The Pictures She Painted
by Becky Goldstein 
A Sailor Moon Fanfiction

Introduction:  This is an Amy story, not a Sailor Mercury story.  In
fact, there are only a few references to the sailor scouts at all.  I also
tried not to focus on the cliché of Amy’s intelligence. Amy’s more than just
brains and bubbles.  I wanted to portray her as a human being.

I used the DIC names, because that’s what I’m most comfortable with.  I know
the Japanese names for the characters, but I’m a little uncertain about the
-chan’s and -kun’s. etc.

And, of couse, I'm not the creator of Sailor Moon, and I don't have anything
to do with it's production.  I'm just a fan of the show, who likes to write.

This is my first fanfiction, so *please* e-mail me at Sailrbeck@aol.com, and
tell me what you think.
Thanks!  -Becky

"Love is like breathing; you take it in and let it out."
-Wally Lamb

        It all started with the letter.  I received it two weeks ago, and
was now
nervously unfolding and refolding it with sweaty hands.  This single sheet
of blue
stationary had been the catalyst for all the unfamiliar emotions I had been
feeling
for the last few days.  It’s amazing how a piece of paper can affect a
person.
        Of course, it wasn’t the paper itself that had let those butterflies
loose in
my stomach.  I mean, I don’t have some kind of weird fetish or anything.  It
was
the words that were scrawled messily on the page, and their writer.  That
was why
I was pacing around the train station with Serena that sunny summer
afternoon.
        She grinned at me wickedly.  I’m sure I was providing her with some
first
rate entertainment.  It’s not often that one sees me, calm imperturbable
Amy, get
so flustered.  Even more amusing that it was about a guy...
        "Nervous?" she asked, winking.  I glared at her, but her smile only
widened.  She was clearly getting a kick out of my anxiety.
        But I was restless with anticipation, and for good cause.  I mean, I
hadn’t
really seen or heard from Greg since he moved away two years ago.  And then,
out
of the blue, I get this letter from him.  It wasn’t long or mushy or
anything, but the
information it contained made my heart pound. He was moving back, and he
wanted me to meet him at the train station.  So there I was,  his letter in
my hand
and my heart in my throat.
        Before long, we heard the eardrum-bursting cacophony of the train’s
arrival.  I shoved the letter in the pocket of my jeans.  I wasn’t about to
let him
think I’d been pining away for him or anything.
        The train came to a halt, and a stream of passengers burst through
its open
doors, like a herd of cattle.  All of a sudden, a large family shoved
between Serena
and I, and we were separated.  Forgetting about Greg for the moment, I
scanned
the crowd for Serena’s distinctive hairstyle.  I caught a glimpse of her
blond
pigtails a couple of yards away, so I began to move in her direction.
        I had almost reunited with my friend, when I bumped into a tall
figure
wearing a clean white shirt.  "Oh, sorry sir," I said, stepping to the side
to let him
pass by.  He didn’t move.  I looked up at his face, and was struck by a
flash of
recognition.  My heartbeat quickened; I couldn’t speak.
        "Amy!" he grinned and dropped his suitcase.  I couldn’t believe it.
He
hugged me, and my face only reached his chest.  "Greg...wow, you’ve grown!"
He laughed.  I remember when I didn’t have to tilt my head upwards to meet
his
eyes.  We stood there smiling dumbly for a while, neither of us knowing what
to
say.
        "Oh, well I see you two lovebirds have found each other!"  Serena
giggled,
and Greg and I flushed identical shades of scarlet.  Leave it to Serena...
        Her eyes sparkled.  "Oh, don’t mind me," she encouraged in her
singsongy
voice, "Personally, I think it’s sooooo romantic.  It’s like Odysseus and
Penelope:
Time cannot conquer true love!"  Always melodramatic, she sighed and placed
a
hand over her heart.
        "I can’t believe Serena actually read The Odyssey," teased a new
voice.  It
sounded suspiciously like my tall brunette friend Lita.  "Hey," I turned and
greeted
her, "I thought you couldn’t make it."
        She grinned.  "My cooking class ended early today.  So, when’s Greg
supposed to arrive?"  "Hello Lita," he said, tapping her on the shoulder.
She
whirled around.  "Greg!  I didn’t even recognize you!"
        "I guess I have gotten a little taller," he said with a friendly
smile.  Lita
returned the smile, and the four of us made our way out of the station.  We
passed
by a restroom, and Lita announced that she needed to use it.  Grabbing my
hand,
she yanked me inside the small, dank room.  Serena and Greg sat down on a
bench
outside to wait.
        As soon as the bathroom door was closed, Lita pressed me for the
details.
"So," she began, a mischievous tone to her voice, "Now that Greg’s back in
town,
when are you guys going to start going out?"
        "I thought you had to go to the bathroom."
        "Don’t change the subject, Amy.  So tell me, are you two an item?"
        "No," I replied simply.  Lita seemed shocked.  "But why not?  I
mean, he
likes you and you like him, right?"
        "It’s not like that," I protested.
        "Come on, Amy.  Remember how much fun you two had at that
amusement park, after we whipped Endymion?"
        "Lita, that was two years ago.  And besides, there’s nothing
romantic going
on between us.  We’re just good friends."
        "Oh, Amy," Lita sighed, "Why are you so afraid of guys?"  I wanted
to
protest, to deny her accusation, but something stopped me.  In thoughtful
silence,
we walked out of the bathroom, and joined Greg and Serena.

