TITLE: "Christmas Dreams" (Chap. 1)
AUTHOR: Dream Catcher
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Sailor Moon
A.N.: Chapter one is finally here. I got a little frustrated at this story. I was up to 12 pages when I realized I didn't like how the story was going. I originally had Darien saving Serena from a mugger/rapist type of guy, but then I realized that was used too much. Plus when I did this I didn't make Serena traumatized enough. So I erased 8 pages of this story and rewrote them. I hope you like this because in my opinion it is. I hope this idea isn't use dot much, if it is I haven't read any like this. I love reviewers! Oh, and please excuse any spelling/grammatical errors. Well, on with the story.
Chapter One
The college freshman sat on the park bench, staring at the surface of the frozen lake. The sun had gone down over an hour ago, but the idea of going home, didn't appeal to him. Instead, he watched the snow fall around him and cover the ground in a soft white blanket. The moon and a few distant streetlights were the only sources of light, but the shadowiness of the scene made everything seem more serene.
He wore no gloves or hat, but he was completely numb to the cold. He felt nothing, just like he wanted. He didn't want to think; he just wanted to be alone. But try as he might, thoughts still penetrated his mind, destroying the peace he had tried so hard to achieve.
His eyes drifted to the Christmas lights that were filtering through the trees that lined the park's edge. He saw the shadowed forms of people as they walked down the shop-lined streets, heading home to their families after a busy day of shopping. The thought sickened him.
In previous years he had been just like them. He would go to the mall and spend tones of money on his friends, and then he would decorate a Christmas tree with his family while listening to Christmas songs. But, this year was different.
Before a week ago, he had thought it would be another Christmas spent with his family. The only difference: this year he would have been coming home from his first year in college. But, how wrong he was.
But it wouldn't be the same this year, and it never would be the same again.
A week ago, his father surprised him by paying him a visit while in between exams. The idea of his father driving forty miles to his college just for lunch, had surprised and delighted him.
The restaurant had been classy, only the best for his father. Voices were hushed in the realm of the upper class. Wine was served instead of water, unless you were under aged. Silverware was rolled inside cloth napkins and placed impeccably beside porcelain plates. The atmosphere was anything but relaxed, and even though he had grown up in that kind of environment, he still wasn't at ease.
"Darien," his father had started, "your mother and I are getting a divorce." His father was always straight to the point; there was no beating around the bush for him. "Darien, I know you're going to want to voice your opinions, but frankly speaking, Darien, I don't care what you have to say. This is between me and your mother."
The hell it isn't, Darien had thought. This is as much my problem as it is yours. He briefly wondered whose idea the divorce had been, but as he stared across the table, he had a damn good idea whose fault it was. There was no way he could be related to the man across from him; they were worlds apart.
"Anyway," his father had continued, "I'd like to spend Christmas this year with you at my new apartment, along with Kristy."
"Whose Kristy?" Darien had asked calmly, his face as mask even though he was boiling under the surface, ready to explode.
"You know Kristy. She was the woman your mother and I hired to redecorate the living room a few years ago."
Oh, Darien remembered Kristy all right. She was the whore who had flirted with his father the whole time she was at their house decorating. She was young enough to be his sister, and to him, ugly enough to be the main event in a freak show. Her dresses were too low and too short. She had repulsed Darien, and the witch had suckered his mother into paying top price for an inadequate decorating job.
Darien wondered how long his father had been fucking her before he had decided to get a divorce from his wife.
Darien had to grip the underside of the table to keep himself from punching his father, no matter how much he wanted to do it. It was neither the time nor the place.
"You asshole," Darien hissed across the table to his father.
Richard Shields had looked across the table to his son, eyes narrowed. "Don't you dare make a scene here, boy. You hear me?"
"I hear you loud and clear, father. But I do have one question; how long have you been fucking Kristy?"
Richard's eyes narrowed even more when Darien asked the question. Why had he had such an undisciplined child? Elizabeth should have controlled their son better. Richard wanted to claim that his wife had an affair and that Darien wasn't his, but there was no denying the fact Darien was in fact his. They were both head strong, and indisputably handsome.
