Disclaimer : I don't own Sailor Moon etc. etc.
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A Stroll Through Your Dream
By Artemis
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PART EIGHT
Michael knocked on the door twice. He waited for a response but
heard nothing. He frowned, then opened the door quietly. He heard
silence in the room. Was she in here?
"Grace?" he spoke her name cautiously.
He walked in, closing the door quietly behind him. His eyes looked
ahead of him and saw Grace fast asleep at her desk. He smiled to
himself. Her head rested on her arms and he could hear her light
breathing.
"If I need company, huh," he murmured as he walked closer to the desk.
As he walked closer, he saw that in one hand, she held a piece of
paper. And nearby was a torn envelope. Michael wasn't sure if he
should wake her up or just leave.... or stay and watch her sleeping?
He noticed how unusually feminine she looked. Her hair was out and they
were like milky chocolate waves down her back. He saw a bottle of red wine
on the table with an unfinished glass. He wondered where she kept
stuff like wine in her office. He had never seen any before when he
was here. Not that it was ever 'wine occasion' whenever he was in her
office. Michael wondered if Grace was going to wake up or he was just
going to stand there like an idiot. He wanted to turn and leave and
go see Usagi, but for some reason he didn't really mind standing there.
Maybe he was attached to the spot of carpet.
"Don't be an idiot Michael," he muttered to himself. "Just turn and
walk away...."
But he didn't have the urge to turn and walk away, so he stayed.
And he kept looking at Grace's peaceful sleeping face. He always thought
she'd look so much nicer if she wasn't yelling at him. So he tried to
take in her nice image for as long as he could. His eyes slid over to
the letter she was holding. Whoever wrote it didn't have very neat
writing. He moved a step closer and tried to read it. He had a curious
nature and the letter was like one of those itches that weren't supposed
to be scratched, like a mosquito bite. He reached over and slipped the
letter out of her hand. He felt slightly guilty and wondered what he
was doing, but who would write to Grace? He wanted to know that.
He kept glancing over to Grace as he read the letter. He figured the
letter was from her husband, whoever he was. It wasn't that interesting
to him, so Michael decided to give it back. He flipped the page over
just to look at the name. His eyes spotted the word 'kids'. Grace had
kids!? Then his eyes scanned down the page and saw a scrawled name.
His name. So Grace's husband had the same name as him. Maybe that was
why she never called him by his first name. He carefully placed the
letter back in her hand, then took a few steps backwards. As he got to
the door, he carefully opened it, as quietly as possible. It creaked.
Really loud. Michael swore at the door. He looked back at Grace to
see if she had woken up. He met with her sleepy eyes, surprised.
"Haybert?" she murmured, rubbing her eyes and unable to stop a yawn.
"Uh, did I wake you up?" Michael asked an obvious question.
Grace sat up properly and ran her hands through her hair.
"No, it's okay, I shouldn't have fallen asleep anyway," she yawned again.
Michael stood at the door, unsure whether it was an invitation to come
in or he was supposed to leave. Grace looked at him then laughed.
"You can come in you know!" she laughed.
Michael wasn't sure if she was sounding so nice because she had just woken
up and wasn't properly awake, or it was the wine she had drank. Either way,
he wasn't used to it. He walked in the room, closing the door.
"So you want company after all?" Grace asked him, looking a little more awake
and her voice a little more like her normal self.
Michael watched her pack away the letter into a drawer.
"Want a drink?" she asked, nodding to the bottle of wine.
"No thanks," he shook his head.
Grace took a sip from her unfinished glass, then smiled, amused once more.
"What?" Michael asked.
"Are you going to stand there like an idiot or are you going to sit down?"
"I'm attached to this spot of carpet," he shrugged.
"We'll talk on the couch then," Grace decided, then got up from her chair.
Michael looked around and spotted a couch. It was leather, and shone happily.
"The kind of furniture you get to have is unbelivable... my comfy chair seems
like a deckchair compared to that couch," Michael murmured.
Grace sat down, sinking into the couch with her glass of wine. Michael sat
down, unsure whether he sat too close to her.
"Well you don't work for that grouch," she smiled, slipping her hair behind
her ears.
"Is it the wine or do you always talk like this when it's late?" Michael asked,
raising an eyebrow.
"It's because I'm not working with you that I'm talking like this," she shrugged.
"Maybe I shouldn't work with you more often," he grinned. "Then we can have normal
conversations."
