What Dreams May Come

by Amaris Twins

Post-Stars, Usagi, Mamoru, and the Senshi are living their best lives. Simply biding their time until fate unravels and Crystal Tokyo comes to pass. They don't expect the new unseen enemy that pulls them all into a series of unimaginable nightmares in which Mamoru is the only one that always remembers who he is. Epic romance, strange worlds, and fun twists ensue.

5. Chapter 5: Married to a Broken heart

A/N: Beej88 here! This next chapter is mine! This one is very different from the last one. This is an angst-ridden AU, with lots of feels. If you are rereading this, the story is the same as the first version, though it has been edited more thoroughly to more accurately mirror my current writing style. Hope you like it!

Married to a broken heart

Part 1

The pull of consciousness was painful this time as Mamoru woke, gradually becoming aware of his surroundings. He inhaled sharply, eyes clenched shut as the dread of another nightmare coiled tightly in the pit of his stomach.

He didn't want to open his eyes, afraid to face what he'd been thrust into this time. The terrifying images of the nightmarish worlds, in which Usagi had purposefully been torn from him, flit through his mind. He flexed his hands, the pads of his fingers sliding across a smooth, cool to the touch fabric that slipped listlessly across his skin. He mentally took note that his body was pressed into a cushioned surface that molded very comfortably around his limbs.

Taking a deep, cleansing breath, he forcibly hardened his resolve against whatever contrived horror was there to greet him and tentatively opened his eyes.

Whatever he'd been expecting, it was definitely not the sight of beams fixed across white painted, vaulted ceilings lined with crown molding. He blinked twice, expelled the bleary-eyed remnants of sleep from his eyes, and rapidly shot up into a sitting position. His head swam dizzily from the abrupt movement for a moment before the feeling subsided, and he focused on the room.

He was in a bedroom he'd never seen before. It was spacious, open, with polished, walnut-colored hardwood floors and expensive gleaming white furniture. It was dark in the bedroom as chic, grey chevron blackout curtains covered the windows. The only source of light came from the open-doored ensuite bathroom. It poured into the room and illuminated his figure tangled up in a billowing goose-down grey duvet and silken pale blue sheets in the middle of an enormous, California king-size sleigh bed.

It was clear that whatever world he was in now, he was apparently living in luxury.

He sighed and raked a hand through his hair in frustration. The luxury didn't mean a damn thing, and the pressing need to find Usagi once again bubbled up from his chest and painfully constricted his throat. What the hell was he supposed to do now? It was frustrating as hell to go through this over and over again, only to wake up in another world that he knew nothing about.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stretched an odd kink in his neck. He shivered, noting that he was shirtless, sporting only a pair of dark gray sweatpants. How many times was he going to wake up in clothes that weren't his? With a frown, Mamoru stood, cringing as he swayed slightly before carefully padding barefoot across the floor to the bathroom. He pushed the door open and winced as his vision was assaulted by the light. There was a dull throb at the back of his head, churning in the pit of his stomach, and dryness in his mouth that made it difficult to swallow. It almost felt like he was sick… though that wasn't quite right. No, he felt hungover.

He could hardly stand the light, but as his eyes adjusted and his stomach settled, he took note of the glistening white-tiled surfaces of the bathroom that was probably bigger than his entire apartment in size. There was a white porcelain tub, white marble counters, so much damn white it made his stomach turn. He made his way to one of the two, his and hers, sinks and gingerly turned the tap on. The sound of the water pressure crashing against the surface of the raised glass bowled sink echoed throughout the silence and sent a shot of pain coursing through his head.

He risked a look at himself in the mirror and grimaced at his reflection. He looked relatively like himself, black hair, angled, sharp features, but his eyes were bloodshot. He was definitely hungover.

He groaned, cupped his hands under the spray of the water, and splashed the cool liquid onto his face. It felt nice, and it was slightly refreshing, but he couldn't dispel the panic building in his chest. The terror of whatever daunting task lay ahead of him, paired with the apparent side-effects of whatever affliction this world's Mamoru had indulged into the night before, overwhelmed him. He braced his hands on the counter, leaning forward, head bent as he forced his quickened, anxiety-riddled breathing to slow down.

The water on his face beaded, rolling along the length of his jaw. It dripped and fell onto the counter. Mamoru focused on one drop in particular that splashed unceremoniously, like a broken piece of glass, onto a gleaming, gold wedding band glaring up at him from his ring finger.

He inhaled sharply, stunned, as the blood drained from his face, and his vision blurred as he focused on the offending piece of jewelry Oh, fuck. Who the hell was he married to? Based on the horrific precedence of the past two nightmares, it could be anyone at this point. God, what if it was Beryl? At this point, anything was possible.

He desperately needed to see Usagi. The thought of her out there, languishing in whatever hell that they'd placed her in while he stood in the luxury of an expensive bathroom, married to someone else, made him feel sick.

He allowed himself to feel one more moment of pressing panic and crushing despair, his knuckles turning white as he desperately clutched the countertop before he took a deep, cleansing breath. His eyes hardened with determination as he glared at his reflection in the mirror. He needed to figure out where the hell he was and what world he was in. Then he needed to find out which one of their friends had managed to stay awake so that they could work together and get Usagi to remember so they could get the fuck out of here.

He stepped back from the mirror, the cobalt blue of his eyes locked unblinkingly with the ones in his reflection, as the determination in his stance faltered as he fought back the onslaught of dread. The first thing he would need to do was find out who the hell he was married to.

oOo

It seemed like this world was not going to be something fantastical or strange. Thank God. He was relieved to find that the Mamoru he inhabited in this world shared his organizational tendencies, and he was able to find his clothes quickly, neatly pressed, hanging in an enormous walk-in closet. What he did find disconcerting, though, was the apparent lack of feminine apparel. There wasn't a hint of a woman's presence in this bedroom, except for maybe the choice of decor.

He knew from experience from living with Usagi that she'd managed to leave a signature of herself everywhere in their apartment; forgotten sweaters draped over furniture, a pair of pajamas left on the bedroom floor, and an ungodly amount of woman's cosmetics that she never put away. There were always various hair products, makeup, and lotions that she constantly forgot to put the lids back on after she was done using, spread out over the bathroom counter.

So, if he was married in this world, there should be some kind of indication in his room, right? Woman's clothes hanging next to his? At the very least, there should be a pink toothbrush with little-cartooned unikitty's etched into the handle, just like Usagi's in a cup next to his in the bathroom. There was nothing like that here, and it made him even more nervous.

He dressed quickly and mentally braced himself as he pushed open the bedroom door and stepped out into the hallway. The blackout curtains in the bedroom had been very effective, apparently, as it was clearly daytime. He frowned as his eyes found a large, decorative clock with Roman numerals hanging on the wall just above a stairwell that twisted and led to the house's main floor. It was 7:11 am, so relatively early in the morning.

He was intent on making his way down the stairs, his eyes scanning his surroundings for clues or something he could use to figure out where he was when his roaming gaze stopped and fixed onto another door that was partially opened.

He frowned as he pushed it open all the way, and his confusion only deepened at the sight of another bedroom. The decor was very similar to the room he'd woken up in, except this room clearly held all of the feminine touches that had been lacking in the one he'd just left.

He stepped over the threshold, eyes perusing the crumpled pink comforter on the same King-sized, white-painted sleigh bed. He inhaled sharply, though, at the sight of several jackets slung over the white brocaded bench at the end of the bed. Several issues of the manga he knew that Usagi liked to read perched precariously on the bedside table. There were sheer curtains embroidered with pink lace in place of blackout curtains rippling in the wind that wafted through the open window.

Mamoru swallowed nervously, feeling uncertain, though not understanding the reason why. He stepped further into the room, hesitantly making his way to a small desk pressed up against the wall. It was out of place, cheaper looking than the rest of the furniture that surrounded it. There were gouges and scuff marks that marred the chipped brown paint that seemed to have dulled over time. It was the only brown piece of furniture in the whiteness that seemed to cover everything that he'd seen so far.

Something churned violently in his stomach as it clicked into place, and he recognized the desk. It was the same desk he'd seen many times, and it currently sat in Usagi's childhood bedroom in her parent's house. He strode to it, reached out, and reverently ran his fingers over the grainy surface. What did this mean? Was this Usagi's room?

His fingers stopped as they reached a picture frame that lay face down amidst discarded papers and more well-weathered issues of a Manga series he knew Usagi had read several times.

Carefully, Mamoru picked up the frame, turning it over in his hands. His eyes widened, surprised before the tension eased from his shoulders, and he exhaled with relief. He wanted to weep; he was so fucking relieved. It was a picture of Usagi, looking absolutely stunning in a white wedding gown. She was smiling up at him, lovingly enveloped in his tuxedoed arms. He was married to Usagi. Thank fucking God, in this world, he'd already married Usagi.

He wanted to laugh, the inclination bubbling up hysterically into his throat. They were going to get the hell out of here so much sooner than the last nightmare. He should have known, of course, that it wouldn't be that easy.

"What are you doing?"

He whipped around, startled, at the sound of the beautiful but strangely reproachful voice that he recognized so well. His breath hitched in his throat at the sight of her.

She was a glowing blonde Angel of hope standing in the doorway swathed in a white, loose-fitting sundress that billowed around endlessly long legs. He was lost in his overwhelming relief to have found her so soon, so it took a moment before he noted that the odangoed hairstyle that was so uniquely his pretty little Moon princess was absent. In its place was a thick, glossy, golden braid, threaded and hanging down her back. It was still beautiful, but he was still disappointed to see her signature hairstyle gone.

His heart sank as his gaze met hers, and there was not the bright sparkle he loved to see in the sapphire blue of her eyes. Instead, he was greeted with a hardened glare filled with censure and irritation. Her pink bubble gum lips pressed into a grim, angry line. Dammit. He should have known it wasn't going to be that easy.

"What do you mean?"

His tone was nervous, and he cleared his throat, trying to ignore the dull throb still pulsing at the back of his head.

She rolled her eyes, and strode towards him, her movements quick and filled with irritation. She stopped in front of him, yanked the picture frame from his hands, and carelessly tossed it back onto the desk. He inwardly flinched at the sound of the metal casing hitting the wooden surface with a dull thud. He froze, shocked by the hostility radiating from her gaze.

"I mean, what do you want, Mamoru?" she spat with irritation, her tone filled with a venom that tore at his heart.

He shifted uncomfortably and tried to think of something he could say. He wished he could just pull Usagi into his arms, kiss her, and tell her everything. He'd tried that before. It hadn't worked then, and he knew it wouldn't work now.

He did decide to take a risk, though, to learn more about this world. "What? I can't just want to see my wife?" he said, and the word wife slipped tenderly from his lips as he waited with bated breath for her reaction. Please be my wife. Please, let her be my wife.

She frowned, her eyes clouded with confusion before she snorted and crossed her arms. "How much did you drink last night?" His face fell, and his heart skipped a beat. No. She just had to be his wife. "Since when do you care about having a conversation with your wife?" she sneered as she twirled her body, stepped away from him before opening the door to a closet that was only slightly smaller than where his clothes currently hung in the other room.

The other room… damn….he was married to her, but, for some reason, they did not share a room. It was evident by the stiffness in her posture as she stepped into the closet, which was teeming with all the brightly colored clothes Mamoru knew she loved, that his Usako hated him. It took everything he had to conceal his heartbroken expression. This was worse than if he'd woken up married to someone else. This was so much worse.

She roughly pulled a purple sweater from a hanger and angrily put it on, her gaze burning as she glanced over her shoulder at him. "Seriously, Mamoru. What do you want? I'm leaving to meet the girls in like ten minutes," she snapped with exasperation. "Don't you have a shift at the hospital?"

For a brief moment, he was at a loss for words. This nightmare fucking sucked.

"Do I?" he finally managed to mutter, and Usagi stopped, brows arched in disbelief. "Have a shift at the hospital, I mean," he murmured pathetically.

It would appear that he'd become a doctor just like he'd originally planned. He had a perfect life, a big house, his dream job, except that the love of his life hated him for some reason.

She exhaled deeply, looking upwards as if praying for patience before she shook her head. "You know, I don't really know where you go these days, Mamoru," she spat and flew past him, a whirl of white fabric and blonde hair. She stopped in the doorway, her frown deepening, "Look, stay home, go to work. Whatever. It's up to you."

Her back was to him, her shoulders stiff and unyielding. There was a sense of sadness curled into the whispered words that took his breath away. What the hell? How had the Mamoru in this world hurt her, destroyed her so severely, that she would talk to him like that?

He was stunned into silence, so by the time he thought of something to say, it was too late. She was gone.

He clenched his fingers into fists, pressing them firmly into his thighs as the anger and injustice of this world overwhelmed him. He let loose a string of angry expletives and furiously kicked Usagi's childhood desk. Screw the monsters that had put them here! He was going to tear apart this stupid, contrived nightmare just like all of the other ones, save Usagi, and then find a way to tear them all to shreds.