        "So," Lita asked as we began to walk to the parking lot, "What did
you
two talk about when we were in there?"  Serena giggled, and Greg turned
bright
red.  Great, Serena probably gave him the same interrogation that Lita gave
me.
        "I get it," Lita said with a devilish smile, "So do you want a ride
home,
Serena?"  "Sure!" she agreed, and winked at me.  The two conspirators
skipped
merrily away towards Lita’s car.
        "Well, that was subtle," Greg said sarcastically after they had
left.  I smiled
and rolled my eyes in agreement as I helped him stuff his suitcase into the
trunk of
my blue Mercury.
        We climbed into the car, and I started the engine.  "So, where
should I
drop you off?" I asked him, suddenly even shyer than usual.  He gave me the
address of his new house, which wasn’t that from my own apartment building.
We
rode in silence for the rest of the drive.  We arrived at his house, and I
was
impressed by its size.  It wasn’t a mansion, but it definitely stood out
from the
other compact houses in the neighborhood.  Greg was awe-struck.  "It’s
enormous," he whispered.  I had forgotten that he had never seen it either.
        I walked up to the front of the house, while Greg hoisted his
suitcase
out of the trunk.  The lights were all off inside, and there was a note on
the door.  I
pulled it off, and brought it close to my eyes so I could decipher the messy
handwriting.
        "Greg, honey- working late tonight.  Hope the trip was okay.
Dinner’s on
the table.  I’ll see you tomorrow morning.  Love, Mom."  I read it out loud
to
Greg, who was rolling his suitcase up to the door.
        Greg’s eyes flashed angrily, and he furrowed his brows like he
always does
when he’s upset.  He looked pretty hostile for a moment.  Then his stormy
face
visibly relaxed, and he actually smiled.  "Well, why don’t you stay for a
while then?
We can catch up on old times."
        Any other guy, and I wouldn’t have even considered spending time
alone
with him in his house.  But this was Greg, and I trusted him completely.  I
agreed,
and followed him inside.  He slammed the door, and a loud bang reverberated
throughout the house.  How empty it seemed.
        I was glad that I had decided to keep him company.  My mother, a
doctor,
often has to work late at the hospital, so I’ve spent my fair share of
nights alone in
our oversized apartment.  In fact, tonight would have been one of those
long,
empty evenings.  "But not anymore," I thought to myself as I walked past
some
big cardboard boxes.
        "I’m out here!" I heard Greg’s familiar voice calling from the
balcony
outside.  I joined him, softly shutting the door behind me.  "This place is
pretty
amazing," I said, sitting down in a wooden chair.  Greg pulled up another
seat next
to mine.  My spine tingled with his nearness, but I tried to force that
sensation out
of my mind.
        "It’s huge," he declared.  There was another one of those awkward
silent
moments that had become so common between us.  Finally, I took a deep
breath,
and asked the question that had been on my mind ever since I had received
his
letter.  "So," I began, "What brings you back in town?"
        He clenched his jaw.  "My parents decided to throw eighteen years of
marriage down the drain, so I moved back here with my mother.  She actually
came down a week ago, so I spent the time with my father."  His voice
sounded
tight, like he was desperately struggling to keep his composure.  Not
knowing
what to say, I squeezed his hand.  My eyes closed, and my brain flooded with
memories,

