Title: First Truths - Chapter 11 Author: Lilac Summers Rated: PG Disclaimer: Sailor Moon belongs to Naoko Takeuchi and I am borrowing her characters and story without permission and I promise to return them to her just as soon as I'm done making them do all kinds of wacky things. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ First Truths by Lilac Summers Chapter 11, Part A Tuxedo Mask was already several blocks away, preparing himself for a long leap to the next rooftop, when his lungs seemed to cease functioning. He stumbled to the ground, grasping his throat and wheezing painfully, wondering if he were having some sort of asthma attack and fearing he was going to die of asphyxiation. He fought the blind panic that came with loss of air and slowly forced his lungs to work against the irrational sense that he was drowning. It was as he lay on the rough surface of the roof for the next minute, still gasping gratefully for air, that he realized those intense sensations of fear and suffocation were not his own, and that they had not abated. A rage-filled oath exploded from his lips as he scrambled up onto his feet and returned the way he had come. ~~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ "Shabon Spray!" cried Mercury for the third time. Again, the freezing bubbles revolved around the green structure that had encapsulated Sailor Moon. Again, they crystallized and dissolved, useless, and the structure stood resolute. Jupiter and Mars grit their teeth and attacked it with punches and kicks that bounced harmlessly off. "Come on, dammit, come on..." muttered Venus as she painstakingly lazered through the gelatinous mass with her crescent beam. It *was* cutting through, millimeter by millimeter, but at a pace that would never free Sailor Moon before her oxygen ran out. ~ ~ ~ ~ Inside the structure that had become her prison, Sailor Moon struggled feebly to move her limbs. They refused to work against the binding green gel, and she realized with horror that her aborted movements only served to eat up her oxygen faster. She froze then, staring at her friends through an emerald tinted field. She could see them fighting for her, trying everything they could think of to get her out. They would be too late, she knew. It didn't even seem to bother her so much now, knowing that. Her lungs were burning terribly and it might just be a blessing to finally let go, finally stop feeling like fire was climbing up her throat and clamoring for her to take a breath. But she couldn't do that; she couldn't just give up without a fight. If not for her, at least for her friends. And...and for a promise made that morning. God, she didn't want to die. She gathered her failing energy and focused it past the pain in her lungs, past the burning in her throat and nose, the ringing in her ears...past all that and into the core of her heart that refused to stop beating in order to honor a promise given. It exploded from her in a burst of white light that threaded through her prison and emanated to the outside in the shape of a white aura. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ The Senshi, outside, paused in their struggles to free their leader as the white glow exploded outward and then faded. They stood, certain in the power of their friend, waiting for the structure to crumble like so much dust. Then Sailor Moon would be standing there, indomitable as always, ready for her friends to fuss and cheer over her. It didn't quite happen that way. The light faded and the mass of plasma shook as if from a slight breeze. Then nothing. The Senshi's gazes snapped up to the frozen face of their friend just in time to watch her eyes glaze over and then shut slowly and painfully against the weight of the gel. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Energy utterly spent, Sailor Moon could not fight against the overwhelming need to *breathe*. Without her consent, her control gave out and she inhaled deeply. Immediately, goo filled her nostrils, her throat, her lungs. Her body rebelled against the invasion and she tried to cough it up through lips that would not open. The agony, however, was blissfully short. Her vision clouded in instants and her body refused to work on the substance she had substituted for oxygen. She would miss them. She had never anticipated that five unlikely girls would become such fast friends in a few short months. They had always seemed so much closer than friends, even since the beginning. Almost like sisters. Her eyes closed of their own volition. She didn't notice, as her world had gone black already. She wished she *had* kissed her little brother goodbye that day. Her parents, too. And, God help her, she would miss Mamoru most of all. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Shock held Mars immobile a second longer before a keening wail broke from her lips and she attacked the blob with unmatched ferocity. An instant later, the other three joined her, their sobbing breaths at counterpoint with the scrape of their feet and fists against the hard outer shell. "Get back!" roared an agonized voice from somewhere above them and the sheer volume and pain in the tone caused the Senshi to step away. The instant they did, flashes of red struck the statue from every angle. The end result was a bizarre sculpture of lime-colored crystal and crimson roses. The air still hummed with the vibration of the stems piercing the glass when Tuxedo Mask descended to the ground. He touched one red rose and it began to glow, then the one adjoining that one, and the next, and the next, till the roses glowed in symphony of red over green. He didn't quite know what he was doing. Something inside of him was telling him what he was doing was right, though, and it was the only part of him that was thinking with any semblance of logic at the moment, so he trusted it. Behind him, the Senshi shifted uncertainly. But they clung to each other in fearful hope as the energy began to thrum and resonate. Mercury chanced a glance at her computer and squeezed her eyes tightly at the time. Three minutes had passed since Sailor Moon had become trapped. Three minutes that seemed to span an eternity. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ It was a tiny, insignificant fissure. Thread-thin, it spread from point of contact inward. In and of itself, it posed no threat. However, a hundreds of those tiny cracks *did* matter. Not much, but enough to slightly imbalance the impermeability of the structure. Still, drive wave upon wave of raging energy through those tiny cracks, and then you've got something. Clashing atoms fought a violent sub-particle battle as white magic fought against black. But the clincher was the weakening from the *inside*. The last spectacular discharge of energy from the imprisoned girl had weakened the internal composition of the gel. Now, the residual white energy bonded with the red energy like one welcomes an old lover, and the subsequent pink scattered the black as if the black were some impertinent child. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ "Tuxedo-san...Tuxedo-san, stop! It's worked!!" Tuxedo Mask shrugged off the bothersome grip on his shoulder twice before the actual words broke through his concentration. His eyes snapped open to watch the roses, charred black from the sheer amount of energy, dissolve along with the green capsule. Already the Senshi were converging around it, waiting with bated breaths for their comrade to be freed. Seconds later she was, and they set her on the ground immediately. Mercury moved closer without hesitation...to be roughly pushed aside by a masculine form. "Let me," commanded Tuxedo Mask, not noticing Mercury's shocked expression or Venus' restraining hand as Mercury moved to protest. Sailor Mercury subsided after Venus silently pointed to Tuxedo Mask's tormented expression. "Let's give him some room," whispered Venus. For the first time, the girls noticed they were slowly being surrounded by curious and worried spectators. Children and adults alike fought to move closer and see what was happening to their favored superhero. With little else to do, the Senshi began to direct the milling people back. Tuxedo Mask, for his part, was completely concentrated on the still figure before him. Ignoring the slime that covered Sailor Moon from head to foot, he lifted one slim wrist and searched for a pulse. It was there, thready and indistinct, but there nonetheless, and he almost wept with the relief of it. Moving on automatic now, with instructions that had been drilled into him by teachers and textbooks alike, he tilted her head back slightly. Nudging her blue-tinged lips open, he dipped his fingers into her mouth and cleared it of the green goo before placing his mouth over hers. His other hand pinched her nose shut. His stomach rebelled slightly against the taste of the slime that had coated her lips and mouth, but he fought it down and breathed deeply and steadily into her mouth. His free hand, placed securely over the upper swell of her chest, felt her chest expand in time with his breathing alone. His life suddenly had one purpose: make her breathe. Minutes were no longer measured by seconds; they were measured by how many puffs of air he forced into her lungs. He became dimly aware of the Senshi standing behind him and Mercury counting off the seconds, and of the murmur of the crowd contained away from him. One of the Senshi was crying openly. Someone in the crowd mentioned that an ambulance was on its way. Mercury muttered "three minutes" to herself, and still he breathed into the lips of a girl he'd met only weeks ago, because she would not breathe for herself. His eyes stung with frustrated tears but her chest stubbornly refused to rise and fall on its own. Tearing his mouth away from hers in a sudden rage of despair and loss of control, he cradled her slippery face in his hands and screamed at her what his mind had been chanting. "BREATHE, damn you!" His tears fell unheeded, drawing clear tracks down her green-tinted skin. "You promised me...now keep it!! BREATHE!!" He crushed her mouth once more, exhaling and inhaling for her. Once, twice, three times. When he felt himself being pushed away, he struggled, thinking the Senshi were trying to pull him back. But no, two desperate hands were pushing at his *chest* and then the mouth beneath him was being wrenched away so Sailor Moon could turn on her side to retch unbelievable quantities of green gook. The Senshi began to rush towards Sailor Moon, till the sudden burgeoning of the cheering crowd forced them to turn back and fight to keep the people away. They contented themselves with throwing teary-eyed, grateful glances at her as she gulped lung-full after greedy lung-full of air. Tuxedo Mask was cradling her in his arms after supporting her as she threw up the slime that had filled her lungs. He held her tightly, watching her face as he rocked her. Still enamored with the novelty of breathing, she had failed to open her eyes. When she did, they were brilliant and blue and clear. She pierced him with a look and her smile spread, slow and sure, piquant and wry. "You know, you didn't have to shout." ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Part 11b The crowd that had gathered turned restless, pushing forward to get a closer look at the drama before the ambulance, whose sirens could be heard in the distance, took their hero away. The Senshi, realizing the situation might turn violent, backed away hurriedly and surrounded the couple on the ground. "We can't keep them back without resorting to force any longer," muttered Jupiter, gently but firmly pushing back four teenage boys who were, in turn, pushing forward with cameras in their enterprising hands. A flash blinded Mars for an instant, then hurried to intercept a child who tried to slip by unnoticed. She handed the kid to a mother who looked not the least bit repentant. "This is getting ridiculous," she announced. "Mercury, some privacy, please." Mercury nodded, wondering why she hadn't thought of that herself, and called forth a fog that the most intrepid of bystanders could not see through. She turned and made her way to where Tuxedo Mask held Sailor Moon, seemingly capable only of holding her tightly and rocking her slowly back and forth. Slightly embarrassed to be disturbing such a moment, Mercury knelt at his side and placed a gloved hand on his forearm. "Tuxedo-san. Please, take her away from here." As if emerging from his own private world, he turned exhausted eyes her way and nodded numbly, automatically rising with a slimy Sailor Moon cradled in his arms. Sailor Moon, fighting down the nausea that threatened whenever she felt the goo still coating her throat, moaned wretchedly and clutched at his cape with desperate hands. "The ambulance," began Tuxedo Mask as he unconsciously began to rub Sailor Moon's back at the tiny mewl of distress. Mercury followed the soothing motion of Tuxedo Mask's large hand on her friend's back and her eyes warmed at the tenderness in the action. From that second, Tuxedo Mask won her trust in full. "We'll take care of it," she promised softly. "Just watch over Sailor Moon for us for right now, please?" His arms tightening protectively around Sailor Moon was answer enough for both of them. In a whirl of black cape, he leapt for the nearest rooftop and was gone. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The door to the balcony slid open with a discreet rasp, and Tuxedo Mask stepped inside. He looked down at the girl who was curled up in his arms and trembling slightly. For the first time in the last ten minutes, he allowed himself to think --just *think*-- about what had happened today, what *could* have happened, and all the implications. . .and he started trembling himself. To keep the girl in his arms from noticing, he set her down on her own feet and patiently waited till her knees solidified beneath her. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice strangely neutral in cadence. She didn't seem to notice, too embarrassed to look up. "I--I think I made a mess on your cape." He leaned forward, not quite sure he'd heard correctly. "What?" "Ithrewupalloveryourcape," she muttered, blushing beneath the green coating of goo. He blinked once, twice, before his trembling increased with the need to laugh and cry at the same time. "It's okay," he managed, "it'll be clean by the next transformation." "Oh." She cast a discreet glance at him. His face and hands held traces of the slime that covered her completely, but, otherwise, his suit had taken the brunt of the punishment. She, however, was coated irreparably. She grimaced in distaste, wondering how he had even brought himself to touch her with all the icky splendor. Yet here she was, in this perfect apartment, wondering just what exactly he was thinking behind that perfectly composed face and knowing that at any moment the hysteria would hit and she did not want him to witness her weakness. Right now she was hanging on by sheer will alone but soon the whole event would catch up to her, as it always did when she came so close to death, and she would be a blubbering idiot. It was not, she was sure, something his beloved princess would ever do, so she refused to further lower herself before his eyes. "Umm, look, could I possibly borrow your shower? I *really* have to get rid of this junk," she asked. He screamed internally. "Sure," he replied, no betraying emotion in his voice, politely pointing towards the bathroom door. "Thanks," murmured Sailor Moon and scurried into the room before it was too late. She slammed the door shut and locked it, then finally let her knees collapse so she could huddle on the floor, hugging her legs and shaking viciously as tremor after tremor wracked her slight frame. She gulped impulsively as her throat closed up, then gagged at the feeling of the slime that would *not* disappear. Suddenly, the most important thing was simply being *clean* again. She detransformed and hurriedly took off her school uniform before it could become soiled by her own skin. Then she was in the shower, water turned up as hot as she could stand, and scrubbing furiously at the viscous gel that clung stubbornly to her skin. The trembling began in earnest then, the feeling of choking, of drowning, coming back to remind her how close she had come to dying. One day she wouldn't be lucky enough to cheat death. Her parents and friends. . .she'd be lost to them all. The sobbing followed. Secure that the sound of the shower would drown out her tears, she let herself slide down the tiled wall to weep her fears away. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Tuxedo Mask's fists clenched as he watched her walk away. He felt as though he was a hair's-breadth away from insanity, and she had just walked quietly into this bathroom as if it were any other day for her. But maybe it was better this way. After all, why should *he* be so upset about her close call if she obviously had no problems dealing with it? But the fact was, he had never been quite so frightened in his life. She had never come so close to dying before, that he knew of. And thank god he didn't, if this was what it felt like. He released his transformation automatically and made his way to the kitchen to scrub his face and hands clean. The slime wouldn't come off. For some reason, this made him furious and he scrubbed harder until his hands began to ache and chafe against each other. He stopped abruptly, closing his eyes and breathing deeply, trying to regain control. More collected now, he reached under the sink and brought out the dishwashing soap, pleasantly surprised to find out it cut through the gel easily. If he had had so much trouble washing off just the small bit of slime he had been coated with, he could well imagine how difficult it must be for Usagi to do the same. With that thought in mind, he took the detergent towards the bathroom, his hand poised to knock and offer her the use of it. And that's when he heard her. The sound was muffled by the roar of the running water, but it was unmistakable and pierced through his surface calm as easily as a steel-tipped arrow pierces flesh. She was sobbing-- ugly, harsh sounds that seemed torn from the bottom of her soul. His hand automatically reached for the doorknob before he pulled away, flattening his hand over the cool wood of the door, instead. If she had wanted his comfort, she would not have barricaded herself in the bathroom. Obviously, whatever she sought, it was not from him. So he lowered his head to the rough surface of the wood as his shoulders tightened with each sound of distress that came from within the room, and his frustration grew exponentially. He did not notice that tears had begun to run down his own cheeks in accompaniment to her own. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A considerably cleaner Usagi emerged from the bathroom some thirty minutes later, dressed in her relatively clean school uniform and with her hair hanging in a tangled wet mass down her back. Mamoru, watching her silently from where he waited on the living room couch, could only marvel at how young and defenseless she looked. The rage that had been simmering inside him for the past half-hour grew a little brighter. Usagi was more than a little disconcerted to find that the first thing she saw upon exiting her sanctuary was a disturbingly intent Mamoru. Luckily for her, she had, once again, come to terms with her near-death experience, and was in much more emotionally stable state. In fact, Usagi had managed to revert to her unnaturally cheerful self. Thus, she managed a sunny smile quite naturally. Mamoru's hand tightened around the cup of hot tea he held, and his mouth thinned. Usagi stopped in her leisurely walk towards the couch and realized that, for some reason or another, her smile had displeased her host. However, not one to be daunted easily, she refused to let the smile slip and walked coolly past the couch. When she reached the front door, she set down the shoes she carried in one hand and turned to face Mamoru. She had not intended to leave so abruptly, but some sense of self-preservation told her it was better to get out now while the getting was good. "Mamoru-san, I can't tell you how much I appreciate everything-" she began. Mamoru's frown deepened just the tiniest fraction. Noticing this, Usagi hurried on as she edged towards the door and tried to slip her feet into her shoes all at the same time. "Yes, well, thanks for the shower and . . .and saving my life and all, but I really must be going and you know how it is when you've got school the next day and all-" "Odango.'' His voice was satiny-smooth and laced with some undertone that scared the heebie-jeebies out of her. Usagi paused, one foot safely ensconced in a shoe and the other foot bare. That had *not* sounded like an endearment. "Er. . .is there something I can do for you, Satan?" She stabbed her bare foot at the ground blindly, searching for her other shoe as her hands groped behind her for the doorknob. Deeply engrained survival instincts were screaming at her: 'head for the hills, Usagi-chan! Head for the hills and don't look back!!' "Odango, come here." Usagi's heart performed a triple Lutz and then promptly plummeted into her stomach. 