His determination overtook his sad desperation, and he strode out of the room with purpose. He was going to go to his shift at the hospital, find whoever had managed to stay awake, and get the hell out of here.

oOo

The minute he stepped into Tokyo's Saiseikai Central hospital, not sure what to expect, he was descended upon by a domineering sullen-faced Kunzite. He stopped, frozen in place, as the silver-haired shitennou barreled towards him with urgency and purpose that was both concerning and slightly terrifying. Mamoru was still getting used to the fact that the Shitennou from his previous life had somehow regenerated and were now also mired in these godforsaken nightmares whose sole purpose was to seemingly make his life a living hell.

The general grasped his arm angrily, his fingers painfully tightly biting into his skin. "What the hell, Chiba?" he growled and forcibly yanked him down the hall. "You are so fucking late!".

Mamoru stumbled but then caught himself before pulling his arm away from the overly aggressive general. "Look, I'm sorry," he apologized, and he wondered if he'd managed to infuse enough contrition into his tone. "It's been a pretty strange morning."

Obviously, this was one hell of an understatement, and Mamoru wished that he could be anywhere but here at this moment. It was exhausting to wade through the unknown with what was potentially long-dead figments of his memories. Though, he should be grateful that he wasn't wading through the horrifying landscape of Wonderland anymore.

Kunzite scoffed, shaking his head in disgust. "Bullshit, I know you were out last night with the residents," he snapped. "What the hell were you thinking, Mamoru? You missed the morning report led by the family medicine residents. Damn, you're the surgical attending physician. You need to get your shit together! You don't get to show up whenever the fuck you want because you have a hangover!"

Mamoru frowned at Kunzite's anger-filled words. Surgical attending physician? He'd always intended to specialize in pediatrics, making this an unwelcome surprise.

"The residents are just wrapping up their morning report rounds with the night coverage team. I suggest that you be on time for your patient rounds!" Kunzite practically snarled. "Chiba, you damn well better be on time for the administration meeting this afternoon. I swear to God, if you make me look like a fool in front of the medical director again, I will fire you."

Kunzite gave him one last scathing look before he twisted around without another word and made his way down the cavernous hallway. Damn. He was so screwed. He didn't have time for this. This job, no matter how prestigious, was not what he wanted. He wanted Usagi, safe and sound in his arms, and back in the real world.

With no plan in mind other than to figure out exactly who he was, Mamoru navigated his way through the hospital maze. He was only dimly aware of the beeping trills, the hushed whispers, the hurried patients, and hospital staff that whirled past him as he walked down the halls of a hospital he'd been to several times outside of this nightmare as if in a daze.

Usagi had mentioned that she was going to meet the girls before he'd left the house. He should have asked her where she was going as he was sure that one of the Senshi had to be awake. It was a pattern, wasn't it? There was no way he would have been able to manage without Ami or Rei in the past two nightmares, and his throat constricted with panic at the mere thought that he might have to do this on his own.

He was lost in thought, trying to gain his bearings, so he was surprised when a flash of blue caught his attention in the corner of his eye. He stopped in his tracks, frozen by the sight of a familiar bluenette leaning against the wall. Ami was dressed in hospital scrubs, her arms crossed as she stared pointedly at the ground. There was a scowl on her face, and she was biting her bottom lip almost… nervously?

He exhaled with relief; it was Ami that had managed to stay awake again. "Ami," he breathed, stopping in front of her. "Thank God it's you."

She looked up, startled before her face crumpled with devastation. She was definitely the one who'd managed to stay awake. Mamoru was so relieved that he had someone to figure this out with again that he didn't protest when she grasped his wrist and gently pulled him through a door that he noted had his name printed in white lettering, set into a black metal plaque. Dr. Mamoru Chiba.

When they were through the door, and it clicked shut, he only spared a brief glance at the interior of the room that was apparently his office in this world before turning his gaze back to Ami, who had whirled around to face him. Her aquamarine-colored eyes wide and filled with tears as she nervously wrung her hands.

He frowned, surprised that she was taking this so badly. She'd been awake before and had seemed so logical at the time. He wasn't sure why she was on the verge of tears here, in a hospital where according to her name tag, she was a resident, as opposed to the caterpillar she'd been forced to play in their brief foray in Wonderland. This role suited her better, but it seemed that she wasn't handling it as well as she had before.

Mamoru's brow furrowed as he took a step towards her. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked, attempting to relay a conviction via his tone that he wasn't really sure he felt himself. "I know this is weird, but we'll figure it out."

It seemed like she needed to be comforted, so he would do what he could to get her back on track to being the calm and calculated Senshi of Mercury. He desperately needed her expertise to get them out of here, but he didn't expect it when she gasped, hands flying to her face, her fingers pressing onto her lips with a look of dismay.

"Oh God, how did she take it, Mamo-chan?" she whispered brokenly. "I never wanted to hurt her."

He opened his mouth to respond that he hadn't told Usagi anything but stopped short as her words registered. What? Mamo-chan?

His heart skipped a beat, and he frowned, utterly confused by her statement. "I'm sorry, what?" he croaked, a sneaking and terrifying suspicion creeping slowly to the forefront of his mind. "What are you talking about?"

Ami swallowed nervously, shifting uncomfortably under his horrified stare. "Well, you said that you were going to tell her yesterday, and then you drunk texted me saying that you couldn't do it yet, but then you weren't here this morning… and well, you just said…"

She trailed off as his expression grew increasingly more horrified with each word she spoke. No. It wasn't possible. He couldn't comfortably conceive the words coming out of her mouth and the horrible things they implied.

He took a step backward, his heels colliding with the door as he reached back to brace himself against it. He'd misunderstood. This had to be a misunderstanding. "What are you talking about?" he demanded again, his tone ragged with horror, his heart racing as his hands became slick with nervous sweat, and the blood drained from his face. "What do you mean?"

She blinked, canting her head to the side to study him as her devastated expression faded into confusion. "What do you mean? You don't remember texting me?" she asked softly. "Mamo-chan, I know you were nervous about your conversation with Usagi, but you really shouldn't have had so much to drink."

She stepped towards him, placed a slender hand on his arm, and he inhaled sharply and tore away as if she'd burned him. A look of pain flashed over her face, her delicate features contorting into a mask of hurt as she blinked up at him.

"Mamo-chan, I told you that I would not pursue this any further until you told Usagi how you felt. It's bad enough that we got caught up in the moment that one night," it felt like Ami had reached into his chest and crushed his damn heart. Fuck. He'd been unfaithful. "But if you've changed your mind… I— I'll be hurt because I- well, you know I have feelings for you."

He couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't bear to hear another soft-spoken word from Ami's lips; his friend, Usagi's friend. "Ami, stop, God, please," he gasped, and it broke his heart to see the tears that welled in her eyes. "Just stop speaking."

She choked on a whimper, wrapping her arms around her midsection. Oh, God, she was heartbroken. This nightmare really, really fucking sucked. "I- I understand, Mamo-ch… Mamoru-san. I'll…" she trailed off, suppressing a sob as she furiously wiped the tears off of her cheeks. He wanted to reach out to her, but he couldn't, not knowing what the Mamoru of this world had done. "Please, don't keep your patients waiting because of me. I know I'm supposed to shadow you, but - Oh God."

She burst into tears, and he jumped out of the way as she pushed past him, desperately trying to open the door. In her grief, she was unable to manage the doorknob. He reached down, suppressing tears of his own, twisted the handle, and pushed the door open for her.

She raced through the doorway, a furious blur of blue hair and green fabric, as the door slammed shut again behind her. Mamoru cringed and clenched his eyes closed as the deafening sounds of the sob that had ripped from Ami still echoed throughout the office around him. He collapsed against the door, his breathing erratic, as he slid slowly down to the floor with his head buried in his hands. He could get through this. He had to get through this.

oOo

Mamoru tried to just leave the hospital several times after that, but he'd been stopped and pulled away to the job that he'd apparently worked so hard to get in this world. Against his better judgment, Mamoru became immersed in the daunting tasks that were a day in the life of an attending physician. It was exhausting, nerve-wracking, and exhilarating.

If he were frank with himself, he absolutely loved this job, and it was everything he wanted in a career. He could see why whoever or whatever had put them in this nightmare might think that he would be too distracted with this to focus on making Usagi remember her love for him. They were dead wrong, though, and none of this was worth a damn thing if he was an unfaithful husband that went home to hatred burning in her beautiful blue eyes every night.

Every time he spoke with a patient, laughed with a fellow or resident, the soft contours of Usagi's delicate features etched into his mind, and his heart twisted up painfully with guilt for staying here, entrenched in the illusion of this nightmare.

He didn't run into anyone else he recognized in the hospital, except for Kunzite's sullen eyes and Ami, whom he'd not seen since that gut-wrenching moment in his office a few hours ago.

He'd managed to slip away again, sighing with relief as he neared the entrance. He was practically home free when Kunzite stepped in front of him. Mamoru suppressed a groan and fought the urge to scream in frustration. Instead, he stopped, shifting anxiously as he peered over Kunzite's shoulder at the exit wistfully. So close. He'd been so close.

"What do you want?" Mamoru snapped, irritation and impatience laced into his tone. Kunzite had been on him all day. His eyes like that of a hawk, questioning everything and scoffing at all of his decisions.

He didn't know how it was possible, as he'd seen Kunzite at his darkest, but the general's cold stare became even more menacing. There was a fury radiating off of him that Mamoru didn't understand. He knew that Kunzite was the head of his department, so technically his boss, but he had yet to determine the reason for his hatred towards him.

Kunzite took a step closer, towering over him. "Why is she in your office?" he hissed quietly, his words filled with anger. "Is the blue-haired resident not enough for you?"

Mamoru's heart clenched tightly in his chest. Did everyone know about whatever the hell was going on between him and Ami? The thought made his stomach churn. How could he have ever, even in a fake reality, betrayed his beautiful, pure-hearted princess like that? With one of her friends, no less?

Mamoru's brow furrowed, his eyes and jaw hardening with irritation. One of the worst parts about being thrust into a life he didn't remember was the riddled statements from people, spouting things he should know but didn't. He was so damn tired of guessing what the fuck was going on.

Mamoru's stance stiffened as he matched Kunzite's scowl with one of his own. He was tired of catering to his intimidation tactics. "I'm not really sure what you're talking about, Kunzite," he snapped, his words angry as he spoke them through gritted teeth. "I'm going to need you to clarify your statement."

Kunzite sniffed disdainfully, rolling his eyes, but there was something else that flashed over his face; a momentary display of vulnerability. "You know damn well what I'm talking about, Chiba. You're a snake, but I didn't think you'd stoop so low," he spat, his words ragged and filled with venom. "You know what Minako means to me, Chiba."

Mamoru's eyes widened, and his mind began to race. Minako was here? "Kunzite, what the hell are you talking about?"

Kunzite shook his head, his expression twisting into a look of disgust. "I can't believe there was a time that I considered you a friend," he rasped before he swiveled around, turning away from him. "Give my best to your wife."

It was a vengeful parting shot, clearly, and Kunzite was already halfway through the hospital lobby before Mamoru could respond, a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach, and a cold dread building rapidly in the cavity of his chest.

He had two options now; he could walk out of the hospital doors, go back to his pretend, overly pretentious house, and try and face the unbearable hatred emanating from the love of his life. Or he could turn around and meet Minako, who was apparently sitting in his office. There was a possibility, based on Kunzite's hatred-filled words, that the Mamoru of this world was a cold-hearted snake, and Minako was meeting him for the same reason that Ami had been earlier.

Mamoru cringed, horrified once again by the reminder of his infidelity. As he replayed the heart-wrenching interaction with Ami over in his head, he earnestly hoped that wasn't the case. If it wasn't, though, it meant that Minako was here for only one other reason.

He turned back towards his office, his movements hurried and his heart pounding in anticipation. He hoped to God, with everything in him, that Minako was here because she was awake.

oOo

He hesitated, his hand poised on the door handle, as he tried to mentally collect his thoughts. There had been so many twists, his friends placed into carefully crafted situations, their personalities all molded into pawns. It was like they were strategically placed chess pieces whose sole purpose was... Well, he wasn't sure what the goal of all of this was. He only knew that he could end it the moment that Usagi was his again.

He'd done this before, and he would do it again, with or despite whatever version of Minako greeted him on the other side of the reinforced steel door that led into his sparsely decorated office.

He took a deep, profound breath of preparation and clasped the cool, flat-edged handle before twisting it and pushing the door open. It was soundless as it swept across neutral-colored linoleum floors.

She was sitting in a red vinyl bucket chair. She'd moved the piece of furniture to face the doorway, clad in her signature orange, long legs crossed and curled primly in front of her. Her posture was stiff, hands folded in her lap, with glossy locks of blonde hair feathered down her back and dusting the tops of bared shoulders. Minako's expression was impassive, though her lips were slightly pursed as he entered the room.

