Lilian: Once upon a time, a young girl named Lilian was strolling through the country, humming a pretty song and bouncing along. She didn't have a care in the world, so when a friend of hers named Thalia asked to pick her brain for A/Z ideas, she accepted at once. It was supposed to be a one-shot. It was supposed to be short. It wasn't supposed to blossom into this monster fic.
Five days later, I can tell you Thalia is a plot bunny... she seems innocent at first, ottering just this small, nice idea for you to play with. But once she's got you in her grasp, she claps on and feeds you inspiration to the vein!
I hope you guys enjoy reading this fic as much as we did writing it!
Thalia: All I can say is that Lilian and I have a freaky brain-wave thing going on and we can read each other's thoughts as to how to do this fic... and I've not had so much fun collabing with anyone in a while! Hope you enjoy the fruits of our labours!
Disclaimer: The pretty nerdy ones belong to each other, and everything really belongs to Naoko. Lilian and Thalia are both penniless, and don't react well to suing. Oh yeah, and they might use their amazing 133t telepathic powers OMG to fry your brain if you try.
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Ami stepped through security and customs with teary eyes, making her vision into a blur of colors. Her mom and the rest of the Senshi waved at her from behind the reinforced glass, and Ami waved back, taking a deep breath to keep the tears from falling.
She was finally on her way. She was fulfilling her life-long dream of becoming a doctor! Inside her backpack, tucked neatly between a copy of Pablo Neruda's 'Twenty Poems' – a surprisingly thoughtful gift from Rei – and her passport, was the acceptance letter from Cambridge university. She could recite the words from memory by now, having stared at them for nights on end. "We are pleased to welcome you to the incoming Autumn semester class…'
She had truly thought it would never pan out. She had applied without much hope, knowing thousands of applicants from all around the world fought for the coveted spots for one of the tops universities in the world. She had been content to stay in Japan, finish her degree and forget all about her dreams of studying abroad. And then, one day, out of the blue, the envelope had come, and her world had been turned upside down.
Ami smiled at her friends, knowing each and everyone of them to be immensely proud of her. "I won't let you down," she murmured, although she wasn't quite sure who she was speaking to. Her mother, perhaps, who stood by Usagi, consoling a bawling Moon Princess while holding herself together at the same time. Her friends, who had supported her from the start, even if her departure meant their tight group would slowly begin to dissolve. Or perhaps herself, the shy, timid girl who once dreamed of becoming the best doctor in the world.
In the end, it didn't matter. She nodded in response to something Mako yelled, despite the thick layers of plexiglass between them muffling the brunette's words. Flashing a 'V' sign towards them – and smiling even wider when Minako threw her fist in the air in response – she turned and moved deeper into the airport concourses.
As a petite, blue-eyed girl started on her journey to the rest of her life, a tall, lanky young man maneuvered through the crowd at Tokyo's airport, an old briefcase in his hands and a pair of gold wire-frame glasses sliding off his aristocratic nose. Zane Weston's month-long sojourn to Japan had come to a close, and if he could just make it through the crowd, he might even have time to finish a chapter while waiting at the gate.
Everyone up to his doting mother had considered his journey to Japan the result of an artistic impulse, and no one had batted an eyelash. Zane Weston was the son of a wealthy man, and had grown up in privilege. Furthermore, he was a very successful writer in his own right, and traveling halfway across the globe was par of the course. But only Zane himself knew about the dreams-- misty, evanescent images of a girl with wistful blue eyes backdropped against a Shinto temple. He'd dismissed it as a figment of his imagination for the first night. And the second. And the third and fourth and fifth. But when it didn't go away the way normal dreams did, he walked into a travel agency and booked a flight to Japan.
He'd found inspiration there-- a culture that was oddly both peaceful and chaotic, ceremonious and modern. He'd used it as the setting for his newest book... and there was only one missing piece now.
He had yet to find his blue-eyed heroine-- but one couldn't have everything, right?
He was startled out of his thoughts when someone crashed headlong into him with a feminine little yelp. Instinctively reaching out to catch the person with his hands, he found himself staring wide-eyed into the face of a ghost.
Ami panicked.
Not visibly, of course, because she was too well-behaved to start screaming 'you're supposed to be dead!' in the middle of a crowded airport, but her eyes widened as she stared up into the emerald depths of the stranger she had crashed into. She barely noticed his hands holding her shoulders, her heart racing inside her chest a hundred miles a minute.
"I—you—I'm sorry," she finally managed to blurt out, her right hand curled tight around her henshin pen. He seemed to be speechless as well, gazing down upon her with rapturous interest. So intense was his stare, Ami felt herself blushing under the force of it. It was then that she felt the warmth seeping from his skin into her arms, where he held her, and the blush deepened at the memories it brought back.
