Title: Communication VI: Confidences
Description: "Men with secrets tend to be drawn to each other, not because they want to share what they know but because they need the company of the like-minded, the fellow afflicted." – Don Delillo

A/N: Last installment of the Communication set. Takes place in the Two Truths and a Lie universe, which should be read first. The first part follows shortly after Two Truths and a Lie and is closer to the original style than any of the others in this series, and the second part takes place quite a bit after, near the end of the Sleep.

Communication

VI. Confidences

The highest spire of the Crystal Palace was haunted. Not by a ghost, nor by a demon, nor by a poltergeist, but by flesh-and-blood men who had been brought back ostensibly because they had unfinished business. Or perhaps it was the world that wasn't yet finished with them.

Thus, there were no sightings of white shades drifting through the halls – although Kunzite's hair could do a fair imitation – no rattling of chains, no wailing moans, and no demands of vengeance for their untimely deaths.

Meetings of the spire's inhabitants were unscheduled and unplanned, the epitome of spur-of-the-moment, really, for no one could predict when misery would strike. Only that it did so, and often. Most of the time, the Shitennou preferred to contemplate their difficulties in private, but on occasion, there was no substitute for the company of three other men who were in exactly the same situation – but not quite – and who were just as miserable as you were. Plus one future king who was deliriously happy with his one true love and just wanted his friends to be happy.

It was true that they never really changed the locations of these commiseration sessions, but they didn't go out of their way to announce them, either. Regardless, Mamoru had an uncanny knack for sensing when they were about to take place. He also brought chocolate. Nephrite supplied the wine. Actually, it was really Setsuna who supplied everything, but that was beside the point.

Normally, the chilly tower room that was roughly 70 percent window and 30 percent wall was Kunzite's refuge of choice. It was the best place from which to spot anyone or an army approaching the palace. Not that this was at all likely, but one could never be too careful.

Kunzite hadn't exactly volunteered to host what Mamoru secretly thought of as "The Shitennou Support Group," but he had been the leader of the Shitennou and the greatest share of guilt lay with him. In light of his crimes, what was a little real estate between friends and fellow traitors? It wasn't as if there was a shortage of empty rooms in the Crystal Palace. And it wasn't as if any of them really belonged to him.

"Misery loves company, except when it goes by the name of Kunzite."

He glanced up, not surprised to see Zoisite standing before him (Zoisite was a man of many unique abilities but being able to sneak up on Kunzite was not and had never been one of them) but surprised his rationalization had been so plain to see. He would have to work on that. Otherwise, next thing he knew Minako might know how he felt about her. Actually, there was a good chance Minako already knew how he felt about her given how assiduously she avoided him, but again, one could never be too careful.

"I have no issue with your presence in this room," Kunzite replied. "I came here fully aware that you would also be here. If I hadn't wanted to be here, I would have gone elsewhere."

The sardonic expression on Zoisite's face told him he had used the word "here" too many times to be entirely convincing.

"Elsewhere… You mean your secret hideout in the western corner of Makoto's greenhouse?" Jadeite asked matter-of-factly.

He was horrified. "You know about it?"

"Of course we do. Everyone does, including Makoto," Zoisite said cheerfully as he took a seat on the icy floor.

Kunzite grimaced. "But I was careful to enter only during the times I knew she wouldn't be there, so as not to disturb her."

Jadeite rolled his eyes. "This may come as a surprise to you, Kunzite, but not everyone follows a perfectly regimented schedule, detailed down to what they'll be having for breakfast a month in advance. Makoto realized fairly quickly that you always go there between the hours of two and four, so she stays out of your way to give you some privacy for your brooding."

He subsided into an embarrassed silence. Jadeite took up his customary position on the window ledge, and soon Mamoru and finally Nephrite joined them.

"I hereby call this meeting to order," Nephrite announced, wineglass in one hand, the other extended to receive a chocolate bar from Mamoru. It was the cheapest kind because while Nephrite cared a good deal about the quality of his wine, he cared close to nothing about what percent of the hard little bar in front of him was the finest dark cacao. In fact, the smaller the amount of actual chocolate in the thing and the greater the amount of ingredients like caramel and nougat and crispy cookie wafers, the better. "So who did something stupid this week? Wait, scratch that – who did the stupidest thing this week?"