He couldn't read her expression, so he had absolutely no idea if she was the one that had fought through the threads of horror that had been weaved for them.

He wasn't sure if the risk was worth it, and so he hoped he suppressed his facial expression well enough as he scrutinized her face. "Minako," he said softly, "what a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you?".

Her eyes widened, and then her expression crumpled with disappointment as she muttered a curse under her breath. "Seriously? You too?" she snapped, her voice hoarse and miserable. "I'm going to be really honest here; this has been the day from freaking hell!" She gracefully uncurled her legs and leveraged the armrests to pull herself to her feet. "You know, I don't even care if I sound crazy! You're apparently a doctor, right?"

His heart skipped a beat, and he sighed with relief. She was awake, thank God.

"Minako—"

She raised a delicate hand into the air, effectively interrupting him with a toss of her hair. Blinking twice, she closed her eyes as if praying for patience and let loose a loud, long, and dramatic sigh. He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Classic Minako.

"You are not going to believe the day I've had, and when I say that, it's not just me being all dramatic-like. I'm totally serious, Mamoru," she rasped, her voice rising in pitch as her words became tinged with hysteria. "So first of all, I wake up in this room - and like, the room is totally cute, you know?- but it's not mine!"

Mamoru took a step towards her, "Minako -"

"No, seriously, you're a psychoanalyst, right?" she interrupted him again, and he shook his head in frustration. "Cause it says doctor on your door, Mamoru!"

"I think you mean a psychiatrist, Minako, and no, I'm not that type of doctor, though, actually—"

"Whatever! Mamoru!" she hissed, and this time the octave in her voice pierced through the room. "You're not listening!"

He snapped his mouth shut and crossed his arms, sighing with irritation. There just wasn't any point. He was going to have to ride this out. At least she wasn't a riddle spouting Cheshire cat.

"As I was saying, I woke up in a room that's not mine, and no, it's not because I fell asleep somewhere else, because this room is actually mine," she exclaimed, her words flying from her lips a mile a minute. "Because I apparently have this life, except it doesn't belong to me, and I realize that in this fucked up life, I don't even have the power to turn into a Senshi - which, I'm not even going to explain to you, because really? I don't want you to think I'm totally crazy," she babbled, her hands moving in large dramatic gestures as she spoke. "Because you know what, Mamoru? Everybody thinks I'm crazy. Every. Last. One. Of. Them."

This time her eyes welled up, glistening with tears of defeat. Mamoru's eyes softened, and though he didn't tend to see eye-to-eye with Minako all the time, he remembered how terrifying that first nightmare had been. The confusion was unbearably overwhelming.

"Minako, please, if you would just listen—" he said softly, taking another step towards her.

She stepped back, shaking her head. "Please, I'm sorry. You were my last hope, and when I asked Usagi where you were, do you know what she said, Mamoru?" she whispered hoarsely, and his breath hitched because this he did want to know. "She said she didn't care, Mamoru, that she didn't care where you were! Do you know how messed up that is?"

Minako's arms trembled as she took a deep calming breath. His heart constricted painfully, and though he'd known that the Usagi of this world hated him, it still really hurt to hear her say it.

Minako gulped, furiously wiped an errant tear off of her cheek as the look in her eyes hardened with determination. "I'm sorry, forget I said all of that," she waved her hand dismissively, "I totally just ate some bad sushi, and it's making me say weird things. I'm going to go, but just before I do, I just want you to know that I'm going to fix this. I mean, I know that is tot—"

This time he interrupted her. "Minako! Damn, can you stop talking for one second?" he snapped, and it effectively quieted the blonde-haired Senshi of Venus. Her eyes widened, filled with confusion. "You're not crazy. I know this world is fucked up. I remember, too," he said and ignored her indignant gasp. "It's a nightmare, and trust me, it's not the first one."

Her eyes narrowed, fists clenched at her sides as she leaned forward. "You let me go on and on, and the whole time — ugh— whatever," she hissed, then crossed her arms. "Tell me everything, Mamoru."

He nodded, raking a hand through his hair, feeling suddenly exhausted. "Yeah, alright. You might want to sit down for this..."

oOo

Twenty-three minutes. That was the length of time it had taken for Minako to fully wrap her head around everything he'd revealed to her. It must be some kind of record. Hell, it had even taken him much longer to accept it. But not Minako. The blonde-haired, dramatic, and admittedly slightly clueless Senshi had barely flinched as he'd stumbled through his explanation. Now she sat perched at the edge of his desk, her legs swinging back and forth as she annoyingly sucked on a red lollipop that she'd found somewhere in one of his drawers.

"So, we're all stuck here until Usagi says she loves you?" she asked, a delicate blonde brow arched curiously.

He nodded tentatively, his brow furrowed as he watched her take in all of this information with ease. "Yes, well, she has to believe it herself, too, but that does seem to be the pattern."

She nodded, her gaze fixed absentmindedly on the wall behind him, as she twirled the lollipop stick between her thumb and forefinger. She popped it back into her mouth for a moment, then sighed as she tilted her head to the side.

"So, there's always one of us awake?"

He couldn't suppress his sigh this time as he loosened his collared shirt, annoyed and feeling stifled, before leaning back against the door. "Yes, Minako, though, this is your first time." His tone was unnecessarily curt, but damn, her unrattled demeanor was starting to get on his nerves.

She frowned, her hand and the stupid lollipop that she'd pulled back out of her mouth froze in midair as her blue eyes focused on his face. "Don't give me that tone, Mamoru," she snapped, tilting her chin up proudly, a haughty look on her face as she hopped off the desk and propped a hand on her hip. "It's obvious why I'm awake this time."

He sighed and involuntarily rolled his eyes again. "Alright, I'll bite," he replied, exasperated. "Why are you the one awake, Minako?"

The blonde grinned, her white teeth slightly tinged red from the candy, "Because, dear Mamoru," she said slowly, casually tossing her hair over her shoulder. "I'm the Senshi of love! I'll have you and Usagi back in each other's arms and out of this messed up world in a quick second!" She snapped her fingers for dramatic effect.

"I just think we need to figure this out, you know?" He had to admit, the excitement in her voice was generating a hope he hadn't felt since he'd woken up here. "We just have to get our rabbits in a row." She was focused, her lollipop almost slipping out of her fingers with her abrupt hand movements.

"Ducks, Minako," he corrected gently, and she shot him a reproachful glare before promptly ignoring him.

"I'll do some sleuthing, get to the bottom of this, and figure out what you did to make Usagi hate you so much - because she totally hates you-" he frowned at her vehement statement, "then I'll come up with a plan, and you'll fall in love, all over again. Then Bam! We kill two cats with one stone!"

"Birds, Minako."

She huffed, a sullen scowl of irritation crossing her face. "You know, Mamoru, your obsession with poultry is positively astounding."

Her tone was so reminiscent of the one Kunzite had given him earlier that he grimaced at the thought. He'd forgotten to tell her about Kunzite.

"Minako - there's something else," he began warily, his tone tentative as he furtively studied her. "Kunzite is here."

She froze, her eyes widening as the blood drained from her cheeks. "What?" she whispered hoarsely. That, more than anything, had managed to shock her. "What the hell do you mean, Kunzite is here? Like, my Kunzite? The dead love-of-my-life, Kunzite?"

Mamoru nodded, frowning, "Yes, and I've seen the other Shitennou as well."

She shook her head, her chest rapidly rising and falling as her breathing quickened. "You're sure it's them?" she demanded fiercely, the candy all but forgotten as she clenched her hands into fists and the white lollipop stick bent unnaturally between her fingers. "Not a monster or something?"

He contemplated her words for a moment, considering her question, before shaking his head. "If anything, they might be a construct of our memories. They all seem to be drawn to you and the other Senshi," he replied, and he tried to keep his tone gentle like she was a bird that might fly away if he raised his voice an octave higher. "I don't know how it's possible, how any of this is possible, but I wanted to warn you, just in case you ran into him on the way out. He's my boss, apparently."

Mamoru was once again astounded at how quickly she came to terms with the new information he'd provided her. Aino Minako was a lot of things; a bit ditzy, slightly vapid, but also fiercely protective of her princess. Right now, her princess needed her, and the loyal and fierce Senshi leader was awakened and in full force.

She nodded curtly, took a deep breath, as the uncertain shock melted off of her face, and she popped that stupid candy right back into her mouth. "Okay, thanks for letting me know; I think it's best if I - if I avoid him for now," she stumbled over the words before smiling at him again. "You should also keep your distance from Ami," she said, then without warning flew towards him; he jumped out of the way as she reached around him and clasped the door handle. She pulled the door open and glanced at him with a grimace. "That is just so gross. Usagi is a lost cause, but Ami totally has better taste than that."

It took a moment for her words to register completely, and he sputtered indignantly, thoroughly insulted. Still, she just winked and disappeared over the threshold in a flurry of glossy blonde hair and an annoyingly buoyant bounce in her step.

He stepped out of the office and watched her skip down the hallway with a purpose he wished he also felt.

Minako was irritating, but he let a little ghost of a smile curl onto his lips. She was so damn annoying, but he was happy as hell that she was the one awake with him this time.

oOo

The house was empty when he got home. The lavishly decorated rooms completely unused, and the outlines of the pristine and carefully chosen pieces of furniture barely recognizable in the darkness. When he flicked the switch on from the genkan, the whole house lit up. The gleaming surfaces that looked like they belonged in the showroom of a home on a real estate market were bathed in blaring, bright light.

This was not the house he'd ever envisioned for himself, and his throat constricted painfully at the thought. When he was younger, lost in dreams of a princess he couldn't remember, way before Usako had lit up the dull greys of his life, he'd spent a lonely childhood torn from one foster home after the other. It was painful to think about, but this house, the one he'd supposedly chosen with the Usako of this world, reminded him of one of the foster homes in particular.

The couple that had taken him in for the few short months in this particular foster home had been relatively friendly, though their demeanors were severe. They must have been used to troubled children, as they'd kept their distance from him. Whatever interactions they did have had been firm with stern facial expressions.

That wasn't what made his heart ache, though. He recalled that they'd had a house like this; everything perfectly in place. It had seemed cold to him, and he'd been afraid to touch anything in the perfect, practically unliveable, rooms of the ornately decorated house that he could never picture himself calling a home.

He remembered feeling so unbearably lonely, and it hurt to recall the vow that the solemn-faced ten-year-old version of himself had made as he'd curled under perfectly pressed silk blankets with tears silently rolling down his face. When he grew up, his house would be small but cozy, filled with so much joy and laughter. Every piece of furniture in it would be intensely loved, just like the wife and the children he'd intended to fill it with.

He'd been on his way to doing just that with the little ball of glowing brightness that was Usagi. It didn't matter that he knew this was a nightmare. To see this perfect, cold, dark house, still and filled with deafening silence, nearly brought him to his knees.

He swallowed, regained his composure, and stepped into the house. He wondered where Usagi was and realized that he didn't even know how to contact her. He hoped Minako was successful in her quest to discover what had happened between them as he absentmindedly explored the house before ending up in the kitchen.

He was again blinded by white marble countertops and white tiled floors. The cupboards were a lighter grey, but all the damn white in this stupid house overpowered it. It was a cold, impersonal industrialized kitchen that reminded him of the sterile surfaces of the hospital he worked in.

He shook his head with disgust, discarded his jacket by tossing it over a black stool behind the polished kitchen island, and rolled up his sleeves. If Usako was anything like the beautiful, bright woman he loved, he knew that she had an adorably insatiable appetite. The memories of her pleasure-filled sighs as she indulged in something savory tugged painfully at his heartstrings. He needed this to be over so that he could go back to living the life he wanted with the woman he loved, who'd had more than her fair share of heartache in this lifetime. The kitchen was an excellent place to start, right? By making her favorite meal?

Visions of the meals they'd shared, her blushing cheeks, and her easy smile renewed his determination to fix this. Just because he couldn't handle the silence any longer and because he recognized the speaker set up in the kitchen, he managed to figure out how to work it, and the soft trilling chords of the radio echoed throughout the house.

It took a while for him to gain his bearings in the kitchen, but soon he familiarized himself with everything, and he was pleased to find a well-stocked, stainless steel fridge as he pulled out all of the ingredients for kimchi Okonomiyaki. It was a dish he remembered that Usagi enjoyed, and his hands deftly mixed the elements as he heated the skillet.

There was something soothing about cooking, mixing, and chopping. Mamoru was good with his hands, and soon he became lost in his thoughts as he moved automatically, instinctively putting the dish together from memory. He was almost done, the rich smells of his cooking wafting around the room, as he pulled a wine glass from the cupboard when he heard her speak.

"Mamoru?"

He whipped around to face her, and his breath hitched at the sight of her poised in the kitchen doorway, her posture stiff and her expression incredulous as she peered up at him.

