I don't own sailor moon

Chapter 1

Clad in clinging soft golden silk, a siren walked through the doorway, eyes bright and innocent in her girlishly angelic face. Hanging almost past her knees were thick silver locks that smelled of crushed roses and broken hearts. "I don't see our friend anywhere." She said quietly, touching her ear. The speaker sounded frustrated.

"360 the room."

She knew her target was virtually untouchable thanks to present society and a body guard disguised as an escort. If she was to have a chance of questioning the target she'd have to go for subtlety.

How fortunate. That happened to be her specialty.

She peered about the room. There was an irate businessman standing alone, watching what appeared to be his date dancing with another man.

Perfect.

Eric Clapman was angry. He'd lost his dignity, his reputation, and any chance of scoring tonight. Disgusted he took out his handkerchief and wiped his forehead, tossing it over his shoulder.

"Excuse me."

He turned to see an attractive blonde holding his crumpled napkin. "I think this is yours." She said smoothly. Dumbstruck he took it from her. "Would you like to dance?"He asked. The woman smiled and let him lead her around the dance floor.

To anyone watching, this was an ordinary, almost romantic interlude. But the woman had no interest in her partner and she wasn't planning to make any kind of romantic conquest. Hanging from her choker was an opal that did so much more than accentuate her throat. The stone had a tiny, powerful camera embedded in it. Watching the captured images were over a dozen men and women.

"I love how she operates." One of the men said, smirking. His neighbor rolled his eyes and peered out expectantly at the televised ballroom. "Where's our girl?" He muttered, eyebrows furrowing. His eyes widened when the camera zoomed in. "It's her! Move your ass, Sere! And remember we want her alive."

Serenity barely nodded and steered her partner closer to the target. He spun her out and crashed into a red-haired woman, both of them toppling to the ground. There was a loud thunk and the second woman was unconscious. "Shit!" She swore, putting away the hidden tranquilizer needle she had out and bending over the redhead, felt for a pulse.

Eric Clapman stared horrified and whipped out his cell phone, hands shaking as he called 911.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kick you out on your our ass with your own boots."

Agent Serena Conejos stood, silent and emotionless before the furious white-haired man. The façade had faded and in its place Code-Name "Serenity" was listening to her boss's reprimands.

"You lost us an informant, you caused a disruption and you force us to look harder for what little evidence we can get from her!"

"Beryl is comatose, sir, not dead."

"She may as well be for all the usefulness she is to us now, Conejos." The man retorted. Agent Conejos' lips thinned. "I searched her person in the ambulance and managed to lift these." Out from under her dress she pulled several bagged weapons and put them on the table. "Send them to the lab." She said shortly. Her commanding officer's face almost softened but the look was replaced by a muted anger. The woman had a lesson coming and he knew just how to teach it. "Conejos, I've made a decision. I won't suspend you but you need to understand the seriousness of what you've done. You'll be debriefed on your next assignment tomorrow morning…you and the team, that is." He said, noting the open look of horror on her face.

Serena Conejos lived in a tiny studio apartment. It was cramped and Spartan in its comfort but it suited her requirements: few windows, uncaring neighbors and a fair proximity to work. The last was most important because she never just brought her work home; why would anyone do that when their work was home? It had been home and husband to her for three years now, three long painful years in which she merely existed, keeping herself alive to punish herself some more. She couldn't forgive herself if she tried. No one could, if they had made a mistake that had cost as much.

"USAGI!"

She looked up alert and vainly tried to tug the man to safety but one, two, three shots sounded and they crumpled. "Daddy," She said stupidly, dazed by injury and rapidly lost blood. She fumbled, fingers trying to find a pulse, any sign of life and the off chance that all was not completely lost.

She howled when the realization struck her. The realization that she'd lost everything and it was her own damn fault. Why had she been so naïve, so god-damn innocent trusting anyone with everything that was precious to her? She wanted to scream, to die, to go back in time and fix everything.

But there was nothing left to fix.

She started when she heard a sound from above. What was it? Was it hope? No there was none. She'd seen the bodies, hidden them as best as she could before anything happened to them. If it wasn't hope then surely it was the person who would be responsible for finishing her off at last. Would they too be masked? Through her bloody and scraggly bangs she tried to look up but mercifully, blissfully, the darkness took her.

But not before she saw his face.

A face that would haunt her forever.

