was very proud of my creation, 
and still am, even thought it's not what 
I would consider my best work. So, let me 
tell you where flames for this story will 
go: right in the trash can. Flame me, and 
I will erase the email as soon as I read it. 
But if you enjoyed it, comments, criticisms, 
and compliments are all accepted, as well 
as any questions you may have that you think 
I can clear up for you! I'm always willing 
to talk! ^_^ Thank you for reading my story.

Big thank you's go out to:

my mom (for the French help! Thanks a bunch!)
my little sister (current kawaii inspiration 
for everything I write)
"Gawen" (that's what I'm going to title the 
person I love for now) (for being my light 
in all the darkness surrounding me, though 
he doesn't know it . . .)
Anon Masako (for the lovely comments, and 
reassuring me that the rating was the right 
one)
Lelu (for sending this into the list for 
me b/c I am "out of commission" there, so 
to speak [you're the kewlest!])
Shana and April (definitely the best moral 
support a person could ask for)
Meredith (for letting me stay an EMSIT ^_^)
and finally, last, but certainly NOT 
least, my buddies at Brown! Love you guys 
lots, and miss you tons!

for making this fic possible. Couldn't 
have done it without you guys! ^_^