Grace took another sip from her glass. She swirled the wine around and didn't say
a word. There was a silence that lasted, to Michael, a long time. He looked around
the room and saw a filing cabinet, a large shelf full of books and a painting hung
on the wall.
"So if we're not working.." Michael spoke up finally, making Grace turn and look
at him. "Would you still call me Haybert?"
Grace's eyes flickered away from him. Then she finished the rest of the glass, gulping
it down.
"Maybe.. I wouldn't call you Haybert," she told him honestly, then got up and walked
over to the desk, pouring another glass for herself.
Michael didn't respond, but just thought about it.
"Are you sure you don't want any?" she asked him, her voice telling him that she
wanted to change the subject as quickly as possible.
"Yeah, maybe I will have some," he nodded, feeling bad and wanting to change the
subject for her. "Where do you keep that stuff anyway? And the glasses.."
He got up, walking over to the desk. Grace walked around to her desk and opened
a drawer.
"I just keep it here," she told him and got out a spare glass. "It might be a little
dusty."
She wiped it clean, then put the glass on the desk. Grace glanced at Michael.
"Tell me when."
She poured the wine into the glass and Michael watched. He wasn't really in the mood
to drink, especially not wine. The rich red liquid swirled in the glass. Grace kept
glancing from the glass to him. Michael saw the wine swirl over the imaginary line
he had drawn on the side. He was about to tell Grace to stop, but she stopped without
him saying a word. He took the glass, then looked at her, raising an eyebrow.
"I'm psychic," Grace replied, joking. "No, I'm just good at reading people's reactions
and expressions."
Michael nodded, then took a sip of the wine.
"Nice stuff," he smiled, swallowing down the wine.
They sat back down on the couch and this time Michael didn't worry about whether he
sat too close.
Mamoru waited for Usagi to respond. He had just told her everything in his dreams.
And how he had felt... He had found it hard to remember before, but now it was less
painful.
"Mamoru...." Usagi whispered, unable to say anything else.
She was speechless after hearing his dreams of the little blonde haired girl, her,
trying to help him remember. Why? She wondered why he suddenly had these dreams.
He had told her that he had forgotten that they had ever met. The same as her. And
why did hers and his dream merge that night? It was all too much for Usagi. Her heart
was beating fast.
"Usagi.. I knew you weren't just any nurse when I met you at the hospital," Mamoru
smiled, his eyes looking into Usagi's. "Now I realise that you made me feel less
alone... Just like the first time we met..."
Usagi couldn't take her eyes away. She felt something deep inside of her, some deep
emotion hidden away, taking over her.
"I know I'm only a patient to you, but no one else has ever cared about me the way
you have. And I don't think I could live without seeing you again," he told her.
Usagi sat there, frozen like a stone. She didn't know if she wanted to hear any more.
Mamoru took her hand. She snapped out of her daze and looked down. Her hand was trembling.
"Are you okay Usagi?" he whispered, his other hand reaching over to touch her cheek.
Usagi felt the unknown emotion swelling inside of her as she felt his hand on her cheek.
Mamoru leaned closer, then pulled her closer to him. He wrapped his arms around her,
stroking her soft hair.
"Usagi?" he whispered again.
Her small body trembled in his arms. She closed her eyes and lay her head on his shoulder.
Mamoru could smell roses again. He looked at Usagi, her eyes closed tightly.
"Mamoru..." she whispered. "I... I.. I kept thinking about that dream... And.. And I
couldn't stop worrying.. Whether you were okay here.... And all this time you were
calling out for me and I didn't know... I'm sorry... I should have come and visited
you... I should have... I.."
"Shhhhh," Mamoru murmured quietly, putting his finger on her lips. "It's okay.
You're here now."
"But those dreams.. They hurt you so much.... And I can't forgive myself for
forgetting about you. I promised myself then that I wouldn't forget you.."
Mamoru thought about what the princess had told him. He hadn't told Usagi
anything about the princess. Would he save a fading rose if he could?
Usagi sobbed in his arms. He wiped her tears away from her cheek.
"I must have meant something to you... And I was only a little girl, but I meant
something to you if deep down you remembered me.. I'm sorry.."
"You still do mean something to me."
Usagi opened her eyes and looked at him. She couldn't stop trembling.
"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice so hushed that she wasn't sure if she had
even said it aloud.
