AN: I hope I did justice to the natural stupidity of men, the cuteness of babies, and Ami's general self. (What? Men are clueless when it comes to women. I don't have an older brother for nothing.)

Part One: Youth

She was walking down the almost empty school hallway, peering at the rotting ceiling tiles, deep in thought. The dark blue pleated skirt swirled lightly around long, slender legs, and she clutched both her books and school bag in front of her.

He was standing behind his locker door, watching her. She was such a pretty little thing. About a head smaller than himself, with short, dark hair curling about an infinitely sweet and thoughtful face.
She paused near him and smiled, a sweet, shining ray pouring from her entire being. He felt his own smile warming, blooming under the brilliancy of hers.
"Zoicite," she greeted warmly. "Are you ready?"
"Yeah," he replied, shutting his locker and picking up his bag. They walked out to the parking lot together, Zoicite admiring how the sunlight brought out cerulean highlights in her hair. He opened the car door for her and went around to get in the driver's side.
"So how's your dad been doing?" he asked when they were stopped at a red light. The already quiet atmosphere in the car suddenly became somber.
"He's doing well enough for now. Mom's usually over at the hospital talking with him and he's awake a lot more lately. That doesn't mean anything though." Her brow furrowed, clear blue eyes clouding over, and she looked out the window as they started moving again.
After only minutes, they arrived in front of a big, stately house with a huge manicured lawn, three sprawling floors, and two polished oak doors with diamond-panes in the front. Zoicite pressed the button clipped to his visor, the crystal face of his watch gleaming in the sunlight, and pulled into the garage. Ami, watching him the while, appreciated the simple beauty of his glimmering green eyes thoughtfully flickering from garage-door-opener to the widening dark cavern of his garage. She appreciated the way his slim wrist turned when he took one hand off the wheel to brush a stray lock of hair out of his eyes, and the slender, supple length of his fingers.
But that didn't mean anything. She knew, as he grabbed both their bags, never allowing her to carry her own once they were out of public, winked at her, and led her into the great sprawling white house, that they were friends – good friends – best friends – and always would be. She was content with that. Just having his support as a friend was better than the frightening emotional turmoil something more serious would bring.
Ami wasn't sure if she would be able to handle anything serious. The thought of romance in general already scared her witless.
"Hey honey!" a woman's voice floated from the kitchen on the scent of chicken being fried. Zoicite swerved to head toward the smell, kissing his mom on the cheek in greeting and peering in the pan of crackling raw chicken breasts covered in flour – just like his mother. Mrs. James was dusted with a fine white powder, but still smiling cheerily. Her smile widened as she caught sight of Ami. "Ami, dear! How was school?"
"Fine, thank you," she smiled back, fondly.
"Would you like to stay for dinner?" She poked the chicken suggestively with a two-pronged utensil.
"I wouldn't want to impose," Ami hesitated.
"Oh, pish posh!" the woman waved her "poker" utensil dangerously, Zoicite ducking back to avoid it's sharp prongs, and stabbed at the chicken again, "You've been imposing on us since you were six. I figure since we signed you on our insurance as a third child, you can eat a little of our food."
Ami blinked, not sure whether to take her seriously or not.
Mrs. James smiled meekly. "Yeah, okay, no more bad jokes. Really, though, do you want to eat with us? I assume your mother will be out late again tonight." Here Mrs. James' eyes lost a bit of warmth and she pressed her lips lightly together. She had never approved of Ami's mother because she worked so much, leaving Ami alone all the time. Mrs. James herself had married a rich lawyer and had the time to spend as a housewife and mother – a role Ami greatly admired, since she was usually the one to wash her and her mother's clothes, clean house, and fix meals.
"Yeah," Ami said softly. "She's spending the night at the hospital with dad again. He's doing better and she doesn't want him to wake up alone."
Mrs. James smiled in sympathy, though it was only for Ami. "I understand. Now, why don't you two go do your homework – I think Zoicite's gonna faint if he has to hold those bags any longer." She gestured dryly to her son, who was grimacing and bent low with the weight of holding their school things.
They'll make a nice couple one day, Mrs. James thought as they left the kitchen together.
"I'll take my bag if you want me to," Ami offered as they hurried up the stairs, but Zoicite shook his head stubbornly. "Idiot," she muttered fondly as he insisted on opening the door for her too. He was always extra gallant at home, and Ami didn't really know why. He had always been that way, ever since they were kids. Maybe it was because his mother would kill him if he did something rude under her roof, but somehow Ami didn't think that was it.