Chapter 2

Darien Shields had never been one to sleep in. He was a punctual man who prided himself for always being on time and was rather put out when others were not. Some liked to say he had a type A personality. Others were less kind in their personal opinions, the resulting nicknames for him falling on deaf ears. He could not abide tardiness, especially on a workday. It was probably a small mercy that the phone beside his bed was ringing and it would not stop until he answered it.

"Shields!" A man's voice chirped cheerfully. Darien's brow wrinkled as he tried to place whose voice it was.

"John?" He mumbled as he yawned.

"Good Morning, Bro!" John said, sounding refreshed and caffeinated, two things Darien wanted to be and was prevented from being by the sing song speaker.

He hung up. "I do not need this at such an ungodly hour." He moaned, running his hands through his hair.

The telephone rang again and he snatched it, simultaneously cursing himself for placing a phone right beside his bed and John for taking advantage of that little piece of information. "What?" He asked curtly, one hand still attempting to smooth his unsightly bed hair. The voice on the other line chuckled. "Who taught you manners, Kevin? I was just calling to warn you. The boss is looking for you."

Darien clenched the phone. "Why didn't you say so earlier?" He snarled. "You cut me off. Anyway, Raye says hi. She also says if you ask her one more time why she picked me, she'll…" Darien put the receiver down and made a grab for his robe. He was going to kill John, that is, after he faced the wrath of Yaten.

Yaten Kou, D/CIA, was not a sadist, strange as that may seem. Although his gruff manner and lack of patience left much to be desired he had a good heart. He honestly cared about his case officers and sometimes felt like a father to them.

A hard assed father who gave his children weapons but a father nonetheless.

And lately, he'd been worried about Conejos. Not about her skill or commitment, (because she was more or less married to the job, he'd trained her himself to be) but because he had sensed something about her. Last night was proof that this was the beginning of the end.

He knew she didn't work with partners. That much was certain after the fiasco that nearly killed her.

So why a team?

Serena might have thought it was punishment but he preferred to think of it as insurance. A precautionary move to make sure that whatever happened or whoever was involved she wouldn't be alone. He knew she was always alone. He'd seen her eat in her office hunched over files or her computer, hidden at the back of staff meetings, listening quietly, disappearing to her office during work parties. What he couldn't believe was how she had lasted this long. He remembered her before the incident, an obnoxious, happy, and annoying agent who couldn't possibly settle down long enough to be serious.

Could one event have changed her so much? True she hadn't any physical scars left after the surgeries but the emotional and mental ones were there. If you looked closely enough, you could see the guilt in her eyes, mixed with pain and self-loathing.

It was enough to make him cry, really.

There was only one thing for it. He had to hope that the team could somehow replace what she had lost.

Ten minutes later, a neatly dressed Darien appeared at headquarters in Langley.

For a government building devoted to espionage and surveillance, it looked rather like a bank or museum, not an office building designed to bring together the men and women whose job it was to spot threats like cancer and eradicates them before it was too late to bring in the military or for politics to get wind of it. Regardless of his thoughts on it, it was still his workplace, and he was going to be late and with that he hurried his steps.

"Fashionably late, aren't we, Agent Endymion?" Yaten growled when the man appeared. Agent Endymion ignored him. A beautiful silver blonde stood next to him, watching him disinterestedly. She was petite but dangerously curvy, her legs long, coltish, and beautifully formed underneath slim fitting slacks. Traveling further up he could see the outlines of what could only be a thong snugly pressed between the thin cotton of her slacks and the skin of her bottom. Sexy. His eyes briefly zoomed in on her generous chest slightly straining the buttons of her blouse and trekked up finally to her face where he noted, a prominent blush and angry eyes resided. It was a shame really that she didn't realize how well anger suited her visage. "Before you give me an ass chewing, here's my report with footnotes on certain details I noticed on the case." He said smoothly, handing his boss the typed file. Grudgingly, Yaten took it from him. "You suck up. That's not why I wanted to see you." A look of confusion crossed his face but it was gone as soon as the blonde agent tried to examine it closer. His opinion of her did a complete one-eighty. Nosy broad. He knew the type. Know it alls who were helpless on the field but survived due to pure dumb luck. This one was puppy food.

"Endymion, this is Agent Serenity, the newest addition to your team. I'll leave the intros to you. Play nice now." He said, chuckling as he left.

'Serenity' mumbled something under her breath and Darien's jaw twitched with suppressed mirth. So she wanted to establish that she was a nosy broad with a temper. Oh this was going to be loads of fun.

He proffered a hand. "Agent Endymion, call me Darien. I take it you're used to more solo work."

