I stare across the open space towards her, dressed in a white outfit
with gold trim.  It doesn't suit her at all.

	Her dark, pretty, face is blank, like she's been drugged.  I fret,
feeling the small, short-barreled pistol at my hip.  Gargoyle is standing
before us, holding forth on how he's going to rule the world.  My hand strokes
aimlessly across one space-suited thigh, and I remember the way her eyes lit up
when she saw me in it.

	I wish I knew why I couldn't control myself that day.  My throat
tightens, and something Gargoyle says breaks through.

	The pistol is in my hand instantly, and I take aim.

	A quick prayer to the gods of fools, lovers, and chance, and I squeeze`
the trigger.  The first round misses totally, and I squeeze it again.  This
time I come closer, her face staying that unnatural calm as the bullet cuts
through her hair.

	I squeeze it again, and the round bounces off her headdress, shattering
it, knocking her from her feet.  I drop to my knees, sobbing, letting myself
hear the shocked voices of the others, on their own little pillars.  The matter
is out of my hands; either I've saved her and we'll all be OK, or I haven't,
and it doesn't matter.

	I huddle, a miserable lump, as much noise goes on all around me, and
then the pillar I'm on begins to drop, and I let myself look up.  She's
smiling.

			      Apologies to GAINAX