'Don't do it! Don't do it!' screamed Self Preservation. "I-I think I should be getting home." Mamoru's emotions were raging dangerously close to out-of-control and he didn't like it; he didn't like it one bit. He didn't like the panicked look in Odango's eyes, either, as if he were some kind of beast of prey. But he was so angry! So angry because. . .because. . .he didn't know. He didn't know why he felt angry and frustrated. . .and scared. Okay, so he was scared. He was scared that all his control had disappeared as soon as she had walked out of the bathroom looking so damnably young and fragile. Mamoru sighed, scrubbed his hands over his face, and then raised slightly calmer eyes to Usagi, who seemed ready to bolt out of the apartment. "I was just wondering if you would like something to eat before you left." Usagi blinked as her mind went blank and her stomach shifted into overdrive. Self Preservation sobbed uncontrollably for a few moments, realizing that the good battle had been lost, and wished Usagi a fond adieu. It would be impolite to refuse a meal, wouldn't it? Usagi rationalized away until she felt comfortably secure with her decision to ignore all warning signs and stay longer. "Wellllllll, I suppose I *could* stay just a little bit longer," conceded Usagi, abandoning her shoes by the door and stepping back into the living area. Mamoru's fists, hidden from her gaze by a pile of cushions, unclenched slowly. Okay, he could deal with his feelings now. So maybe he'd gone a little overboard there on the emotional scale when he heard her crying. And so maybe he felt that, as long as she was here with him, she would be safe. They were natural reactions, right? He would have been equally concerned had the same incident occurred to any other friend, right? The couple adjourned to the kitchen and Usagi sat down at the table as Mamoru began to rummage around through the cupboards. "So," she began, drumming her fingers idly on the table, "this apartment's really nice." He kept the place spotless and tastefully decorated. She was quite surprised, actually. "I thought you'd live in a pigsty, Satan. Aren't you snooty, upper-class boys supposed to be decadent?" she teased. Mamoru rolled his shoulders to loosen his knotted muscles and relaxed as the heavy atmosphere eased from the room. He set water to boil and then turned to face his guest, a smile lurking around his lips. "I stashed my harem in the bedroom. They won't come out until you leave." She wrinkled her nose at him. "I doubt your collection of blow-up dolls can walk by themselves, anyway." He stared at her, scandalized, for a little more than a second, then threw back his head and laughed. "Touché," he managed. "And here I thought you were this innocent schoolgirl, Odango. Who knew that an ecchi soul lurked beneath!" "Ecchi?!" she sputtered, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly like a landed fish. He turned back to add the noodles into the boiling water, still shaking with laughter. This was good. This was comfortable. This was footing that he was familiar with; no messy emotions were going to get in the way here. "And, you can cook," Usagi drawled. "Will wonders never cease?" She left the table to saunter towards the stove and take a peak at what he was preparing. "Instant ramen. Satan, you shouldn't have. Really," she deadpanned. He cast a glance over his shoulder to find her peering at the pot dubiously. "Don't knock it, Odango. It's all I had in the cupboard. I was going to go grocery shopping tonight." Usagi hummed disapprovingly. "Well, at least I had a good lunch at school today. Imagine if my last meal had been instant ramen? How depressing. I'll tell you one thing, I'm turned off lime Jell-O for life." The shoulder she was leaning against tensed hard as rock. She looked up to see that Mamoru's face had stilled into a mask of granite, his hands frozen in the task of stirring the noodles. Somehow, she had royally stuck her foot in her mouth, and she didn't know how. Whatever she had said, it had caused the tension to seep back between them in full force. The spoon clattered from Mamoru's hands and Usagi jumped at the sudden sound. The fine hairs on her arms and the back of her neck rose as the atmosphere between them grew heavy with the unnamed emotions that rolled of Mamoru's body like a nervous heat. She stumbled back, away from him with the whole-hearted intent of running away from the apartment, but his hand shot out to stop her, gripping her wrist. "You promised, Usagi. You promised and. . .and you broke it." His whisper was harsh and accusing. She recoiled from it physically, flinching at the reminder. Tugging at her wrist ineffectually, she strove to lighten the conversation, feeling horribly inadequate for dealing with such seriousness. "Do I look dead to you? If so, death is vastly overrated. So I cut it a little close, I didn't *break* the promise." His hand tightened on her wrist and he turned violently to face her. "Why do you have to joke about this? Why do you have to try to lighten it!? This is serious! You almost died, again!!" "How do you want me to deal with it, then? So I almost died. . .it happens, Mamoru-san. I'm okay with it!" His eyes narrowed on her face, blue crystallizing into opaque pinpricks of ice. "You are *not* okay with it! I *heard* you in the bathroom, Usagi. What's more, I *felt* it." Her face bled of color and a tiny, pained cry escaped from her lips. "You--you felt. . .you felt me. . ." "I felt the goo oozing into your throat. I felt your lungs burning and your mind fading and then I," he paused, fighting the images in his head, but then forged ruthlessly forward, "I felt you giving up. I felt you try to leave m--us! AND YOU HAD PROMISED!" She tore away from him, small hands outstretched