"Hey, dorkwad!" a strawberry-blonde head poked in the door just as Zoicite was tossing the bags onto his bed. He turned around and glared at his big sister. "I lost my pen, lemme borrow one." She was thin and feminine with long pink nails, dark blue eyes, and short-cropped red-blonde hair.
"Fine," he muttered, rummaging on his cluttered desk, and tossed a BiC at her.
"Thanks," the girl called, catching it, sent Ami a smile, and left.
Zoicite shut the door after her. "Honestly, I think Gertrude's nicer to you than to me sometimes."
"Of course," Ami replied. "You're family. She can be rude to you and still know you have to love her. I'm just a guest." She smiled and he plopped down beside her, dragging his bag off the bed.
"You're family, Ami," he chuckled. "Believe me, you're family. You're just way nicer to her than I am." He dug out his Trigonometry book and settled it on his lap. They were in the same grade, even though she was a year his younger, because she had skipped kindergarten.
They worked on their Trigonometry homework together, then did the reading their language teacher had assigned. By the time Ami was finished, she was leaning against Zoicite's shoulder where he sat propped against the bed, pouring diligently over his literature book. As she set her book aside, she was suddenly jealous of his book, and wanted him to pay attention to her instead. She thought that kissing him would do it – she would turn over and press her lips against him, slowly, first on the cheek, then by the mouth, then on the lips. He would stare at her for a moment in shock, and then those green eyes would darken and he would start kissing her back, trailing his hands through her hair . . .
No. Her daydream was shattered, because she never lied to herself. He wouldn't do that, he would be shocked, then dismayed, uncomfortable, and she would be completely mortified. She sighed. It had been such a nice, vivid daydream.
The sigh caught Zoicite's attention. It was wistful and resigned, and a little bit sad. He shut his book and put an arm around sweet little Ami, smiling down at her mild surprise. "You're dad'll be okay. Don't worry about it too much." His eyes lit with an idea. "I know what will make you feel better!" He pushed her up. "How about a swim before dinner?"
"I didn't bring my swimsuit," she frowned.
"We'll borrow one of Gertty's." He pulled her along down the hallway and knocked rapidly on a door. After a moment, a disgruntled looking college student opened it, tossing short strawberry-blonde hair out of her eyes. "I wanna swim and Ami doesn't have a suit," he said, pushing the slender girl in his sister's room before anyone could object. "Lend 'er one."
Gertrude stared at the door where her brother had been with eyebrows hitched in annoyance. "Fine," she snorted after him, shutting the door a little too firmly. Turning to Ami, she rolled her eyes, showing that she wasn't angry with her, and dug through the bottom drawer of her dresser. When she found her small hill of swimsuits in the back of it, she got a decidedly evil idea and pulled out a black two-piece. "All my others are in the wash," she lied apologetically, and sent Ami toward her bathroom with it.
A short while later, Ami was staring at the mirror in horror. She had never worn such a small bathing suit in her life! It was a black bikini and covered all the right spots, but only just. When she turned around, she tried to sooth her burning cheeks by theorizing that at least it wasn't a thong. Screwing up her courage, and deciding to ask Gertrude if she had a t-shirt Ami could wear, Ami picked up her clothes and stepped out.
Gertrude decided that the look on her brother's face when Ami came out of the bathroom was worth all of the younger girl's embarrassment. He stared, back straightening reflexively, and flushed, eyes roving against his will over Ami's sweet, slender body. Her cheeks were bright red as she closed the door behind her and looked to Gertrude, not daring to look at Zoicite.
"Do you have a shirt I could wear over this?" she asked in a small voice.
"Yeah," Gertrude replied easily, her damage done. She pulled an old, oversized white t-shirt from her bottom drawer and tossed it to the grateful girl, who slipped it on immediately.
They went down to the pool in Zoicite's back yard. Ami liked his pool because there was a high fence all around the yard, so the neighbors couldn't peek in.
She shucked off the shirt and slipped into the cool water, smiling as she sunk to her chin and kicked a little to keep afloat. Zoicite, however, leapt in right in front of her, splashing her and making her sputter. With a strong kick off the side of the pool, she was underwater and nabbing his feet, dragging him down before striking out for the surface again.
Zoicite bobbed up next to her moments after she broke surface, and smiled, holding a slim pink, weighted plastic item that had been sitting on the bottom of the pool. Ami's eyes lit in knowledge of the game and she reached for it, only to have him evade her hand.
