What happened? I skipped a day?! *shakes fist* Oh, the inhumanity! Hopefully this chapter makes up for it.

This weekend promises to be a busy one, so I'm afraid that the missed daily updates will become more common, at least for a time.

Over fifty reviews! Woo-hoo! Am I pathetic? Yes . . . yes I am. I'd like do something, though, to thank you all. What the heck, let's have a vote: who would like me to (a) write a little one-shot of Serenity/Demando or (b) try to draw a picture of Serenity and Demando together? Or if anyone has any better ideas let me know.

Note: Thanks to kula who informed me that the song in chapter nine is entitled "She Says" by Howie Day.

Chapter 12

Part I

It was worse than being betrayed. Eerily calm, Serenity retreated from the window and stood dumbly. So. All this time she had been so close to her home and not even known it.

"Serenity-hime," Petz muttered, approaching apologetically. Saffir was on her heels.

The Princess was frighteningly silent, staring at the brilliant moon through the window. "Where is he?" she asked calmly.

Saffir hesitated. "He – he's still sleeping; he had a long night."

Serenity nodded, though not in sympathy. Then, without so much as a goodbye, she left them, gliding away, a gaunt specter in the lovely morning.

Petz clung fearfully to her husband in a rare display of pure concern. "Oh, Saffir," she whispered. "You have to tell him, he must! – he must set the angel free . . ."

Serenity walked decisively down the hall and through the now brilliantly lit sitting room; through another door, down the private balcony corridor and to Demando's bedchamber. She flung the doors open intrusively, not even hesitating.

Demando's sleeping form lay peacefully beneath the white covers, but jumped at the sound of the doors crashing open. His eyes squinted, making out the darkened form of the small woman enveloped by the strange silver light. He sat up, slowly. He knew it was her. He looked out past her curiously to the sky beyond. The gargantuan Moon was painfully beautiful and out of place in the Nemesian firmament. Demando moved his legs over the side of the bed. He gazed at her, waiting. He had dreaded this day, and yet he knew it would come.

She came at him, swiftly, the deadly calm of her wrath so out of character he knew he had sinned against a holy creature. He rose as she neared him, stopping so close to him. Her physical proximity even now was unbearable, but emotionally they were terribly distanced by the wide gaping chasm of pain.

"You," the way she spat it made him wince – hateful and full of malice. "You deceived me. You knew I longed for my home! You knew that I missed my loved ones! All this time, all this time . . . I thought they had not come for me! But it was you! You did this! How could you, how could you?!" Her voice rose higher and higher until it was a shrill, piercing sound cutting straight through his soul.

"I wanted to tell you . . ." but somehow he knew he could never find the right words or offer a good enough excuse. "I truly wanted to –."

"No! What have you done?! Where are they?!"

"They are there. They are safe. They simply do not know where we are."

She shook her head furiously. The tears were hot and angry. "I cried at night. I worried for them. I thought they had forsaken me!"

"No," he tried to touch her upper arms, but she shook off his hold violently, pushing him, beating at him, though he was too massive for her to move.

Sobs racked her small frame. "You don't understand. You don't care! If you cared you would not have done this. All this time . . . I've been so close. How could you?! . . . You're no better than a liar."

She watched with a sickening satisfaction how she verbally wounded him. His breathing became shaky and shallow, his eyes screamed of pain. His was trembling ever-so-vaguely. She knew then how she could fight him – she realized the power she had over him. She could hurt him. She could hurt him like he had hurt her.

She spoke the words carefully, clearly, one by one so he could not mistake them. Cruelly, lowly, she hissed. "I – hate – you." She spat them out like venom – she knew they were poison.

Then the wrathful face burned into horror as she realized what she had said.

Demando could only do one thing to save himself from being shattered – he steeled himself against her, reverted back to the monster he was before; before she had changed him. He took back his own.

"Ask me if I care."

She was taken aback. She had expected to hurt him. Instead, the curse had reverberated, ricocheted off him and embedded itself into her. She tried to reach out with her connection, feel her way through his mind in his eyes, but, for the first time in over a year, he denied her access. His soul was barred from her, his face cold, passive – a perfect ice sculpture. Why were they doing this to each other? She wanted to scream it out, but it was too late. This challenge she had initiated was snowballing, and she could do nothing to stop it. He was already gone.