"Are you all right?"
His voice was sexy, although Ami would never admit it to herself. His Japanese was accented but flawless, and without even realizing it, Ami answered him in English. Maybe it was the eyes, obviously identifying him as one of Caucasian origin. Or maybe it was the copy of Lord Byron's works she could see pushing against her clavicle. "Yes, thank you."
He seemed surprised to hear her speak his native tongue, but the emotion soon passed., replaced again by that toe-curling interest. It was eerie, having him staring at her like that. She remembered Zoisite, the Dark Kingdom general, with amazing clarity; she could see him choking Usagi, that insane laughter echoing in her ears. Minako's boomerangs had sliced him apart, she recalled, shivering at the horrific image of his body was torn away by the force of Venus' attacks.
So how could he be here?
And most importantly, why wasn't he letting her go?
The girl-- a young woman, really-- was starting to look alarmed, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he was aware that he should probably release her. But oh, natural inclination was urging something completely opposite, and very likely completely unacceptable. Zane smiled down at her, and noted delightedly that she was blushing. She was adorable.
"That was quite rude of him to crash into you like that," he remarked in a soothing voice, keeping his hands gently on her shoulders while surveying her slender legs for hints of bruises. "He should have watched where he was going."
She simply nodded, staring at him wide-eyed, and with a bit of reluctance, he let her go, though he held out a hand. "How rude of me. Zane Weston, at your service, milady."
She placed her hand in his. "Ami Mizuno. It is nice to meet you."
"I would say that the pleasure is definitely all mine," he grinned, taking her slender fingers in both of his hands and brushing a gentle kiss upon her knuckles. Ah, there was the blush again. "Is this your first trip to London, then?"
Ami blinked in surprise. "How did you know I was flying to London?"
He smiled, and the sight of it made Ami's stomach quiver. No one could smile like that. And none was entitled to look so good in khakis. Specially not some guy that might or might not be the reincarnation of a bloodthirsty Dark Kingdom general. "You have a—hmm, quite noticeable sticker on your backpack."
Intrigued, Ami brought her bag forward, and lo and behold, there it was: a brightly colored, glitter-dusted sticker saying 'Knock those stuffy-Cambridge scholars dead!' The girls' last present, most likely, although Ami would've liked to notice it before she had paraded it in front of the entire Tokyo International airport. She felt the blush that had just began receding slam back into her cheeks with a vengeance, and tried to mumble some sort of explanation as she softly tore the sticker out and placed it between the sheets of her notebook.
"Yes, I am."
Tongue tied, and still trying to understand what was happening (and most importantly, why it was happening to her), Ami fell silent. Zane—Mr. Weston was still staring at her, and it made her incredibly nervous.
"What a coincidence," he continued, unaware of the effect he was having on her and of the strange looks they were getting. "So am I!"
As if to save her from further embarrassment, the loudspeakers announced her flight was boarding, and quickly excusing herself, Ami fled the stranger's piercing eyes as fast as she could. She needed some time to think, and the fifteen hour plane-ride was looking to be the perfect chance to do just that. Why was he here? And why wasn't she calling the other Senshi, warning them about the possible dangers of his re-appearance?
'Because he doesn't look evil,' a little voice inside her head whispered, 'He seems really nice.' She shook her head. Nice? He was probably psychotic! What if all of this was a farce, intended to force her to lower her defenses? What if it was all some sort of evil masterplan, designed to kill her?
But no… it wasn't. She knew it wasn't. Knew it in her bones. She was certain he wasn't—he wasn't Zoisite. At least not the Zoisite she had met all those years ago. There was something in his eyes –which, coincidentally, she had gotten quite the good look at – something soft and tender. There were no traces of insanity, no evil shadows lurking in the corners…
He was as human as she was.
Zane watched in fascination as she walked towards the gate, blue-black hair shimmering in the sunlight that streamed through the windows. Unfortunately, as he tried to get his legs to move while picking up his briefcase AND watching the lovely Miss Mizuno at the same time, he managed to stumble over said briefcase, and would have fallen had he not grabbed hold of a nearby ticket counter. The attendant at the counter gave him a reproachful look, but he barely noticed, his smile vanishing as he glanced at the gate.
She had already gone into the plane.
Well... perhaps he could walk around after the airplane had reached a cruising altitude. Certainly no one taller than the average twelve-year-old would enjoy sitting for fifteen hours straight in a cramped, coach-class airplane seat. And it wouldn't be impossible to find her again once she'd landed in London.
She did say that it was her first trip in London. He would be glad to show her around, take her sight-seeing, make sure that she didn't get into any mishaps...
"This is the final boarding call for Flight 362 to London... once again, the final boarding call for Flight 362 to London. Passengers for this flight please proceed to Gate 12G..."