Damn, she was a sight for sore eyes. Still wearing the white sundress, bared sun-kissed shoulders, with her silky blonde hair flowing loosely around them now. He noted that her hair was shorter than he'd initially guessed when she'd had it in a braid this morning, but it was still long, the locks tumbling down her back in glimmering waves of gold.

He smiled tentatively, and her eyes narrowed in confusion. "Hey, are you hungry? I didn't know what time you'd be home, but it looks like you got here just in time to enjoy it hot," he said, his tone hopeful, his fingers flexing around the stem of the wine glass as they itched to reach out to her. He wanted to run his hands through her hair, take her into his arms and kiss that pained expression off her face.

She didn't say anything at first, her eyes regarding him in thinly-veiled confusion before darkening with suspicion. "What are you even doing here?"

His heart sank. There had to be something he could do. They were still married, weren't they? She couldn't truly hate him… could she?

He swallowed, his smile faltering as he forced a shrug. "I live here, don't I?" he replied with a forced lightness that he was sure hadn't fooled her for a second. "This is still your favorite, isn't it, Usako?"

He knew that it was a risk. She could very well hate this dish in this world, and he could have made a stupid mistake that would give her another reason to be angry with him.

He'd managed to surprise her, though, and her eyes widened. She tilted her head, seemingly considering his question before her posture softened, and she stepped into the kitchen, peering at his meal with curiosity. He caught a quick flash of pleasure in her eyes as she delicately sniffed. Mamoru was instantly relieved that he'd made the right decision.

He turned towards the cupboard and took out a second wine glass, then stepped towards her. Her eyes grew as he approached, big blue saucers wide and frightened, like a small doe caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. He stopped just in front of her, cleared his throat, and shifted uncomfortably. The tension between them was so damn unbearable...but there was chemistry there, too. The sparks of attraction that had always been palpable between them crackled invisibly, and his mouth suddenly felt parched as his need for her overwhelmed him.

She stepped back abruptly, her hands clutching the counter behind her, as she stared up at him. "The wine," he breathed as he stepped closer. His body so close, he could feel the heat radiating off of her. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as her breathing quickened. "It's behind you, Usako," he whispered hoarsely, his face inches from her. If he leaned down just a little, it would be so easy to press his lips onto hers.

She blinked twice as his words registered, blushing furiously before breaking eye contact and swiveling around. She grasped the bottle he'd left on the counter, thrust it into his hands, and stepped around him, effectively putting some distance between them.

He was disappointed, but a warm feeling of hope unfurled in his chest as he worked on opening the bottle and pouring them each a glass. She may think she hated him, but he'd felt the threads of attraction that had vibrated brightly between them. She wanted him as much as he wanted her, and that was a start.

"Why aren't you at the hospital?"

She interrupted his inner thoughts, and he was pleased that the sharp edge of her words had softened. He handed her the glass as he reached up and pulled two china plates, white of course, out of the cupboard and doled out a generous portion onto her plate. His back was to her as he worked, so he had a moment to compose his facial expression.

It was very apparent to him, in the things that he'd learned today, that he spent long hours at the hospital. He would have had to in order to hold the position that he currently did at his age. Was that what had killed their relationship? It was a painful thought, and it took a moment before he could respond.

He turned back towards her, plates in hand, as he attempted a nonchalant expression. "I wanted to come home and see you."

He froze, startled when tears welled in her eyes as her eyes darted between him and the wine glass he'd handed her. She must have seen the horrified expression on his face because she tried to blink them back, offering him a forced, watery smile instead.

"So now you're just handing me the wine?"

She laughed dryly, lifting the glass of red wine to her lips, shakily taking a sip. She gulped back the amber liquid and smacked her lips together. He frowned, heart pounding because he was confused by the question.

"You don't have to drink it, Usako."

It was painful to watch her visibly swallow, choking with emotion as she averted her tear-filled gaze and angrily put down the wine glass. The movement was abrupt enough that some of the remnants sloshed over the lip of the glass.

"So," she choked, and the tone in her voice broke his fucking heart. "This is it, huh? Nice home-cooked dinner, a red glass of wine, a casually tossed out 'Usako' before you say goodbye?"

Her eyes were hardened and filled with anger as they focused on him. She thought he was leaving her? The plates rattled as he placed them back down on the counter, and his hands trembled as he reached out to her. He expected her to pull back sharply, but she didn't, though her posture was unyielding, as he took her hand in his.

"What the hell are you talking about?" he demanded with conviction, "I'm not going anywhere."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, but he knew her well enough to see the pain etched into her face. What the fuck had happened between them? They'd been happy in this world once. He'd seen it in the wedding picture he'd discovered in her room this morning. What had he done to make her feel this way?

He decided to take another risk as he lifted his hand and gently cupped the side of her face, the tips of his fingers intermingling in the silky strands of her hairline as he swept the pad of his thumb tenderly along the length of her jaw. She inhaled sharply, eyes widening and lips parting slightly in surprise, but she didn't pull away.

He fought the urge to lean down and kiss her and instead stared into her eyes, praying that he was conveying the sincerity he felt. "I'm not sure how things got this bad, Usako, but this is not a goodbye dinner. I wanted to come home early and do something nice for my beautiful wife," he whispered, each word filled with conviction and a desperate need to make her understand. "Is that okay? Will you please have dinner with me?"

He waited with bated breath for her response, and he was relieved when her stiffened posture finally relaxed, and she nodded mutely, clearly at a loss for words. He smiled and reluctantly pulled away, turning back towards the discarded plates and utensils, exhaling a slow shuddering breath to try and release some of the intensity of the moment. He handed her one and picked up the other.

It was quiet, awkward even, as they made their way into the dining room. Just like every other room in this house, the dining room was large, white, lifeless. The table was huge, unnecessarily so, and it only highlighted the distance between him and Usagi.

He sat down in the closest chair, and Usagi sat across from him. They ate in silence for a couple of minutes as he secretly watched her.

His brow furrowed when he noticed that she was barely eating. Not like the Usako, he knew, anyway, who would have inhaled her meal so quickly that he wouldn't have had time to take even a bite. In fact, on closer inspection, he was alarmed to note that Usagi was much thinner than she should be. Was that a deeper hollow in her cheeks? Had her wrists always been that tiny?

She noticed his stare, and her gaze was cold, filled with defeat and resignation that he could barely stand to see. He wanted out of this. He wanted to go home. He wanted Usagi back. Mamoru cleared his throat, placed his fork down, and smiled at her. He needed to spark something. He only needed her to admit that she loved him out loud, and this could all be over.

The uncertainty in her eyes was painful. Mamoru didn't know where to start. There were a hundred things he wanted to ask her. That he wanted to say. Instead, he decided to err on the side of caution.

"How was your day, Usako?"

She frowned, and he thought that she might not answer until she shrugged. "It was fine," she responded, and he was pleased that there wasn't a hint of venom or sarcasm in her tone. "I met with the girls this morning,"

He smiled encouragingly, "How are the girls?"

Her frown deepened, and she pushed some food around on her plate. "They're fine, Mamoru. Rei is getting married next September, Jed finally proposed," she began and glanced up at him questioningly.

He bit the inside of his cheek to suppress an angry growl. He'd really hurt her, somehow, for her to feel so damn hesitant around him. He nodded, cocked his head to the side, and smiled in what he hoped was an invitation for her to continue.

She thought about it for a minute, then shrugged again. "Makoto got a job at that bakery, she's seeing a new guy. I've never met him, but she seems happy. Um, Minako - well, I don't know what's up with her, she was so weird today, and Ami -" his breath hitched at the mention of the blunette that he'd apparently considered leaving her for. "You see her more than I do these days," she said, and he was relieved that her words were not accusing.

"That's good, Usako."

She nodded, the conversation died, and the silence became deafening again. Damn. He hated this. He needed to know more.

He leaned back in his chair, taking a sip from his glass of wine as he considered his next question. He decided to take another risk. "Did you work today?"

This time, the risk was a bad idea, and she inhaled sharply, her face contorted into a pained expression. "Is that some kind of a sick joke?" she said hoarsely, her body trembling with anger. "Are you serious?"

He swallowed deeply, slowly lowering the wine glass onto the table, as he cringed with remorse. Fuck, what had he said? "Usako, I didn't—"

"Is that what all of this is about? The food, the fucking 'I'll never leave you' bullshit? You want me to go back to work?" she hissed, and the chair scraped loudly against the hardwood floors and fell back onto the ground with a resounding crash as she stood. She braced her hands on the table, leaning forward, her eyes flashing fire, burning into him. "You were the one that kept me here, your poor broken wife, too unstable to work— too fucking crazy for polite society!" she snapped, but this time her voice broke as she choked on a whimpered sob.

He could only watch her with a horrified, heartbroken expression as the tears began to roll down her cheeks. He reached for her, his hand covering hers, but she pulled away as if he'd burned her. "Usako," he breathed, so desperate to soothe the pain exuding from her, but he didn't know what had happened. He didn't know what to do. "Why would I ever think that you're unstable?"

In retrospect, it really was a stupid thing to say, and he regretted the words the moment they left his lips. He'd just been so desperate to know what it was that he'd done without coming right out and asking her.

She gasped, her face turning into a ghastly shade of white, as she shook her head in anguish and disbelief. "Oh God, Mamoru," she choked, unfettered agony laced into her words. "I knew you'd changed, that you didn't love me anymore, but I didn't know you were cruel."

She began to sob in earnest as she buried her head in her hands. He jumped out of his chair then, the piece of furniture crashing to the floor just like hers. He reached across the table, desperate to soothe the devastation etched into every contour of her body. His vision blurred, his heart clenched, and his throat constricted so tightly he didn't think he'd ever be able to breathe normally again.

Her head shot up; her eyes narrowed into a red-rimmed glare as she viciously pulled away from him, "Screw you, Mamoru."

Her tone brimmed with hate as she pulled away, stepped around the table, and flew past him in a furious blur. He flinched when he heard the sound of her door slamming upstairs.

He groaned, leaning against the table as he attempted to catch his breath. What the hell had that been about? He swore he could still feel the agony threaded into the energy in the room, even in her absence. He obviously wouldn't be able to do this on his own, and he prayed that Minako fared better than he had.

oOo

All the coffee in the world wouldn't be able to flush out the exhaustion fogging up his brain the following day. He'd barely slept, feeling cold and empty in the foreign bedroom. Especially with the unbearable knowledge that Usagi was just on the other side of the wall, feeling heartbroken over something he'd done, but couldn't remember.

He hadn't been sure how to proceed when he'd woken up, bleary-eyed and tired, after a restless night of wishing he could go to her. He'd briefly entertained the idea of going into her room to talk, but when he'd placed his hand on her door handle, his heart in his throat, it was only to discover that it was locked. He'd contemplated knocking with his forehead pressed against the wood, and his eyes closed miserably. He couldn't, though. Not until he figured out what the hell had happened between them. It was probably best if he left her alone to avoid the risk of saying something that might make things worse.

So, he'd gone to the hospital for his scheduled shift instead. On his way there, it occurred to him that he had no idea how to contact Minako. He didn't know anything about the blonde-haired Senshi of Venus in this world. He felt like an idiot with the realization that he hadn't even thought to ask her before she'd confidently bounded out of his office the day before.

It was a risk, given Kunzite's current inclinations towards him, but he fully intended to ask him how to find her. The thought made him grimace, and he pinched the bridge of his nose and clenched his eyes shut in a half-hearted attempt to ward off an oncoming migraine he could feel pulsing warningly at the back of his skull.

As it turned out, he didn't have to seek out the blonde as she was, once again, waiting for him, standing just outside of his office.

She was dressed in a form-fitting black dress, her hair pulled back with her signature red bow, as she casually leaned against the wall with a black purse clutched in the crook of her arm. An annoyed look graced her facial features, her eyes glinting with frustration, as she waited for him. Her scowl only intensified at his approach, and she stiffened, with pursed lips, as she held up an iPhone and waved it at him.

"What the hell, Mamoru?" He winced as the loud shrill-sounding tone of her voice sent a shot of pain through his head. "I have been texting you, like, non-stop!" she hissed, her voice dripping with righteous indignation. "I know we're the only ones that remember in this world, but has your brain forgotten how to work something as simple as a cell phone?"

He sighed, taking a moment to pray for patience, before matching her glare. "Minako, I haven't touched a cellphone since I woke up here."

Her eyes widened, filled with disbelief." What?!" she exclaimed, pushing away from the wall and stalking towards him, absolutely horrified. "You're kidding, right? You didn't even think to look for your cell phone?" She shook her head, her glossy hair twisting around her shoulders with the movement." Are you absolutely positive you managed to escape the nightmares before this one?"

He sighed with defeat and moved around her, pulling keys from his jacket pocket to unlock his office door.

