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"Not as sorry as you're going to be, when I get through with you."

His head had begun to turn, the voice all-too familiar, all-too unwanted, but failed to turn quickly enough. The flat surface of the hand held mirror came crashing down against the side of his head, sending the taller boy stumbling, caught off guard. Tanzanite was forgotten, her broken body cast aside as the new opponent stepped into the ring to take her place against the worn and weakened Castor.

Nealite had watched, watched and waited as the two had battled, waiting until the moment presented itself for her to step in. She'd been suspicious of Tanzanite's activity for a while now, and it hadn't been hard to discover the new mission she'd been assigned to. And, while Tanzanite was in need of help, Nealite had not come to assist the Lieutenant. No, where there was a Castor, there was an Astraea, and Nealite had been waiting in the wings to destroy the Guardian the moment she arrived on the scene, as she inevitably always did.

But Astraea did not show this time. And Tanzanite was losing.

It was time to take over.

Fiery eyes glanced down to stare at the crumpled form of the Lieutenant before turning back towards the Super Senshi. There were no catty comments this time. No teasing over missing one another, no comments of Linarite or cats coming in to save the day. Instead, there was simply contempt. Contempt and anger, etched across the Captain's flawless face as she stepped forward towards the younger boy. She didn't wait for a response before her leg struck out, hitting him square in the chest, her heel forcing him back further as her glare burned into him.

No, Lieutenant Tanzanite would not die today.

But Sailor Castor would.

The voice was distant but familiar, dimmed by the black cloud of unconsciousness that threatened to overwhelm the battered teenager. Tanzanite fought against it, struggling to keep her eyes open as the voice was followed by another – Castor's voice – speaking a name that pulled her back from the brink of losing consciousness. Nealite was here. Nealite had come to help her. To save her.

It was a fact that was relieving, humiliating, and infuriating all at once. She had failed. She had failed, again. Not for a lack of trying, of course, but since when did Charonite measure one's mettle based on effort? She could have moved mountains for that man, but unless those mountains were promptly dropped on Castor's head he wouldn't even take notice. He wouldn't so much as bat an eyelash if she came back with a hundred starseeds unless one of those belonged to the senshi who had crumpled to the ground not far from her.

It would be Nealite who succeeded where she had failed. Knowing that it was her was only a small comfort. She had failed, but at least Castor would die. At the very least, Nealite would be free of him in the future. Beryl would be free of him.

Slowly, Tanzanite forced herself up into a sitting position, every muscle painfully screaming with protest. Bloody fingers wrapped around the thick shard of wood lodged in her upper thigh and with a sharp, painful gasp she pulled the thing out and tossed it aside. For a moment she stared up at her best friend, queen, and current savior, but the thankful glance lasted only a moment before something caught her eye. It dragged her attention into the darkness beyond the red-headed Captain.

What she saw there brought a look of horror to her bloody face. Suddenly, somehow, Tanzanite was pulling herself to her feet. Something within her forced her muscles to move, forced her brain to block out the blinding pain that began in her leg and raced up her spine. Her jaw worked soundlessly, trying to scream a warning that would not escape her throat. She ran despite the pain, driven by something far more powerful than ordinary fear.

Tanzanite ran towards Nealite as fast as her broken body would carry her, praying that she could cross that short space in time.

Castor had been her sole focus from the moment she'd made her presence known. There was room for nothing else, just the Super Senshi and the Negaverse Captain. She hadn't heard the footsteps of the white boots approach her from behind, the officer inadvertently having left herself open and defenseless against the surprise attack.

It was the scream that broke the trance, that stopped Nealite's heel from coming down on top of Castor once more. She spun around in time for the blood to hit her, to splatter across her face and uniform. The shriek continued to ring in her ears long after it was silenced and as she stood there frozen, it allowed time for Castor to crawl his way towards Kunzite.

Her focus soon redirected itself to the form that now lay on the ground before her, then up towards the dark haired girl gripping a bloodied sword. Wide eyes narrowed.

It was Nealite's turn to speak, but the voice that left her lips was not her own.

"Kunzite."

The change was instant as her body morphed itself before their eyes. Waves of orange shifted, her hair extending itself to the ground as her uniform dissolved, replaced by a long simple gown. It was a woman Castor had never met before, but he knew in an instant who was now standing before them.

This was the monster that Kunzite had warned him of. This was the Queen of their enemy, an ancient soul that had returned to rule the Negaverse, that had taken charge over even Charonite, the one man Castor had enough sense to fear.

This was Queen Beryl.

One hand rose, slender fingers moving to wipe away the blood that streaked her cheek. The hem of her gown was already absorbing the flood of red that continued to pool at her feet, but her focus was on the smear of crimson on her fingertips as her hand drew back.

"It would appear your aim is off, Captain."

Hands shifted and began to move from side to side, a large dark crystal forming between them. She smirked.

"Mine, however, is not."

Lifting the jagged shard up, she stepped forward and over the figure at her feet, steadying herself for the impending throw as the minion below lay forgotten.

