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* Circles of Time: A Sailormoon Fanfic Series *
*                                             *
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* http://www.geocities.com/tokyo/9897/ct.htm  *
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THE INFAMOUS DISCLAIMER:

Sailormoon and the characters of "Bishoujo Senshi Sailormoon" were created and 
belong to Takeuchi Naoko.  Other companies such as Kodansha, Toei Animation, 
Bandai, and Mixx Entertainment hold rights to the show and/or manga.  In other 
words, I do not.  My stories and the characters I create belong to me.  And if 
you use any of my characters or stories without my permission I will send Tuxedo 
Kamen after you with his cane!  (I mean it!)

=======================================================================


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Circles of Time: The Letter
By: Masked Maiden

Mamoru's Letter...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Summer, 2001
Tokyo, Japan

Mizuno Ami was a second year resident at the Tokyo Memorial Hospital.  Her shift 
was over and she was ready to go home to her daughter, Setsuna.  She walked to 
the doctors' lounge, where she had left her pure earlier that morning.  Usually 
she put it in her locker, but her work and distracted her from the moment she 
had stepped through those hospital doors.  As she walked inside, she noticed 
that the lights in the lounge were off.  The shades on the windows were down.  
She heard the loud noise of someone snoring, although it sounded more like a 
lumberjack cutting logs.  Ami turned the lights on and was rather surprised at 
whom she found.

Chiba Mamoru was lying on the old and worn couch that was sitting in a corner of 
the room.  He was sprawled upon the couch like a small child (or like his wife 
for that matter).  He was completely knocked out and in a deep state of slumber, 
desiring not to be taken away from its wonderful silence.  His mouth was open 
and gaping.  The horrific sound of snoring was coming from HIM!  There was no 
possible way he would actually snore like that at home!  It had to be how he was 
lying down!  One hand was behind his head, which was resting on an armrest.  The 
other hand was simply touching the cold floor.  He had one leg elevated on the 
other armrest and his other leg on the floor as well.  His white coat was being 
used as a blanket.  It was draped over his chest, with the sleeves around his 
shoulders.  His jet-black hair was unkempt.  He looked like he hadn't shaved in 
days.  He probably hadn't even been home since Tuesday morning.

It was not Thursday evening.

Ami didn't have the heart to wake him up.  For all it was worth, he did look 
cute when he was sleeping.  But the thing was, he was lying on her purse, and in 
her purse were her keys.

She placed a hand upon his shoulder and gently shook him.  "Mamoru-kun, wake 
up," she said.

Mamoru jerked out of his sleep.  He sat up and ran a hand down his face as if to 
take away the sleep.  It didn't seem to help, for he yawned.  Ami suppressed a 
smirk.

"What time is it?" Mamoru asked.

Ami looked at her wristwatch.  "It's about fifteen minutes past six."

"Oh, thank you God... I can go home."

"I thought you were supposed to go home eight hours ago.  Don't tell me you took 
someone's shift."

"I had to.  No one else would take Itochu-sensei's shift.  So I got stuck with 
it.  Lucky me, ne?  I've been awake for over thirty-six hours straight.  I 
finally decided to crash in here for a couple of hours..."

"If you keep this up you're going to fall down dead from sleep deprivation.  
Either that or your marriage is going to suffer."

Mamoru cringed.  "Don't remind me, please."  He had promised to take Usagi out 
to dinner the night before.  It turned out to become one of the many promises he 
had to break.  Of course, she said she understood and was not that disappointed.

"Don't worry about it, Mamo-chan," she had said.  "They'll be other weekends."

But Mamoru knew his Usako better than that.  He knew if he didn't take some time
off soon, something was going to happen.  And he knew that something would *not* 
be good.

"I'm thinking about taking off a week," he said.  "I haven't had a vacation in a 
while.  Maybe I can see Usako for more than... what?  Four hours a week?  One 
hour?  I lost count."

"That's not a bad idea," said Ami.  "You need a few days off."

Mamoru got up from the couch and grabbed his coat and Ami's purse.  He never 
realized he had slept on it.  That couch was so hard.  Only someone who had lost 
their entire caffeine buzz would be able to sleep on it.

He took out his cell phone as he walked to the elevators with Ami.

"You calling Usagi-chan?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm going to ask her if she can come pick me up.  I know I can't drive 
like this."

"Oh, I can take you home.  You don't have to worry about that."

"No, that's okay.  You need to get home to Setsuna anyway.  How is she?"

Ami smiled.  "She's fine."  But, Ami thought, you never ask how I am.

