The winding roads of her favored route were empty today, and the city of Tokyo was sprawled along the horizon like a glistening expanse of starlight. A fierce breeze rustled the ancient birch trees hanging low above the interstate, a canopy of browning leaves that marked the changing of the season. Winter would soon be upon them, but the threat of fresh snow clinging to the frigid air was hardly a deterrent for Haruka. She would drive through sleet if it meant clearing the fog from her head.

Such a constant haze had been steadily consuming her these past month, and she could not place a finger on its exact origin. She had never known such peace, such beautiful, undulating sunlight that rose every morning at dawn. It was not plagued by the shadows of daimons or phages, by the enemies meant to harm those she loved. Haruka often still dreamt of them, of the things she'd endured in the name of the Moon and her Princess.

She recalled Sailor Galaxia so vividly, her golden armor shining bright beneath the stars. A dismissive wave of her hand, and Haruka still dreamt of Michiru falling to her knees, her Star Seed gone and the light dimming from her eyes. It kept her awake most nights, sweating and gasping for breath, and Haruka had to remind herself that she and Michiru were safe, that the future Neo-Queen Serenity had brought them back from a realm of such endless dark.

A sigh escaped through her lips, and Haruka propped her elbow against the rolled down window of her convertible. The wind raced through her hair, tousling her short blonde locks and whipping them in front of her face. She swept it back with her fingers, her calloused thumb brushing over the bare skin of her forehead. It'd been months since she'd worn her tiara, its sparkling gem the same shade of blue as her eyes. Michiru had always told her how handsome the relic made her look, how it added a soft, gentle touch of beauty to the otherwise sharp angles of her face.

Turning onto a lane that most would have missed unless looking for it, Haruka forced herself to sit up tall in her seat. When she and Michiru had bought this house a several weeks ago, they'd chosen not to pave the old dirt road that served as their winding driveway. They could hear the sound of tires on dirt and stone from anywhere on their small slice of property, and without the constant threat of Earth succumbing to destruction, the wind and sea no longer whispered their secrets. Haruka had needed some peace of mind in knowing when she and Michiru had visitors.

The gilded front door of a large, slightly dated manor opened onto a wrap-around porch. Michiru stood beneath the threshold as Haruka pulled her car around, parking it beneath the shade of an old weeping willow tree. She'd barely managed to haul herself from the front seat when a blur of dark hair shot from around Michiru, barreling straight for Haruka long legs. She braced herself for the inevitable impact.

"Haruka!" Hotaru flung her arms around Haruka's torso and squeezed. "You've been gone for hours. Where were you? Michiru and Setsuna were getting worried."

She smoothed back Hotaru's hair and smiled. "I went for a drive," Haruka told her, gently untangling herself from the child's crushing embrace. She reached into the back seat of her convertible and procured a plastic bag. "I picked up carry-out. I thought everyone might be hungry."

Hotaru grinned and snatched the bag from between Haruka's fingers. "I'll go put this on the table," she said. "Michiru figured you'd bring dinner home, so we've been waiting on you to eat." She clutched the carry-out containers against her chest and raced for the front porch, bounding up the stairs and past Michiru.

Michiru shook her head as Hotaru disappeared into the house, calling out for Setsuna as she went. "If you were going to be late," she chided softly, raising an eyebrow at Haruka as she dragged herself up the steps. "You should have called."

"I'm sorry," Haruka said, towering over Michiru and pressing a kiss to her brow. "I didn't intend to be gone for so long."

Lacing their fingers between them, Michiru tucked herself beneath Haruka's chin. She closed her eyes and breathed in deep, sighing contentedly at the familiar scent of Haruka's favored cologne. "Did your drive help to clear your head?"

"No," Haruka admitted. There was no sense in lying to her. "Maybe tomorrow I'll go to the track. Find some amateur to race. Kick their ass."

Michiru hummed an acknowledgement. "Or," she said. "Setsuna can watch Hotaru, and you and I can escape for a couple of hours. We've been neglecting our favorite places in the Juban district."

"There's that restaurant near the old Mugen Academy," Haruka mused. "The one with the fancy dinnerware you enjoy so much. I could call and make us a dinner reservation." She nuzzled her face into Michiru's dark green hair, her senses assaulted by fragrant shampoo she washed it with. "It's been too long since I've treated you to a night on the town."

"We've had more important things to worry about," Michiru reminded her. Haruka's eyes fluttered. "But now that the tides have grown silent, we're free of our duties as Guardians. The world is ours for the taking." She gently poked Haruka in the chest. "I have a violin recital coming up, and you should be training for the next racing season. Spring isn't too far off, you know."

Haruka nodded in a way she prayed was not dismissive. Racing was the furthest thing from her mind. "We should head inside," she suggested. "Before dinner gets cold. Or before Hotaru and Setsuna devour it."

The soft, melodic laugh that escaped from Michiru was Haruka's favorite sound. She strived to hear it every day, to make Michiru happy enough to laugh, but lately she'd been slacking in her duties.