Mamoru kissed her lips softly. Usagi could feel her cheeks blushing and her whole
body feeling like it was burning. She felt him kissing her deeper and she felt
powerless. It felt different to when Michael kissed her..... Michael.. What was
she doing? And she remembered his words before he had left. He loved her and she
had told him, she loved him too. She did... She loved him. Not Mamoru. But the
kiss made her feel different... Different in a good way and she didn't want to
break away. Usagi knew she had to break away from the kiss. It was wrong, wasn't it?
But she didn't have the strength to push him away. Her whole body felt weak.
She didn't even know how long the kiss was lasting, but it felt like eternity.
Mamoru obviously meant everything he had said and she could feel it in his kiss.
Her thoughts wavered as she felt Mamoru's lips move away. She couldn't look at him.
"Usagi, I love you," he whispered, reminding her of Michael's words.
What could she say? Hadn't she just let him kiss her? She could feel Mamoru's eyes
on her. Usagi felt her body trembling again. She felt horrible.
"I... I..." she stammered.
Mamoru looked at her, his eyes only inches away from hers. Her eyes met his eyes,
waiting for her to say something.
"I.. I... I don't love you..." she whispered. "I'm sorry..."
And tears spilled down her cheeks as she saw how much she had hurt him.
"Do you love Michael?" he asked, his eyes flickering anger.
She nodded, sobbing and afraid of him.
"Then say it!" he whispered angrily. "Say you love him!"
Usagi could see that Mamoru was holding back his tears and his anger. She felt
his grip on her body tightening.
"Mamoru.. you're hurting me..." she whimpered, although she knew it was nothing
compared to what she had just done to him.
"Say it Usagi. I'm not letting you go until I hear you say it."
Usagi opened her mouth to say it, but all that came out were sobs. She tried to
push away from him, but he was stronger than her.
"I.. I... I love Michael," Usagi finally spoke between sobs.
Then she felt Mamoru's hands let her go. Usagi slid off the bed. Mamoru avoided
looking at her.
"I'm sorry Mamoru..." she whispered, touching his arm to offer some kind of comfort.
He snatched his arm away.
"If you're so sorry, then why did you let me kiss you?" he asked bitterly, his voice
tense and angry.
But even Usagi didn't know the answer to that question.
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END OF PART EIGHT
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A Stroll Through Your Dream
By Artemis
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PART EIGHT
Michael knocked on the door twice. He waited for a response but
heard nothing. He frowned, then opened the door quietly. He heard
silence in the room. Was she in here?
"Grace?" he spoke her name cautiously.
He walked in, closing the door quietly behind him. His eyes looked
ahead of him and saw Grace fast asleep at her desk. He smiled to
himself. Her head rested on her arms and he could hear her light
breathing.
"If I need company, huh," he murmured as he walked closer to the desk.
As he walked closer, he saw that in one hand, she held a piece of
paper. And nearby was a torn envelope. Michael wasn't sure if he
should wake her up or just leave.... or stay and watch her sleeping?
He noticed how unusually feminine she looked. Her hair was out and they
were like milky chocolate waves down her back. He saw a bottle of red wine
on the table with an unfinished glass. He wondered where she kept
stuff like wine in her office. He had never seen any before when he
was here. Not that it was ever 'wine occasion' whenever he was in her
office. Michael wondered if Grace was going to wake up or he was just
going to stand there like an idiot. He wanted to turn and leave and
go see Usagi, but for some reason he didn't really mind standing there.
Maybe he was attached to the spot of carpet.
"Don't be an idiot Michael," he muttered to himself. "Just turn and
walk away...."
But he didn't have the urge to turn and walk away, so he stayed.
And he kept looking at Grace's peaceful sleeping face. He always thought
she'd look so much nicer if she wasn't yelling at him. So he tried to
take in her nice image for as long as he could. His eyes slid over to
the letter she was holding. Whoever wrote it didn't have very neat
writing. He moved a step closer and tried to read it. He had a curious
nature and the letter was like one of those itches that weren't supposed
to be scratched, like a mosquito bite. He reached over and slipped the
letter out of her hand. He felt slightly guilty and wondered what he
was doing, but who would write to Grace? He wanted to know that.
He kept glancing over to Grace as he read the letter. He figured the
letter was from her husband, whoever he was. It wasn't that interesting
to him, so Michael decided to give it back. He flipped the page over
just to look at the name. His eyes spotted the word 'kids'. Grace had
kids!? Then his eyes scanned down the page and saw a scrawled name.