Shaking himself out of his wayward thoughts, Zane picked up his briefcase and followed the rest of the passengers onto the plane.
Moving past the first class seats with a sigh of regret – he had wanted to stay in Japan for another week, and there had been no free first class seats by the time he had made the switch – he squeezed past a stewardess and the tray of drinks she was carrying, and made it into coach.
As he perused the aisle, looking for his set number, who was to catch his eye but one Ms. Mizuno, stretching all of her lithe – and quite nicely shaped – body to reach the upper luggage compartments. In her hands, her backpack swayed dangerously back and forth, and it took Zane less that a heartbeat to realize that there was no way she was reaching all the way up there.
"Well I'll be damned," he muttered under his breath, when he realized the very seat Ami was about to step on to try and finally dump her backpack inside the luggage bin was no other than his own. They were seat mates! Perhaps the Gods were smiling upon him, he mused, as he delicately reached up and took her bag from her straining hands.
She yelped – a feminine, delightful sound – and fell back against the aisle seat, her hair disheveled by her efforts.
She looked, if that was possible, even more adorable than before.
"Let me help you with that," he added unnecessarily, putting her bag and his inside the storage compartment and closing it with a snap. She just looked at him, those wide, blue eyes drinking him in.
"Arigato," she said in her native Japanese, and Zane's heart did a small leap inside his chest. He had been in Japan for a little more than a month, and had grown quite accustomed to the unfamiliar, quick-flowing sound of its language. But when she spoke it, it was different—it was… it was perfect.
"You're welcome," he replied, swallowing past the lump on the back of his throat. He didn't know how long they stood there, staring at each other, Ami's breath coming in little pants at her previous exertions.
Before he could do anything stupid, though, someone coughed not-so politely behind him, and he realized they were blocking the entire aisle. With a mumbled apology to the stern looking lady waiting to make her way through, he and Ami moved towards their seats at the same time.
They bumped softly against each other, the coach section of an airplane never the most spacious of places. He caught the shadow of a blush upon her cheeks, and decided he was going to spend most of the flight making sure that pinkish hue never left her cheeks.
Watching her eye the window with longing, he made a small bow (his Mum would have been proud), and offered her the window seat: "After you, my lady."
Again that blush, and Zane decided this might be quite the interesting flight after all.
Ami buckled up her seat belt as she sat down by the window, and watched out of the corner of her eye as he did the same. She avoided his eyes, however, because he gazed at her with far too much interest for her comfort, and she was nervous enough about the flight and the journey into a different country without adding on the fact that a man-- a very charming, handsome man, to be sure-- distracting her with his eyes and his smile and his startling resemblance to that ghost of her past.
She reflected that perhaps if she hadn't been in love with Zoisite in the Silver Millennium, it would have been slightly less unnerving to meet a man who resembled him so closely. But Zane Weston seemed to have no idea of that strange and distant past... though she had a creeping feeling that Zoisite-- the good Zoisite, the man that Princess Mercury had pledged her heart to-- must have been something like this: courteous, gallant, gently witty.
She shut her thoughts off with a click and forced herself to look up at the flight attendant demonstrating airplane safety procedures. Conscientiously making sure that her seat was indeed in the upright position, she knotted her hands in her lap and tried not to notice that her seatmate was glancing at her, his legs brushing ever-so-slightly against hers.
The flight attendant finished her little presentation, and the pilot welcomed them aboard the flight via intercom. She looked away, out the window, as the airplane roared to life and started its acceleration down the runway.
She had no awareness that the young man seated next to her had yet to take his eyes off of her, and certainly no awareness of the fact that his fingers itched to caress her slightly mussed hair.
Zane had completely ignored the stewardess' peppy explanations on what to do if they plummeted to a swift, hopefully painless death, and instead focused his attention on his companion. What was it that kept him so riveted to her every move?
He was not a man of easy passions – it had taken him a month to gather up the nerve to kiss his first girlfriend – but now the only thing keeping him from kissing Ami senseless was the certainty that she would not agree to it as readily as he might like. She didn't seem entirely unmoved, though, for she kept giving him surreptitious glances whenever she thought he wasn't looking.
So the feeling was mutual—or at least beginning to be reciprocated. That was good. It meant he now had her entirely for himself for the next twelve hours or so… he was planning to make the most of it. He settled back on his seat, and soon, the plane was stabilized at a gazillion hundred feet or some such, and the captain turned off the seat-belt signs.
Now, what was the best way to initiate conversation with the girl of your dreams? Why, the book she was just taking out of the seat-pocket in front of her, of course.
"Neruda?" he began, falling easily into the part of a knowledgeable, well-read college educate. "I've always been more particular to the older poets myself."