"Because you know what, Mamoru?" she ranted, moving closer to him. "I'm really doubting your abilities right now—"

He fumbled for the correct key and attempted to insert it into the steel slot.

"—I mean, who the hell doesn't look for their cellphone? Do you know how many important things I texted you?—"

It was the wrong damn key, and he sucked in a deep breath, inwardly reaching for the last bit of patience that he possessed to be able to manage Minako.

"—Please tell me that you did not interact with Usagi last night—"

He cut her a sharp, sideways look at that comment as he finally managed to get the door open. The blonde swept past him, her hair whipping his face as she did so, and he pressed his lips together tightly as he followed her in. He did not feel like he had the mental capabilities to handle this today.

The door automatically shut behind them with an echoing click, and Minako practically bounced over to his desk, tossed her purse onto its polished surface, and began to rummage through his drawers. He considered himself a patient person, he honestly did, but he was going to lose it soon.

"Minako," he said through gritted teeth, and her head snapped up curiously. "What the hell are you doing?"

He needed to know what she'd discovered, and he was not in the mood for her antics.

She rolled her eyes and then snapped the drawer shut with a disappointed click of her tongue. "I was looking for another lollipop, obviously. I missed dinner and breakfast with all of the sleuthing I've been doing—" she scoffed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I thought you were going to be a doctor for kids? If you were a doctor for kids, there would totally be lollipops here—"

He took a deep, calming breath, fighting back the urge to shout at her. "I swear to God, Minako. I'm hanging on by a thread," he warned raspily. "What did you find out?"

Minako snorted, cocked her head to the side, and arched a golden eyebrow. "You would already know if you had your cell phone—"

"Minako!"

She held her hands up defensively. "Okay! Jeez, I thought Usagi was the one that wasn't a morning person? Calm your cows, Mamoru!"

He shook his head in disbelief, fighting back the slightly hysterical laughter that was beginning to bubble up in his chest.

"Horses, Minako," he choked. "Horses!"

She rolled her eyes, again, and waved her hand dismissively. "Whatever!" she snapped, then pulled out her phone, a slender finger deftly scrolling on the screen. "Look, do you want to hear this or not? Because let me tell you, it's not good."

His heart skipped a beat, and a nervous lump of dread settled uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach. She looked up from her phone, the usual mischievously haughty look in her eyes replaced with sympathy.

"Okay, so, first of all. I had to get your number from Ami - who is seriously screwed up over you right now, by the way," she began angrily.

He gritted his teeth. "Minako," he whispered hoarsely. "Please."

Minako pressed her lips shut, nodding regretfully. "Right, I'm sorry. Anyways, well, ugh, here—" she said and thrust her pink-cased device towards him. "Just look."

His hand trembled as he took the phone from her. On the screen was a picture of him and Usagi. They were both smiling, happily laughing at the camera, but what really caught his eye was that his arms were wrapped around her midsection. His hands were resting on her very protruding stomach. His eyes widened, and he choked on the dread that bubbled up into his throat. Usagi was pregnant in this picture; very pregnant.

His head snapped up as he clutched the phone so tightly in his hand, he thought it might bend under the pressure. His horrified gaze met her sad one. "What the hell does this mean, Minako?"

Minako grimaced, sighing as she tugged on the tips of her hair nervously. "It's exactly what it looks like, Mamoru," she began hesitantly, and it was the first time he'd ever seen Aino Minako carefully consider her words. "So, from what I understand, based on what Rei and Mako-chan have said, you were both happy. Like happy just like you are in real life..."

Her eyes glistened with sadness, and her voice lowered an octave. He shook, body tense because he suspected now what she was about to say and damn. He couldn't handle it.

"Then Usagi got pregnant when you were just starting your residency, Mamoru. You guys were so excited, and Usagi was just beautiful, apparently, all glowing and totally in love." Minako's voice broke with emotion, and he knew that she was picturing the same exact thing that he was. It was such a beautiful vision; Usagi, his warm, bright, and pregnant wife. It felt like his heart was going to explode in his fucking chest. "There were complications, something awful that I didn't understand, and at 36 weeks, Usagi gave birth to a stillborn baby girl." Her voice was painfully low now. The devastation he was feeling mirrored in her expression.

He dropped her phone unceremoniously onto his desk, his palms slick with sweat as he grasped the mahogany surface, leaning forward as he desperately tried to ground himself. This wasn't real. It was just a fucking nightmare.

Minako's small hand covered his, and he lifted his head to meet her gaze. She was biting her lower lip nervously, and he realized with a start that there was more, which made sense. There had to be more because how had they gone from happily expecting a baby to hating each other?

He painfully swallowed; the tension coiled so tightly in his muscles he thought that he might snap. "Spit it out, Minako," the baritone of his voice raspy and anguished.

Minako's eyes hardened with determination, and she nodded. "In our world, the real one, you guys would have totally leaned on each other. We're Senshi, and you guys are soulmates, but here… well, here you guys drifted apart. Usagi had a breakdown, and she wouldn't eat, and she cried almost all day long," she whispered, and he painfully waited for it. Oh, God. He couldn't breathe. "And, I know the you of this world probably felt devastated too, but you didn't help her, Mamoru. You went to work, and you stayed at work all the time. Rei says that there was a point when you both couldn't stand to look at each other."

His knees buckled, and it took every ounce of willpower that he had not to collapse onto the floor. How the hell could he fix that? She'd not only lost a baby, their baby, but he'd fucking abandoned her? Her words, the broken ones she'd said the night before, resonated painfully in his memory.

"You were the one that kept me here, your poor broken wife, too unstable to work —too fucking crazy for polite society!"

"Oh, God. Minako," he gasped, stepping back in horror and raking his hands through his hair. "I screwed it up. How the hell am I going to fix this?" he choked, his eyes filled with helplessness. "And the Mamoru of this world was going to leave her for Ami, Minako. He was going to fucking leave her."

Minako's shared grief-stricken look melted away, and a painfully white smile lit up her face. "Mamoru, do you think I would come here and tell you all of this awful, heart-wrenching stuff without a plan?"

He shook his head in response. How could this possibly be salvageable?

Minako scornfully tsked, and with a disgruntled huff, leaned down and scooped up her phone. "Oh ye, of little faith," she muttered under her breath as her well-manicured fingers frantically swiped at something on the screen.

He was still drowning in despair when she thrust the phone towards him again. His jaw tightened, and his fingers flexed into fists as he eyed the phone like it was a venomous snake that might lash out if he touched it.

Minako exhaled loudly in irritation as she forcibly grasped his hand and slapped the phone into his palm. "For God's sake, Mamoru," she snapped impatiently, and he scowled at her. "Stop being ridiculous and press play."

He shook his head to clear it, effectively gaining control of his emotions as he peered down at the screen and nervously pressed play.

His breath hitched as Usagi popped onto the screen; she was holding the phone away from her bikini-clad body, a bright smile on her face as she lay pressed onto what appeared to be a white sandy beach.

"Hi, Mina! I thought you could use this video for your vlog!" video-Usako exclaimed excitedly, and he swallowed around the painful lump in his throat. She was so damn beautiful. "So, I'm on my honeymoon, and this is beautiful Calypso Shores villa in Montego Bay, Jamaica!" She said, her voice laced with excitement as she pulled the phone away and panned out over a beautiful white sandy beach and a lavish beachfront villa. She turned the camera back towards herself, and she looked breathless, sun-kissed, and everything he imagined she'd look like on their honeymoon. "No, but for real, Minako. This place is so beautiful! It's the most magical place on the entire planet, and I swear that me and Mamo-chan will be coming back here every year! Maybe twice a year! And—" she stopped and squealed happily, the image of the video blurring as her hand dropped.

"Oh yeah? And who's going to pay for all of these trips to Jamaica, Usako?" It was his voice, the deep chords of his tone teasing and tender. Usagi giggled, and though he couldn't see it, because the phone had tumbled face down into the sand, he heard her sigh and the telltale sound of them kissing. "Turn off your phone, Usa. Let's go swimming," video-Mamoru murmured playfully, and Usagi's face came into view again, along with his, as she held the phone up.

"Bye, Mina!" She laughed breathlessly, "Say bye, Mamo-chan!" she said, and he watched as the video version of himself rolled his eyes, pulled his blonde into his arms, and tenderly kissed her neck.

"Goodbye, Mina. Don't call us!" He said, and Usagi squealed as the phone was yanked from her hand, and the video abruptly stopped.

He stood there, frozen, his lungs compressed like the breath had been pressed out of them. That was what he wanted with Usagi. His vision blurred with tears, and he blinked twice before looking up at Minako. What had been the fucking point of that? To show him everything he'd lost in this nightmare and risked losing in the real world if he couldn't make Usagi love him again?

"What the hell was the point of that, Minako?" he demanded furiously, his hands tightening around her phone. "Are you trying to torture me?"

Minako sighed with exasperation and plucked her phone from his hand. She leaned over, grasped the leather handles of her purse, unzipped the top, and reached inside. She pulled out a tan manila folder and wordlessly handed it to him.

He frowned, took it from her, and tentatively pulled it open. A stack of papers tucked inside, but what caught his eye right away were two boarding passes to Montego Bay, Jamaica.

"So, it's only for three days because Jamaica is damn expensive, and I cleaned out my bank account for that, but it should do the trick. You guys are destined to be together, after all, and all you have to do is get her to admit she loves you," Minako whispered with conviction as she firmly held his gaze with her own. "The rest of that stuff is all the information I could find. We text a lot, apparently, so that's everything she's ever said about you. There's an itinerary there of your first trip, so you know what you guys did," she said and then smiled softly. "This trip was apparently really important to her, Mamoru. So don't screw it up."

Her words lacked the intended admonishment. There was a desperation and a sadness laced into her tone that he'd never heard before.

He shook his head; eyes narrowed in confusion. This was her idea? "Minako," he muttered, "How the hell do you expect me to get Usagi to Jamaica? She can't even stand to be in the same room with me," he spat, his tone filled with self-loathing, the disastrous dinner from the night before replaying in his mind.

Minako furrowed her brows and chewed her bottom lip in contemplation. "Well, I can't think of everything, Mamoru," she snapped loftily. "She's still married to you, isn't she? She doesn't hate you as much as you think she does."

The coils serpentined around his heart loosened at Minako's words, and for the first time since he'd woken up here, he felt a sense of hope. It was overwhelming, the task that had been set before him, but he would never give up on Usagi. No matter what horrifying world they put them in. His resolve strengthened, and he nodded with determination. He would never have been able to do this without Minako. He wouldn't have even known where to start. He was eternally grateful, at that moment, for the irritating Senshi of love that had provided him with everything he needed to save his future wife.

He offered her a grateful smile. "Thank you, Minako."

Minako blushed and shrugged with forced nonchalance. "Well, just make sure you fix this because if you don't, you owe me a ton of money."

She skipped around him towards the door. He was sure that she was going to slip out as quickly as she had yesterday, but she halted suddenly, her hand poised on the door handle.

He frowned, confused, "Minako?"

The blonde whirled back to face him. There was a nervous look carved into the soft features of her face, and his eyes widened in astonishment as she began to wring her hands. There was a vulnerability he'd never seen in her before.

She took a deep, dramatic breath, "Okay, so, here's the thing," she blurted and shifted uncomfortably. "So, just like in the real world, in this world, I've sort of dated a lot?" she began, her voice rising just like the hairs on the back of his neck at her words.

Fuck. Kunzite's words flashed through his mind, and his stomach churned violently, "Oh God, Minako, we didn't—"

Her eyes widened, and she gasped, effectively interrupting him. "Oh my God, no!" she choked, "Gross! No!"

He exhaled a breath of relief and decided to let the 'gross' insult slide.

"No, the only reason I'm saying that is because I've been seeing Kunzite, and apparently, the Minako of this world is a total bitch that totally blew him off," she spat with self-deprecation as she averted her gaze. "Anyways, if the voicemails he left me are any indication, he's still in love with me. Well, I was wondering if it would be alright since you'll be away with Usagi anyways if I could... If I could pursue him?"

Mamoru shook his head in confusion, his brows knit together. "I'm not sure I understand what you're asking me, Minako."

She shot him an annoyed glare, a flush spreading across her cheeks. "My number one purpose, the single most important duty that I have as Senshi leader, is to ensure that Usagi is taken care of. I promise you that I will always do that, but…" she trailed off, gathering the courage to ask what he already knew she wanted to say.

"Minako, you don't need my permission for this."

Her eyes widened, and she bit her lip and nodded curtly. "Thank you," she whispered hoarsely, "I know he's probably not real, but to spend time with him, even for the few days that you're gone, well that… I just -" she swallowed, unable to finish her sentence and he offered her, what he hoped, was an encouraging smile.

"Go, Mina," he said, and it was tentative, but her lips curled into a dazzling grin.

"Good luck sweeping the princess off her hands, Romeo!" Minako exclaimed as she exuberantly swung the door open.