Kunzite's blade had struck the Lieutenant, and there was no way to turn back time to prevent what had happened. Not even the most powerful being in the Negaverse could reverse the blow that had hit the young woman, and Beryl appeared indifferent to the sacrifice that had been made on her behalf.

It was too late for loyal Tanzanite and her Queen failed to even care.

Everything moved so ridiculously slow. His mind was going a mile in under a minute and, they...God, it was just slow. Castor bid his body to move, to crawl, but even that was slow. Evey detail seemed to be outlined in perfect formation, down to the tiny fleck of blood that glittered on pavement, shining with the light of the street lamp.
And these she, or he was, pristine white uniform an out of place blur in the cold darkness of the city's night. Though he could not smile, blue eyes were cast her way, dark satisfaction on the raised sword, for the death of Nealite.

Those eye flicked from morbid desire to horror as he saw the purple haired lieutenant move, as she stopped the blade with her own body. As she fell, Castor was crawling towards them both. Kunzite and Tanzanite. As Tanzanite screamed, a soundless one of anguish left the slightly parted lips of Castor.

'No! No! NO! Nealite! That should have been Nealite. Why Tanz? Why? It should be her bleeding, not you.' These words would not come to his throat, to pass his lips.

Looking up to expect Nealite, horror was magnified as suddenly, Castor's blood turned to ice. Beryl. The Queen. The one Kunzite had mentioned.

The Queen. Kunzite had mentioned a connection with Nealite. Nealite had dropped a hint but...
Nealite, the Queen.

No.

Queen Beryl.

Pieces fell into place as he watched Beryl move with an alien grace, getting ready to attack. Struggling to stand, Castor just barely managed to rise to Kunzite's side. The ice in his blood was pumping as the voice of survival rang out.
'Run'

There was no time for Tanzanite to do or say anything that would have changed what had happened. She had no second thoughts, no regrets, even as the blackness began moving in from the edges of her vision. There were no words of victory from her human half, nor any of comfort. Her remaining hand still clutched the bleeding stump of her shoulder, her body soaked with the blood that was being pumped from the wound. With the last of her strength, Tanzanite rolled her eyes upwards to stare at the Queen whose life she had traded for her own. If she was searching for comfort from the woman who inhabited the body of her closest friend, there was none to be found. Beryl's eyes gave no hint of caring, nor the slightest expression of gratitude. Those eyes were the eyes of the dead; cold and empty.

By the time Kunzite had gone, so had Tanzanite.

It was no longer the loyal Negaverse sub-Lieutenant who lay bleeding on the ground at Beryl's feet, but a high-school girl in faded blue jeans and a second-hand sweater. It was a simple sweater, patched in places and a horribly faded shade of navy blue that turned a deep purple as the blood from her arm soaked into the fabric. She had purchased both at the Goodwill not even a week before, along with the ratty pair of Converse's who laces lay in pools of blood. Her wild purple hair had come loose, and it clung to her neck and shoulders, matted with the blood that soaked the ground beneath her. Unlike Tanzanite, Aree felt the biting cold of winter sinking into her pale, clammy skin.

This is a good death, came Tanzanite's voice, having receded into the comfort of her thoughts. It was Aree's body, after all, that the secondary persona inhabited. It was Aree from whom Tanzanite had been born. A stupid girl with some ridiculous dream of a better better world. It had been that ridiculous dream, combined with all of her anger and resentment and jealousy, that had given birth to Tanzanite. The least she could do was allow the girl to experience her own death. She echoed the same words she had told Flora on the evening the senshi had almost died, Your life will help them take back what is rightfully theirs.

But this was not how Aree Cadence wanted to die.

You wanted this... Tanzanite hissed, You said it yourself. This is how we die.

Bleeding on the cold ground. Alone. Without arms to comfort her or words to soothe her. Aree felt tears escape her eyes, burning a path down her bloody cheeks. With nobody but the Queen of the Negaverse to watch the light leave her eyes.

Your life has meaning now. Isn't that what you always wanted? A life with meaning? A life that meant a difference?

It was, but not like this. Never like this.

This is a good death, echoed the cold, flat voice in the back of her head. Aree was gasping for breath now, every exhale exploding into pale mist against the cold evening air. She swallowed back air mixed with blood. Her hand had fallen aside, nails clutching at the pavement as her body shook uncontrollably. Aree Cadence did not have the self control of her Negaverse alter-ego. She could not swallow back her tears or a low, muffled cry of anguish as the pain crept back in.

This is a good death. Her muscles tightened, and Aree felt her nails breaking against the asphalt. Her back arched as her body began the slow process of dying. It was not like it was in the movies. It was not quiet and peaceful, like drifting off to sleep in the arms of the one you loved. It was something every fiber of your body fought against. It was messy and terrifying and painful. It was feeling your mind lose control of your body and your stomach leaping into your throat. It was hearing your heartbeat slowing with every beat, louder and louder until it crashed like a tidal wave in your head. Aree could feel it even after the darkness had closed in over her vision. Her eyes clenched shut as consciousness fled, leaving only the echo of her weakly beating heart and that cold, terrible voice.

This is a good death.