Title: Charmed?
Author: Helene
e-mail: aishiteru@nightmail.ru
Rating: PG13
Teaser: Sailor Moon attends a Valentine Day ball hoping to find her true love.
What if Darien decides to show up... hmm... instead of Tuxedo Mask? And what
if the ball involves ice dancing?
Timeline: First Season
Disclaimer: I do not claim to be a doctor, or to know how to play piano. Is
that not good enough? Well, then, I guess... Sailor-Moon-does-not-belong-to-me!
There, happy?
Chapter II
The rink was swept by a whirl of lavish colors. Rainbow flood-lights stained the
ice, rays of rotating projectors darted between the dancers, and the air itself
exuded an almost tangible happiness. Everybody was feeling it, whether they were
languorously circling, sophisticatedly twirling, or jumping valorously about the
ice.
That is, everybody who had not come equipped with a strong sense of purpose and
sound will, which were to ensure that they approached their target and induced her
to dance with them. That species, represented solely by the remarkable Darien
Shields, ignored the ethereal properties of his surroundings in favor of tying his
laces and observing the skaters' movements.
They were quite different from the movements of walking, he realized, and the
process of mastering the skill would undoubtedly prove painful. With a sigh he
stood up from the bench, and wobbled to the ice. A step onto the slippery surface,
totter, and Darien found himself nicely balanced.
He was sitting pathetically, propped up by the rink enclosure, and more than slightly
dazed. Giving a pitiful groan, he bunched up his legs, and attempted rising to his
feet. The world tilted, and his previous predicament repeated itself.
Under the grim circumstances, there was only one thing for him to do: try again.
Which he promptly did, again, again, again, and again, until he finally realized
that he needed to lean against the low wall that circled the ice floor. Still
supporting himself, Darien endeavored several series of steps, each of which ended
with inevitable falls. With each series, however, the number of successful steps
increased, and in half an hour he was able to let go of his anchorage. It was time
to embark on the mission.
That proved easier thought than done, though. After the welcome ceremony and
autograph handing, which he had haplessly missed, the chit had managed to mingle
with the colorful crowd, miraculously escaping the attentions of fawning fans. He
knew that the heroine was there; he did not have to morph into his celebrated
counterpart to sense that. Lamentably, even Tuxedo Mask wouldn't have helped him
to spot the girl.
In fifteen minutes, his neck grew uncomfortably stiff from turning and bending,
and extreme alertness made his eyes smart. Darien skidded to a stop, and closed
his lids to give rest to the tired organs. It hardly was a sensible thing for
such an inexperienced skater to do: a light shove from a passerby, and the
unfortunate sportsmen-wannabe was on the ice.
He looked up to glare at the savage, but the sight that greeted him took away his
breath, melted his heart, and scattered his thoughts, which, mind you, was not an
easy task to accomplish. A short-skirted angel with two golden balls instead of a
halo was gliding elegantly towards him, the triumphant smile on her face and her
bright blue irises taking his gaze a willing prisoner. Darien recovered from his
awe and moved to draw nearer to her. All of a sudden, she swayed her exquisite
head and caught the sight of his face.
The next item to sway was the girl's torso. Her arms flailed, her head swiveled,
and she was perilously close to hitting the ground, when two pairs of hands grabbed
her from behind, somehow keeping her on her feet.
"What is it now," queried Sailor Mars, shifting to take Sailor Moon's hand. "Last
ten times you were able to stop on your own, so don't tell me that was not deliberate!
Do you crave attention so much as to risk Mercury having to use her fog again?"
That explained the miraculous escape, mused Darien, watching the wide-eyed blond
trying to regain her self-control.
"Yea, you should have been more careful, Moon," assented Jupiter, releasing her hold
of her leader's waist. "I mean, you seemed to have learned not to move briskly on the
ice like yesterday."
The last member of the team was coming closer to the trio with a stern mien that
made him remember his duties as Sailor Moon's protector, and he skated towards the
group.
"May I offer my services as a mediator between you and the Scouts, Sailor Moon?" he
asked smoothly, having opted for the direct approach. "I would be very happy to be
of any assistance to such a lovely lady."