His name. So Grace's husband had the same name as him. Maybe that was
why she never called him by his first name. He carefully placed the
letter back in her hand, then took a few steps backwards. As he got to
the door, he carefully opened it, as quietly as possible. It creaked.
Really loud. Michael swore at the door. He looked back at Grace to
see if she had woken up. He met with her sleepy eyes, surprised.
"Haybert?" she murmured, rubbing her eyes and unable to stop a yawn.
"Uh, did I wake you up?" Michael asked an obvious question.
Grace sat up properly and ran her hands through her hair.
"No, it's okay, I shouldn't have fallen asleep anyway," she yawned again.
Michael stood at the door, unsure whether it was an invitation to come
in or he was supposed to leave. Grace looked at him then laughed.
"You can come in you know!" she laughed.
Michael wasn't sure if she was sounding so nice because she had just woken
up and wasn't properly awake, or it was the wine she had drank. Either way,
he wasn't used to it. He walked in the room, closing the door.
"So you want company after all?" Grace asked him, looking a little more awake
and her voice a little more like her normal self.
Michael watched her pack away the letter into a drawer.
"Want a drink?" she asked, nodding to the bottle of wine.
"No thanks," he shook his head.
Grace took a sip from her unfinished glass, then smiled, amused once more.
"What?" Michael asked.
"Are you going to stand there like an idiot or are you going to sit down?"
"I'm attached to this spot of carpet," he shrugged.
"We'll talk on the couch then," Grace decided, then got up from her chair.
Michael looked around and spotted a couch. It was leather, and shone happily.
"The kind of furniture you get to have is unbelivable... my comfy chair seems
like a deckchair compared to that couch," Michael murmured.
Grace sat down, sinking into the couch with her glass of wine. Michael sat
down, unsure whether he sat too close to her.
"Well you don't work for that grouch," she smiled, slipping her hair behind
her ears.
"Is it the wine or do you always talk like this when it's late?" Michael asked,
raising an eyebrow.
"It's because I'm not working with you that I'm talking like this," she shrugged.
"Maybe I shouldn't work with you more often," he grinned. "Then we can have normal
conversations."
Grace took another sip from her glass. She swirled the wine around and didn't say
a word. There was a silence that lasted, to Michael, a long time. He looked around
the room and saw a filing cabinet, a large shelf full of books and a painting hung
on the wall.
"So if we're not working.." Michael spoke up finally, making Grace turn and look
at him. "Would you still call me Haybert?"
Grace's eyes flickered away from him. Then she finished the rest of the glass, gulping
it down.
"Maybe.. I wouldn't call you Haybert," she told him honestly, then got up and walked
over to the desk, pouring another glass for herself.
Michael didn't respond, but just thought about it.
"Are you sure you don't want any?" she asked him, her voice telling him that she
wanted to change the subject as quickly as possible.
"Yeah, maybe I will have some," he nodded, feeling bad and wanting to change the
subject for her. "Where do you keep that stuff anyway? And the glasses.."
He got up, walking over to the desk. Grace walked around to her desk and opened
a drawer.
"I just keep it here," she told him and got out a spare glass. "It might be a little
dusty."
She wiped it clean, then put the glass on the desk. Grace glanced at Michael.
"Tell me when."
She poured the wine into the glass and Michael watched. He wasn't really in the mood
to drink, especially not wine. The rich red liquid swirled in the glass. Grace kept
glancing from the glass to him. Michael saw the wine swirl over the imaginary line
he had drawn on the side. He was about to tell Grace to stop, but she stopped without
him saying a word. He took the glass, then looked at her, raising an eyebrow.
"I'm psychic," Grace replied, joking. "No, I'm just good at reading people's reactions
and expressions."
Michael nodded, then took a sip of the wine.
"Nice stuff," he smiled, swallowing down the wine.
They sat back down on the couch and this time Michael didn't worry about whether he
sat too close.
Mamoru waited for Usagi to respond. He had just told her everything in his dreams.
And how he had felt... He had found it hard to remember before, but now it was less
painful.
"Mamoru...." Usagi whispered, unable to say anything else.
She was speechless after hearing his dreams of the little blonde haired girl, her,
trying to help him remember. Why? She wondered why he suddenly had these dreams.
He had told her that he had forgotten that they had ever met. The same as her. And
why did hers and his dream merge that night? It was all too much for Usagi. Her heart
was beating fast.
