1092/Out Of The Woods

Out Of The Woods
Date of Scene:	20 February 2016
Location:	Nephrite's Palace
Synopsis:	Nephrite and Makoto in the aftermath of Nephrite's purification. There's no wiping the slate clean, and no more pretending. (Directly follows "Roll Away Your Stone," roughly concurrent with "Priorities.")
Cast of Characters:	Makoto Kino, Nephrite

---

Nephrite has posed:
The forest is changed. Not quite visibly, not in any precise manner. But it feels as though it has woken up. The sea breeze that drifts through the tree's branches smells sharper, more alive. The silence is no longer eerie, but tranquil, contemplative.

They could get lost in this temperate rainforest, so thick with greenery that, only a short walk away from the enormous quarter circle that shines like stars, they can no longer see it. Where the pair have wandered, the ground is thick with ferns, and a totem pole rises out of them as though it is emerging from the sea. A thunderbird, wooden and carved and much smaller than the one that had sat in judgement over them, perches at the top of the pole, gazing off into the distance. Overhead, the heavens still sit perched on the verge of sunset, displaying a starry sky even as the forest is awash in red-gold light.

Nephrite sits on the ground, the roots of an enormous red cedar, thick with a carpet of moss, wrapped around behind him. He is wearing the last thing he wore as Masato Sanjouin, which is ironically the same red Brioni suit he wore the last time he and Makoto looked at the stars together. But he is not watching the stars now.

He does not know what to do with--this. All of this. The sudden reconfiguration of everything he thought he knew. The blunt realization of how... wrong everything about who and what he was has ever been. The collision of the light and joy and wholeness that both Endymion and Sailor Moon granted him with the raw pain of so much of himself (what he thought was himself) being stripped away, literally and figuratively.

He looks at the ground for a long time before he finally voices the first and most important question, his voice ragged at the edges and his gaze not quite meeting hers. "Did I hurt you?"

Makoto Kino has posed:
It's something of a loaded question, whether it was meant that way or not. Makoto - there didn't seem to be any reason to transform again, so it's still just Makoto - stands amidst the ferns and gazes up at the wooden thunderbird at the top of the pole as she tries to figure out how to answer. Soon enough she decides to take him literally, and shakes her head. "Nothing serious." Her hand lifts, brushes across her midsection. "I'll have some bruises, but I probably got you just as bad." She hasn't had any of Endymion's healing poured into her, but even so, compared to some other beatings she's taken, today's fight barely even rates. "I'm okay."

Letting her hand drop, she looks back toward Nephrite and falls quiet again, uncertain. There are so many things she wants to ask, to say, but she can't find a way to put any of them into words and isn't sure that she should even try. A last she picks her way over the sprawling, mossy roots of the cedar until she can settle herself down quietly near where he's sitting. "...Sorry," she says in the general direction of her knees as she draws her legs up and loops her arms loosely around them. "I wish there'd been a... a gentler way of doing this."

Nephrite has posed:
He is still Nephrite, with or without the uniform that was burned away by Sailor Moon's light. The core of him, anyway. The part of him that was Nephrite before he was ever born in this life. What relationship he has with Masato Sanjouin, whether he is a constructed identity or a real name Nephrite ever called himself by, is still fuzzy.

A sharp exhale could be taken for almost a laugh. "Nothing worthwhile can come gently, can it? You know where I was before. This was... this hurt, but it wasn't pain for the sake of pain."

He absently plays with the frond of a fern, running his fingers along the leaves. "You... don't have to do that. You don't have to preserve my feelings. The things that I did, that I was planning to do..." he struggles for the words. "I won't say that it seemed right to me, because that's not true. I was manipulative, threatening, but I did not care. I... you didn't deserve what I put you through."

Makoto Kino has posed:
She looks over at him, brow furrowing. "Am I supposed to hold that against you?"

It's not entirely a rhetorical question. Makoto is frowning faintly as her gaze drifts down towards the ground, looking a bit perplexed. Trying to sort through her own feelings. "I don't know," she says after a moment, picking each word slowly and with care. "I was angry, at first. When I realized how I'd been fooled... I was furious. But after I started to understand more about what was going on..."