Usagi picked up the phone on the second ring.  "Hai, Chiba residence."

"Hey, honey."  Mamoru had to smile.  Even hearing her voice over the phone 
reminded him how beautiful she was, how wonderful she was, how much he loved 
her, and how long it had been since he spent any time with her.  He literally 
missed her.  But that was going to change starting that Saturday.

It was evident there was a smile on her face.  "Mamo-chan!  Oh, I miss you.  Are 
you coming home any time soon?"

"Hai," he said.  "I'm off work now, but I need a little favor from you.  Do you 
mind coming here and picking this sleepy head up?  Because he doesn't feel like 
driving."

"Yes, I can.  I can be there in about twenty minutes."

"Perfect.  I'll see you then."

Ami tapped Mamoru on the shoulder and pointed to the opening elevator doors.  
The two steeped inside and the doors closed behind them.

"Okay," said Usagi.  "I love you."

"Love you, too."

When Mamoru heard the sound of a click on the other end he turned his cell phone 
off and put it back in his coat pocket.  He then heard a familiar voice speak to 
him.  It wasn't Ami.

"Aww... isn't that the sweetest thing you've ever heard?"

Mamoru rolled his eyes.  "Evening, Motoki.  I see you got your shift switched as 
well."

"As well?" Motoki retorted.  "You haven't switched!  You've taken.  There's a 
big different.  And my shift is almost over.  I have one more patient to check 
up on and then I'm going home to my wife and kids!"

"Who's your patient?" Ami asked.

Motoki's voice grew serious.  "Did you hear about the suicide victim that was 
brought in today?"

"I heard there was a suicide victim, but nothing else.  Who is it?"

"Meiou Megumi, age forty-nine, attempted suicide with the overdose of 
prescription medicine."

"Meiou?"

Mamoru furrowed his brow.  "Megumi?"  Why does that sound familiar, he asked 
himself.  Could it be that many women had the same name?  Or could it be that 
his mother's name was Megumi?  Mamoru shook his head.  It was something he did 
each time he heard that name; he thought about his parents.  He did the same 
thing when anyone mentioned a person with his father's name.

"Uh-huh," Motoki said.  "Her nephew just so happened to stop by her house this 
afternoon and found her next to her bed almost unconscious and with a very 
shallow pulse.  She was almost in a coma state when the paramedics brought her 
here.  When I asked if she was on any medication, her nephew said she took some 
sort of barbiturate.  And guess what we found after the blood test?  Overdose of 
barbiturates."

"You kidding?" Mamoru retorted.  "What type of barbiturate was it?"

"An anti-psychotic.  She previously suffered from cases of insomnia due to 
reoccurring flashbacks, which were probably caused by post-traumatic stress.  So 
she takes the anti-psychotic to suppress her REM sleep.  That takes away the 
flashbacks, which in turn gives her a good night's sleep."

"Partially, maybe," said Ami.  "A person isn't able to function properly without 
some REM sleep."

"How much was overdose?" Mamoru asked.

"Five hundred milligrams," replied Motoki.  The numbers made both Mamoru and Ami 
whistle.

The elevator doors opened as it reached the second floor, which were mostly 
patient room and the ICU.  That was where Motoki was heading.  Mamoru was right 
behind him.

The blue-haired resident held the elevator doors open and asked, "Mamoru-kun, 
where are you going?"

"Yeah, Mamoru-kun, where are you going?" Motoki mimicked as he turned around.  

Mamoru addressed to Motoki.  "I thought I might do with you and check on that 
Meiou-san lady.  I have fifteen minutes to waste."

Motoki sighed and shook his head.  There was no arguing with him once his mind 
was made.  "All right, but don't do anything.  Just watch and listen."

"Meaning: 'just be my intern for a few minutes.'"

"Exactly!  You'll make an excellent doctor one day."

"Oh, thank you, sempai."

Ami waved goodbye to the doctors as the elevator closed, going down to the main 
floor.

The two walked down the hallways until they came to the doors leading into the 
ICU.  Motoki pressed the blue handicap button built in the wall.  Two solid wood 
doors opened and they walked inside.

"You said something about her being diagnosed with PTS," Mamoru said.  "Do you 
know why?"

"Uh, yeah.  Her nephew was rather informative.  Her husband and kid died a while 
back in a car accident.  About six years after that she was diagnosed with a 
'mild' case of PTS.  Now, if something like that doesn't give a person PTS, I 
don't know what else could."

"It's probably a good thing I don't remember anything that happened to me."