Zoisite raised his hand. "I provoked Ami into arguing with me, and then I asked her if she found me repulsive."

"I'm guessing her answer was an unambiguous 'yes,'" Nephrite surmised.

Jadeite stared at him. "Why would you do that? She actually converses with you as if you were a normal human being. Even I can't do that on a day-to-day basis."

"Oh, please. This from the person who once asked Princess Mars whether she bathed with the Sacred Fire, too, since she was so attached to it," Zoisite shot back.

Mamoru, who was still getting reaccustomed to their banter, was torn between saying something encouraging to Zoisite and admonishing Jadeite. In the end, he took the middle road – keeping quiet and taking a fortifying bite of his Twix bar. After all, Usagi had told him that sometimes the only hedge against despair was not to take yourself too seriously, and it seemed to him that thus far in life, her coping mechanisms had worked much better than his.

"I would also like to know how this came about," Kunzite spoke up. "It seemed to me as if things were going well. From what you said, you had even managed to the broach the subject of the Silver Millennium with her."

Zoisite sighed, falling back with a thud until he was spread-eagled on the tiles. Somehow, he managed not to spill a single drop of his wine. Looking up at the ceiling, he said, "We talk about the Silver Millennium all the time. Therein lies the problem."

They waited patiently for his answer, since time lay heavily on their hands these days.

Finally, Zoisite lifted his head, letting his coppery curls brush the floor as he directed his gaze at Jadeite. "You want to know how Ami deals with me? How she can bring herself to chat with me, so civilly and with such interest, about the Silver Millennium? Because she views me as a fascinating historical relic. A walking, talking textbook. That's the only way she can distance herself enough to talk to me when she can't even look me in the eye."

Another man would have flinched from the bitterness that suffused Zoisite's voice. But Jadeite didn't. It was the twin to his own pain, his constant shadow and close companion.

As always, Mamoru found himself searching for believable synonyms for "She doesn't really hate you." In the end, he had to go with, "If it's any consolation, I don't believe she consciously sets out to make you feel that way."

Zoisite lay back on the floor, sounding as weary as a raw recruit after three consecutive practice matches against Kunzite. "I know, Mamoru. She is obviously forcing herself to do something that is very difficult for her because she believes it is the right thing to do. So now I'm sparing the both of us."

It was clear as the crystal that caged them that Zoisite was also forcing himself to do something that was very difficult for him. Nephrite thought they had reached the point at which there would be relatively little absolution his friend could gain from further unburdening himself, so a subject change was in order. He volunteered, "I made Makoto cry yesterday."

Jadeite, who often found himself in the role of encouraging his fellow Shitennou to talk these days, prompted, "Why?"

"I'm not entirely sure," Nephrite confessed, "but it may have been because I told her I didn't believe our falling in love with each other was a mistake."

There was a sudden collective intake of breath, like the sound of a spring breeze rushing through a copse of cherry blossoms.

"Good for you," Zoisite said staunchly.

Nephrite shrugged. "Well, I didn't say I was successful in convincing her to come around to my viewpoint. But if we cannot come to an agreement about this, how can we come to an understanding about anything?"

There was a moment of silence, and then Jadeite said, "I always thought you would have made a fine negotiator. All those times you managed to 'accidentally' insult delegates to the Terran Court were just a ploy to get reassigned, weren't they?"

"I admit to nothing," Nephrite said, but for a moment, his grin was the wide, infectious one they had not seen for weeks.

"For the record, you didn't fool me," Kunzite informed him. "You were reassigned because I received a request from their majesties to temporarily remove you from ambassadorial detail."

"And you complied with that request?" Mamoru was shocked. As far as he could tell, the Kunzite of the past would never have let anyone tell him how to command his men.

He smiled unexpectedly. "Let's just say that they weren't as concerned about the supposed insults experienced by the delegates as they were about the compliments being paid to their daughters. Besides, I was of the opinion that his time would be more effectively spent on border patrol than in the ballroom."

A general lightening of the mood occurred, but like a good day in April, it could only last for so long before it drifted away ahead of a cold front.