Her voice trails off, and Mako's shoulders lift as she breathes in. "You weren't - in your right mind," she says. Is that the right way to put it? She's not sure. "Whatever you did or could've done, it doesn't seem quite right to blame you for it now."

She draws her legs in a little more, folding in on herself until her chin's almost resting on her arms where they're curled around her knees. "Besides," she murmurs, "life's not always about what people deserve." It's a lesson that Makoto learned young.

Nephrite has posed:
"I wasn't, no." Can he say that he is in his right mind even now? He feels stripped, raw, full of hairline cracks that penetrate all the way to his core. Pieces of himself--what he thought were himself--stripped away, new pieces or dormant pieces emerging to fill in the blanks. He does not know himself anymore. How all of it fits together, what kind of person they make him into. Things that he did only a week ago, a day ago, an hour ago, are just as vivid in his memory as ever, but they feel like the actions of some other person now.

Nephrite continues to stare at the fern in his hand, to count every small leaf fanning out along the frond. The old Nephrite, perhaps, would have torn the leaves off. He holds it carefully, like there are not hundreds more just like it. "But still," he mutters. "It happened. The pain that I caused you was real. And I don't think that's so easy to wipe away just because I'm different now." Different, not good, or better. Time will tell whether either of those descriptions can apply.

He smiles, slightly. A shadow of the old grin he used to flash at her. "You are far too young for that kind of cynicism. That doesn't sound like the girl who tried to fix me with chocolate. You should have run the other way the moment you knew what I was, but you didn't. You tried to help even when I didn't know I needed it. You weren't content with letting that injustice stand. So please, can we... not pretend that the slate is simply wiped clean now? On top of everything else I've done to you, I don't want you to have to hide your pain too."

Makoto Kino has posed:
"I'm not--" Makoto begins to protest, but she can't finish the sentence. Her throat closes around the words, and to her horror her eyes fill up with fresh tears that overflow and spill down her face before she can blink them back.

She wasn't holding anything in. Was she? There just - hasn't been time to deal with it all, not with Mamoru gone and Usagi struggling so desperately with hurts and fears so much deeper than her own, and trying so hard to do it alone rather than make anyone else worry. Not with Ami still physically weak and emotionally exhausted from the attack that almost killed her. Not with Minako keeping whatever's going on in her head and her heart so tightly-wrapped that Makoto doesn't even know how to talk to her at all, even though they're supposed to be a team. Someone's needed to stay steady, a pillar for the others to lean on; in the face of so much greater suffering, her own troubles had seemed lesser by comparison, small enough to wait.

"Sorry." The word hitches out of Mako in a little gasp. She wipes fiercely at her eyes, but it doesn't help; the tears keep flowing, hot against her skin. "I'm sorry--" They're not tears of pain, or sorrow. She's been straining for balance, pulled in too many different directions, and now suddenly it's like a couple of cables have snapped. Relief, but the abrupt release of tension's left her reeling.

"I just - I just want things to be okay," Makoto says, still scrubbing uselessly at her eyes, voice thick and uneven around the tightness in her throat. "And I know it's not that easy, I know, but--"

Nephrite has posed:
The last thing she needs now is comfort from the one person who put her in this position to begin with. And by every measure, Nephrite has no right to presume familiarity with Makoto after how greatly he has abused her trust at every turn. But she held him, supported him, through the pain of Sailor Moon purifying him. She initiated that contact first, when they had been violently wrestling only moments before.

He hesitates only a moment before one too many of her sobs breaks him. And then he vaults up on his knees and is beside her, enveloping her in the biggest hug that Nephrite can give. He wraps around the entirety of her balled-up form--one arm around her back and another around her knees--conforming to the position she is in and leaving it up to her to decide if she wants to relax into the embrace or not.

"It's alright," he mutters into her hair. Slowly, with hardly any noticeable movement, the enormous cedar roots behind her have also responded to her distress, deepening the mossy groove at her back to cradle her in wooden arms.

"It might not be okay. Not for a while." Honesty. He's testing it out, seeing whether it is something he can have. "I'm sorry you had to endure this alone. I'm sorry for what I've put you through."

Makoto Kino has posed:
She is tightly knotted up, still at war with herself, and when Nephrite's arms come around her at first Makoto stays as she is, unresponsive and trembling with the effort of trying to hold back her tears.