The Scouts went silent, disbelief written across their faces clearer than any
writing on any wall. Their widened eyes, gaping mouths, and the rest of the obligatorily
mentioned symptoms of shock would have tempted him to say something not entirely
flattering if that had not been incongruous with his carefully drawn mission.
"You... You want to help... Her?" managed Sailor Mars, having had the hardest time
adjusting to the idea.
"Why do you make it sound so unconceivable?" demanded Darien dryly. "Or is it that
you deem me unworthy of rendering support to the Champion of Love and Justice?"
"Pinch me," squeaked a small voice of the aforesaid champion.
"Why?"
"Ignore her... young man... mister..."
"Sir," he supplied helpfully, trying to prevent snorts from escaping his throat.
Sometimes those girls were a whit too entertaining for their own good, not to mention
his.
"Well, sir, do not mind our leader. She is simply stunned to have such a fine young
man to solicit her attention," continued the warrior of wisdom, more renowned as
Sailor Mercury.
"I'm..." began Sailor Moon.
"Very pleased to meet you," intercepted Mars, surprisingly catching up to the speed
of the prodigy's thoughts. "I'm sure she would be delighted to also have you escort
her tonight, won't you?"
"I..."
"But of course she would," piped in Jupiter, snatching the hands of her accomplices
and leading them away. "Have a nice time," she added with a wicked giggle.
"Maybe that will teach her to finally get along with him," told Mercury. Thankfully,
the distance between the cunning Scouts and their bewildered victims was too big for
the pair to catch her words.
*********************************************************************
"What nice weather, don't you think? Not a single rain drop, and not a cloud up
there," remarked Darien conversationally.
"Yea."
She silently brooded over her now lost evening, half listening to his fairly
witty tirade about the irrelevance of that piece of information, and attempting
to break the ice, although not literally, God forbid. It was unthinkable that
she should be expected to talk civilly to the person whose condescending attitude
rendered her seething on a regular basis. But she couldn't very well ditch him,
and attempt catching up to her so-called friends, could she?
It was Darien's voice that halted her mulling.
"Shall we?" he offered courteously, extending his arm for her to take.
Sailor Moon started, giving a surprised squeal.
"Oh, I'm sorry for interrupting your thoughts."
"Are you trying to insult me?" she queried, mentally adding a hopeful 'finally'.
That would mean that he was reverting to his old ways, and that she would be able
to stomp away.
"Why, pray tell, would I want to insult such a beautiful girl?"
"Because I just spaced out, for one."
"With the great responsibilities you shoulder, I am not at all surprised. But it
is quiet today, and there is no reason for you to dwell on such unpleasant things,
so how about putting your thoughts aside and skating?"
"Are you sure you want to do this? You could be risking your life out there," she
cautioned both for the sake of giving him the due warning, and as the last resort
to lose him. "I'm a lousy skater, and you're not so good yourself."
"If you're willing to risk your life skating with me, then the least I can do is
risk my life and skate with you," he declared with a flourish. "Do not worry, fair
lady, I shall not allow any harm to befall you."
Befuddled at the winningly earnest demeanor and sincere compassion in his voice,
she silently took his hand, and followed his slow pace.
Since when, no, really, SINCE WHEN did the notoriously nonchalant and detached
Darien bother to appear earnest and compassionate? She could bet even Andrew had
yet to see that side of his best friend, and that galled her even more than having
to appreciate tolerable qualities in her abiding adversary. What on Earth could
have made him so impeccably polite, and, how, for goodness sake, was she going to
handle such untimely politeness?
When a person is polite towards one, does that always mean that one has to be
polite in return, even when the person in question has never displayed anything
but disdain in one's presence? Should one forget about numerous insults, lame jokes,
and spoiled days just because one was drilled in nice manners by their parents? Was
walking away from an uncomfortable companion really unacceptable even under such
grave circumstances that threatened one's sanity?
Not that she was unaware of the fact that Darien did not recognize her in the guise
of a Sailor Scout, but that did not excuse his being nice to her as Sailor Moon since
he had never been nice to her as Serena. Not that she wanted him to be nice to her at
all, or something... No, it was not something like that. It was simply unfair that he
should be respectful and understanding towards some people, and taunting towards
others, she decided.
