Yeah…I know it's not really an update for Channel Surfing. I've had this in my head since earlier this year, like March. I'm now thinking that the characters were reborn more than once, actually a couple of times and without powers. History class tends to make one think. I think I have a good name for this, but I feel I can do a better job. So don't be surprised IF the title changes name.

If I owned Sailor Moon, we'd be able to fly. :)

Character names for the chapter:

Nigel: Nephrite

Michelle: Makoto

Enjoy

"Bye Michelle. I'll be back soon, I promise." Nigel endures a long passionate kiss from his girlfriend of three years. He pulls away tentatively then kisses her forehead.

"I love you," she says, fixing the helmet on his head. She frowned as she felt the rugged texture of it, the cold of the unforgiving metal.

"I love you too. Now come 'ere." Nigel embraces Michelle. He can hear her weeping into his chest. The salty tears mingled with the sweat that was forming under his thick military grade jacket.

"I'll miss you," she says, her voice getting muddied by the cloth.

"And I you, love." Michelle untangles herself from Nigel's warm embrace. The same embrace that she would be without for who knows how long. Solemnly she watches his over-packed army duffle bag board the bus sitting idle in the station. Nigel tries to find a window seat by himself. The bus is eerily quiet, save for the growling of the engine.

He looks at the seventeen men who will be shipped off from their homes in Manchester. Most are looking out the window, admiring the ironically sunny beautiful day. Yet all thirty-five sets of eyes look cold, dejected. Free of any emotion. Nigel, now depressed from the mood and atmosphere of the vehicle, finds an open seat and throws himself into it. He gazes longingly out of the dirty window at his love who is biting her bottom lip, her arms wrapped across her chest, and her hands tight on her shoulders.

Nigel sighs and lurches backward, the seat cushioning him as the bus begins its movement to an army base near London. He shoves his hand into his pants pocket, fidgeting with a suede box. Stroking the soft furry texture his head drops back, hitting the exposed foam of the old seat. It had seemed like he was going to have a great week, until Monday, which was everything he didn't want it to be.

…………………Flashback!………………………

"Michelle, I'm home!" Nigel called as he walked into his small, yet warm flat. He wore an amazing smile on his face and a bounce in his step. He could smell his girl's cooking, the scent that would wash away all bad feelings. "Sing, Sing, Sing" played at a steady volume on the radio.

"Michelle?" She usually attacked him as he stepped through the door with a hug and a deep kiss. Something wasn't right. He dropped his briefcase and threw his hat to the floor. With a tackle he blasted through the door of the bedroom they shared. His heart pounded against his ribs, adrenaline pumping through his veins. Then they froze like ice and his stomach dropped when he heard weeping resonate from the washroom. Nigel ran into the room, frantically searching for his beloved.

The crying was louder but she was not in sight. He turned to the bathtub and threw the shower curtain aside. The beautiful brunette sat in the tub, shaking and rocking while crying her electric green eyes out. In her hand she held a crumpled paper. Part of Nigel was relived to see that she was alive and okay, at least on the outside. But a part of him was worried; something did not bode well. He could feel it. Kneeling down beside the lip of the tub he spoke carefully.

"Dear, what's wrong?" Michelle's arm shot out, thrusting the paper into his face and burying her face into her arm. Nigel read the parchment. All the good, happy feeling was sucked out of him as his breath quickened. Cold beads of sweat broke out on his skin as he spoke. His throat threatened to close up on him and his mouth turned as dry as the Sahara.

"I-I've been drafted," his throat finally let out in disbelief. Michelle let out a fresh wail that shook him from his reverie.

"I don't w-want you t-to go!" Letting loose a shaky breath he picked Michelle up out of the tub, feeling the wet fabric of her skirt on his hands. He sat her down on the counter beside the sink.

"Darling…M-Michelle I…I have to." A hand tried to sit comfortably on her shoulder but she shuddered it away.

"But…b-but…." Michelle turned her face away from Nigel's and gently Nigel's soft hand brought it back, dark brown eyes locking with now dull green ones.

"But what, love?" Fresh tears sprang forth from newly brightened eyes as Michelle shouted.

"But you'll die! And I'll n-ever see you again!"

Nigel's heart throbbed painfully in his chest as the words pierced the now trembling muscle. The scene flashed through his mind: a bullet hitting a vulnerable part of him and causing his death on the war front. He heard her cries of his name as she read the letter, announcing his demise. It rocked his world, and he felt his eyes water.

"Excuse me…" he muttered, his trench coat flapping behind him. Quickly his feet took him to the worn bed that they shared. The springs squealed as his weight squished them. Sleeves speedily erased the escaped tear that trekked a path down his face. His dark eyes stayed fixed on the letter, his hand slowly crumpling the paper. A mixture of anger and sadness overcame him and a grunt escaped his throat. Muscles tensed and he sighed quickly and heavily.

"Nigel? Honey, are you okay?" Nigel looked up at the sweet, slightly shaky voice of his beloved.

"Yeah I…I think so. Babe I have to go; you know it's illegal to skip out on the draft." Michelle sat next to him and wrapped arms around his ribs, the fabric of his button down shirt bunching with the movement. Her head buried itself under his chin.

"Yes I know. I just don't want you to leave me."

"Michelle, I promise I will never leave you. I love you, babe." His nose buried itself into her hair, inhaling the cinnamon spice that it carried because of all the baking she did.

"I love you too. When do you have to leave?" Nigel kept his fist tight, the paper further crumpling in it. Michelle placed her delicate hand atop his and it relaxed, revealing the demolished parchment.

"It says within the week. Today is the eighth. You must be on the bus to the base on…"

"This Saturday. The thirteenth. Wow. Just…love I'm speechless." Michelle let out a grim chuckle.

"I don't think you've ever been speechless." Nigel chuckled as well. His hand found her chin and tilted it, moving her head from underneath his and causing her to look into his eyes.

"Even through this you make me smile. And that's why I love you."

His lips caressed hers slowly. Michelle herself smiled as though she had not a care in the world into the kiss, her slender arms locking themselves gently around his neck. Reluctantly he pulled away and ran a hand, it still a little shaky, through his brown hair. Michelle continued to attempt to calm her other as she removed his heavy trench coat.

It hit the floor quicker than usual and out of a pocket popped a small dark blue box enveloped in soft suede. It caught Nigel's eye for a fraction of a second before rolling awkwardly under the bed. His head landed in his hands, a sigh roughly escaping his lips. Downstairs the radio station was fifteen minutes into its news broadcast. It spewed the usual rhetoric.

"Today is Monday, May 8th, 1944. The world delves deeper into the war. The Nazis continue to their assault on both the Eastern and Western fronts. Soviet troops try to fight back against the German forces in Eastern Europe and British and French forces try to do the same in the Western half. It, as always, is a grim day for her Majesty's subjects. In other global news, Mohandas Gandhi was released in India today…" The announcer continued to drone on…and on…and on, oblivious to the couple above.

…..…….SK42…………

Well that's the first chapter. Tell me what you think. You see that green button that says "Review this story/chapter"? Click it and do so. That's an order. :D