"Well, Jadeite?" Nephrite prompted. "We can usually depend on you for some sort of contribution to our ever-increasing list of mistakes to be avoided."

Jadeite traced a rune in a spill of burgundy wine before he spoke, and Zoisite managed to identify it before he dashed his finger through the liquid. It was the three pointed one for regret, so formed because the worst regrets carried threefold influence: they tainted the past, the present, and the future.

"Rei was gracious enough to aid me in my attempts to access my path to Elysion. I responded by lecturing her and forcing her to confront the worst parts of the Silver Millennium, and I finished things off by telling her that failing to recover her memories would render her an incomplete person. I believe the ceiling of that room now bears a permanent scorch mark."

"I'm surprised you're not the one wearing it," Zoisite murmured.

"Yes, well, one should be grateful for small miracles, I suppose."

No one mentioned the importance of reopening the portals to Elysion or the extreme lack of wisdom and delicacy in saying such things to Rei Hino. There wouldn't be anything new to say for which Jadeite hadn't already berated himself.

Mamoru asked suddenly, "Have I told you yet about the time I broke up with Usagi because I thought it would keep her safe?"

By now they had acquired enough modern day slang so no one batted an eyelash at the phrase "broke up with." Yet all four of them were looking at him as if he had grown an extra head.

"Was this before or after you remembered your past life?" Nephrite asked.

"After," Mamoru admitted. He still did not like remembering what he had put Usagi through, and he didn't think he would ever forget the despair and doubt that had clouded her eyes. "It's a long story, involving my future self and a series of nightmares – they were not your average, run-of-the-mill nightmares about giant mutant aphids or going to school naked or things like that; these really were terrible nightmares. Anyway, I thought Usako would die unless I stayed away from her.

"She was really devastated. For awhile, she thought she would never be able to trust me again. But we were able to work things out and rebuild our relationship."

Zoisite asked, "Just for clarification… there was no slaughter of innocents, no destruction of the universe, no betrayal of love or promises or oaths of fealty, was there?"

"And any ones that only occurred in your dreams don't count," Nephrite added quickly.

"Well, no," Mamoru admitted. "At least, not in that time and place and not by my hand, and I wasn't actually directly involved in that except that for the part where we helped save the Crystal Tokyo of the future."

The Shitennou were at a loss for coming up with a proper response, as they were trying to decide why they felt inordinately disappointed at this extraordinarily good news.

Kunzite could see how crestfallen Mamoru was becoming and that the others were potentially gearing up to ask more uncomfortable questions. To circumvent them, he said sincerely, "Thank you, Mamoru. It sounds like it must have been a very challenging experience for you and the… Usagi, and we appreciate you telling us about it."

His gimlet eye prompted three somewhat delayed nods and murmurs from the other Shitennou.

Deciding that wasn't going to be enough, Kunzite continued, "In fact, it has given me great insight into my own situation."

They all turned to him in amazement. It was rare for Kunzite to discuss anything remotely related to Minako, even at several degrees' removal.

He stood before the wall that overlooked the harbor, his feet planted shoulders' width apart and his hands clasped lightly behind him as he thought about what to say. "I have not spoken to Minako in a fortnight. And that in itself is astonishing to me, but perhaps not in the way one might expect. I don't know if the experience was similar for the rest of you, but I imagine you will understand what I mean. During the Silver Millennium, I started to feel this… somewhat painful, but also hopeful anticipation. I was always waiting to see Venus, so much so that even glimpsing her planet in the night sky gave me pleasure.

"Had I allowed myself to acknowledge it, I would have confessed that she was never far from my mind. Time passed with unendurable slowness when we were not together, and when she left me, it felt like the sun had gone, never to rise again. I never imagined that I would be fortunate enough to see her nearly every day, never even allowed myself to dream of the possibility that we could permanently reside on the same planet, under the same roof.

"Now I know a different pain, that I cannot reach out and hold her, touch her cheek, that she no longer feels the same way about me. Because she no longer knows who I am."

He turned to them, searching for the faintest echo of empathy and comprehension, but also hoping for his friends' sakes that he would not find it in their faces.