Good looks ran in the Shields' family, and Darien had most defiantly inherited the family's dashing good looks. The strong jaw, the broad shoulders, the dark hair, he had gotten from his father. But, the piercing blue eyes had come from his mother Elizabeth. Richard hated to look into those eyes, and because of that, Darien was the only person able to unnerve him.
"How long I have been with Kristy, is one of your business," Richard said, calmly opening his menu, signaling the discussion was over.
Although Darien didn't get a straight answer, he could tell by the evasiveness of the answer he had received, that the affair had been going on for a while. He wondered if his mother knew or not. Or, did his father just hand her the divorce papers, said it was over, and have her sign them.
Darien looked at his father, who sat nonchalantly in his chair, skimming over the menu. It was enough to send him over the edge.
"You asshole," Darien yelled, abruptly standing from his chair. He continued, his voice rising with every word. "How dare you tell me that you're getting a divorce from Mom and then ask me to spend Christmas with your and your whore. You deserve that bitch. Mom is too good for you. She always has been, and she always will be. I hope you go to hell."
Darien stiffly turned away from the table and headed towards the door, ignoring the stares. But after taking two steps, he turned around to face his father again. "Merry Christmas," he spat before hurrying to the door of the restaurant. It wasn't until he was a block away from the restaurant that he has realized his hands were shaking.
Darien continued to stare at the lake, wishing the memories would stop plaguing him.
What a fine Christmas I'll have this year, he sarcastically thought while getting up from the bench.
He looked at the snow-covered ground, and the thought of making footprints in the perfect snow, was almost saddening to him. But then again, nothing perfect ever lasted forever.
He headed in the direction of his apartment, wishing the dream would end, but he knew it wasn't a dream. Not even a nightmare could be this bad.
Christmas was less than a week away, and Serena had finally gotten all her gifts. Her hands were full of bags that were jam-packed with presents. She had spent most of her money, but she still had enough to use on a rainy day.
Serena walked along the busy sidewalk, glancing every now and again inside a store that seemed interesting. People jostled around her, some on their way home and others trying to get into a nearby store. It seemed the chaos would never end.
She glanced in a bakery as she passed by. Inside a mother was buying her small daughter a treat. Serena wondered what their Christmas would be like. Would that little girl get everything she wanted? Did the child have a father and siblings, or was she an only child and her mother a single parent?
She often wondered what it would be like to be someone else, to experience someone else's life. She also wondered what it would be like to look at herself from someone else's eyes. Did they think the same things she did? How different were people really?
She shook herself from the thoughts and glanced at her watch; it was seven thirty. She had missed dinner, she realized sadly. Her stomach grumbled in complaint. The idea of finding a McDonald's and getting a hamburger was appealing, but she knew she had better get home.
There would be some leftovers in the microwave waiting for her when she got home. She could almost smell the baked chicken and mashed potatoes. Maybe her mother had even made the cookies she had talked about making.
"Oh, crap," she said to herself out loud.
Her mother had wanted her to get milk on the way home so she could make the cookies. Naturally Serena had forgotten. She cursed herself for her forgetfulness, while glancing around her for a place she could buy the milk.
A dingy service station was the only place she could find that looked as if it could serve her purpose. She crossed the parking lot, her feet sloshing in the dirty half melted snow. She eyed the store wearily, taking in the cheap colored Christmas lights lining the door and the once-white bricks that made the outside walls of the building. When she opened the door, the smell of cigarette smoke penetrated her senses, making her choke.
The attendant behind the counter glanced up when he heard the bell above the door jingle, and after his brief assessment of her, he returned to smoking his cigarette and watching the small TV he kept near the counter.
Serena weaved her way through the narrow aisles browsing at the items. She barely noticed the faint jangling of the bell signaling another customer, as she opened the refrigerator to get a gallon of milk. She made her way back to the counter, milk in hand.
At the counter, the attendant was still reclined back in his chair watching as the Grinch took down a Christmas tree.