     "Amy, your mother and I have been talking, and we think that it
would be
better for all of us if I spent some time away."  The seven year old’s blue
eyes
brimmed with tears.  She had known this was coming.  She had somehow sensed
it.  But that didn’t make the pain any easier to bear.
        She clutched her father’s arm with her tiny hands, as if she could
keep him
from leaving her.  He riffled her thick blue hair with his free hand, and
bent down
to give her a hug.  "Goodbye, Amy," he said softly, picking up his bags,
Tears
glistened in his eyes, the closest thing the girl had ever seen to a grown
man
crying.  The door clicked shut, and with that, her father was out of her
life.

        "Amy, you’re trembling!" Greg’s voice brought me back down to earth.
My mind was immediately filled with feelings of guilt.  This wasn’t about
me.  All
of that had happened so long ago.  Now I had to be here for Greg, whose pain
was
still fresh.  "I’m fine, Greg.  But what about you?"
        "I guess I’m okay.  I just can’t get over it.  It came as such a
shock..."
        "You mean you didn’t know?" I interrupted, confused.  Wouldn’t
Greg’s
ability have given him some warning?  I didn’t understand how something like
this
could have surprised him.
        "I can’t see the future anymore, Amy."  he said, his voice void of
emotion.
I tried to read his expression, but the darkness of the evening masked his
handsome features.  "I’m sorry, Greg," I comforted, though I was unsure of
how
he felt.
        His reaction surprised me.  He jumped to his feet, and stared into
my face.
"Are you kidding?"  His voice was strong and passionate.  "That’s the best
thing
that ever happened to me!"  I hadn’t known he had despised his power so
much.
        "Do you have any idea how it felt to wake up every morning, knowing
what my day would be like," he continued, "To never, ever be surprised by
anything?"  Funny, I had gotten the impression that the shock of his
parents’
divorce was what hurt him the most.  Now I could see that his wound was much
deeper.
        He turned his face away from me, and leaned over the edge of the
balcony.
I saw his shoulders move up and down with each ragged breath, and my heart
wrenched in empathy.  I knew what it was like to have something happen to
you
that is beyond your control.  It shatters your world, and makes you wonder
if the
world is really yours at all.

        The girl, now ten years old, opened the bottom drawer of her
desk, and
carefully removed a crisp sheet of thick white paper, a paintbrush, and a
set of
watercolors.  Wetting the brush, she dipped it in a deep blue color.  The
paper
transformed as her brush delicately glided across it.  What had been
colorless
and two-dimensional was now as much of an ocean as the vast Pacific.  She
could
smell the salt.
        The ocean had always been one of her father’s favorite subjects.  He
had
been a painter.  He probably still was, but the girl wasn’t sure.  Nobody
knew that
his daughter had inherited his love for art.  She had never shown anyone the
pictures she painted.  It was best to let everyone think that she was all
about
numbers and logic.  It was so much safer that way...

        I stood up, and went to stand next to Greg by the railing of the
balcony.  If
he was aware of my presence, he made no indication.  We stayed like that,
silent
and serious, for quite a long time.  Finally, I slipped away towards my car,
and
drove home in the dark.

        I arose a little later that usual that morning, but  I was wide
awake when
the phone rang at 10:00.  It was Raye, her cheerful voice a contrast to the
melancholy atmosphere of last night.  "Morning, Amy!" she greeted, "Are you
still
on for this afternoon?"
        Oh yeah.  With all of yesterday’s excitement, I had completely
forgotten
my plans to meet the rest of the scouts for lunch at Raye’s temple.  "Sure,
I’ll be
there," I assured her.  Raye seemed pleased.  "Great! See you at noon!"  She
hung
up the phone.
        The prospect of spending time with my girlfriends was appealing.  I
was
feeling a bit depressed by my conversation with Greg and my own gloomy
memories.  Well, if anyone could cheer me up, they could.  I smiled as I
pulled on
a light blue sweater.  Things were looking up!