"Maybe.  I contacted her sister in Bunkyo-ku.  She's on her way.  I couldn't 
reach her mother.  Her nephew is still here, and I believe he contacted his 
father and that he's here as well."  He began to start at Mamoru.  "Now, I'm 
serious, Mamoru.  You've been here too long.  I don't see why you want to waste 
time.  But I'll tell her family you're a colleague assisting me for the 
evening."

"Got it."

"Here we are."

They stopped in front of Room 234.  Motoki softly tapped on the door as they 
quietly slid into the patient's room.  Two men, a father and a son, turned their 
attention to them.

The son was in his early twenties, a couple of years younger than Mamoru.  He 
had sun-golden hair and the dullest brown eyes a man could ever have.  He was 
average height, a rough five foot six.  He dressed very casually, wearing a pair 
of faded and worn blue jeans and a plain white shirt with the first button left 
undone.  The young man held his aunt's hand, trying to show her in some shape or 
form that he was there for her.  Obviously he loved her.

His father looked like he was in his mid fifties, yet he was much older.  He was 
in his early sixties.  White streaks began to show in his silver-gray hair.  
Behind her thin-brimmed glasses were two piercing blue eyes that were immune to 
the aging the rest of body had gone through.  It was like a child was trapped in 
a man's body.  The man was much taller than his son, at least six foot three.  
He dressed more conservative, wearing a gray suit with a burgundy necktie.  He 
sat next to his sister-in-law's bed, and he stared at her with the look of pity 
and concern.

And then there was the patient.  A fragile and pale porcelain doll tucked under 
the bed sheets with care, in fear she might break.  Her long black hair was 
pulled back and draped by her side. Tubes of all kinds were everywhere, and all 
were connected to her.  Her dark chocolate eyes gave no sign of life.  (Due to 
the poetic rendition of the movies, many people thought a person's eyes were 
closed when they were in a coma.  That was not true.)

"I'm Furuhata Motoki-sensei," he said, addressing to the elder.  "I talked to 
your son earlier this afternoon concerning you sister-in-law, Meiou-san.  Your 
name?"

The elder didn't take his eyes off his sister-in-law when he answered. "Chiba 
Akio," he said.

Mamoru tried to hide his surprise, but felt his attempt was futile.  He began to 
wonder if it had been a good idea to follow Motoki.  Of course, he was not the 
only person in the world with the family name Chiba.  He could think from the 
top of his head two seiyuu who were Chiba.  There was a Chiba, merely fifteen, 
working in the cafeteria downstairs. 

It was the way Akio had said his name, and the way he looked.  The way he looked... he looked a bit like Mamoru, but not quite.  There was definitely 
distinction, but was more like... more like a relative.  Like an uncle.  But 
Mamoru wasn't going to go any further with the irrational idea.  It was a quick 
thought of the brain that couldn't be controlled.

His parents were dead.  He had no more living relatives.

Usagi was his only family.

Akio turned to Mamoru.  "You are...?"

"Chiba Mamoru-sensei," he replied.  "I'm assisting Furuhata-sensei for the 
remainder of the evening."

"Oh, sorry.  I didn't know."  

Akio became quiet as he stood in front of the young doctors.  He looked up at 
his sister-in-law.  After all those years, he thought she were finally over the 
loss of her husband and child.  Or at least able to cope with it.  He never saw 
this coming...

"Is she going to survive this?"

"Hopefully," Motoki said.  "We'll keep her on a respirator and on oxygen until 
her vital signs are more stabilized.  Also, the barbiturate could have caused 
damage to the kidneys, so she will be put on dialysis.  It will remove the 
poison from her bloodstream before more or any damage is done.  If all foes 
accordingly, she should recover.  But, she had to wake up first."

"How long will that take?"

"That could be days, weeks, even months.  Sometimes it's a whole year before a 
coma patient regains consciousness.  As strange as if may sound, it's all up to 
Meiou-san if she wants to up or not."

Mamoru felt awkward standing there silent as a statue.  So he spoke up.  "Meiou-
san tried to commit suicide, and sometimes even in a coma state, a person can 
make the decision whether to live or not.  It's been known that people in a coma 
state can hear what's going on around them.  Some even dream.  My advice to you 
is to talk to her, try to hold a conversation with her.  Tell her you're here 
for her.  That's the best thing you can do for her."

Akio nodded, realizing that, and too well.

~*~*~

It was beginning to rain outside.  Dark clouds veiled the warm sun and soon 
released little pearls of water to the earth.  The pitter-patter of the 
raindrops soothed the hectic city.  Like a remedy for an illness.  That is, if 
one chose to listen to it.