Serena cleared her throat in attempt to get the man's attention. It didn't work. She sat the gallon of milk on the counter in front of her.
"Um, excuse me," she said, timidly.
The man behind the counter continued to watch the movie, and Serena sighed in annoyance. All she wanted to do was buy some milk and then be on her way home. This was not how she wanted to spend what was left of her Saturday night. She began to wonder if she should just lay the money on the counter and split. But knowing her luck, the guy would actually notice her for once and call the police, claiming she was shoplifting.
Serena barely noticed the presence behind her when she said to the attendant, her frustration apparent, "Excuse me."
Darien leaned against the counter, deciding to let the blond girl get the attendants attention. He was already berating himself for almost forgetting to get milk. He knew that if he forgotten, tomorrow his morning would have been hell. To him, coffee just wasn't coffee without milk. No milk equaled no coffee. No coffee equaled a very mad Darien.
He was only a block away from his apartment, and if it hadn't been for this service, station he would have been screwed.
The bell above the door jingled again, and entered a homely looking man. The attendant heard the bell, and when he looked up he finally noticed the haggard looking blond at the counter.
But Darien's attention was drawn to the newest customer, not the blond or the attendant.
The man's clothes were dirty. His shirt had holes and was caked with mud, and his paints darned oil stains. His long hair and beard were in bad need of a comb and wash. His skin was dirty and wrinkled. All in all, he looked at though he had spent the night in the gutter.
But the thing that captured Darien's attention most about the man was the nine-millimeter (A handgun for those of you who don't know) he held at his waist, pointed at the blond girl's back.
Both the attendant and the blond girl were oblivious to the man and his weapon.
Darien's blood froze, and time seemed to slow down.
The only sound Darien heard was his heartbeat that seemed to be pounding in his head.
"Nooooo."
Then there was a gunshot and an eerie silence.
TO BE CONTIUED
A.N.: *cackles evilly* I bet there are a lot of people out there who want to hurt me. But tell you what, the more reviews I get, the quicker I write and post the next chapter. Fair trade? But until then, you can check out my other stories, that is, if you haven't already.
AUTHOR: Dream Catcher
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Sailor Moon
A.N.: Chapter one is finally here. I got a little frustrated at this story. I was up to 12 pages when I realized I didn't like how the story was going. I originally had Darien saving Serena from a mugger/rapist type of guy, but then I realized that was used too much. Plus when I did this I didn't make Serena traumatized enough. So I erased 8 pages of this story and rewrote them. I hope you like this because in my opinion it is. I hope this idea isn't use dot much, if it is I haven't read any like this. I love reviewers! Oh, and please excuse any spelling/grammatical errors. Well, on with the story.
Chapter One
The college freshman sat on the park bench, staring at the surface of the frozen lake. The sun had gone down over an hour ago, but the idea of going home, didn't appeal to him. Instead, he watched the snow fall around him and cover the ground in a soft white blanket. The moon and a few distant streetlights were the only sources of light, but the shadowiness of the scene made everything seem more serene.
He wore no gloves or hat, but he was completely numb to the cold. He felt nothing, just like he wanted. He didn't want to think; he just wanted to be alone. But try as he might, thoughts still penetrated his mind, destroying the peace he had tried so hard to achieve.
His eyes drifted to the Christmas lights that were filtering through the trees that lined the park's edge. He saw the shadowed forms of people as they walked down the shop-lined streets, heading home to their families after a busy day of shopping. The thought sickened him.
In previous years he had been just like them. He would go to the mall and spend tones of money on his friends, and then he would decorate a Christmas tree with his family while listening to Christmas songs. But, this year was different.
Before a week ago, he had thought it would be another Christmas spent with his family. The only difference: this year he would have been coming home from his first year in college. But, how wrong he was.
But it wouldn't be the same this year, and it never would be the same again.
A week ago, his father surprised him by paying him a visit while in between exams. The idea of his father driving forty miles to his college just for lunch, had surprised and delighted him.