        I was the last one to arrive at the temple.  I was surprised,
because even
eternally tardy Serena was already there.  All four of them were sitting
around with
sly smiles on their faces.
        "Amy," Mina’s eyes twinkled, "I tried to call you last night, but
you
weren’t home."  Serena and Lita shared a meaningful look.  My cheeks
betrayed
me by turning bright red.  Finally, Serena burst out with the question I
should have
known she would ask.  "So, did he kiss you yet?"
        "No!" I answered quickly, "We’re just friends!"  Why couldn’t they
understand that?  Mina opened her mouth, ready to attack me with another
question, but I was saved by the sound of a knock at the door.  Raye jumped
up to
answer it.  "That must be Greg," she said innocently, "Did I mention that I
invited
him too?"
        Of course.  I should have guessed.  Did they ever stop scheming?  I
frowned.  I wasn’t sure I was ready to face him yet.  Last night, pure
emotions had
charged through the air like electricity.  Nothing romantic, like my
girlfriends
would have liked to believe, but emotional intensity nonetheless.
        Now I didn’t know how to act around him.  Was he mad at me?  And if
so,
why?  I wish people came with instruction manuals.
        I looked up, and realized that Mina, Lita, and Serena were staring
at me,
studying my reaction.  I forced a smile.  "Great. It will be nice to see
him."
        Raye led Greg into the room, and Serena scooted over on the couch,
leaving a space for him between us.  He sat down and greeted my friends.
Then he
turned to face me.  "Hello, Amy," he said.  He sent me a silent message with
his
eyes.  "We’ll talk later."
        I smiled a genuine smile, relieved to be free of that burden, at
least for the
moment.  "So," I said cheerfully, "Are we going to eat or what?"  We all
headed to
the kitchen to bring in the food that Raye had prepared.
        By the time I took my seat, Serena had already cleared her plate,
and was
reaching for a second helping.  "Mmm, it’s good, Raye!" she praised, her
mouth
full of rice.  "It’s from a mix," Raye admitted, smiling sheepishly, "But
hey, we
can’t all cook like Lita."
        The conversation remained lighthearted and cheerful for the rest of
the
meal.  But I should have known my friends could only go so long without
playing
matchmaker.  As soon as lunch was over, Serena announced that she and Mina
had
to leave, and Lita disappeared into the kitchen to help Raye clean up.  Greg
and I
offered to help, but Raye insisted that they had things under control.  We
were left
alone together as usual.  Not that I minded, but the way my friends kept
setting up
these situations was kind of embarrassing.
        "So, did you enjoy lunch?" I asked lamely, just to make
conversation.
Greg didn’t bother with small talk.  "Amy, I’m sorry about last night."
        "Why are you sorry?"
        "I shouldn’t have gotten so worked up like that. I was in a bad
mood, and I
was wrong to take it out on you."
        "Greg, it’s not your fault," I insisted, touched that he cared
enough to
apologize, "You had every right to be upset.  I, of all people, know how it
feels."
        Greg paused for a moment, then hugged me tightly.  "Thanks for
understanding."  I looked over his shoulder and saw Raye and Lita in the
doorway,
waving and winking.  Raye gave me the thumbs-up sign.  I just smiled.
        "Come on, let’s blow this joint," he whispered in my ear, "Let me
take you
to a movie."  By now, my heart was beating twice as fast as usual.  "Calm
down,"
I told myself firmly, "This is Greg, your friend, your buddy."
        "That sounds great."  We said our goodbyes to Lita and Raye, and
headed
to the theater.  The movie was a comedy that had us choking on our popcorn
in
hysterical laughter.  When it was over, the sky was beginning to darken and
the air
was chilly and crisp.  I shivered a little, and Greg lent me his jacket.
        We must look like a couple, I realized as we walked to the car,
That
pleased me and scared me at the same time.  It was getting more and more
difficult
to deny my feelings for him, but a voice in my head kept my heart in check.
"You
can’t stay together forever," it warned, "One day he’ll leave you.  Are you
prepared for how much that will hurt?"