The woman scowled but she took his hand anyway. "Serenity, Serena. You're right I never do work with partners and I never will again after this."

"That's what you think." Endymion mumbled. Serenity shot him a look. "What did say?" She hissed. Darien held up his hands in defense. "Easy. You know, you kind of remind me of someone I knew once." He said seriously looking into her eyes. There was something rather familiar about them, the way they were filled with emotion. Though what it was he didn't know.

She did though. She knew it was shock and fear.

His was the face.

If he knew she was acting strangely he didn't think he showed it. She'd kept to herself hands twisting and wringing themselves as he led her to a small staff room. For heaven's sake it was like she expected him to throttle her! Where was the spitfire now? "Serena?"

She jumped as if she'd been burnt. "Yes?" She almost yelped. Darien stared at her a good while. The poor girl's knees were practically knocking but her face seemed almost calm. "I just wanted to know if you were okay."

Inwardly Serena cringed. Why'd she have to be so scared? She was paranoid that's why. Yaten seemed to trust him but honestly she didn't. She'd learned not to put faith in people others trusted. That's how you get hurt in this world.

Oh why did he have to be the Face?

Sometimes when she was at her most lonely and depressed of times she'd imagine he was a man bent on earning her affections who had put his life on the line to make sure she was saved. It would have been possible as she'd never known how exactly she'd made it to the hospital in time.

But what if he hadn't saved her? The bastard had checked her out! What if he just wanted fresh meat before he finished the job?

Best she didn't think about that. She had to concentrate damn it!

She sneaked a quick peek at Darien.

Fuck.

This was going to be way harder than she thought, she mused as her eyes unwillingly traveled over his form. He was clearly well built but graceful like a dancer. She was irresistibly reminded of a sleek well-fed wolf who only wanted one more bite. He was tall, far taller than she with wonderfully broad shoulders and sculpted forearms like branches of a great oak, easily seen once he took off his suit jacket to reveal rolled up dress shirt sleeves. His hands were large yet oddly long-fingered and elegant. She wondered if he played piano in his spare time. It seemed he would and yet by the look of him she could tell he'd used those long fingers for entirely different activities before. He looked like the type. He was a cocky man, she could tell by his stance and demeanor but there was something about him that told her he had good reason to be. His face was lean, clean-shaven with a distinctive wildness about it. His lips were curved and full, his nose patrician and long, and his eyes deep-set and stormy blue. It was like an angel's face, an avenging one with the capacity for almost awe-inspiring gentleness.

She didn't have a chance.

Darien looked amused. He'd felt, rather than saw her eyes on his back as he led her through the corridor. She was watching him. He smiled. Normally this kind of situation would end with the girl asking him out and him politely refusing. He didn't date, especially not coworkers. Women never seemed to mind though hanging around him or platonic relationships, which was a good thing to an extent but heaven help him if he ever mistreated any of them around the four women who were more or less his annoying pain in the ass sisters. Sisters who had had more or less adopted him and would beat his head in if he ever casually dated or had a simple one night stand.

Sometimes he wondered if they wanted him to be a eunuch.

Well there was no chance of that where the silver haired beauty was concerned. He was mightily considering the idea of going out with her, "sisters" be damned. She was interesting, different and yet somehow familiar.

Where had he seen her before?

"Hey Darien," Serena spoke abruptly. Darien turned around. Was this it?

"Yes, Serena?" He asked patiently. Why was he looking so forward to this again?

"Could I ask you something?"

"Feel free."

"I hate to be rude but well, and you know we just met…"

"Yes…?"

"Did you by any chance, have any part in the Metallia incident?"

The smile instantly slid off his face to replace by an empty staring expression. "I'm sorry," Serena said weakly. Internally she kicked herself. Why was she bothering to befriend this man? Why had she not been cool and professional? Inwardly she cringed as her conscience reprimanded her for being tactless and rude. Darien seemed lost in his thoughts but it only took a minute for him to respond. "It's alright. I just don't talking about it alright?" She nodded empathically and was quiet.

Once he'd gotten over the initial shock of the question he too wanted answers. It was interesting enough that she'd resembled the girl from the Metallia disaster but that she'd asked about it…

Well it seemed possible enough that she was… Darien laughed at the utter irony of fate. To work with someone you almost killed had to be the most ultimate form of karma and therefore, couldn't be possible.

Erasing these thoughts from his mind, he swung open the office door. "Welcome to the Mob, I mean Family."