"This world seems to me like one beyond imagining, one in which grandfathers routinely live to see their grandsons, in which soldiers can recover from wounds that would surely have been fatal in the Silver Millennium, and in which water and food and joy seem to be in abundance. Each day, I discover something new which astounds me. But more and more, I fear that I am becoming an inconvenience in a world of conveniences."

He watched her from the overstuffed armchair, his eyes mere slits of lazy emerald glittering darkly in the lamplight. The long hallway muffled the echoes of the departing footsteps until the distance swallowed them whole. It was so quiet that he could almost believe they were the only two people awake in the world. And that thought was both frightening and exhilarating.

Mindful of his gaze, she moved purposefully around the room, replacing cushions that had been knocked off couches, repositioning chairs, and finally shutting the doors to the tall wooden cabinet.

"You forgot one."

"Did I?"

Zoisite smiled slowly in response to her look of surprise, then rose with sinuous grace to reveal the last board game hidden in the depths of the chair.

Ami sighed. "You couldn't have told me about it earlier?"

"Of course not." He delivered the box into her outstretched hands and resettled himself in the armchair. "It would have shortened our time together, and I couldn't have that, could I?"

With her back to him, she allowed her lips to curve. It was his way to be generous with his emotions – both the positive and the negative – so he often said such things to her. Without exception, it felt like liquid sunlight was running through her veins, even though this time it was close to midnight and her mind flatly refused to let her indulge in such unscientific thoughts.

Ami turned around to face him, her expression smooth again. "Since you've done such an excellent job of conserving your energy tonight, you won't mind spending some more time with me before it's time to sleep, will you?"

Preempting what she was certain would be a lascivious suggestion, she said, "Let's go for a swim."

He was on his feet in an instant. Every morning, she swam laps before having breakfast with Makoto, and every so often, one of the others would join her. But he never had.

Zoisite wasn't sure who else knew about the other times she immersed herself in the vast pool, the laps that went on long and late at night when stillness blanketed the Crystal Palace. He had a hunch that for a time, she had gone swimming after each Game Night and other particularly trying occasions.

He was fairly sure she knew that he knew about them, but until tonight, he had never been invited to join her. They made their way to the lower levels of the palace in a benign and anticipatory silence, and he wasted little time locating and changing into a clean pair of swimming trunks.

When he set foot in the vast crystal chamber that housed the pool, he saw that she was already in the water, cutting through it as cleanly as a scythe did wheat. He lingered at the side until Ami swam over and dipped her fingers in the water, playfully flinging the droplets at him.

"Aren't you coming in?"

Before he could answer, her lips parted and she put her fingers to her temple.

In another time and in another language, he asked the same question she had just posed to him, his voice teasing and challenging and caressing all at once. She stood at the edge of a glimmering lake, and even though he was no more than a stone's throw from the bank, he felt as distant from her as the endless horizon.

She opened her eyes again to find herself still treading water, then dove down beneath the surface. She had never noticed it before, but being fully submerged in the water was strangely similar to how she felt when she heard his voice. A moment later, his arms closed around her, and that was an even better sensation.

Zoisite smiled triumphantly as they resurfaced together. Always, always, she eluded him in the water, which was her element and her stronghold, her source of strength and defense. But today, she had let him catch her.

His elation faded when he noticed the troubled expression on her face.

"Sometimes I'm afraid of the person I'm becoming."

The way she leaned against him confidingly, seeking his warmth and solidity, kept the panic from rising in his throat.

He looked down into her eyes, which seemed so dark a blue today that their contrast with her winter-pale skin brought to mind moonlight glimpsed from the mouths of ancient caverns, diamonds glittering against black silk, the matte onyx backing of an iridescent shell, all the dark undersides of things that are necessary to give light its beauty and luster.

He cupped her cheek in his hand, rubbing his thumb over the delicate edge of her jaw in a motion that was both sensuous and soothing. She closed her eyes, the better to savor the sensation and to distance herself from the truth.

"In the beginning, I thought the palace was a prison. But now I think of it as a refuge, a time and space I'll be desperately sorry to leave."

He couldn't imagine anything less like a sanctuary than this imposing, spiky monstrosity with its chilly corridors and numberless secrets.

"Why?"

Her voice was so low as to be nearly inaudible. "Because until the sleepers waken, until the gates of the palace open, you cannot leave me again."