He rolled his eyes and sighed with exasperation. "Feet, Mina!" he shouted after her, but she was a flurried tornado of love and light, and the Senshi of love was already halfway down the hall.

oOo

He spent the rest of the morning when he probably should have been seeing patients, pouring over the text messages that Minako had meticulously copied into a document and printed out for him. There was page after page of desperate, heart-wrenching pleas that Usagi had sent to her friend. Each one ripped at his heart more than the last, and he knew, without a doubt, that he hated the Mamoru of this world.

"Minako, sometimes it feels like I can't breathe."

The messages escalated, and it was painfully clear that Usagi had dealt with her grief and devastation on her own.

"I washed my hair today. Do you think he'll even notice?"

How could he have possibly treated her that way? It was apparent that he'd been too busy working, slowly losing her, and it was as if he hadn't even noticed that she was pulling away from him. How could he fix the damage the monster Mamoru of this world had done?

"No, he didn't say that, Minako, but you should see the way he looks at me now! I fucking hate this house."

He hated that house too. Why hadn't Mamoru stopped to help her?

"He won't even let me talk about her. If I do, he snaps at me like I'm some kind of crazed psychopath. He wants me to pretend like she never existed. I can't be like him and drown myself in work. Why do I have to forget about her? Doesn't he know that I want to talk about her? I still feel like a mom, Minako. Except I don't have a baby anymore."

He choked on his tears when reading that message, and he tried to imagine what he might have felt like, having lost a child. He could picture himself being unable to talk about it, retreating into himself, but the way he'd treated Usagi, his beautiful, grieving wife, was fucking unacceptable.

"He hates me, Mina. That's fine. I think I hate him too. Will you come over and help me move my stuff to the spare bedroom? He won't be home any time soon anyway,"

He'd managed to wade through half of the stack of papers before he stuffed them back into the folder with disgust, a weight in his chest, and a sour taste in his mouth. He was drowning, momentarily overwhelmed with emotion.

He allowed himself a couple more minutes to wallow in the burning rage he felt for the horrible situations they had been forced to face. His elbows perched on the pretentious desk - that he would never have picked out himself - and his head buried in his hands. He took a deep cleansing breath, strengthened his resolve, and vowed that no matter what happened, he would not let himself lose control of his emotions.

That was the only way that he was going to win her back this time. He needed to put her first, and the Mamoru of this nightmare had spent enough time selfishly hoarding and internalizing his strength.

He stood abruptly, formulating a plan in his head, as he gathered the folder and his jacket and left the office. He didn't even lock it, fully intending to banish this world from existence so that he'd never have to see it again. He practically fled the hospital, dodging anyone that may have tried to stop him, and made his way out into the parking lot.

He didn't spare the hospital another glance as he pulled out into Tokyo's unbearable traffic. He wanted to be a doctor, and he knew that he would someday, but it was going to be with Usagi by his side, happy and filled with the brightness that he remembered so well. He was done with this life.

oOo

He was dreading this more than any conversation that he'd had with Usagi; in this nightmare, the previous ones, and the real-life that he was anxious to get back to. He'd agonized over it on the way' home,' and he knew that there was only one way that he could fix this; to start bringing the light back into her eyes. He was going to have to give her a choice, no matter what the consequences were, for them and their fate in this world.

His heart was hammering against his ribcage when he stepped into the genkan, shutting the door as quietly as possible behind him. He knew that she was home the instant he stepped into the hallway. The soft chords of music drifted out into the hall, slightly muffled, the sound of low base vibrating from the small sitting room he'd only glanced at in passing the day before.

He was slow to move, tentative and nervous about seeing her, knowing what he needed to do next. He peered through the open doorway, and his breath hitched in his throat at the sight before him. She didn't notice him standing in the doorway, and so he took a moment to study her.

She was sitting on a big white leather sofa that looked more expensive than comfortable; her small form huddled in the corner. She was dressed in a pale pink-colored dress that accented the rosy hue of her lips and the slight tinge that graced her cheeks. Her legs were coiled beneath her, her bright eyes perusing the pages of a book that she held perched on her lap. Her blonde locks of hair were pulled up, the silky strands thrown into a messy bun at the top of her head, soft golden tendrils falling down her back, and wispy curls framing her heart-shaped face.

She was so damn beautiful; it physically hurt to look at her. His heart clenched, though, as he noted that the look in her eyes did not match the tender-hearted princess he knew so well. There was a muted grace about her now, and it was beautiful in its own way. At the same time, it haunted him.

There was none of the buoyancy that had become a staple in his Usako's personality. A brightness that she'd maintained even in the face of enemies that had tried to suck everything away from her. Beryl, Nemesis, Pharaoh 50, Nehelenia, Galaxia - she'd defeated them all one by one, and still she hadn't lost her shine. No, it had taken him and his casual dismissal to take the light from her and let it be replaced with a stoic version of Usagi that he never wanted to see again.

She looked up then, and her eyes narrowed in confusion as her gaze met his. "You're home early," she sighed, her eyes flashing almost accusingly, her tone filled with irritation at his intrusion. "Again."

He exhaled slowly, raking a hand through his hair, before nervously stepping into the sitting room. Even with the overwhelming white surfaces, it was cozier than he'd assumed. He didn't know if it was because of the fire that she had burning in the polished stone fireplace or if it was just her presence that lit up the space around her.

He strode towards her with purpose, determined to do this, banking everything on the fact that he did not believe she could ever truly hate him. She shrank back, startled almost, as he approached, and moved around a polished white, wooden coffee table. He sat down, perched on the edge of the table directly in front of her. They were so close; his knees brushed across her legs.

He was taking such a dangerous risk, and if she gave him the wrong answer, he didn't know what he was going to do. His throat constricted as he leaned forward, his elbows pressing into his knees as he regarded her carefully, her expression puzzled, and her lips parted slightly with surprise.

"Usako," he began softly, his eyes tender, pleading, and filled with pain. "We need to talk."

Her breath hitched, and the blood drained from her face. Tears filled her eyes, and he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. "This is it now, isn't it, Mamoru?" she whispered brokenly, her voice trembling with defeat. He could barely stand this. "You're finally going to do it."

He didn't say anything for a moment as he watched her. Her book fell onto the floor between them when her hand flew to her lips. He took a deep breath, willing himself to have the strength he needed to say what he did next.

"Usako, do you want this to be it?" he forced the words out, and they burned as they tangled up on his tongue and clawed their way through his lips. Please, God. He hoped that even here, after everything, she still wanted him.

A single tear fell from her eye, and it quietly slid down her face until it collided with her index finger. "What- what do you mean?" she choked through her fingers.

He smiled sadly, wishing he could reach out and take her hand in his. He clenched his fingers into fists, visibly swallowed, and forced himself to meet her gaze. "I mean, you aren't happy, Usako, and I want to know if you want to end this."

He'd shocked her, and she didn't say anything as she stared at him with disbelief. Usagi's expression was filled with despair, and he wondered if she was having difficulty breathing like he was. "If you want to end this, I promise you that I won't stop you. I'll give you everything you need."

She gasped before choking on a whimper, and just because he couldn't stand it anymore, he reached over and pulled her hands into his own. They were so small, trembling, and he squeezed them in what he hoped was a comforting way.

Her eyes were wide, imploring, and her lower lip quivered. "Is - is that what you want, Mamoru?" she just barely managed to choke the words out, her voice just above a silent whisper.

He exhaled softly in relief, pleased that her immediate response hadn't been to say yes. He stared into her eyes, his expression hardening with conviction. "No," he said firmly, a desperate edge to his voice as his hands tightened around hers. "I know that things have been horrible between us, Usako, but I love you."

"I know that I hurt you badly," his hands trembled, and he averted his eyes, afraid to look at her, to see the look in her anguished gaze. "Usako, I'm so sorry for what I put you through… the pain you felt must have been unbearable." He heard her sharp intake of breath, and he forced himself to meet the pain in her eyes. "I want to be with you; I want to make this work again," he pleaded. "You loved me once. Can you do it again?"

His broken, grief-stricken princess shook as she held back her tears. "I don't know," she choked mournfully. "I want to, Mamoru. I want to try, but so much has happened." Her tone was sad, her inflection broken and tortured as she pulled her hands out of his and buried her face in them as she crumpled forward. "Every time I look at you, it hurts.".

She choked on a sob, the sound muffled and filled with anguish. His eyes welled with tears, and with a groan, he pulled her into his arms. Her shoulders heaved as she whimpered, and her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. He let her cry as he softly stroked her hair with one hand and coiled his other arm around her waist, pulling her onto his lap.

His hand grazed her side, and he shook, fighting back his own devastation with the realization of how thin she'd become. So much thinner than she'd ever been. She was so small and fragile; he thought she might snap if he held her too tightly. This was not the Usagi he knew.

It was several minutes until her tears subsided, and she hiccuped, flexing her fingers. He regained control of his emotions and held her while he waited for her to ride out this wave of agony. When she finally pulled away and peered up at him from beneath a fringe of wet, black lashes, he noted that there was a sad crestfallen look in her eyes.

"I'm not sure if we can make it through this, Mamoru. Maybe…" she trailed off, averting her red-rimmed gaze and biting her lip nervously.

He fought back the rising panic, his lips pressed into a grim but determined line as he tightened his arms around her. "Can we try? Will, you at least give me a chance, Usako?" he pleaded, and he knew, by the look of pity in her eyes, that she didn't think it would matter. "Please, give me a second chance to make this right. I want to make this better for you. Will you let me try, one more time, to be the man that I used to be? The one that deserved to be with someone like you?"

He waited with bated breath as several moments passed, as she considered it, still poised in his arms. He felt like weeping with relief when she leaned forward, with a sigh, pressed her forehead onto his collarbone. He could feel her hot breath fanning across his neck, and he swallowed, squeezing his eyes shut as he readjusted her on his lap and tucked her head beneath his chin.

"Okay, Mamoru," she murmured softly in response. "We can try."

It was a start, and Mamoru exhaled what felt like the first full breath since he'd arrived here.

oOo

He'd never been to Jamaica before, not that he could remember anyway, so the 16-hour flight had been unexpected. It probably would have been more bearable if he could have spent that time actually talking to Usagi, but they definitely were not at that point yet. The tension between them was so palpable even the stewardess had visibly winced and then made a concerted effort to avoid their row for the rest of the trip.

Usagi was quiet, reserved, and she rarely smiled. When he tried to spark a conversation, it was like pulling teeth, and not only did she respond with crisp one-word answers, but her eyes filled with tears every time she looked at him. He hadn't been able to touch her since the afternoon that he'd pulled her shuddering body into his arms, and every time he tried, she pulled away, flinching as if he'd burned her.

What alarmed him even more was the fact that she rarely ate. She'd turned down all three meals that they'd offered her on the flight, except for a piece of bread that she absentmindedly nibbled on while staring forlornly out the plane window. He was a doctor in this world, wasn't he?! How the hell had he missed the dark circles under her eyes, the way that her clothes hung off her too-thin form? Not to mention that Usagi had always possessed an insatiable appetite. His little ball of sunshine ate with the same gusto that she afforded everything in her life, and now she was starving herself? She was his wife, but they may as well have been strangers. It was the most painful sixteen hours that he'd ever spent with Usagi.

His confidence in his ability to have Usagi fall back in love with him was admittedly shaken when their plane landed on the tarmac and pulled into the airport in sunny Jamaica. In fact, he wasn't entirely sure that this had been a good idea, to begin with, given that no matter how long he'd poured over Minako's itinerary of their first trip, he didn't actually remember it. There was a huge possibility that he was going to say something to fuck this up.

He inwardly cursed Minako as they made their way off the plane and into the Sangster international airport in Montego Bay. It was bustling with tourists from all over the world as they made their way through customs and into the main lobby area to retrieve their luggage. It was modestly sized, well maintained with windows from floor to ceiling, showing off the lush tropical greenery outside and allowing the sun's rays to pierce through the glass, brightly lighting up the whole airport.

The atmosphere's energy was laid back, filled with excited anticipation that was only prevalent in vacationers that were finally unwinding from the lives that they had left behind them. It was infectious, and he wanted so very badly to share this with Usagi.

It wasn't going to happen, though. They hadn't said a word to each other since landing, and he could feel the frustration bubbling up in his chest as he surreptitiously watched her in his peripheral view.

The crowd thickened when they reached the line of shops and money exchange locations, and his heart skipped a beat when he realized that he'd lost her in the crowd. His eyes narrowed as he worriedly scanned their surroundings, his gaze perusing the diverse array of people bustling happily along when he caught sight of her blonde hair amongst the sea of people.

He just made it to her in time to watch her trip and stumble into the arms of a short blonde-haired person that he recognized immediately. "Oh hey, are you okay there, kitten?" Haruka practically purred, a golden brow arched as she helped steady Usagi.