"Penny for your thoughts?"
"You seem too good to be true," she grumbled, still caught up in the tangle of
aggravating questions, and yet more aggravating answers.
"And this displeases you because you're sure that when something seems too good to be
true, it probably is?" inquired Darien sympathetically. "I know the feeling."
"Really?"
She would have sooner believed if she were told that Zoicite had joined a nunnery then
that the incarnation of condescendence in front of her deemed anyone or anything to be
good.
"Of course. For instance, when I read the descriptions of the classes at the university
some of them sound so appealing, and when I take them they turn out to be boring."
Of course, she imitated in her head, giving a small smirk. Of course he had to brag
about his being a student.
"I see."
"But some of the classes are very interesting," he continued, "and not at all
disappointing."
"Actually, I don't like studying," she admitted almost proudly. Sailor Moon was not
perfect, and those who assumed she was had another thing coming. "Maybe you'd rather
speak with Sailor Mercury? She is the most studious of the group."
"You're the one I'd like to spend the evening with, not Mercury. I just meant to show
you that at times we need to give things, and people, a chance, and get to know them
before branding them 'too good to be true'."
"I see."
I see. The words had a bland after-sound, and one could never be sure whether they were
to indicate agreement or annoyance. Although, judging by the fact that they were usually
resorted to by teachers and employers obliged to somehow react to extravagant excuses
and tedious theses, the latter meaning was more likely.
If his plan was going anywhere, he realized, it was not heading in the right direction.
It also seemed to backfire, since, instead of making him feel needed and appreciated,
she was either ignoring, or deliberately challenging and spurning him. Could it be
something about him that affected the caring and considerate girl that way in spite of
the effort he made to produce a good impression? Was the Meatball Head right to claim
that his personality would ward off even the princess?
A tugging sensation on his arm alerted him to the fact that Sailor Moon had stopped,
and moved towards the wall. Turning to look at the heroin, he found her staring at him
with a pondering expression. And, although he liked that one better then the sulking
pout she had donned right after overcoming her cute shock at his appearance, something
about her slightly narrowed eyes bothered him.
"What is your name?"
"Darien."
"So, Darien, do you really believe in giving people a chance?"
There it was, the defiant spark, daring him to answer that he did, and prove a liar. But
she couldn't possibly know that, could she?
"Well, not always. I have some reservations..."
"So do I. For one, I do not give a chance to those who would dismiss me if they were to
meet me as a teenage girl that I am."
"Well, I'll have you know," he began with forced levity, "that I have a good friend who
is a teenage girl. You may be acquainted with her, actually, you fought near the Temple
where she lives."
"Raye."
"Exactly." blurted Darien, so gleeful at being able to score a point as to miss her
growl, "she is training to become a priestess."
"And if the teenage girl in question is an awkward klutz, and not a priestess-in-training?" she
demanded vehemently. "If she doesn't get good grades at school, and..."
"Don't be so hard on yourself," he begged gently, appalled at the anguish in her voice.
"Why not? You would be," she shouted, tearing her hand away. "You're only nice to me
because you don't know me, and nothing you can say or do will convince me otherwise."
That said, Sailor Moon started gliding away, not sparing a single glance at Darien.
*********************************************************************
He stood there, confusion and hurt vying for dominance in his soul. Long ago, when he
had been at the orphanage, and the children refused to socialize with him, he had been
able to persuade himself that it had been their own loss, and their own fault. When
Sailor Moon left him, though, his old recipe did not work. How could he blame her for
assuming something that was probably correct? And how could he maintain that she was
the one to lose more under the circumstances?
It had to be something about him that had driven all those people away. Raye and Andrew
were the only ones to stand by him, but Raye did not count because she clearly had a
crush on him, and Andrew was... Andrew. Being Andrew meant having loads of friends,
being Darien meant having none, and he had resigned himself to the fact years ago.
Since then he had lived at peace with the world, mindful to guard that painstakingly
earned peace and prevent others from getting close enough to threaten it. Since then
only two people had managed to stir him, Serena and Sailor Moon. While Andrew and Raye
had grown on him bit by bit, the other pair burst into his barely balanced world to
wreak havoc on his totally unprepared emotions.