Darn his longer arms!
Her eyes narrowed into dark blue slits and she dove, grabbing his feet again and pulling him under, then darting back up to snatch the stick out of his hand. He was ready for her, though, and wrapped one arm around her waist as she struggled, pulling the item from her grasp before swimming away, with Ami flying after, the water pounding in her ears.
She reached the pool steps and followed him out, glaring gamely as she cornered him at the fence. Casting a wild look about, Zoicite grabbed the latch to the gate beside him and darted through, making Ami clench her fists in frustration before following him. The grass was soft beneath her bare feet, Zoicite was holding the pink stick behind him, and though she realized they were out front of his house, she didn't remember the bikini she had on. Until, of course . . .
"Hello, Mizuno," a familiar voice drawled and Ami whirled around, staring at the small group of boys in Zoicite's neighbor's yard. The boy who lived there, Billy Rosglas, had spoken, and Ami flushed, suddenly feeling much worse than naked. It was one thing to wear such a swimsuit in front of Zoicite, her old, dear friend who wouldn't tease her or think anything of it. It was quite another to wear it in front of the boy who had picked on her since the year she transferred to sixth grade in Juuban District.
The other boys with Rosglas didn't try to hide that their gazes settled in very inappropriate places.
Ami was so flushed, she felt she was going to be sick right there in the grass.
Until a strong, slim, tanned body moved in front of her, blocking her from sight. She had never been more glad that Zoicite was somewhat taller than her, and had never felt such fierce appreciation for the rude suggestion he made the boys.
Rosglas stepped forward angrily. "You wanna fight, Zoicite?"
"No," Zoicite replied curtly. "Because I don't think it's proper to fight in front of a lady. Perhaps another time."
Rosglas smirked. "That's just fine, but where's the lady? I just see some guys and a scrawny slut." He leaned forward on the last word, savoring it's crudity, and so was smirking when Zoicite went white and hit him. It was a good, hard hit, too, – in the face – and Ami knew Rosglas would have a nice shiny black eye tomorrow.
Zoicite was glaring down the other boy when he felt Ami catch his arm, her small voice pleading. "I want to go in now, Zoicite." When he didn't seem to move, she added, "Please" and he turned around, taking her almost roughly by the shoulders, and pushed her willing form back through the gate, shutting it firmly behind himself and locking it.
Neither spoke until they were in his room again, dressed and vaguely damp, the scent of chlorine permeating their skin and clothes.
Ami knelt by her books and started putting them back in her bag. "I don't know why he has to bother me all the time," she murmured, half to herself.
"Don't you?" Zoicite replied, as if surprised. He had been brooding to himself the whole time, but now came out of it to give her an odd look.
Ami cocked an eyebrow and tossed her hair, obviously thinking him asinine. "Because he's a big bully and always will be."
Zoicite chuckled and shook his head, sliding to sit on the floor beside her. "No, dear little Ami." He dug in the outer pocket of her school bag and produced a small compact, wiping the makeup dust from the mirror and holding it up for her to look into. "He does it because you're beautiful. Because he has a cow of a girlfriend and teasing you makes him feel better about it."
She shook her head and opened her mouth to protest, but Zoicite shushed her, turning to look at her. "Ami, those guys reacted exactly like anyone would to seeing a beautiful girl like you in a swimsuit like that. It was only natural." He frowned, heat flooding him again in anger and jealousy. "Not that I approve of the way they showed it."
Ami was still shaking her head. "You didn't react that way," she said pointedly.
Zoicite was silent for a moment, then took a deep, shaky breath. "Don't be too sure, Ami," he whispered, not looking at her. A blush had crept up his cheeks and he looked guilty.
She was a little stunned, but pushed the foreign idea away, shaking her head again with more certainty. "I don't believe it. I –"
"Ami, do me a favor," Zoicite interrupted in a muted voice. "Never wear that swimsuit again?"
She hadn't been planning on it anyway, but the fact that he wouldn't look at her stirred her curiosity. "Why?"
He paused, shaking a little, and then moved so that his lips were very close to her ear, still not looking at her, voice shaking as much as the rest of him. "It made me want to touch you," he said with too-careful pronunciation, and sat back again, watching the patch of floor between his feet with a somewhat fatalistic air. "Please don't wear that swimsuit again," he said, voice filled with some kind of soft pain.
"Okay," she whispered, ripping her eyes from him once she realized she was staring.
They sat like that, uncomfortably, until Gertrude banged on the door to say that dinner was ready.