Usagi watched the rain fall down as she waited for her husband in the main lobby 
of the hospital.  Her pink raincoat was draped over her shoulder and she held 
her umbrella.  She watched the dark clouds grow even darker.  She wondered if it 
would start thundering any time soon.  The thought made her cringe.  She hated 
thunder and always would.

Her wristwatch read 6:40.  Mamoru was ten minutes later.  That didn't surprise 
her.  Ever since Mamoru had become a doctor she saw less of him.  He was never 
as punctual with her as he was with his work.  Usagi shook her head.  If she had 
never thought of the day where she was more jealous of Mamoru's work than she 
had been with Ami... Well, she would have never believed it.

But Usagi understood and accepted it the best she could.  She still loved her 
husband.  There would never be anyone else for her.  Why else would she marry 
him?

Someone tapped her on the shoulder.  "Usako?"

Usagi turned around and was greeted by a surprise kiss on the lips.  She smiled 
at her husband and looked at him with her bright blue eyes full of enduring love 
toward him.  Then she saw how dead tired he was.

"You look terrible," she said.

"Well, you look beautiful," he said.  "So it evens out."

Usagi handed him the umbrella as she put her raincoat on.  They strolled out to 
hospital as Mamoru opened the umbrella and lifted it over their heads.  Usagi 
wrapped her arm around his and they left.  Raindrop pitter-pattered on the 
umbrella in a melancholy tune.

"So how come you were late?" asked Usagi.

"I was with Motoki... and I was getting tomorrow and next week off."

Usagi opened the car door but did not sit down.  She stood there and gazed at 
her husband with a brow raised in suspicion, and needless to say in an appalled 
manner.  For some reason, she did NOT believe him.

"You what?"

Mamoru smiled.  "What?  You don't want me to spend any time with you?  Because 
if you don't I can go back and change it..."

Usagi interrupted him as she drawled him closer to her.  "Don't do that.  It's 
just that you never take a day off.  Next week's your birthday, but I know 
that's not the reason.  So what's the special occasion?"

He stared into her captivating eyes and inched closer, ever so slowly, to her 
luscious lips.  Lips that he had long to kiss from the moment he had left home.  
He halted just as their lips touched, and as they were nose to nose.

"I miss my wonderful wife, whom I love so dearly, and I would love to spend some 
time with her before the next ice age emerges.  No interruptions.  No job to 
worry about.  Nothing.  Just you and me... alone."  

Usagi smiled.  "Good answer," she said.  He kissed her as the words escaped her 
mouth.  "Let's go home."

"I was just about to suggest that."

The young married couple climbed inside Usagi's compact, two-door car and headed 
to their home in the suburbs of Tokyo.

"You got something in the mail today, Mamo-chan."

"Oh?  Bill or Sweepstakes?"

Usagi shrugged.  "I don't know what it is.  It doesn't have a return address on 
it."

"It's probably not that important. I'll look at it tomorrow."
 
"Aren't you the least bit curious about it?"
 
Mamoru answered as honestly as he could.  "Not really.  If the person couldn't 
put their address on it, then it can wait another twenty-four hours."

~*~*~

	A five-year-old boy peeked through the crack of his parents' bedroom door.  
	All the lights were out, except for a soft glow from the lamp on the bed 
	stand.  His mother was still awake, reading from her tattered and worn 
	Bible.  He could hear the turning of the pages in the silence of the 
	night.  His father wasn't home yet.  Some nights he had to work later than 
	usual.  But it was his mother who he really wanted to see.

	"Mama..."

	His mother looked away from her Bible and closed it.  She turned her 
	attention to the child's eyes peeking inside.

	"Hey, Blue Eyes.  How come you're still up?"  She spoke with such a 
	soothing and gentle and loving voice - a motherly voice.

	The little boy crept into the room and crawled onto the bed besides his 
	mother.  She wrapped her arms around him and held him close, brushing a 
	few stray strands of black hair way from his blue eyes.  He did his best 
	to bury himself in her nightgown, wanting to feel a sense of safety and 
	security.  

	She had a feeling she knew what was wrong.

	"Did you have a bad dream?" she asked.

	He nodded.

	"Would you like to talk about it?"

	He shook his head.

	"Oh, Mamoru..." She picked her little boy up and placed him in her lap.  
	"You mean to tell me that dream was too bad for you to tell me?"

	"Yes," he said, finally speaking.

	"Nothing's bad enough to not tell me.  You can tell me anything."

	He fidgeted in her lap as he tried to decide whether he wanted to ask her 
	or not.  "Are you and Papa gonna die?"