        "Why did Daddy have to leave?" the girl asked her mother.  The
older
woman placed a hand on her daughter’s smooth cheek.  "Things just weren’t
working out between us, Amy.  It was time for the marriage to end."
        "But I don’t understand why!"  The woman sighed.  "One day you will,
sweetie.  Things don’t always stay the same, even though we’d like them to.
There
are some things we can’t control..."

        "Are you okay, Amy?" Greg asked when we arrived at his car.
        "Yes. Why?"
        "You seemed quiet."
        "Just thinking."  I flashed him a reassuring smile.
        "About me?" he asked, eyes twinkling.
        "You conceited jerk," I teased, punching him on the arm.  We laughed
and
joked, until we arrived at my apartment.  He got out to walk me to the door.
        "Thanks, Greg," I told him, "I had a really nice time tonight.  He
gazed into
my eyes, his expression intense.  "I had a nice time too, Amy."  He leaned
in close
to me, and pressed his lips to mine.
        I tensed up.  "Greg...no," I pushed him away.  He jerked his face
from
mine, and stared blankly ahead, breathing loudly and harshly.  "Why did you
do
that?" I demanded.
        Greg made no reply.  He climbed into his car and drove away.
Through
my blurry, tear-filled eyes, I watched his car get smaller and smaller.  Had
I made a
mistake?  Should I have let him kiss me?  Should I have kissed him back?
        I rode the elevator to my floor and burst into my apartment.  I was
surprised to find that I wasn’t the only one home.  "Hello, Amy."
        "Oh, hi Mom."  I struggled to keep my voice calm.  "When did you get
back?"
        "An hour or so ago."  I nodded my head and attempted a smile.
        "What’s the matter, honey?"  I never could fool my mother.  I bit my
lip
and looked at the floor.  She put her arm around my shoulders and led me
over to
the couch.  She hugged me tight, and stroked my hair like I was six instead
of
sixteen.  I gave up trying to restrain my sobs, and let the tears flow.  I
cried for
Greg, my father, and everything else about life that I couldn’t understand
or
control."
        When no more tears would come, my mother squeezed me tighter.  "Tell
me what’s wrong, Amy," she urged gently.  I opened my mouth, and the whole
story spilled out.
        "I just didn’t want to let him get to close, because I know it
wouldn’t last
forever, and then..."
        "And then you’d be hurt," she finished my sentence.  "Oh, Amy."
        She paused for a moment, then continued.  "You know, Amy, I never
regretted marrying your father."  I looked up at her, surprised.  "You
didn’t?"
        "Of course not.  Look at what I could have missed out on.  Maybe our
marriage wasn’t meant to last, but there was a time when we really did love
each
other.  And to know love, even for the shortest amount of time, is worth the
pain
of losing it."  The tears began to trickle from my eyes again.
        "And no matter what your father may have done wrong, nothing can
change the fact that he gave me the most intelligent, most beautiful
daughter in the
world."  Her voice cracked, and she smiled at me.  "Look, now I’m about to
cry."
        I closed my eyes and buried my face in her shoulder.  "I love you,
Mom."
Then I stood up, drying my eyes, and headed upstairs to my room.
        I sat down at my immaculate desk, and opened up my algebra textbook.
Yes math, even though it was the middle of July.  Solving the equations
usually
helps me clear my mind and sort through my thoughts.
        But after a minute, I slammed the book shut.  The sensible,
reasonable
formulas that I had based my life on seemed wrong somehow.  They didn’t fit
with
tonight.  Instead, I reached into my bottom drawer and pulled out something
I
hadn’t used in a long time.
        Picking up the slender paintbrush, I let my fingers wander over the
stiff
bristles.  I dipped it in water, and used the color tray to turn it a deep
blue.  Then I
painted an ocean like I had years ago.
        My hand knew exactly where to drag the color, and the Pacific became
a
reality before my eyes.  I set the brush down, and studied the picture.  It
was
different than the one I had painted at age ten, I observed.  They were the
same
mysterious shades of blue, but this new ocean was stormier, more violent.  I
wondered how any sailor could tame these rough waters, even a sailor warrior
like
me...

