The first time she was awakened, she was six years old and it was the worst day of her life.

Everyone knew about the Zodiacs: about how once a generation three of Mercury's citizens would be buried and then leave forever. They didn't always leave right when they were discovered, but those years between recognition of their Zodiac identity and their actual burial were often the loneliest of their life. It had been with horror that Arista--because as a little girl, she'd been Arista, not Virgo--had seen the curly M of Virgo on her forehead. She had tried to cover it up--with her mother's makeup, with her hair, with a cloth and then tears. But everyone could see it, and everyone knew it, and then life became her own personal little hell. Because she loved talking to people, because she loved having friends, and now she was alone, except for the Gemini twins.

At least she had her family. Her parents, an older sister. And then she had the sailor soldier who taught her and the Geminis. But it was still very lonely, and it never got better.

---

The second time she was awakened, she was fourteen and very, very alone.

Papa and Maman had wanted to stay to help her move into the Crystal dorms, but then there'd been a diplomatic crisis, and Maman hadn't wanted to send Papa back on his own. Elke understood that, and waved goodbye from the front steps of Crystal's dormitory building. She had arrived well before her roommate--Serenade Soriano, the placard said, right under Elke Arma. Elke's name was on top because she was first alphabetically, not because of any particular direction of fate. The matron had drawn a happy flower on the paper, and promised her parents that she would take good care of their little Elke.

Still, she was alone in the bedroom as she put away clothes and set up her desk. This was a good thing, because she was very surprised when a giant, fluffy cat hopped up on her desk. "Merde," she had said, but quietly. On its forehead was a strange star emblem, one that stirred a strange feeling in her head: a fierce protectiveness, a fondness. "Deja vu."

The cat impatiently licked its paw. "Sailor Virgo," he said--it had to be a he, with that bossy, brassy voice--"I'm glad you're here."

She hadn't had time to hear about the terrorists; back then, there had only been two, anyway. But she had sense and time enough to exclaim something about un chat parlent! before suddenly, a man with fluffy cat ears was shoving a pen into her hands and--

It was like her entire being changed, enveloped in light and sound, an immediate mental download playing through her head. Arista seeing the symbol, Arista being buried, the searing pain around her ring finger to make a pale circle of scar tissue. Virgo fighting in the stars, the Zodiac palace, the old temple, pilgrimage after pilgrimage, battles, battles, battles--and when it stopped, she was kneeling on the floor in a Grecian green dress, a band around her forehead, gloves on her hands. And when she looked up at the purple cat, she knew who he was. "Zue," she said, and she stood, a green and bronze pen in hand. "It's good to see you."

---

The third time, she was fifteen. She'd been dead for an entire year, a year where there was nothing for her but darkness. And she had--she'd attacked people, tried to eat them, and she had--her first boyfriend, and--Mackie and Andeon, just his head--and the Princess, gone, a strange woman in her eyes.

Then it was over.

---

Except it never really ends, does it? You give away the pen, think that's the end, but it's not. Soldiers always return to war, and even though she doesn't want to be, Elke Arma is a soldier. It's important to be prepared, it's important to defend--the cats have it right, protect and serve, and she tries to serve, but sometimes it's just too much--

But when she tells Zue this, her pen loose in clammy fingers, he gives her a disgusted look. "You're the heart," he says, and it's the first time she's ever heard Sue actually sound like the cat who originally woke her to Virgo: "You can't give up." His hand is in her chest in the next moment, and she wants to cry, not because he is tearing her apart inside but because she can feel that light, hear that strange, familiar, normal voice in the back of her head that she identifies as Soldier Virgo.

The weight of her fuku is different now, the edges of her green skirt weighted with metal, her knees covered by greaves. And she looks at her hands, at the leather strips, and then covers her face in her hands, because she can't give up now--she was always trapped, always--and even though it's the last thing she wants to do, she thanks Zue when she leaves. She goes home, and throws her pen across the room, throws herself on the bed and cries, because she doesn't want to do this and she has to, she can't not do it.

For the Princess, she thinks. For the Princess, I can.

And she does.