She was brilliant.

Zoicite stood beside Ami as she gave their case, her voice smooth and controlled, and covertly checked out the other team. It was another boy-girl pairing, from the elitist private school, Crystal Sword, and though they looked like a fairly nice couple, the look in their eyes was far from friendly. There was a cool deliberation and a soaring confidence there that sent a chill down his spine. The girl was pretty – blue-eyed with a long sweep of wheat-blonde hair, and a slender, athletic body. The boy was tall, with silvery-white hair, brisk blue eyes, and deeply tanned skin. Everything about him screamed efficiency, from the way his shoes were shined to the way his hair dared not get mussed (perhaps for fear that he would glare at it).
Ami finished up and Zoicite glanced at her calm blue eyes, full of calculation as she measured the other team just like he had.
Yes, Ami was brilliant. They both were – but they still lost the debate.
They walked into the hallway together, dejected, and went to sit on a bench in an empty hallway. Most debates weren't finished yet so the halls were mostly empty anyway.
Ami sighed, elbows on her knees and chin cupped in her hands. She had such a forlorn look to her that Zoicite roused himself to cheering her. He rubbed his hand in circles on her back and smiled at her when she glanced up at him.
"It'll be okay."
She sighed and sat up, and he took his hand away. "I know. I just wish we had put up a little more of a fight. I think if we'd gotten out our –"
She stopped in shock because Zoicite had kissed her. "I don't care if we lost," he murmured. "I love you anyway."
Ami stared at him, startled, and he kissed her again, but she broke away quickly.
"What are you doing?" she exclaimed, standing up.
Zoicite looked uncertain. "I'm trying to tell you that I love you," he stammered, hurt by her reaction.
But Ami didn't have time to notice his hurt. Terror was pounding through her so hard she thought she would throw up, and she did the only thing she could think to – blinded by tears, like a startled doe, she fled.
Zoicite watched her go, wet heat pricking at his eyes.

Minako was talking softly to Kunzite in the quiet hallway when she saw their recent opponent come hurrying past them, crying. Not big sobs or howls, just trails of tears on her cheeks and sniffles. After a brief shared look of concern with Kunzite, she followed the girl down the hall and into the restrooms.

"Hey, knock knock," Minako said as she entered the girls' bathroom. The sniffling suddenly stopped and she heard the sound of a stall door shutting and locking. "Miss Mizuno?" she asked, remembering the name from their debate. "Are you okay?" She pecked on the stall door and could hear a sniffle from inside. "Come out for me, please?" she asked.
After a moment, the door opened and a wet, unhappy Ami stepped out, blowing her nose on some tissue paper. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, but she was still very pretty, Minako thought.
"You know, you guys put up a really good fight in the debate. I don't think I've ever had that much fun." She smiled, trying to get something out of the pretty blue-haired girl.
"Thank you," Ami replied politely, mopping her nose again.
Minako was silent for a moment, her smile faltering. "This isn't about losing the debate, is it?"
Ami didn't look at her. After a long minute, she spoke softly. "You know the boy I was debating with? Zoicite?" Minako nodded. "We've been best friends since we were six, and then he just had to go and . . . and ruin it!" she sobbed, body wracked with emotion.
Minako hugged her, concerned. When Ami calmed down, she asked, "What did he do?"
"He . . . he kissed me. And he told me he loved me."
Minako blinked. "That's all?"
Ami stared at her in horror. "That's all? Isn't that enough? I don't think about him like that and . . . and he knows that kind of thing terrifies me! I got asked out once and he laughed at me for breaking out in hives. Said I was allergic to love." She sniffed.
"Hives can be caused by stress," Minako said wisely, and Ami couldn't help herself – she giggled. Minako grinned at the sound. "Come on," she said. "We'll give you a ride home."