before her as if to ward him off. "No--no, that's not fair. You shouldn't have had to go through that." Tears began to slide down her face. "I understand now, why you wanted that promise. I didn't get it before, but now I do. God, you must hate me for making you experience that. I'm so sorry. . . so sorry." She turned and fled towards the door as he stood staring at her, incomprehension dulling his mind. Slowly it occurred to him that she had it all wrong, that she had his motives all wrong. He chased after her and caught her as she was trying to force her feet into her shoes, swinging her around and holding tight as she clawed at his hands. "NO! No, that's not--" he tried to explain, but she was crying loudly and apologizing repeatedly over his voice. "No wonder you were so angry when I walked out of the bath! I promise, I would break the link if I could. You should stay away from me. Drowning . . .that feeling was horrible! Horrible, and you . . .you had to feel it all just cuz I was clumsy and stupid and . . . and when we find the Princess I'm sure she'll know how to make it so you can be rid of me and never have to . . . God, I'm sorry!" "NO! Dammit, listen to me!" He shook her slightly and her head snapped back to look at him as the tears continued to paint salty streaks down her cheeks. "I don't care about any of that!" "How couldn't you care? You should never have had to feel any of that pain! Never!" she cried vehemently till he cut her off with a sharp motion of his head. "The pain means nothing to me. I just want you safe! I thank God for that link, that connection I have to you. I was angry because you almost left ME! DAMMIT!" His head dropped down and he rested his forehead against hers, shutting his eyes tightly. "Dammit," he repeated, quietly. "What have you done to me? Why isn't anything simple anymore? I can't . . . I can't stand seeing you hurt." Usagi raised trembling hands to his face, daring to hope . . . Could it be that he had begun to love her? God, it was almost too much to hope for, but her heart was thumping wildly in her chest and a field of butterflies was performing an aerial ballet in her stomach and maybe, maybe for the first time in her life, Tsukino Usagi would find the person who could fill that part of her that felt unnaturally empty. She ran sensitive fingertips over the strong line of his jaw, the soft fullness of his lips, to settle on the high curve of his cheekbones and draw his face slightly back so she could gaze at him fully. And then she laid her heart bare. "I love you. I . . . I think I've always loved you. Sailor Moon fell in love with Tuxedo Mask and I fell in love with you and, well," she laughed a little despairingly, "then Sailor Moon fell in love with you and I fell in love with Tuxedo Mask and everything became a hopeless tangle. But, in the end, it's all me and it's all you. I love you so much it hurts me." His hands dropped from her shoulders like lead weights to hang heavy and numb at his sides. He was quite positive that his heart stopped beating altogether for an amount of time that couldn't possibly be healthy, and then it began to beat double-time in an attempt to make up for the lapse. Never, in his wildest dreams, had he allowed himself to believe this golden one would love him so utterly and without reservations. Now she stood there, her hands cool and gentle against his face and her soft blue eyes becoming ever more uncertain as he stayed mute in the face of her declaration. And the one thing he was sure of was that he was terrified. He didn't know what to do with such a love. He had grown up without love; he didn't know how to love. The only assurance that had remained constants were the dreams of his princess, dreams he had been having for as long as he could remember. *She* would understand him. Only *she* would know why he was the way he was, and would realize his limitations and love him anyway. It was so much safer, after all, to love a dream; there was no one to disappoint in the end. "I love . . . the princess. I'm sorry, but I can't give you what you want, Odango. It's always been the princess. I do *care* for you, Odango, it's not that--" This time it was she who cut him off with an abrupt shake of her head as she slowly removed her hands from his face. Her smile didn't falter, but the light in her eyes dimmed into a cloudy sea of wetness. His soul died with that look. It was like being offered the sun after living for eons in a cave, only to find out you had been blind all along. He was like that; he did not have the capacity to love. Somewhere along the way he had forgotten how. She stepped away from him, both physically and spiritually. He felt it, felt her draw into herself, and ached at the sudden isolation. He had not realized that he had come to depend on his subconscious link so much . . . that he had come to depend on her. "I understand," she was saying quietly. "But I had to let you know, anyway. I guess I hoped . . . well, it doesn't matter anymore." She turned her back to him and reached for the door. Her hair had dried in a tangle of platinum and golden strands that swept to the floor, and she wore its splendor like a cape. "I hope you find her, Mamoru-san. And I hope she is everything you want her--need her--to be. You will be happy together." And she walked out. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ to be continued (and hopefully ended . . .)