Those two were alike, both making him fend off the most irritable doubts as to the
constants of his life such as good grades, responsibility, self-confidence, and
competence. Even after his recent humiliation he did not need to focus to recall
Serena's passionate speech on the importance of other traits, or Sailor Moon's pained
stance when he had announced his intent to retrieve all the Rainbow Crystals.
He should have realized their similarities long ago, he sighed. And he should have
been less stubborn and listened to Andrew who had been attempting to make him see
the similarities. That, of course, would have amounted to the loss of self-sufficiency,
but that particular value was easily recovered when one lived all alone...
The point was that had he been more aware he would not have endeavored wooing Sailor
Moon, and found himself perilously close to being self-conscious. That was easily
cured: a red rose, transformation, and he would have been able to track the offender
down and sweep her off her feet. Come to think of it, he would also be able to let her
taste her own medicine, disclosing her prejudiced treatment of Tuxedo Mask. But first
he had to get away from the rink.
*********************************************************************
She had to get away from the rink. She should not have been there in the first place,
not as her heroic self that far too many people knew and loved. The princess was obviously
reluctant to be found, and Tuxedo Mask was not into skating. Either that, or he had spotted
her with Darien.
Darien. Had he been able to recognize her and the girls, he would have joined Raye in
her scolding spree. However that could have stung, it would have been better to disregard
him as the cold and cruel devil, then acknowledge that she was the only one to be
mistreated by him, and, therefore, it was her own fault that he disliked her. That she
was more irritating then any other girl her age. That she did not deserve to be liked.
Dejected, she headed towards a rest room to release the transformation. The not-so-alter
ego was a weight too heavy to bear on Saint Valentine Day.
*********************************************************************
Depressing, ne? It may get better, if I decide to write the sequel, 'if' and 'feedback'
being the key words.
Oh, yea, and if you're miraculously still here, please read the latest part of my other
story, "the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth". I would really appreciate
some feedback before I get down to finishing the story.
Author: Helene
e-mail: aishiteru@nightmail.ru
Rating: PG13
Teaser: Sailor Moon attends a Valentine Day ball hoping to find her true love.
What if Darien decides to show up... hmm... instead of Tuxedo Mask? And what
if the ball involves ice dancing?
Timeline: First Season
Disclaimer: I do not claim to be a doctor, or to know how to play piano. Is
that not good enough? Well, then, I guess... Sailor-Moon-does-not-belong-to-me!
There, happy?
Chapter II
The rink was swept by a whirl of lavish colors. Rainbow flood-lights stained the
ice, rays of rotating projectors darted between the dancers, and the air itself
exuded an almost tangible happiness. Everybody was feeling it, whether they were
languorously circling, sophisticatedly twirling, or jumping valorously about the
ice.
That is, everybody who had not come equipped with a strong sense of purpose and
sound will, which were to ensure that they approached their target and induced her
to dance with them. That species, represented solely by the remarkable Darien
Shields, ignored the ethereal properties of his surroundings in favor of tying his
laces and observing the skaters' movements.
They were quite different from the movements of walking, he realized, and the
process of mastering the skill would undoubtedly prove painful. With a sigh he
stood up from the bench, and wobbled to the ice. A step onto the slippery surface,
totter, and Darien found himself nicely balanced.
He was sitting pathetically, propped up by the rink enclosure, and more than slightly
dazed. Giving a pitiful groan, he bunched up his legs, and attempted rising to his
feet. The world tilted, and his previous predicament repeated itself.
Under the grim circumstances, there was only one thing for him to do: try again.
Which he promptly did, again, again, again, and again, until he finally realized
that he needed to lean against the low wall that circled the ice floor. Still
supporting himself, Darien endeavored several series of steps, each of which ended
with inevitable falls. With each series, however, the number of successful steps
increased, and in half an hour he was able to let go of his anchorage. It was time
to embark on the mission.