Ami didn't talk to Zoicite anymore. She avoided him at school and started hanging out with the blonde girl, Minako, from Crystal Sword, a lot more. So she soon found herself drawn into Minako's small group of friends. There was Usagi, a charmingly sweet and accident-prone girl who liked naps and manga more than anything. Rei of the fiery temper worked at her grandfather's temple as a priestess, and Makoto was tough, and the best cook on the planet. Minako and Usagi were the only ones with steady boyfriends.

Ami was becoming quite content in her little circle. It made her feel wanted and loved, and she had fun helping the other girls with their homework.
But still . . . she missed something of Zoicite's laughter and charm.
"Why did he have to do that?" she whispered one night, after crying herself out.

Zoicite found out about the death of Ami's dad of cancer secondhand and after the funeral was already over. It stung. To be without her, to know she was out there laughing without him, smiling at other people. To know she had gone to her father's funeral without him, crying without him there to hug her and tell her everything would be okay. That not only hurt his heart, but also his pride, and he couldn't help feeling a little resentment toward her through the pain.

Only days after he made that discovery, he went home, tired and still sore from the recent discovery, and was cornered by his mother and sister.
"What did you do to Ami?" his mother demanded, arms folded. She was a petite woman, but with a nasty backhand that kept her children from smarting off.
"Nothing," he muttered hollowly and moved to go upstairs, but his sister blocked the way. "Move, Gertty," he growled.
"No."
"What did you do, Zoicite?" his mother demanded. "What happened?"
"What makes you think anything happened?" he replied sullenly, not looking her in the eye.
"Because that girl has been coming over at least five times a week since she was six, and now I haven't seen her for a month. I want to know what happened."
Zoicite grit his teeth. He obviously wasn't getting upstairs until he said something. "I made her mad and she's not talking to me."
"Then apologize," his mother told him.
"It's not really something I can apologize for – look, can I go now?"
"No, not until you fix this. I want you to call her right now." She picked up the phone.
"I can't," he looked at the phone, not taking it.
"Yes, you can, and you will!" His mother was getting angry.
"No," Zoicite shook his head.
"Young man, you are going to take back whatever you said to her, right now."
He glared at his mother, gut twisting in the danger of the confrontation. "I can't take it back. It was the truth."
"I don't care," she said, glaring right back at him, her green eyes sparking. "Whatever it was isn't enough to ruin your friendship over. Now do it!" She shook the phone at him.
"NO!" Zoicite snatched the phone and threw it, hard, across the room.
His mother smacked him across the face. "Go pick it up," she grated, "and call Ami Mizuno. Tell her you were wrong and you're sorry. I don't care if it was the truth, Ami matters more than being right."
Zoicite's cheek stung, but he wouldn't back down. "No."
"You're so damn stubborn! Why can't you take whatever you said back?!"
"Because it's the truth! I do love her!"
Silence. His mother stood there, stunned, something dawning on her face. Zoicite's eyes were filled with tears and he turned away, barreling past his sister and up the stairs to his room.
In the living room, two women shared a startled look.

Ami looked at the papers she was filling out, slightly wistful. She and Zoicite had always planned on going to college together at Tokyo University, but Minako had talked her into a great medical college in England. Ami was going to be a pediatrician, and she wanted to be the best one ever.

She smiled a little, thinking about her future career instead of her old friend.