But only for about a heartbeat.

Then, like a drowning person grasping for a lifeline, she uncurls and turns toward him. Clutching at his suit, she presses her face against his shoulder and stops fighting it, just lets the sobs rack her until the tempest of crying blows itself out and she can breathe without shuddering.

It takes a while.

Nephrite has posed:
He holds her through the storm, lets her cry for as long as she needs to. His hand moving in warm circles along her back. The way that she did for him when the first wave of memories hit.

He doesn't know what he is to her now, but he can be this, at least. A pillar, something warm and solid to cling to. As she cries, little blue forget-me-nots begin to spring up amidst the ferns.

When at last her sobs begin to subside, he gently brushes a coil of hair from her face. "Maybe it's not all fine, but this is a start, right?"

Makoto Kino has posed:
"...yeah." Though calmer now, Mako is not in a hurry to stop hiding her face, and her voice, a little raw from crying, is muffled against Nephrite's shirt. She's stopped clinging quite so hard, at least; her fingers uncurl from the fabric of his clothes to let her instead wind her arms hesitantly around him.

She draws in a breath, lets it out again in a shaky sigh. "I never bought that whole 'medicine's supposed to be bitter' thing, either," Makoto complains, still muffled. "Things that are good for you shouldn't suck this much. But... yeah. You're right."

Now, finally, she's composed herself enough to dare to look up at him, turning her head a little so that it's just her cheek resting against his shoulder instead of her whole face. Her eyes are red-rimmed, but clear. "You know... I was happy, too. Even if it was all based on a lie, you still made me happy. If we're not going to pretend the slate's clean, then... that's part of it, too."

Nephrite has posed:
He meets her eyes for a moment, still brilliantly green despite the redness that now rings them, but then he glances away. "That's because I wanted to win your trust. To probe you for secrets. I was manipulating you, trying to be the charming, fascinating man you wanted." He prods at a forget-me-not, not really sure why it showed up. It's not a rose, but flowers, all flowers, remind him of her.

"But even with all my ulterior motives, I..." he looks at her again. "You made me happy, too. And all those schemes of mine, the reasons I told myself for prolonging our meetings, they were excuses, more often than not. I couldn't justify my feelings for you to myself. If I admitted that I simply liked you, that I wanted to see you for no other reason, I might have had to put a stop to it. That was why when I saw who you were, that you and Jupiter were the same... all those excuses fell apart. Because I couldn't justify simply meeting with you anymore. I thought I was losing you."

Makoto Kino has posed:
Makoto's eyes close briefly at the reminder of her final gamble. "I didn't know what else to do," she admits quietly. "It felt like we were about to lose everything. Thinking about it now, I guess we could've gotten the piece of the key back somehow, but..."

She's a little bit tempted to hide her face against his shoulder again. Instead, Mako lets her gaze drift away and settle on the blue flowers scattered amidst the ferns where none were before. Pretty, she thinks.

"...I remembered." She says it quietly, barely more than a murmur. "What happened to the other me. The Jupiter before. All I could think was that I didn't want to end up repeating the past."

She drags her eyes back from the flowers to look up at him again, cracking a helpless little smile. "I didn't want to lose you."

Nephrite has posed:
At the reminder of how things ended, his own eyes close briefly. Despite the warmth of the sunset, the little alcove that insulates them, he shudders slightly. "I don't remember everything about that, but... I remember enough. Too much. Before I thought it was confirmation of how we were meant to be enemies, but... no. It only shows how it all went wrong. I don't... I'm still not sure about everything. About why it happened the way it did. But you're right. We can't let the past repeat itself."

He takes a breath. "You were so brave. You let yourself be that vulnerable in front of me, knowing what I could have done to you. If you hadn't... you were the only one who really got through to me."

Makoto Kino has posed:
Her arms around him tighten just a little when he shudders, trying to give back some of the comfort that he's offered her. "It was worth it," Makoto says, and there is not a trace of uncertainty now in her quiet voice. "I don't know how things will go from here, but - it's not going to be like what happened before."

She stirs a little within the circle of Nephrite's arms, lifting her head from his shoulder and sitting up enough that she can look him more properly in the eye. "We'll change it. We've already started. We just have to see it through."