That proved easier thought than done, though. After the welcome ceremony and
autograph handing, which he had haplessly missed, the chit had managed to mingle
with the colorful crowd, miraculously escaping the attentions of fawning fans. He
knew that the heroine was there; he did not have to morph into his celebrated
counterpart to sense that. Lamentably, even Tuxedo Mask wouldn't have helped him
to spot the girl.
In fifteen minutes, his neck grew uncomfortably stiff from turning and bending,
and extreme alertness made his eyes smart. Darien skidded to a stop, and closed
his lids to give rest to the tired organs. It hardly was a sensible thing for
such an inexperienced skater to do: a light shove from a passerby, and the
unfortunate sportsmen-wannabe was on the ice.
He looked up to glare at the savage, but the sight that greeted him took away his
breath, melted his heart, and scattered his thoughts, which, mind you, was not an
easy task to accomplish. A short-skirted angel with two golden balls instead of a
halo was gliding elegantly towards him, the triumphant smile on her face and her
bright blue irises taking his gaze a willing prisoner. Darien recovered from his
awe and moved to draw nearer to her. All of a sudden, she swayed her exquisite
head and caught the sight of his face.
The next item to sway was the girl's torso. Her arms flailed, her head swiveled,
and she was perilously close to hitting the ground, when two pairs of hands grabbed
her from behind, somehow keeping her on her feet.
"What is it now," queried Sailor Mars, shifting to take Sailor Moon's hand. "Last
ten times you were able to stop on your own, so don't tell me that was not deliberate!
Do you crave attention so much as to risk Mercury having to use her fog again?"
That explained the miraculous escape, mused Darien, watching the wide-eyed blond
trying to regain her self-control.
"Yea, you should have been more careful, Moon," assented Jupiter, releasing her hold
of her leader's waist. "I mean, you seemed to have learned not to move briskly on the
ice like yesterday."
The last member of the team was coming closer to the trio with a stern mien that
made him remember his duties as Sailor Moon's protector, and he skated towards the
group.
"May I offer my services as a mediator between you and the Scouts, Sailor Moon?" he
asked smoothly, having opted for the direct approach. "I would be very happy to be
of any assistance to such a lovely lady."
The Scouts went silent, disbelief written across their faces clearer than any
writing on any wall. Their widened eyes, gaping mouths, and the rest of the obligatorily
mentioned symptoms of shock would have tempted him to say something not entirely
flattering if that had not been incongruous with his carefully drawn mission.
"You... You want to help... Her?" managed Sailor Mars, having had the hardest time
adjusting to the idea.
"Why do you make it sound so unconceivable?" demanded Darien dryly. "Or is it that
you deem me unworthy of rendering support to the Champion of Love and Justice?"
"Pinch me," squeaked a small voice of the aforesaid champion.
"Why?"
"Ignore her... young man... mister..."
"Sir," he supplied helpfully, trying to prevent snorts from escaping his throat.
Sometimes those girls were a whit too entertaining for their own good, not to mention
his.
"Well, sir, do not mind our leader. She is simply stunned to have such a fine young
man to solicit her attention," continued the warrior of wisdom, more renowned as
Sailor Mercury.
"I'm..." began Sailor Moon.
"Very pleased to meet you," intercepted Mars, surprisingly catching up to the speed
of the prodigy's thoughts. "I'm sure she would be delighted to also have you escort
her tonight, won't you?"
"I..."
"But of course she would," piped in Jupiter, snatching the hands of her accomplices
and leading them away. "Have a nice time," she added with a wicked giggle.
"Maybe that will teach her to finally get along with him," told Mercury. Thankfully,
the distance between the cunning Scouts and their bewildered victims was too big for
the pair to catch her words.
*********************************************************************
"What nice weather, don't you think? Not a single rain drop, and not a cloud up
there," remarked Darien conversationally.
"Yea."
She silently brooded over her now lost evening, half listening to his fairly
witty tirade about the irrelevance of that piece of information, and attempting
to break the ice, although not literally, God forbid. It was unthinkable that
she should be expected to talk civilly to the person whose condescending attitude
rendered her seething on a regular basis. But she couldn't very well ditch him,
and attempt catching up to her so-called friends, could she?
It was Darien's voice that halted her mulling.