She held the book in her hands – such beautiful hands they were; long fingers, and they looked soft enough to be silk – caressing the cover with her thumb as she spoke. "I've never been much of a poetry fan, although art does run in my family." Interest piqued, Zane raised an eyebrow in question.
"It does? Do you play an instrument, then?" he asked, imagining those hands running across a piano, calling forth beautiful music. Or maybe a harp… it was easy to imagine Ami playing one, complete with the Greek outfit and laurel crown.
Busy daydreaming, he lost the first part of Ami's explanation: "… I haven't seen him in years. My father was never one to remember birthdays, but every once in a while, I would get a package from him, and I would know he remembers me."
A sad look fell upon her features, and Zane scrabbled for something to cheer her up. "Well I'm never quite sure if my father remembers me sometimes. He's a maths professor, you see, and his mind is usually on his numbers and geometry. For my fifth birthday, he gave me a scientific calculator. And I wanted an action figure so badly!"
He was surprised when she laughed. It was an incredibly sound, tinkling and amused, and it brought a smile to his own face.
"So... your father's a maths professor?" she asked, in a tone of interest. "Mathematics was always one of my favourite subjects. Though I loved to learn anything and everything, really..." She trailed off, wondering if she sounded awfully pedantic. Minako would know how to handle a situation like this, and would certainly be able to converse with a handsome man with great aplomb and energy, but she was not Minako.
But he didn't seem to mind, and grinned. "I rather think I was scared off of maths because of my father's obsession with it. I've always liked literature better. When you have some time, you'll have to see a Shakespeare performance while you're in London."
She nodded, her eyes going soft and dreamy for a moment. "I did enjoy reading The Tempest... many of my friends seem to prefer Romeo and Juliet, but I like the less well-known ones."
"You and my mum," he quipped. "She WAS going to name me Orlando. My little sister didn't escape that fate, but at least Viola isn't quite as bad."
She found herself laughing again, and faced him fully. "A sister? Do you have any other siblings?"
"Just the one, and she's a handful as it is," he wrinkled his nose, sliding the glasses up with the tip of one finger. "Damnably popular and far too smart for her own good and really, I don't think it's necessary for all those blokes to be hanging about all the time..." The last was spoken with a bit of a scowl, and Ami blinked.
It was somehow endearing and compelling and utterly bizarre that a Zoisite lookalike was protective of his little sister. She didn't know exactly what to say.
It did, however, make her feel a lot better. He spoke with such warmth about his family, there was no way he was that Dark Kingdom creep she had initially mistaken him for. The last of her reserves fled out the window – and dropped quite a long way to the ground as they did so – and she allowed herself to relax.
As much as Ami Mizuno could relax, considering that a handsome young man was acting as if he was completely infatuated with her.
"And you?" he asked her, turning those amazing green eyes towards her. "Do you have siblings?"
She found herself spilling all of her life's story to him – with careful omissions whenever the Senshi were concerned, of course – something she had never done before. It had taken Usagi almost a week to get Ami to open up to her when they first here, and here she was, in deep, animated conversation with a total, complete stranger. Maybe Minako was actually rubbing off on her…
So immersed were they in their talk, that they failed to see the food-cart go past them, and only noticed they were serving dinner when the stewardess propped her tiny-little cart by them.
"Would you and your wife like to have some dinner?" she asked, her jet-black hair tied into a no-nonsense bun. Ami had about two heartbeats where she contemplated how Rei would look in such a get-up when the implications of what the older woman had said hit her. Wife?
The blush that erupted upon her cheeks was one of epic proportions, and she could actually feel the heat radiating from her skin. With a chuckle, Zane shook his head and cleared the misconception, but the look the stewardess gave them told Ami she was buying none of it.
Too mortified to do anything but bury herself in her seat and mumble 'chicken' when prompted for her food of choice, she let Zane chat up the flight attendant while she tried to get her feelings under control.
It was an honest mistake. They had been talking animatedly for almost an hour, with barely any pauses in between. They were sitting closely together, and he had helped her put her bag up properly. It was an obvious conclusion, and quite an embarrassing one, at that.
So what was this feeling of pleasure doing mixed in with the embarrassment?
Dear God, Minako had rubbed off on her! She was secretly marrying herself to the first man who happened to glance her way! With a moan of despair, she burrowed her face in her hands and wished the earth would swallow her. Instead, all she heard was Zane's sexy, sultry voice as he spoke with the stewardess and did he have to be so flirty when he did that?
"Just kill me now," she muttered under her breath. Not only was she being childishly possessive of Zane, now she was acting jealous?
She mumbled a curt "Coffee" when asked what sort of drink she wanted with her meal, focused all of her energy and attention on the plastic and foil plate of tasteless airplane food in front of her, and didn't look back up until the stewardess was a good five rows away.