Nephrite has posed:
There is not much that Nephrite knows. What kind of person he is. Where he fits into the world. Whether he really has any right to continue to hold Makoto in his arms.

What he does know is that when she says it, he feels... hopeful. He holds her more tightly. "You really make me believe that. I don't know what happens from here. But you're right. Things have changed already. We can keep changing it. I would like to see it through with you. If you want."

Makoto Kino has posed:
Makoto smiles, a small thing at first but it grows by degrees until her whole face is lit up with it, eyes shining. It's more than just hope, although that's there, too - it's the affirmation of hope, of the small inner voice that's been telling her all along, in spite of doubt and in the face of all reason, that she's been right to hope, to risk, to trust.

She doesn't have to think about her answer at all. "Yes," she says, and nods once, firm and decisive. "That's what I want."

And then a moment later she lets out a breath and kind of deflates, sinking in against him and settling her head against his shoulder again. "Ugh, I'm so tired. Aren't you tired? It's been such a stupid few weeks."

Nephrite has posed:
He chuckles, sighing against her. "Exhausted. I may not move from this spot for days. But I expect you want to be getting home." He is reluctant to end this. To let go of the comfortable way that they have become entwined. But he still feels shaky and brittle, and he can imagine how she must feel the same.

"I understand if you need some time, now. There is still so much going on. And I think I need to figure some things out. But I will be here. If you ever want to talk."

Makoto Kino has posed:
There's no immediate response to that from Mako; rather than make any move to start pulling away from him, she subsides into quiet, thinking.

He's probably right that she should be getting home. There are still things to do, to try to prepare for, and Ami will want the details of what happened here. She should give him the space and the time that he needs to think things through himself.

And yet... her body feels heavy, and she's warm and comfortable in his arms. Right now--

"I kind of don't want to move," Makoto admits quietly. "I... guess I should, though."

Letting out a sigh of her own, she begins mustering the willpower to disentangle herself from Nephrite and get up. It takes entirely too much effort, and she's barely begun to withdraw before she stops to look at him. "...Do you want me to bring you anything?"

Nephrite has posed:
Things. Always, he has needed things. Cars, clothes, food, booze. Things he could hold onto, sink his fingers into and hold himself in place. Like he thought he would simply fade away without something solid nearby.

He is presently wearing the most expensive suit he owns. The red Brioni was hand-tailored to his measurements. In Italy. And he has been sitting in the dirt in it. The knees of his trousers are soiled with damp earth. The front of his shirt is damp from Makoto crying into it, and there are actually grass stains.

And yet, he cannot bring himself to care. In this place, the ground beneath him feels solid. The plants feel more tangible and real than anything he could have bought for himself. Perhaps, when he leaves, he will again take joy in such things. But for once, right now, he does not feel pressed to retrieve all the precious stuff he left behind.

"I don't suppose chocolates are still an option?" He asks with a quick smile. "But Valentine's Day is well past now."

Makoto Kino has posed:
Whatever Makoto was expecting, if she was expecting anything in particular, that does not seem to be it. Surprise flashes across her face for a moment, followed just as quickly by a sparkle of mirth and a laugh that bubbles up out of nowhere.

"I can probably come up with something," she promises, turning a bit pink in the face even as she's still laughing quietly. "Even though it's not Valentine's Day any more."

Slowly, reluctantly, she straightens herself out enough to get her feet under her, taking a little longer than is strictly necessary to be sure of her balance before she begins to stand. And, on an impulse that she doesn't stop to examine, leans in over Nephrite to place a light, chaste kiss on the top of his head, much as she did for Ami not very long ago.

She's blushing brightly as she straightens up and starts to turn away. "I'll see you soon. Okay?"

Nephrite has posed:
Her laughter washes over him, leaves him feeling lighter and better than he was. The little kiss on the top of his head is unexpected, and he is grinning as she stands. "Okay," he answers. It's not quite a promise, but there is hope in it. "And please, take care of yourself."

He watches her retreating form as she leaves, never taking his eyes off her until she vanishes into the thick foliage. Though he does not physically walk her to the edge of his realm, the occasional forget-me-not blossoming in her path accompanies her there.