"Shall we?" he offered courteously, extending his arm for her to take.
Sailor Moon started, giving a surprised squeal.
"Oh, I'm sorry for interrupting your thoughts."
"Are you trying to insult me?" she queried, mentally adding a hopeful 'finally'.
That would mean that he was reverting to his old ways, and that she would be able
to stomp away.
"Why, pray tell, would I want to insult such a beautiful girl?"
"Because I just spaced out, for one."
"With the great responsibilities you shoulder, I am not at all surprised. But it
is quiet today, and there is no reason for you to dwell on such unpleasant things,
so how about putting your thoughts aside and skating?"
"Are you sure you want to do this? You could be risking your life out there," she
cautioned both for the sake of giving him the due warning, and as the last resort
to lose him. "I'm a lousy skater, and you're not so good yourself."
"If you're willing to risk your life skating with me, then the least I can do is
risk my life and skate with you," he declared with a flourish. "Do not worry, fair
lady, I shall not allow any harm to befall you."
Befuddled at the winningly earnest demeanor and sincere compassion in his voice,
she silently took his hand, and followed his slow pace.
Since when, no, really, SINCE WHEN did the notoriously nonchalant and detached
Darien bother to appear earnest and compassionate? She could bet even Andrew had
yet to see that side of his best friend, and that galled her even more than having
to appreciate tolerable qualities in her abiding adversary. What on Earth could
have made him so impeccably polite, and, how, for goodness sake, was she going to
handle such untimely politeness?
When a person is polite towards one, does that always mean that one has to be
polite in return, even when the person in question has never displayed anything
but disdain in one's presence? Should one forget about numerous insults, lame jokes,
and spoiled days just because one was drilled in nice manners by their parents? Was
walking away from an uncomfortable companion really unacceptable even under such
grave circumstances that threatened one's sanity?
Not that she was unaware of the fact that Darien did not recognize her in the guise
of a Sailor Scout, but that did not excuse his being nice to her as Sailor Moon since
he had never been nice to her as Serena. Not that she wanted him to be nice to her at
all, or something... No, it was not something like that. It was simply unfair that he
should be respectful and understanding towards some people, and taunting towards
others, she decided.
"Penny for your thoughts?"
"You seem too good to be true," she grumbled, still caught up in the tangle of
aggravating questions, and yet more aggravating answers.
"And this displeases you because you're sure that when something seems too good to be
true, it probably is?" inquired Darien sympathetically. "I know the feeling."
"Really?"
She would have sooner believed if she were told that Zoicite had joined a nunnery then
that the incarnation of condescendence in front of her deemed anyone or anything to be
good.
"Of course. For instance, when I read the descriptions of the classes at the university
some of them sound so appealing, and when I take them they turn out to be boring."
Of course, she imitated in her head, giving a small smirk. Of course he had to brag
about his being a student.
"I see."
"But some of the classes are very interesting," he continued, "and not at all
disappointing."
"Actually, I don't like studying," she admitted almost proudly. Sailor Moon was not
perfect, and those who assumed she was had another thing coming. "Maybe you'd rather
speak with Sailor Mercury? She is the most studious of the group."
"You're the one I'd like to spend the evening with, not Mercury. I just meant to show
you that at times we need to give things, and people, a chance, and get to know them
before branding them 'too good to be true'."
"I see."
I see. The words had a bland after-sound, and one could never be sure whether they were
to indicate agreement or annoyance. Although, judging by the fact that they were usually
resorted to by teachers and employers obliged to somehow react to extravagant excuses
and tedious theses, the latter meaning was more likely.
If his plan was going anywhere, he realized, it was not heading in the right direction.
It also seemed to backfire, since, instead of making him feel needed and appreciated,
she was either ignoring, or deliberately challenging and spurning him. Could it be
something about him that affected the caring and considerate girl that way in spite of
the effort he made to produce a good impression? Was the Meatball Head right to claim
that his personality would ward off even the princess?
A tugging sensation on his arm alerted him to the fact that Sailor Moon had stopped,
and moved towards the wall. Turning to look at the heroin, he found her staring at him
with a pondering expression. And, although he liked that one better then the sulking
pout she had donned right after overcoming her cute shock at his appearance, something
about her slightly narrowed eyes bothered him.