The restaurant had been classy, only the best for his father. Voices were hushed in the realm of the upper class. Wine was served instead of water, unless you were under aged. Silverware was rolled inside cloth napkins and placed impeccably beside porcelain plates. The atmosphere was anything but relaxed, and even though he had grown up in that kind of environment, he still wasn't at ease.
"Darien," his father had started, "your mother and I are getting a divorce." His father was always straight to the point; there was no beating around the bush for him. "Darien, I know you're going to want to voice your opinions, but frankly speaking, Darien, I don't care what you have to say. This is between me and your mother."
The hell it isn't, Darien had thought. This is as much my problem as it is yours. He briefly wondered whose idea the divorce had been, but as he stared across the table, he had a damn good idea whose fault it was. There was no way he could be related to the man across from him; they were worlds apart.
"Anyway," his father had continued, "I'd like to spend Christmas this year with you at my new apartment, along with Kristy."
"Whose Kristy?" Darien had asked calmly, his face as mask even though he was boiling under the surface, ready to explode.
"You know Kristy. She was the woman your mother and I hired to redecorate the living room a few years ago."
Oh, Darien remembered Kristy all right. She was the whore who had flirted with his father the whole time she was at their house decorating. She was young enough to be his sister, and to him, ugly enough to be the main event in a freak show. Her dresses were too low and too short. She had repulsed Darien, and the witch had suckered his mother into paying top price for an inadequate decorating job.
Darien wondered how long his father had been fucking her before he had decided to get a divorce from his wife.
Darien had to grip the underside of the table to keep himself from punching his father, no matter how much he wanted to do it. It was neither the time nor the place.
"You asshole," Darien hissed across the table to his father.
Richard Shields had looked across the table to his son, eyes narrowed. "Don't you dare make a scene here, boy. You hear me?"
"I hear you loud and clear, father. But I do have one question; how long have you been fucking Kristy?"
Richard's eyes narrowed even more when Darien asked the question. Why had he had such an undisciplined child? Elizabeth should have controlled their son better. Richard wanted to claim that his wife had an affair and that Darien wasn't his, but there was no denying the fact Darien was in fact his. They were both head strong, and indisputably handsome.
Good looks ran in the Shields' family, and Darien had most defiantly inherited the family's dashing good looks. The strong jaw, the broad shoulders, the dark hair, he had gotten from his father. But, the piercing blue eyes had come from his mother Elizabeth. Richard hated to look into those eyes, and because of that, Darien was the only person able to unnerve him.
"How long I have been with Kristy, is one of your business," Richard said, calmly opening his menu, signaling the discussion was over.
Although Darien didn't get a straight answer, he could tell by the evasiveness of the answer he had received, that the affair had been going on for a while. He wondered if his mother knew or not. Or, did his father just hand her the divorce papers, said it was over, and have her sign them.
Darien looked at his father, who sat nonchalantly in his chair, skimming over the menu. It was enough to send him over the edge.
"You asshole," Darien yelled, abruptly standing from his chair. He continued, his voice rising with every word. "How dare you tell me that you're getting a divorce from Mom and then ask me to spend Christmas with your and your whore. You deserve that bitch. Mom is too good for you. She always has been, and she always will be. I hope you go to hell."
Darien stiffly turned away from the table and headed towards the door, ignoring the stares. But after taking two steps, he turned around to face his father again. "Merry Christmas," he spat before hurrying to the door of the restaurant. It wasn't until he was a block away from the restaurant that he has realized his hands were shaking.
Darien continued to stare at the lake, wishing the memories would stop plaguing him.
What a fine Christmas I'll have this year, he sarcastically thought while getting up from the bench.
He looked at the snow-covered ground, and the thought of making footprints in the perfect snow, was almost saddening to him. But then again, nothing perfect ever lasted forever.
He headed in the direction of his apartment, wishing the dream would end, but he knew it wasn't a dream. Not even a nightmare could be this bad.
Christmas was less than a week away, and Serena had finally gotten all her gifts. Her hands were full of bags that were jam-packed with presents. She had spent most of her money, but she still had enough to use on a rainy day.
