Tetralogy IV: A Lesser Life by E. Liddell Note: Read "Phoenix Under Glass" first, or this will make no sense to you. What is it about this letter that fills me with such a strange sense of foreboding? It isn't much to look at--just an ordinary white envelope, of a size that indicates that it probably holds personal correspondence rather than a business letter. The address straggles across the front, looking as though it was written by a child, all in kana. You obviously didn't think there was anything special about it, did you, Kanae-love? If you had, you would have opened it yourself instead of waiting for me to rouse myself enough to care. There are two sheets of paper inside, and a photograph. A photograph . . . Impossible! I suppose it would look like a perfectly ordinary family portrait to anyone else, except for the fact that there are three adults of about the same age in the picture along with the two children. I don't understand. Why would they send me something like this, after all this time? I didn't think . . . didn't think she still cared . . . There must be some explanation in the letter. A letter that my sister did not write, I'm certain of that. Anthy always had very neat handwriting, and this straggles the same way that the address on the outside of the envelope did. And there still aren't any kanji in it. Who . . . ? "My name is Miki Dios Kiryuu." That's what it says. One mystery resolved, I suppose. Now on to the next. Who is Miki Dios Kiryuu, and why is he writing me? "I know that you don't know who I am. Mom said that they never told you about me, and she didn't want me to write this letter either. It was Dad that gave me your address. He said that it was important for me to know where I came from, and Aunt Anthy seems to think so too. Well, I guess he isn't my real Dad, since you are, but he and Mom have been married since forever, and I didn't know about you until a couple of weeks ago, so I still call him 'otousama'." *Well, I guess he isn't my real Dad, since you are . . . * Kanae, love, somehow I'm very glad that you aren't in the room right now. What am I going to do? That must be little Miki, right there in the center of the photograph. He looks like a bright, strong, healthy little boy, as best I can judge from this tiny picture. In fact, he looks a lot like I think I did at that age, although I don't have any photos to serve as reminders. I wish . . . I'm going to have to burn this, both the letter and the picture, before you get home. It would just be too cruel to let you see them. You wanted children, *my* children, so badly, and when the doctors told you that you could never have any . . . Well, it's a good thing that your mother came here to look after us for the next two weeks or so, because otherwise, neither of us would have survived. You were so deeply depressed, and my depression has never entirely lifted. Oh, I suppose I could function without help, if I had to . . . but I'm afraid, love. Afraid to leave this quiet little life that you've made for us. Afraid to leave the Academy and go out into the world. Afraid to live again, because I'm so certain that if I let myself do so, even a little bit, I'm not going to be able to give up until I have it all back. *All* of it. Everything that I've lost. I want . . . My life was constructed around *I want* once. And I almost destroyed the person that I loved most because of it. I was so terribly weak. It's a good thing that she was strong enough for both of us, just as you now are. And what do I want now? I suppose I want to get to know this son that I never knew I had. My first and only child. Can you believe that I'm uncounted centuries old, and yet I have no other children? Especially given what you know of my habits before we were married? We mythic archetypes just aren't very fertile, I suppose. Or perhaps it was a miracle, formed from my subconscious desires. It isn't a physical problem, in any case--we can be sure of that. I *want* to get to know him. I want to at least write back to him. And yet, if you find out . . . How can I hurt you that way? If Touga were here right now, listening in on my thoughts, he'd be laughing himself sick. Lucifer, on the horns of a moral dilemma? Ridiculous, isn't it? I should destroy the letter right now, and tell you a little white lie, a lie by omission, by pretending that it never existed. But . . . If I start lying again, how am I going to know when to stop? I've gotten myself tangled in that web before. I know the path, and where it leads. Little white lies by omission, and then little white lies of commission, and then little lies that aren't so white, and then bigger lies . . . Lies destroy people. They almost destroyed me once before. And even if I manage to stop myself after just this one time, even if you never find out, what about little Miki? Oh, he has other, more loving, less crippled parents to look after him--three of them, if I'm not mistaken--but Touga is right. He deserves to know where he came from. Maybe he can learn enough from the mistakes that I made not to make the same ones all over again himself. I think . . . I think that I will write him back. And I'm going to have to tell you, as well. Maybe it won't be as bad as I think it will. Perhaps you'll enjoy being a stepmother. Not that we'll ever meet him, either of us. There is no need, and he seems to be happy enough where he is. Most of the rest of his letter is just inconsequential childish chatter, not unlike what I once received from his stepfather when he went home on summer break and we couldn't meet or speak face-to-face for a while. I wonder . . . That infertility problem is yours, not mine. The doctors confirmed that. And I still have the physique of a man in his early twenties. That much of the Miracle Power still holds. If you like Miki . . . Could you love a child of mine by another woman, Kanae? I shouldn't have any trouble producing one, and you're certainly not too old to begin raising a baby. I'm plotting again, aren't I? Oh, well. Perhaps it will be therapeutic. A scheme to create life, instead of a scheme to take it away. I could get used to that. But I'm not going to do it under false pretenses. Not this time. I should probably go upstairs and change my clothes. Light some candles, set up for a romantic dinner when you get home. That wouldn't really be lying to you. I just want to make sure you're in a good mood when we start to talk about this. Trust me, Kanae. Please. You've given me so much. I would never knowingly hurt you. The End E. Liddell eliddell@puc.net http://ejlddll.virtualave.net -- My fan fiction http://lightning.prohosting.com/~eliddell/utena/ -- Utena graphics --------------------------------------------------------- "One tacky fairytale artefact per expedition is about my limit." --------------------------------------------------------- UtenaCode(1.0) U:6- F:To+++Mk+:pOA D:CC X:*:a39++ M:f"Internal Clock, Municipal Orrery"