For thine is—

Life is—

For thine is the—

She pulls Haruka into an embrace, laughing, because it is over and they have beaten Sailor Galaxia and Sailor Moon won. Chaos has been sealed again, its evil scattered into all the beings of the galaxy, where it stands no chance of reforming. She pulls Haruka to her and laughs for the longest time, and Haruka smiles, her hands tracing a spot on the small of the violinist's back, and Michiru laughs because at last, it is all over. Hotaru and Setsuna have forgiven them, telling them that what they did was wholly necessary, though Michiru's wrists chafe still at the memory of those bonds. But Haruka's gentle kiss chases the memories away, drives the thoughts from her mind, and she leans into her lover hungrily.

"Marry me," Haruka whispers into her mouth, and she finds herself nodding before the statement has fully registered.

Usagi asks both of them to be bridesmaids while they are shopping, and since Haruka is shocked into silence, she accepts for the both of them. Haruka sputters something about clothing before Usagi grins at the violinist's fiancée in a strange way and points to a nearby rack. Michiru looks—hanging upon it is perhaps one of the pinkest dresses she has ever seen. "That's the bridesmaids' dress," Usagi tells them, and Haruka stares in horror.

As Usagi skips away, she turns to Haruka and considers her carefully for a moment. "We'll have to get that tailored, then," she says, and Haruka turns to fixate her horrified gaze on the violinist. Striding to the rack, Michiru pulls two of the dresses off, holding them up for her lover. "Shall we?" she says as she pulls Haruka to the dressing rooms, and Haruka grabs onto her wrist so hard it aches under the racer's iron grip.

She locks the door behind them and thrusts the larger dress at her fiancée, who takes it much as one would take a pair of old, used socks and unwillingly begins to strip. "Pull it over your head," she urges as Haruka finishes undressing, and with a flat glare, the racer slowly pulls it over her head.

Michiru considers it for a moment, then says, "Yes. We'll definitely have to get that tailored."

Haruka favors her with a withering stare.

She screams herself awake from a nightmare and immediately Haruka is there for her, stroking her hair and whispering how it will all be all right, that it was just a dream, that they were forgiven for their crimes. She sobs into Haruka's embrace and the racer kisses away her tears, and after awhile she kisses her fiancée back and suddenly Haruka is straddling her, pinning her wrists with a hand and stroking the underside of her breast with the other. She sucks on that spot behind Michiru's ear and the violinist moans, the slight pressure on her wrists contributing to the wet heat between her legs, and Haruka moves down, sliding her tongue over the curve of the violinist's hip, her pianist's fingers skittering across her inner thigh. She moans, bucks into Haruka, and the racer does unspeakable things to her—so unspeakable that the next morning, Setsuna politely asks them to keep it down while munching on a slice of toast.

Haruka wears that damn dress at Usagi's wedding, and no one ever forgets because a picture of her is mixed into the wedding photos they show at Usagi's anniversary parties. Every year she giggles into her embarrassed fiancée, and every year the girls all laugh, laugh, laugh as they come to the picture. "How much would I have to pay to see you in a dress again?" Makoto quips one year as they all look at the picture, and Haruka glares at her and mutters something about billions of yen. Her hands tighten on Michiru's wrists until the violinist gently reminds her that she won't show her the surprise tonight if she breaks the violinist's wrists. Haruka blinks, stares at her for a second until she breaks out into a full-blown grin, and the girls quiet down as they flip to the next slide. Then Mamoru brings out a pan of brownies—the man has really become quite good at baking—and the dress is momentarily forgotten.

"When are you two going to get married?" Rei asks after licking the last remnants of chocolate from her fingers. She thinks for a moment, and admits she doesn't really know.

Brazil is gorgeous, but they spend the first night holed up in the hotel room. The next morning, they venture out to the beach where she stares at the waves, careful not to put much weight on her wrists, which are still sore from the creative positions they tried last night. Her wife looks at her—her wife—and Haruka grins at the sight. "God, you're beautiful," the racer says, lacing their fingers. "And now I have you all to myself."

"Actually, I'm meeting my boyfriend here at two o'clock, so I'm going to need you out of here by then," she says, smirking. Haruka lightly swats her. "I knew it," the racer says, laughing.

She looks out at the ocean. "I wish we could just stay here on the beach forever," she says, watching the waves rise and fall, watching the seagulls take flight into the horizon. "Sometimes I wish we didn't have responsibilities in Japan. We could just escape somewhere and never come back."

"The others are waiting for us," says Haruka, frowning for a second. "But we have a whole week to spend here—let's make it special."

"I would prefer not to have sex on the beach, though," the violinist says. "It might seem appealing, but I can assure you: sand everywhere."

"You speak from experience?"

"It was a while back."

They look out at the ocean.

Though years pass, still they look twenty years old. Crystal Tokyo rises and even that is not enough to restart their body clocks. She looks over at her wife and smiles softly, wrists still aching from combat training earlier, and Haruka returns it. "Happy three hundred," the violinist says with a laugh. And they live happily for the rest of eternity.

"Sailor Neptune."

She stands, cutting off her thoughts. "Yes?" she says.

"Galaxia-sama wants you as part of the ground team tomorrow," the foreign soldier says, a shiver running through her petite body as she looks up at the formidable soldier of Neptune. The soldier of the sea nods, says, "Is that it?"

"Yes," the other soldier says weakly. "E-excuse me."

She strides past the girl—for the petite soldier is barely more than a girl—and rubs her hands against the jeweled cuffs that adorn her wrists as she walks through the hall. Entering the throne room, she says, "Galaxia-sama, may I approach?"

"You may, Sailor Neptune" the woman says, and the senshi of Neptune walks up to the throne and bows at Galaxia's feet. She kisses the woman's hand, then says, "I understand you want me as part of the ground team tomorrow?"

"Yes," Galaxia says. "You'll be teaching Sailor Pyuu how to sniff out those with true Star Seeds. After all, you are the best at this sort of thing." She toys with the Ginzuishou around her neck, a reminder of Neptune's transgressions. "I would like you to keep an eye on her for me. You have my permission to use, ah, lethal force," she chuckles coldly, "at the first sign of treachery. You are so good at taking care of traitors." She pets Neptune's bowed head, a navy blue Star Seed twinkling between her fingers now. "You may go."

She could have believed in Haruka's plan. She could have turned when Haruka did, attacking Sailor Galaxia, rather than turned those bracelets on her lover. She could have died with Haruka instead of coldly turning, next, to steal the Sailor Stars' Star Seeds. She could have fought, she could have—

"Yes, Galaxia-sama," she says, and the bracelets glint on her wrists.