"Usagi.. I knew you weren't just any nurse when I met you at the hospital," Mamoru
smiled, his eyes looking into Usagi's. "Now I realise that you made me feel less
alone... Just like the first time we met..."
Usagi couldn't take her eyes away. She felt something deep inside of her, some deep
emotion hidden away, taking over her.
"I know I'm only a patient to you, but no one else has ever cared about me the way
you have. And I don't think I could live without seeing you again," he told her.
Usagi sat there, frozen like a stone. She didn't know if she wanted to hear any more.
Mamoru took her hand. She snapped out of her daze and looked down. Her hand was trembling.
"Are you okay Usagi?" he whispered, his other hand reaching over to touch her cheek.
Usagi felt the unknown emotion swelling inside of her as she felt his hand on her cheek.
Mamoru leaned closer, then pulled her closer to him. He wrapped his arms around her,
stroking her soft hair.
"Usagi?" he whispered again.
Her small body trembled in his arms. She closed her eyes and lay her head on his shoulder.
Mamoru could smell roses again. He looked at Usagi, her eyes closed tightly.
"Mamoru..." she whispered. "I... I.. I kept thinking about that dream... And.. And I
couldn't stop worrying.. Whether you were okay here.... And all this time you were
calling out for me and I didn't know... I'm sorry... I should have come and visited
you... I should have... I.."
"Shhhhh," Mamoru murmured quietly, putting his finger on her lips. "It's okay.
You're here now."
"But those dreams.. They hurt you so much.... And I can't forgive myself for
forgetting about you. I promised myself then that I wouldn't forget you.."
Mamoru thought about what the princess had told him. He hadn't told Usagi
anything about the princess. Would he save a fading rose if he could?
Usagi sobbed in his arms. He wiped her tears away from her cheek.
"I must have meant something to you... And I was only a little girl, but I meant
something to you if deep down you remembered me.. I'm sorry.."
"You still do mean something to me."
Usagi opened her eyes and looked at him. She couldn't stop trembling.
"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice so hushed that she wasn't sure if she had
even said it aloud.
Mamoru kissed her lips softly. Usagi could feel her cheeks blushing and her whole
body feeling like it was burning. She felt him kissing her deeper and she felt
powerless. It felt different to when Michael kissed her..... Michael.. What was
she doing? And she remembered his words before he had left. He loved her and she
had told him, she loved him too. She did... She loved him. Not Mamoru. But the
kiss made her feel different... Different in a good way and she didn't want to
break away. Usagi knew she had to break away from the kiss. It was wrong, wasn't it?
But she didn't have the strength to push him away. Her whole body felt weak.
She didn't even know how long the kiss was lasting, but it felt like eternity.
Mamoru obviously meant everything he had said and she could feel it in his kiss.
Her thoughts wavered as she felt Mamoru's lips move away. She couldn't look at him.
"Usagi, I love you," he whispered, reminding her of Michael's words.
What could she say? Hadn't she just let him kiss her? She could feel Mamoru's eyes
on her. Usagi felt her body trembling again. She felt horrible.
"I... I..." she stammered.
Mamoru looked at her, his eyes only inches away from hers. Her eyes met his eyes,
waiting for her to say something.
"I.. I... I don't love you..." she whispered. "I'm sorry..."
And tears spilled down her cheeks as she saw how much she had hurt him.
"Do you love Michael?" he asked, his eyes flickering anger.
She nodded, sobbing and afraid of him.
"Then say it!" he whispered angrily. "Say you love him!"
Usagi could see that Mamoru was holding back his tears and his anger. She felt
his grip on her body tightening.
"Mamoru.. you're hurting me..." she whimpered, although she knew it was nothing
compared to what she had just done to him.
"Say it Usagi. I'm not letting you go until I hear you say it."
Usagi opened her mouth to say it, but all that came out were sobs. She tried to
push away from him, but he was stronger than her.
"I.. I... I love Michael," Usagi finally spoke between sobs.
Then she felt Mamoru's hands let her go. Usagi slid off the bed. Mamoru avoided
looking at her.
"I'm sorry Mamoru..." she whispered, touching his arm to offer some kind of comfort.
He snatched his arm away.
"If you're so sorry, then why did you let me kiss you?" he asked bitterly, his voice
tense and angry.
But even Usagi didn't know the answer to that question.
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END OF PART EIGHT
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