        I woke up the next morning to the ring of the telephone, with my
head on
my desk and my hand lightly touching my paintbrush.  I rubbed my sleepy
eyes,
and got up to answer it.  It was Lita.
        "Amy, I need to talk to you.  Can I come over?"
        "Sure," I said, stifling a yawn.
        "Good, I’ll be right there."
        She hung up the phone, and I did the same.  I walked over to my
closet,
and quickly put on a long blue skirt and a white sweater.  Then I went to
the
kitchen to wait for her arrival.
        As soon as I let her in the door, she whisked me back into my room.
I sat
on the bed, and she took a chair.  She wasted no time in getting to the
point.
"What happened last night with Greg?" she asked.
        I looked down, refusing to meet her eyes.  "Nothing," I lied, but
she wasn’t
going to let me get away with that.  "I know already, but I want you to tell
me."
        "How do you know?" I asked, surprised.
        "Greg called me last night," she replied.  "He’s really upset, you
know."
        "Because I wouldn’t let him kiss me?" I was indignant.  It was my
decision
who I did or didn’t kiss.  Greg had no right to be angry.  None at all.
        "Amy, he’s crazy about you, can’t you see that?  He’s not out to get
you.
He loves you, and I think you love him."  She jumped out of the chair and
stood in
front of me.  "Why can’t you just let your guard down for one moment, and
give
him a chance?"
        I drew in a sharp breath.  Does he really love me?  And do I love
him?  I
pondered my friend’s words.
        Lita, seeing that she had actually gotten through to me, pressed her
advantage.  "Amy, life hardly ever hands you just what you want on a silver
platter.  But when it does, you’ve got to snatch it up right away, because
you can
bet that it won’t be offered to you again.  You can’t let life and love pass
you by."
Her voice lowered, and she continued.  "Trust me, I know.  Don’t let your
fears
decide.  I’ve made that mistake, and I won’t let it happen to you."
        I stared at my friend for a few moments, and saw wisdom and honesty
reflected in her eyes.  Then I got to my feet and ran to the door of my
room.
"Where are you going?" she demanded.  I smiled at my friend.  "I’m going to
find
Greg."
        Lita grinned, and her eyes sparkled.  "Thanks, Amy," she said
softly.
        "No, thank you," I replied, meaning it with all my heart.  I hurried
through
the rooms of the apartment.  "Hey Amy!" I heard Lita call from my room, "Did
you paint these oceans?  I didn’t know you were an artist!"  I smiled to
myself, and
shut the front door.
        A few minutes later, I was at Greg’s house.  I knew instinctively
where I’d
find him.  Sure enough, he was leaning over the balcony, his expression
blank.  I
climbed up the stairs to where he was standing.  I thought I saw a glimmer
of hope
in his eyes as I approached, but he quickly turned away from me.
        I placed my hand on his arm.  He jerked it away.  "Greg, look at
me," I
begged.  He didn’t answer.  Slowly, he turned to face me and leveled his
eyes with
mine.  "I was wrong, Greg," I admitted, "I was hurt, so I lashed out.
Forgive me."
        His expression softened, and he grabbed my hand.  "I understand," he
said,
"I was afraid too."  He paused for a second.  "But we’re not our parents,"
he
continued, "We can make this work."
        I looked up at him and smiled.  "I know, Greg.  Let’s just take
things one
day at a time, and not worry about the future."  I leaned up and brushed my
lips
against his.
        His face colored, then he grinned.  "Okay," he agreed, "One day at a
time.
And let’s start with today."  I laughed softly, but he quieted me with a
kiss that
chased away all my doubts.

        The girl hadn’t had a sip of alcohol, but she was intoxicated.
Exhilarated,
she skipped down the steps, and waved goodbye to the boy on the balcony.
Her eyes sparkled as she got into her car and headed for home.
        She entered her room, and opened the set of watercolors that lay
expectantly on her desk.  She painted the ocean in deep blue, with
highlights in
vibrant shades of aquamarine and clear turquoise.  The water that had
appeared
so forbidding in her other paintings was now peaceful and serene.  She could
see
her reflection in it.  Now she knew that the pictures she painted were of
herself.
She had finally created her masterpiece.

The End


Acknowledgments:
Jaime and Lauren, for editing this story until it was just right.
Liz, for finding the perfect quote.
All my friends and family, because you inspire me every day.