Sammy says: This fanfic is for Kurayami Angel, who was the first to review my other one shot. I apologize if this is a bit more… graphic than you bargained for. ^^' Well, enjoy. The first person who reviews this and is not a flamer will get a one shot of their choosing. Well, so long as I know the anime and the people they choose.

BTW: I don't own this. Just saying.

My heart pounds as I run, desperately trying to get away. It's getting closer, the beast that lives in my heart, and it's hungry. It longs to devour the trusts that I've struggled to build. It loves to eat the ashes of my bridges that it's put to flames.

I run and I run and I run. The door gets further and further and further away. I let out a desperate cry when it catches up with me.

The straight sun-bleached, white blonde locks floats to its waist, its eyes are a blood red. I know I am looking at my self, the pale skin and child-like body make that much apparent, but my eyes—its eyes…

"You'll hurt them…" It grins, reveling sharp little white teeth. "You'll hurt him…"

It stoops down over me, and I try to back away but find I'm backed into a corner. It lunges for my neck and—

Thwack!

"Ow! Damn it all!" I groan, opening my eyes to see the ceiling is further away than it should be. I struggle to get up, finding the sheets and blankets are haphazardly tangled around my body.

blood red eyes…

I gasp and bolt for my vanity mirror.

Bright orange eyes meet my panicked gaze and suddenly all is right with the world. I start to turn away, but can't help but survey my self again, just to make sure I haven't aged backwards over night. My skin is pale, but not pasty like the dream girls and my body is still… somewhat lacking in the 'feminine' department.

"Toe-headed, flat-chested, pale for a pirate with freaky unnatural orange eyes. Hallelujah, I'm normal." I mutter.

It doesn't take much psychoanalytic talent to divine that sleep is an impossibility. My expression practically screams unrest. Plus, my stomach's snarling its displeasure at the current lack of munchies at hand.

I quietly tip-toe out of my room and into the kitchen, praying that Sanji doesn't kill me in the morning when he finds missing ice cream and hope that no one else is up.

Guided by the light of the moon, I creep up to the fridge and wolf down my snack.

"What are you doing?"

I freeze. Great. The last person I wanted to run into besides Sanji.

"Zoro!" I squeak. "Right, um… well! I—"

"Don't even try it, Luna. I heard you fall from here." The green haired man leans against the door frame, giving me a silent once over through tired green eyes.

"Oh…" I sigh. "Well… shit."

At that point I think I could pull out one of Sanji's many knives and cut the air with it, it's so thick with awkwardness.

"Did I wake you?" I ask, making a desperate grab for conversation.

"No." He says deadpanned.

"Well, sorry for disturbing you…" I trail off, heart pounding.

Fuck. Don't make eye contact, Luna. You can't risk getting attached to him. He'll get hurt and you'll get hurt and life will suck. Just look at how Sanji and Val where always fighting.

and then they started shagging…

I decide that thinking isn't getting me anywhere good. I ignore the drop in my stomach and the lump in the back of my throat. If I acknowledge it, it'll never leave me.

My eyes travel to the window that over looks the sea.

Blood red eyes stare back at me. A deadly sharp toothed grinning mouth licks its pale pink lips.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realize that my entire body is wracked by tremors of sheer terror. My eyes are wide and terrified and I can't seem to get free of my transfixed state of shock at seeing her, the evil child me, anywhere but in my sleep.

It moves its hand up with mine to touch its face, the nails have razor points on them. Its hand claws and it lunges—

I stumble back, clutching my heart. My heart feels like it's trying to imitate a race horses hooves and my breathing is erratic.

"Luna!" Zoro's hands hesitant weight on my shoulder snaps whatever threads I had that kept me composed.

I gasp at the sudden contact, and before I can rationalize myself out of it, I dive into him.

He's real. He's warm. He's solid. He's real…

I barely register his hand patting the top of my head in an awkwardly comforting sort of way. "What happened?"

"M-my reflection." I force out through fits of tearless sobs. "I-it was the—the thing. I keep having dreams about it. It looks like me when I was a kid, except with red eyes and sharp teeth. It always tells me I'm going to hurt—"

His arm wraps around me, pulling me forward into a bear hug.

"It's just a dream." The green haired man tells me.

"It's scary as hell." I argue, pulling away. I stand in front of him with my hands on my hips, forgetting about my fear and focusing on arguing. "It keeps telling me I'm going to hurt you right before it rips my throat out."

"Me?" He asks raising an eyebrow.

I sigh, exasperated and suddenly very tired. "Never mind." I go to move around him, heading for the door.

He moves with me, blocking my path. "Tell me." He insists.

"No." I scowl at him. "Lemme go to bed."

"Not until you tell me why." Zoro's being stubborn too. Great.

I give him a poisonous glare. "Make me."

Famous last words…

The next thing I know is that I'm pinned against a wall with my hands pinned above my head and a very smug swordsman is way too close for comfort. I struggle weakly against his brute strength, silently marveling at how well he is doing at keeping me quite and motionless against my will.

"Let me go!" I hiss at him.

"Not happening." He says casually.

"Why do you care about my dreams?" I snarl more harshly than I mean to. "I thought all you cared about was being he worlds number one swordsman."

"Because," Zoro says, his voice sounds strained and tired. I can't help but wonder if he was lying when he said I didn't wake him. "If you're hallucinating about them when your awake then that can't mean anything good."

"Thanks for that, Captain Obvious." I snap. "Why do you care?"

He just looks at me long and hard, and I find something I don't expect. It's not the genuine concern that's so surprising, it's the strain of keeping back something. Like a two-year-old wanting to open his birthday presents too early but knowing he can't and that he'll have to look at them every day until he can.

Only this look is more longing than lusting.

I swallow nervously, and divert my gaze from his eyes. I can feel my cheeks heat up in recognition at this new found desire my shipmate seems to have in common with me.

A dire want of the others attentions.

His lips are on mine with bruising force, and his calloused hands aggressively pull me to him by the tops of my arms. My now free hands are put to use clinging desperately to his shoulders, trying to compensate for my knees lack of effort in keeping me up right. He wraps his arms around my waist in a possessive vice, that keeps me from sinking, but also prevents me from pulling back to breathe.

Zoro, on the other hand, seems to thrive on lack of oxygen and tangles his hand in my hair, holding my head to his. With no options left for getting air, I gasp into his mouth, taking in as much as my lungs can hold before his tongue ravishes mine.

It's amazing how something that seems so disgusting as a pre-adolescent child can turn out to be so… unbelievably pleasant.

His teeth nip at my bottom lip, and I can feel his breath coming through his nose and fanning out over my skin. He licks my neck and I gasp at the little shocks of pleasure that go through me.

"Z-Zoro." I pant. "L-let's not have a semi-violent snog in the middle of Sanji's kitchen, o-okay?"

"Why the hell not?" His breath tickles my exposed throat and causes shivers to run down my spine.

"The others—"

"—Can deal with it." He all-but growls.

I squirm against the wood that's been digging painfully into my back the entire time. "The wall hurts. My bed is comfy and conveniently closer than yours."

"… fine…" Zoro, unwillingly, pulls away. "If it's really that uncomfortable…"

"It is." I confirm.

He takes my hand and impatiently drags me down the hall to my room and unceremoniously shoves me on my thoroughly scrambled bed.

Somehow, I doubt it'll get any better by morning.