"What is your name?"
"Darien."
"So, Darien, do you really believe in giving people a chance?"
There it was, the defiant spark, daring him to answer that he did, and prove a liar. But
she couldn't possibly know that, could she?
"Well, not always. I have some reservations..."
"So do I. For one, I do not give a chance to those who would dismiss me if they were to
meet me as a teenage girl that I am."
"Well, I'll have you know," he began with forced levity, "that I have a good friend who
is a teenage girl. You may be acquainted with her, actually, you fought near the Temple
where she lives."
"Raye."
"Exactly." blurted Darien, so gleeful at being able to score a point as to miss her
growl, "she is training to become a priestess."
"And if the teenage girl in question is an awkward klutz, and not a priestess-in-training?" she
demanded vehemently. "If she doesn't get good grades at school, and..."
"Don't be so hard on yourself," he begged gently, appalled at the anguish in her voice.
"Why not? You would be," she shouted, tearing her hand away. "You're only nice to me
because you don't know me, and nothing you can say or do will convince me otherwise."
That said, Sailor Moon started gliding away, not sparing a single glance at Darien.
*********************************************************************
He stood there, confusion and hurt vying for dominance in his soul. Long ago, when he
had been at the orphanage, and the children refused to socialize with him, he had been
able to persuade himself that it had been their own loss, and their own fault. When
Sailor Moon left him, though, his old recipe did not work. How could he blame her for
assuming something that was probably correct? And how could he maintain that she was
the one to lose more under the circumstances?
It had to be something about him that had driven all those people away. Raye and Andrew
were the only ones to stand by him, but Raye did not count because she clearly had a
crush on him, and Andrew was... Andrew. Being Andrew meant having loads of friends,
being Darien meant having none, and he had resigned himself to the fact years ago.
Since then he had lived at peace with the world, mindful to guard that painstakingly
earned peace and prevent others from getting close enough to threaten it. Since then
only two people had managed to stir him, Serena and Sailor Moon. While Andrew and Raye
had grown on him bit by bit, the other pair burst into his barely balanced world to
wreak havoc on his totally unprepared emotions.
Those two were alike, both making him fend off the most irritable doubts as to the
constants of his life such as good grades, responsibility, self-confidence, and
competence. Even after his recent humiliation he did not need to focus to recall
Serena's passionate speech on the importance of other traits, or Sailor Moon's pained
stance when he had announced his intent to retrieve all the Rainbow Crystals.
He should have realized their similarities long ago, he sighed. And he should have
been less stubborn and listened to Andrew who had been attempting to make him see
the similarities. That, of course, would have amounted to the loss of self-sufficiency,
but that particular value was easily recovered when one lived all alone...
The point was that had he been more aware he would not have endeavored wooing Sailor
Moon, and found himself perilously close to being self-conscious. That was easily
cured: a red rose, transformation, and he would have been able to track the offender
down and sweep her off her feet. Come to think of it, he would also be able to let her
taste her own medicine, disclosing her prejudiced treatment of Tuxedo Mask. But first
he had to get away from the rink.
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She had to get away from the rink. She should not have been there in the first place,
not as her heroic self that far too many people knew and loved. The princess was obviously
reluctant to be found, and Tuxedo Mask was not into skating. Either that, or he had spotted
her with Darien.
Darien. Had he been able to recognize her and the girls, he would have joined Raye in
her scolding spree. However that could have stung, it would have been better to disregard
him as the cold and cruel devil, then acknowledge that she was the only one to be
mistreated by him, and, therefore, it was her own fault that he disliked her. That she
was more irritating then any other girl her age. That she did not deserve to be liked.
Dejected, she headed towards a rest room to release the transformation. The not-so-alter
ego was a weight too heavy to bear on Saint Valentine Day.
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Depressing, ne? It may get better, if I decide to write the sequel, 'if' and 'feedback'
being the key words.
Oh, yea, and if you're miraculously still here, please read the latest part of my other
story, "the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth". I would really appreciate
some feedback before I get down to finishing the story.