Usagi blushed as she quickly stepped back just as he reached her and lightly grasped her elbow. "Are you alright?" Mamoru murmured softly, and Usagi glanced up at him with an embarrassed grimace, nodding mutely.

He glanced back at Haruka, whose lips were curled into a sardonic smile, her eyes shining with curiosity as she glanced between them. "Thank you," he said and wondered if he was supposed to know the Senshi of Uranus in this world, though, by the look on her face, he doubted that he did.

Haruka shrugged nonchalantly and offered them a grin, "No worries, a lot of people are pushing their way through here. Is this your first time in Jamaica?" Haruka asked, and the question had clearly been directed towards Usagi. He did not miss the hard glint in her eyes when she'd glanced at him.

He gritted his teeth, knowing what it must look like. Usagi, exhausted, slightly worn, and not able to look him in the eye. It appeared that the Senshi, even in this world, felt the innate urge to protect her.

Usagi smiled, though it was more of a crestfallen smile, tinged with sadness. "No, we've been here before, for our Honeymoon."

Haruka appeared to consider her words carefully. "I see. I'm here with my wife as well. Where are you guys staying?" she prodded as she glanced back at him.

He met her cool gaze. "Calypso Shores," Mamoru responded evenly, his tone firm but reassuring. He would have liked to have had the Senshi as an ally here.

Haruka scrutinized his expression for only a moment longer, apparently coming to some kind of conclusion before offering them both a bright smile.

"Well, what do you know? We're staying at a villa not far from there! My name is Tenou Haruka," she said, offering her hand to Usagi that tentatively took it.

"Chiba Usagi," Usagi said, some warmth creeping into her voice as she offered the short-haired blonde a genuine smile. It was the first time that she'd said her name, and Mamoru frowned. In the real world, he fully intended to take her last name. "This is my husband, Chiba Mamoru," she said and gestured towards him.

Haruka's eyes met his again, and the warmth that had been reserved for Usagi faded, and it didn't quite reach her smile. "It's nice to meet you. Are you here long?" she asked, tilting her head to the side curiously.

He wasn't sure what it was that the Senshi thought that she could see in him, but she was wrong. He returned her smirk with a forced smile of his own. "We leave on Thursday."

He wished he could wrap his arm around Usakos's waist and pull her close so that Haruka could see that he was, in fact, a husband who loved his wife.

Haruka's smile faltered, and she shrugged. "That's too bad, such a short trip," she said, then glanced down at a silver wristwatch with a brown leather band wrapped around her wrist. "I have to go, but maybe we'll see you on the beach," Haruka said hopefully. "Take care of yourself, kitten."

She twirled around, buried her hands in her pockets, and strode away. Mamoru frowned after her, wondering what role she played in this nightmare when he felt Usako place a hand on his arm. He glanced down at her. She looked nervous, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Are you angry, Mamoru? I'm sure he didn't mean anything when he called me kitten," she whispered hesitantly, and it took a moment before he understood what she meant.

He covered her hand with his own and smiled down at her tenderly. "I know, Usako," he reassured. "Are you ready to find our things and go?"

He felt something spark between them, and his hope of salvaging this quickly began to blossom. Until her eyes welled with tears again, and she abruptly pulled away from him.

She wrapped her arms around her midsection, blinked back the tears, and nodded curtly. "Yes, I'm ready," her words were laced with a 'let's get this over with' kind of tone that ripped at his heart, and he nodded wordlessly as they began to wade his way through the crowd.

He wasn't sure what he was going to do. Why couldn't she look at him? He could feel the frustration building in the pit of his stomach, and he glanced at her from the corner of his eye, furtively studying her profile.

Her face looked like it was made of stone. A stoic expression carved into her delicate features as she focused on walking ahead of her.

It wasn't easy to see her like this, and he knew that he would do anything to see her smile.

oOo

The Calypso Shores Resort was absolutely breathtaking. It was a small villa set on a sandy bluff directly on the beach. The estate in question was a pink-bricked building, with lavish pink tiled awnings held up by white marble beams. Quaint cobblestone pathways and lush tropical greenery framed the establishment, whose walls were filled with windows and delicate french doors. Just off to the side was a brightly lit pool with crystal blue water, though he wasn't sure why there was a need for a pool when the beach was only six steps away from the edge of the property.

It was open, lavish, and he could picture Usagi splayed out on one of the cushioned, patterned floral chairs, bathing in the warmth of the sun. The villa was meant for a maximum of four couples. Luckily, they were the only ones that had booked these particular days so they would have the house to themselves.

Though he wasn't really sure if that mattered as, other than a small gasp of delight when they'd first stepped into the brightly lit main room, Usagi had barely looked at him. The look on her face was still set in stone, hardened and tinged with a miserable sadness that he couldn't erase, no matter what he said.

The interior was just as beautiful as the exterior; lush, earthy tones on all the upholstery, brown tiled floors, and brightly painted yellow walls. He let Usagi take the lead, and, hoisting the straps of their luggage more securely on this shoulder, he followed her to their designated bedroom.

It was bright, airy, with a four-poster king-size bed pressed along the wall. There was a gossamer material draped over it with richly embroidered blankets and pillows in earthy tropical colors on its plush surface. The back wall was made up of glass-paned windows and intricately hand-painted french doors that opened directly onto the beach. The sounds of the ocean intermingled with the muffled chorus of upbeat music from a distant party wafted into the room, along with the warm breeze that ruffled the sheer white curtains and the wispy curls that framed Usagi's face.

He stood frozen in place as she slowly moved towards the doors, a nostalgic smile on her lips and a hint of sorrow in the blue pools of her eyes. She placed a delicate hand on the door frame, slender fingers curling around the wood as she peered outside, enshrouded like an angel by the bright sunlight.

It couldn't continue like this, and he thought maybe this setting, the brightly lit paradise of their contrived past, may have been the last place to bring her. She was clearly haunted by the memories of what they had been.

He dropped the bags onto the floor and cleared his throat, feeling like it was tightened with defeat. It wasn't too late. They could go home, and he could try something new. She turned towards him, her brows furrowed curiously.

The words he wanted to say tangled up on his tongue, and he must have looked like an idiot, standing there with his mouth open. He sighed with frustration and raked his hand through his hair. He wanted this to be on her terms, but damn, he was at a loss. He didn't know what to do. His Usako had always been an open book, her emotions so easy to read. But here, he had no idea what she was thinking.

She took two tentative steps towards him before stopping and wringing her hands nervously. "What is it?"

He frowned, carefully considering his words and trying desperately to suppress the frustration from seeping into his voice. "Usako, I'm sorry -" he choked the words out, "I'm not sure why I thought this would be a good idea. I didn't mean to make things even worse."

Her head snapped up, eyes wide as she met his gaze with a look of surprise on her face. "What do you mean?" she said, startled, a panicked edge sharpening each word she spoke. "How are you making things worse?"

An involuntary bark of disbelieving laughter bubbled up in his throat, and he shook his head in disbelief. "God, Usagi. What do you mean, what do I mean?" he snapped hoarsely, his eyes hardening with self-loathing. "You're miserable. Every single moment since we left that godforsaken house has been strained and downright painful."

He couldn't help the escalating anger now. What had been done to her was awful, but it had been done by a Mamoru that was not him. This was a nightmare that had been purposefully crafted to torture them. He was tired of feeling guilty for something that he would never in a million years do to her.

She inhaled sharply, her eyes darkening indignantly as her fingers clenched into tiny fists. "What?" she retorted hotly, shaking her head in adamant denial. "I'm not miserable."

He inhaled deeply, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Yes, you are. I know that you hate me, but you said that we could try—"

"Mamoru," she interjected angrily. "I don't hate you."

He couldn't help it after that. The helplessness, the anger, and the frustration that had been simmering hotly just beneath the surface poured out into his words.

"It's obvious that you hate me, Usako. I don't even blame you for it. I know what you've been through, but damn. How can I make this better if you won't even look at me?" he pleaded desperately.

Her breathing quickened, a crimson tinge fanning across her cheeks. "Stop it! I don't hate you!" she spat, her eyes welling with her own tears of indignant outrage. "That's not what it is, Mamoru!"

He closed the gap between them in two long strides, grasping her shoulders, his eyes burning with pain. "What is it then, Usako?" he demanded. "Why can't you even look at me?"

There was a fire that flashed in her eyes, a fury that he was relieved to see because anything was better than the broken devastation that seemed to be a permanent fixture in the Usako of this world.

"I don't know," she hissed furiously. "I don't know what it is."

He shook his head, tightening his hold on her. His fingers pressed into the skin of her bare arms. "What is it, Usagi?" he rasped brokenly, refusing to accept her answer. She either hated him, or there was something else, and until they talked about it, there wasn't any way for this to heal.

She glared at him, the tears that she'd been forcibly blinking back all day rolling hotly down her cheeks. "I don't know!"

There was a crack in her voice, though, and it was a sign that she wasn't being truthful. She did know. "Usagi, what is it?" he demanded again, and this time he managed to break through her hardened shell.

She let out a growl of frustration and forcibly pushed him away. She wasn't as strong as she was in their world, but he released her and took a step back. "I'm afraid, Mamoru!" she practically screamed, her grief etched into every part of her; the tears on her face, the stance with which she held herself, and the way she visibly trembled, her rage just a front for her fear. "I'm afraid that this," she gestured towards him furiously, "will end the minute I turn away. Do you have any idea how long I've lived with a cold, unfeeling asshole? How many nights I prayed that the Mamoru that I fell in love with would come back?"

He froze, horrified as he watched her trembling with rage. Her face was red with fury, and her chest heaving with the emotion expanding within it. He reached out towards her, desperately wishing he could pull her into his arms, but she slapped his hands away.

"Usako—"

"No! You want me to talk, Mamoru? Well, now I'm talking!" He snapped his mouth shut, swallowing down the words of comfort that had lodged themselves into his throat. This was better than the silent sadness. It had to be. "What am I supposed to think, after all of the arguments, the fights, and then the stone-cold silence?" she choked on the tears that accompanied her heated exclamation. "Doesn't it make sense that I would feel terrified that I would blink, and the person I wished was still here might disappear again? I don't know which version of you is going to wake up tomorrow, Mamoru! My cold, hateful husband? Or the one that actually looks at me again, that is all of a sudden doing sweet things…"

She trailed off, her anger dissipating with the words she was letting go, her shoulders slumped in defeat, her eyes downcast. He'd fucking broken her. The Mamoru of this world had effectively trampled out everything he loved about her. Mamoru choked on a sob that he hadn't realized had been bubbling up inside of him, and his vision blurred with tears that he tried to blink back unsuccessfully. Damn, he'd promised himself that he wouldn't let his emotions consume him, that he would only cater to her needs. Selfish, he was so selfish. He turned away, trying to regain his composure, his chest heaving with the rattling breaths he was so desperately trying to control.

He jumped, suddenly, as her delicately small hands cradled his face and forcibly pulled his gaze towards hers. The pads of her thumbs wiped away the tears he hadn't realized he'd shed, and there was a look of wonder shining through the tear-filled sapphire irises of her eyes.

"Mamo-chan," she whispered. "Are you crying?"

He blinked several times until his vision cleared. "I'm sorry, Usako," he apologized miserably, embarrassed that he'd let all of this emotion, the task of overcoming her hatred, overwhelm him.

She released his face and wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her head into his chest. It shocked him, and his hands shook as he tenderly interlaced his fingers in the golden strands of her hair at the back of her head.

"It's okay, Mamo-chan," she whispered, her words muffled in his shirt. "I promise that I'll try," her breath was warm, and her body trembled in his arms.

He exhaled shakily, overcome by the feelings coursing through him as he wrapped his arms around her. He dropped his head and pressed his cheek against the silky hair at the top of her head. He inhaled deeply, relieved that despite all of the changes in Usagi, she still smelled of vanilla and lavender.

It was going to be alright. She did love him, even if she was confused about it right now. They had overcome everything else. They could overcome this nightmarish river of grief that should never have been hers to bear in the first place, too.

"Thank you, Usako," he murmured. "That's all I'm asking."

It was strange, but it was the first time since they'd arrived that he could feel the warmth of the hot Jamaican sun.

oOo

The tension between them lessened considerably. They'd come to a silent agreement. Usagi was tentatively warming up to him, though it was slow, hesitant, and her gaze was still filled with apprehension. They'd agreed to deviate from their original itinerary, choosing instead to spend their first day on the beach and in the villa.

They'd been treading lightly, their conversation slightly shallow, avoiding anything that would delve too deeply into the strained strings of pain still twisted up in Usagi's heart. It was difficult to watch her like this. Everything bright about her, while still there, was muted and tentative, like she was afraid that she would say something that would change him back into what he'd been before. These changes in her, the ones that this life's traumatic experiences had created, were unbearable to see. He hated that he needed to wade through all of this pain and torment until he could remind her who she was again so that this could be over for her.