Serena walked along the busy sidewalk, glancing every now and again inside a store that seemed interesting. People jostled around her, some on their way home and others trying to get into a nearby store. It seemed the chaos would never end.
She glanced in a bakery as she passed by. Inside a mother was buying her small daughter a treat. Serena wondered what their Christmas would be like. Would that little girl get everything she wanted? Did the child have a father and siblings, or was she an only child and her mother a single parent?
She often wondered what it would be like to be someone else, to experience someone else's life. She also wondered what it would be like to look at herself from someone else's eyes. Did they think the same things she did? How different were people really?
She shook herself from the thoughts and glanced at her watch; it was seven thirty. She had missed dinner, she realized sadly. Her stomach grumbled in complaint. The idea of finding a McDonald's and getting a hamburger was appealing, but she knew she had better get home.
There would be some leftovers in the microwave waiting for her when she got home. She could almost smell the baked chicken and mashed potatoes. Maybe her mother had even made the cookies she had talked about making.
"Oh, crap," she said to herself out loud.
Her mother had wanted her to get milk on the way home so she could make the cookies. Naturally Serena had forgotten. She cursed herself for her forgetfulness, while glancing around her for a place she could buy the milk.
A dingy service station was the only place she could find that looked as if it could serve her purpose. She crossed the parking lot, her feet sloshing in the dirty half melted snow. She eyed the store wearily, taking in the cheap colored Christmas lights lining the door and the once-white bricks that made the outside walls of the building. When she opened the door, the smell of cigarette smoke penetrated her senses, making her choke.
The attendant behind the counter glanced up when he heard the bell above the door jingle, and after his brief assessment of her, he returned to smoking his cigarette and watching the small TV he kept near the counter.
Serena weaved her way through the narrow aisles browsing at the items. She barely noticed the faint jangling of the bell signaling another customer, as she opened the refrigerator to get a gallon of milk. She made her way back to the counter, milk in hand.
At the counter, the attendant was still reclined back in his chair watching as the Grinch took down a Christmas tree.
Serena cleared her throat in attempt to get the man's attention. It didn't work. She sat the gallon of milk on the counter in front of her.
"Um, excuse me," she said, timidly.
The man behind the counter continued to watch the movie, and Serena sighed in annoyance. All she wanted to do was buy some milk and then be on her way home. This was not how she wanted to spend what was left of her Saturday night. She began to wonder if she should just lay the money on the counter and split. But knowing her luck, the guy would actually notice her for once and call the police, claiming she was shoplifting.
Serena barely noticed the presence behind her when she said to the attendant, her frustration apparent, "Excuse me."
Darien leaned against the counter, deciding to let the blond girl get the attendants attention. He was already berating himself for almost forgetting to get milk. He knew that if he forgotten, tomorrow his morning would have been hell. To him, coffee just wasn't coffee without milk. No milk equaled no coffee. No coffee equaled a very mad Darien.
He was only a block away from his apartment, and if it hadn't been for this service, station he would have been screwed.
The bell above the door jingled again, and entered a homely looking man. The attendant heard the bell, and when he looked up he finally noticed the haggard looking blond at the counter.
But Darien's attention was drawn to the newest customer, not the blond or the attendant.
The man's clothes were dirty. His shirt had holes and was caked with mud, and his paints darned oil stains. His long hair and beard were in bad need of a comb and wash. His skin was dirty and wrinkled. All in all, he looked at though he had spent the night in the gutter.
But the thing that captured Darien's attention most about the man was the nine-millimeter (A handgun for those of you who don't know) he held at his waist, pointed at the blond girl's back.
Both the attendant and the blond girl were oblivious to the man and his weapon.
Darien's blood froze, and time seemed to slow down.
The only sound Darien heard was his heartbeat that seemed to be pounding in his head.
"Nooooo."
Then there was a gunshot and an eerie silence.
TO BE CONTIUED
A.N.: *cackles evilly* I bet there are a lot of people out there who want to hurt me. But tell you what, the more reviews I get, the quicker I write and post the next chapter. Fair trade? But until then, you can check out my other stories, that is, if you haven't already.