"If there was sushi in any of those carry-out containers," Michiru began, taking Haruka's hand and guiding her into the house. They kicked off their shoes in the foyer, a sparkling chandelier twinkling above and scattering rays of light across the walls. "I doubt there's any left. It's Hotaru's favorite."

A quiet chuckle rasped out of her. "Let's hope Setsuna managed to save some for the rest of us, then. I'm famished."

Michiru rose onto her toes and pressed a playful, teasing kiss to tip of Haruka's nose. "Perhaps you shouldn't have stayed out so long, then. Though I do hope your drive offered you some peace of mind. I hate seeing you so restless."

"I hate being so restless," Haruka countered. She raked a hand through her hair. A quiet life with Michiru was all she'd ever wanted, but these days, it seemed as if such a life wasn't meant for her. "Once the racing season starts back up, I'll be better. I promise."

A flicker of concern flashed in Michiru's eyes. Her lips parted to speak, but Hotaru came skidding into the foyer, her socks slipping over the polished marble floor. "Hurry up!" she said, wedging herself between Haruka and Michiru, pushing them apart as she grabbed each of their hands. "Setsuna and I are hungry, and she won't let me eat without the two of you sitting at the table."

Haruka ruffled her hair and forced a smile onto her face. "Apologies, little one." She avoided Michiru's gaze as Hotaru led them into the ornately decorated dining room. Sprawled across one end of the table was the carry-out containers full of steaming food that Haruka had brought home for dinner. On the other end, paint and canvases and dripping brushes stained the oak wood. She chuckled. "I see you've been busy today."

Hotaru grinned up at her despite Setsuna shaking her head, a lingering mixture of fond exasperation etched into the lines of her face. Haruka made a note to ask her about the experience later, and whether or not more paint was spilled than what was left on the table. "Michiru was teaching me how to paint a galaxy."

"A galaxy, huh?" Haruka sank into a nearby chair. "Any success?"

"We've got quite the little artist on our hands," Michiru said, flipping through the canvases. Haruka could tell which ones she'd painted, and which ones Hotaru had painted black and splattered white paint on. A gentle smile tugged at the corners of Michiru's mouth as she pulled a canvas from the bottom of the stack. "She painted this one just for your."

Michiru handed the canvas to Haruka, who blinked at the messy array of multicolored paint. A bluish circle sat near the center of the canvas, white lines circling what Haruka vaguely recognized to be—

"It's Uranus!" Hotaru said excitedly. She bounced on the heels of her feet. "I painted Neptune and Pluto for Michiru and Setsuna, too. Do you like it?"

She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Of course I do," Haruka said, her voice a deeper rasp than usual. Hotaru didn't seem to notice, but she felt Michiru studying her face. "I'll hang it in my office after dinner." She leaned over to press a kiss to Hotaru's temple, and she tried to shake away the coil of dread sitting like a stone in her chest. She did not deserve such a lovely gift as this.

But Hotaru smiled happily, satisfied with Haruka's praise, and bounded around to sit at the head of the table. The ends of her chair scraping over the floor were like nails on a chalkboard to Haruka's ears. She winced. Michiru, as if she'd taken notice, was far more careful as she pulled out her own chair and sat to Haruka's left. Setsuna seemed to the do the same, taking up a seat across from them at the table.

Dinner passed by in a blur, and Haruka only hummed and nodded when appropriate. She barely touched her food, and Michiru drew attention to her lack of an appetite by occasionally stealing uneaten shrimp from her plate. Every theft was accompanied by a pointed stare, but Haruka only responded by patting Michiru's knee beneath the table. She knew they would discuss this later.

And so when she and Michiru bid Setsuna and Hotaru goodnight, Haruka climbed into bed and closed her eyes while Michiru freshened up in the bathroom. She'd lit a candle and left it burning on her nightstand, the wax smelling of a soft lavender that helped lull Haruka to sleep. It's dancing flames chased away the shadows lurking near the edges of the bed, and Michiru seemed to always know better than to snuff out the fire before crawling beneath the covers.

Tonight was no different than the rest, though Haruka heard Michiru sigh softly just before rolling into bed. She flipped off the lamp on her own nightstand, and Haruka bit her lip as Michiru laid with her back to her. Normally, they would stay up and talk, stealing kisses between the natural lulls in conversation.

Haruka moved closer, wrapping her arms around Michiru's body and pulling her back into her chest. She laid her head against the swell of muscle in Haruka's upper arm, her index finger absently tracing shapes against the open palm of her hand. "I'm worried about you," she murmured. "You're distant."

Haruka pressed a kiss to the back of Michiru's neck. "I know," she breathed. "I'm sorry."

Author's Note: I...am actually a piece of crap for starting anoter fanfic when I'm drowning in other responsibilities. But my obsession with Sailor Moon (more specifically, Haruka and Michiru) made me do this, so I'll blame that. I have no idea where this fic is actually going, and I don't know if anyone is interested in exploring my version of a Haruka Tenoh riddled with PTSD and anxiety from all she's gone through, so let me know in the reviews! If people want it, I'll keep going. Lol.