It was a harrowing moment when Usagi emerged from the villa, dressed in a bikini. She was breathtaking, like an ethereal vision in pale pink fabric, her hair twisted into a long golden braid that hung down her back again. But she was so thin. His heart ached at the sight of his strong Senshi, warrior princess, looking so frail and fragile. He'd needed to avert his gaze for a moment, swallowing painfully. The shine in her eyes dulled sadly; she'd noticed.

He prepared a large lunch with the pre-ordered ingredients that he'd requested were stocked in the sleek stainless steel fridge in the kitchen. He noted that she made a concerted effort to eat more after that. He was pleased, though he could see that she was forcing down every bite he silently handed her as he cooked while she watched him, perched quietly on the sleek marble countertop.

When he was finished cooking, he hopped up beside her on the counter rather than move to the dining room, and they ate in silence. It was a comfortable silence, though, and that was a start.

When they finished eating, she was visibly perkier as she jumped off of the counter and began to rummage through the cupboards in search of something. He watched her, filled with curiosity, and slid off the counter himself, casually leaning back on his elbows. She was like a little bikini-clad whirlwind; her expression adorably focused on whatever she was looking for.

She huffed, frustrated, and he raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Usako, what are you looking for?"

She graced him with a narrowed gaze over her shoulder. "I'm looking for the wine, Mamoru," she said sternly, though he was delighted to see a small smile tentatively curling up on her lips. "There should be wine."

He chuckled, "What makes you think there's wine?"

He was only teasing her. He'd seen the bottles stacked in the bottom cupboard, one of the ones she'd missed, as he was cooking.

She stopped, gasping in mock horror. "No wine?" she deadpanned. "Well, that's going to be a problem."

He raised an eyebrow, smirking with amusement. There was a teasing glint in her eyes, her expression playful in a way that was very much like his Usagi, that it took his breath away. It took a moment before he realized that her smile was fading as the tension between them rose. He frowned, confused because she was retreating again. That haunted, hollow look that flashed in the pools of her eyes as she averted her gaze, flushing as if she were embarrassed or ashamed, and for the life of him, he couldn't understand what the hell had happened.

He pushed away from the counter, moving towards her, desperate to pull her into his arms and comfort her, but his heart sank when she flinched, the look of apprehension reappearing in her eyes. She wasn't ready for that yet. So he offered her a tender smile instead, reached around her, and opened the cupboard with the racks of neatly stacked wine bottles.

The look she gave him was nervous, worried, and his frown deepened as she whirled around, bent down, and carefully inspected the different varieties before pulling out a white riesling and putting it into the fridge.

She turned back towards him, smiling sheepishly as she self-consciously tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear. "To chill, for later, around the fire," she whispered, clearing her throat. "Would it be alright if I had just a couple of glasses by the fire, Mamoru?"

He was caught off guard by the wary, tentatively asked question. This was apparently another thing that he didn't know, and it was etched in the nervous contours in her face. "Usako, this is a vacation, right?" he asked, treading carefully. "Why would you need my permission to have wine?"

Her brow furrowed, and she blinked, clearly surprised by his response. "Well, I just know that you don't like it when I drink."

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and he racked his brain, trying to remember if there was something written about this in Minako's carefully printed text messages. He was coming up blank. He swallowed, raking his fingers through his hair as he carefully considered his words. He needed to think of something to say and quickly.

"Usako…" he began, "This is a clean slate, right?" Technically, it was. For him, anyway. "You don't need my permission. I'm not your keeper. If you want to have a drink on the beach in Jamaica, you can have a drink."

She blinked, visibly swallowing as her eyes filled with tears. Alarmed, he bit back a harshly muttered expletive because, damn, had he said the wrong thing again? Instinctively he reached out towards her, his mouth open, ready to apologize for what he wasn't sure, but she quickly stepped around him.

She blinked back her tears, took a deep breath before hesitantly meeting his gaze. "I'm sorry, It's just that the last time I drank was the last time we fought, and …" she trailed off, swallowed, before offering him a slow, timid smile. "Mamo-chan, do you want to go swimming?"

The tone of her voice was so reminiscent of what he was used to that he couldn't speak. There was so much he wanted to ask her. He wanted to tell her he was sorry, that it wasn't him; he would never have done any of this to her. He wanted to pull into the safety of his arms, tenderly kiss away that haunted expression off of her face. Instead, he nodded mutely, and she reached over, grasped his wrist, and tugged him outside into the sun.

oOo

They spent the rest of the afternoon on the beach. They swam, lounged about lazily on the white sand, and basked in the sun's warm rays. He mostly spent his time watching Usagi, though, and sent a silent apology for having ever doubted Minako's wisdom.

She was thriving, flourishing happily as she had in the video that Minako had shown him of their honeymoon. It was the most he'd seen her smile, though none of them had been directed towards him yet, and her involuntary moans of delight as she stretched and lolled, soaking up the rays, were driving him insane.

As the sun dipped beneath the horizon, leaving red and orange streaks across the sky, and Usagi shivered from the lack of warmth, they made their way back to the villa. He was delighted when Usagi impulsively grabbed his hand, timidly interlacing her fingers with his, a red blush spreading adorably across her cheeks.

He loathed for this night to end, as was Usagi apparently, as she pulled the wine from the fridge and two glasses from the cupboard. She placed them tentatively on the counter and glanced at him shyly from beneath lacy lashes with a silent question shining in her eyes. He didn't need to answer her out loud; he nodded, smiled tenderly, and turned to grab a coarse beach blanket that he'd discovered earlier folded up neatly in the sitting room.

He wasn't a very outdoorsy person, so it took him a few tries to light a fire in a designated fire pit strategically placed on the beach beneath the stars. He cursed with irritation as the smoke got into his eyes, but it had been worth it when he was rewarded by a soft giggle from Usagi, who sat, her legs curled beneath her on the blanket, as she poured them both a glass of wine.

When he was satisfied that it wouldn't go out on its own, and the flames began to lick greedily at the wood that had already been neatly stacked in place, he sat down beside her. She wordlessly handed him a glass, and he took it from her, swallowing deeply as his fingers grazed hers.

They settled into a comfortable silence, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore and the crackling of the fire soothing as he furtively watched her. She seemed content as she peered into the flames, leaning back on her elbows, periodically taking a sip of wine. He wanted to say something, but it felt pleasant between them. He'd made leaps and bounds in progress today, and he was loathed to ruin it by saying something that might hurt her again.

He became lost in thought for a while, thinking of everything he would need to do when they escaped this nightmare. He was just beginning to silently devise a plan to stop this from happening again when she spoke.

"So, what's up with the cell phone thing, Mamoru?"

He turned his head, raising his eyebrow in question. He had no idea what she was talking about. "I'm not sure what you mean, Usako."

She rolled her eyes, taking another big gulp of wine before sitting up and crossing her legs. "You're always on your cell phone. Even when we're sitting across from each other in the same room, you're on your phone," she said, and his heart began to race at the hard edge that had re-entered her voice at the memory. "I thought it was glued to your hand at one point!" she exclaimed, then frowned. "I haven't seen you on it in days. Did you even bring it with you?"

Her words echoed Minako's indignant ones, and he shrugged. "I needed a break from the technology."

It was as good as any other excuse he might have thought up, but her eyes narrowed suspiciously as she finished her glass of wine. She refilled it, the bottle clinking against the lip of her glass as she poured, and nibbled her bottom lip in contemplation.

"What about the whole Godforsaken thing?" she demanded suddenly. There was a slight slur in her words, and he knew that the wine was starting to affect her.

He grinned, shaking his head. Again, he had no idea what she was referring to. "Usako, you're going to have to clarify what you're talking about."

She snorted, her cheeks flushed from the wine, as she twisted her body towards him. "You know what I mean!" she exclaimed, definitely slurring now, as she lifted the wine glass to her lips again. "You said our house was godforsaken earlier."

He cringed guiltily as he recalled having said something along those lines, and she gasped. "Oh my God, Mamoru!" she giggled, hiccuping. "You hate it too?"

He didn't say anything but followed her lead and sat up cross-legged in front of her. He smirked and shrugged. He did hate that house, but he was surprised to hear that she did too.

Suddenly, she burst out laughing and fell over backward, landing unceremoniously onto her back. What remained in her wine glass tipped over and seeped slowly into the sand. Her laughter was like music to his ears, no matter how ridiculous the reason. He leaned over her, smirking down into her smiling face, and shook his head in amusement.

With her body weight, the amount of food she'd consumed, and the time she'd spent in the sun, he wasn't surprised that the wine had hit her so fast. Her laughter subsided suddenly, and he inhaled sharply as something shifted in between them. Her eyes widened and filled with a subtle tenderness he hadn't seen yet, as she quietly studied his face.

His heart clenched in his chest as his gaze lovingly soaked up the sight of her as well. The firelight flickered behind them, casting a dim glow on her heart-shaped face, highlighting every beautiful feature. Her lips were parted, tendrils of hair that had escaped her braid splayed out around her, and there was that look. The one he remembered so well, and damn. He wanted so badly to kiss her.

She smiled softly up at him, and he moved closer, his palms pressed into the grainy texture of the sand on either side of her head as he longingly stared down at her. "Hey, Mamo-chan," she slurred. "You know it's not fair that you can be mad at me all the time but still be so beautiful."

She giggled and propped herself up onto her elbows, bringing her face just inches from his. His breathing hitched, their eyes locked, and the sweet smell of the wine on her breath and the heat radiating from her body assaulted his senses.

He gulped, flexing his fingers in the sand to keep himself from crushing her against him. The dreamy look on her face faded, and something raw and broken filled her eyes as they glistened brightly in the firelight.

"Mamo-chan, do you still think I'm beautiful?" she whispered brokenly. "Like you did before— before it happened?"

Her question destroyed him. It ripped at his heart. She was his fiercely beautiful warrior princess, his bright ball of sunshine, his delicately sweet little Usako. The fact that she'd ever thought, even for a fucking second, that he'd believed otherwise, infuriated him.

"Usako," he choked. "Don't you know that there is nobody that is as beautiful as you?"

The intensity sizzled between them. It made his heart race, his body tighten in anticipation, and he could have lost himself in her eyes. He would have if she hadn't fallen onto her back again, her arms unable to support her as she turned her head to the side and closed her eyes with a lethargic smile.

"Hey, Mamo-chan," she slurred sleepily. "As soon as you stop spinning, you can kiss me if you want."

She twisted her body onto her side and tucked her hands under a flushed cheek. Her lithe form splayed out beneath him. The intensity lessened, and he sighed, then chuckled with amusement and shook his head. She was drunk, exhausted, and he needed to help her get to bed.

He sat back on his knees, leaned over, and pried an arm beneath her, hoisting her up against him. She moaned as her head lolled onto his shoulder. He smiled, using his other hand as leverage to pull them both to their feet.

Her eyelids fluttered open, and she stumbled clumsily, but his arm tightened around her waist, and he steadied her. "Come on, Usako," he murmured, and she giggled again, the sound washing over him in warm waves like the tinkling trill of a wind chime twisting in the wind. "Time for bed, love."

He stumbled only once on the way back when she pressed her lips on the crook of his neck. "Smell nice, Mamo," she murmured against his skin, and he swallowed, ignoring the heat that pooled in the pit of his stomach at the seductive, velvety sound of her voice and the way her fingers curled enticingly into the fabric of his shirt.

When they made it back into the bedroom, he carefully helped her lay down, and with a groan, she fell into the pile of cushions and pillows. He tucked her beneath the covers, though it was not really needed in the heat. She sighed softly, turning onto her side, a soft smile on her lips, and it took every ounce of willpower that he possessed to turn away from her.

There was a pull-out sofa in the sitting room, and though he was not looking forward to it, he'd fully expected to be spending the night there. He turned to leave but was stopped suddenly by Usagi as she reached for him, delicate fingers curling around his wrist. He glanced down at her, and her eyes were still closed, her face pressed into the pillow.

"Stay, Mamo-chan," she murmured sleepily, and he hesitated. "Please."

The simple word effectively crumbled his resolve, and he crawled underneath the covers beside her. With a contented sigh, she twisted around and pressed her body against his. He swallowed past the lump of emotion in his throat, wrapped his arms around her waist, pulled her close, and tucked her head beneath his chin. She intimately wove her legs with his, curling up with a contented sigh beside him, hands pressed against his chest. He wondered if she could feel the way his heart was hammering against his ribcage.

She moaned softly, and his hand trembled as he lifted it to stroke her hair. "Usako," he whispered, "I love you."

He didn't expect an answer, as he was sure that she'd fallen asleep, which was why his heart skipped a beat when she spoke.

"I know you do, Mamo-chan. It's nice to know that you do again."

The words were whispered in a low, breathy sigh, slightly inaudible, but he'd heard them. He tried to think of something to say, a response that might elicit the words he so desperately needed to hear, but by the time he did. She was fast asleep.

oOo