	Something tugged a heartstring inside her soul.  A strict look of 
	hopelessness, sorrow, pain was etched onto her face.  How could a child 
	ask such a serious, and morbid, question?  

	"No, darling, of course not.  Why would you think of something like that?"

	"I heard you and Papa talking.  He said that... he was going to."

	"And you dreamed about it, didn't you?"
	
	"Mm-hmm."

	The young mother hugged her son tightly and kissed him gently on the 
	cheek.  "You shouldn't think about something like that, okay?  Papa and I 
	are going to be here for a long, long time.  No one's going anywhere.  We 
	love you too much to ever leave you."

	His father overheard the conversation from the other side of the door.  He 
	heard his little boy's question, and felt as low as a person could feel.


The radio on the alarm clock came on.  A slow rock song softly played on a local 
station.  Mamoru woke up to its violins and piano and singing as the memories of 
his dream lingered.  He sat up in bed and held his head in his hands.

To himself he muttered, "Why did I dream that?"

A sense of Deva Vu kicked in.  He couldn't remember the last time he had an old 
memory from his childhood come back to him in his subconscious.  He couldn't, 
for it never happened.  He could remember nothing about his childhood before he 
turned six.  Was he beginning to remember his earthly past now?  After nineteen 
years?

Usagi was across the hallway taking a shower.  She was humming the melody to the 
song on the radio.  Even when she hummed she was off key Mamoru found it 
reassuring.  

Mamoru got out of bed and walked downstairs to the kitchen.  He smelled the 
coffee brewing, just as it should have been.  Never had a day passed by when 
that coffee maker was never programmed to come on.  When it was finished, he 
took a mug from the cupboard and poured himself a cupful of the hot and rich 
beverage.
  
He then noticed the envelope on the kitchen table.  Just as Usagi had said, it 
was addressed to him with no return address in sight.

Mamoru sat down in one of the kitchen chairs and picked up the envelope.  He 
chuckled amusingly.  "Wonder if there's a bomb from the enemy in there..."

He tore the envelope open and took out a single sheet of paper.  It was a mere 
letter, written by a failing hand.  Shaking hands of an elderly had written the 
letter with his best effort of penmanship.  At least it was legible.  Mamoru 
took a sip of his coffee and began to read it.
 

	Dear Chiba-san,

	This is indeed a letter written by a complete stranger.  Yet this letter 
	will probably be of most importance to you, and to me.  I think you will 
	find what I have to say interesting, and rather life changing.

	I was on duty on the night of August 3, 1982.  Many people see that date 
	and remember on the worst, probably that worst, traffic accidents in the 
	history of our city.  When I see that date, I am reminded of my worst 
	failure during my years in the medical field, and during my existence on 
	this Earth.  You see, young man, I was the doctor who treated your mother.  
	Your father died instantly due to the impact on the driver's side of the 
	vehicle.  However, you mother survived.

	You had been transferred to a children's hospital only four blocks away.  
	It was my job to inquire information on your well being.  Needless to say 
	my thoughts were distracted and files were somehow switched.  I for years 
	assumed you were dead, along with your mother and relatives.  The excuse 
	of there being more patients in the hospital than normal, and more of my 
	time being taken away is not an excuse for my failure.  It was my mistake, 
	and I have lived with it all my life.

	It may seem to you that I did not care to tell you the news.  It certainly 
	does look like that, and I wouldn't blame you for thinking of such.  The 
	truth is, I have wanted to tell you the moment I was aware of my mistake.  
	However, my subordinates felt it was best to keep it a secret to avoid 
	legal quandary, which comes to show you it's always about money.

	My phone number is enclosed with this letter.  If I am gone by the time 
	you read this letter, please ask to speak to my wife.  She knows about 
	this letter.  Just tell her who you are and she will be able to give the 
	information you need.  There is much I could tell you, but I physically 
	unable to tell you.

	I wish you good luck in your life, Chiba-san.  And I hope that you are 
	able to find your mother.

	Cordially Yours,
	Yamamoto Tadashi
	807-555-3496


The mug in his hand fell to the floor.  It shattered into hundreds of pieces, 
spilling the coffee all over the vinyl floor.  Mamoru never noticed it.

As he stared at the letter he felt a lump in his throat beginning to form.  His 
heart was thumping rapidly in his chest, waiting to burst forth from the shock.  
All color had drained from his face.  He was nothing but a nervous wreck.  
Mamoru tried to think clearly, but he felt his mind reeling.  A thousand 
thoughts were flying across his mind, but one stuck with him.

His mother was alive?
 
======
End of Mamoru's Letter