Serenity, horrified, clamped her hands over her mouth in an attempt to keep herself from crying out in a heart-wrenching sob.

Demando continued, all emotion vanished, as though it had never existed. "You think I care if you love me or not? I don't give a damn. I have you. I possess you. That's all I ever wanted." Lies, all lies; he lied so easily. "I never loved you."

He crushed her very being.

Serenity choked on her own suppressed sobs as though suffocating. She couldn't breathe. Backing away from him, she turned and flew out of the room, running blindly.

Demando went to the balcony, leaned over it; his body wretched, trying to rid himself of the cursed, treacherous lies.

* * *

How she made it through their barriers and how she was even aware of their existence, they did not know. They thought at first to kill the fey creature, but she held up her glittering staff with authority and somehow they knew that if they dared attack her they would perish.

"Who are you?" they breathed.

"I am the Guardian of Time. Take me to your prince."

So they did.

The Guardian regarded the tall, ghostly man with a hardened eye. He looked ill and listless. How could this be the powerful fearsome White Prince?

"I am the Guardian of Time," she told him abruptly, "but you may call me Pluto."

The man nodded, uninterested.

But the somber warrior demanded attention. "I do not assume that you know why I've come."

"No," he said, with a voice far away. "I know nothing."

"Do you now?" she arched a thin eyebrow. "I disagree. You know something . . . you know that the Silver Millennium is under attack by a powerful, malevolent force under an evil spirit. I believe, too, you also know that the Moon Kingdom is losing to it, and quickly."

"And what concern is it of mine?"

"Plenty," Pluto said curtly. "If the Moon Kingdom fails, all else fails. But that is not why I've come – well, not specifically."

"Then why are you here?" He did not mean to be rude, but was only tired and worried about things far more important to him.

She looked him dead in the eye. "I am here to retrieve the Princess."

He grew still and focused. His cool lavender eyes slanted dangerously. "Who are you?"

"I've already told you. I am Sailor Pluto, the Guardian of Time."

"Guardian? Huh," he snorted. "Then you should know better than to interfere."

"You are wise, Prince. But I'm afraid that this is an exception. In a way, the entire fate of the universe rests in this battle."

"And what does the Princess Serenity have to do with it?"

"She is the heart of her people – the wielder of the ginzuishou. Without her, there is no victory."

The beautifully tragic man scowled. "I care nothing of your Silver Millennium – let it rot in hell. The Princess is mine."

"No," her voice was severe and shrill. "She is not yours. She belongs to herself, and to her people."

It surprised the Guardian when the Prince's hard features melted in recognition. He knew, within himself, that she was right. "I – how can I trust you?" he asked warily. "How can I trust that you won't take her and then destroy us?"

"I have not even now exposed your location to a single soul. But if by some means you were discovered, the Moon Kingdom will swear an oath not to attack you, as long as you keep your distance and do not threaten it . . . The Queen herself sends a special message. She will not hold against you any of your sins if you return to her her child and heir."

He turned away from her searching, scrutinizing eyes. "I will think about it."

"Do not think too long, Prince Demando. For if you do fail to give up your abducted queen, the Moon will fall. However, I will not force you. This is not within my power. I have already overstepped my boundaries." She gazed intently at him, adding, "You love her, do you not?"

Demando returned the gaze sharply. "The word love is not sufficient enough to describe what she is to me."

Pluto made no outward sign, for in practice she was as stoic as the Prince. But inwardly, she registered the sincerity and intensity in his eyes. "The Prince should keep this in mind while making his decision."

The Prince furrowed his eyebrows mournfully.

She bowed deeply to him and left.

* * *

Alone under the pomegranate tree in the walled garden, Serenity hugged herself, rocking back and forth, back and forth, and weeping. It was freezing cold. She would not go inside, and she would not eat. Not even Beruche could coax the scarred Princess inside.

So, at last, they left her be, wrapping her up in warm cloaks as best they could, and went to Demando telling him how she refused to cooperate. But Demando seemingly did nothing.

At last, Saffir went to him. "Your angel is freezing herself in the garden, Onii-chan."

There was no reply.

"Who was that who came to you? That beautiful, long-haired woman?"

"It was no one, no one important."

"Onii-chan . . . she knows. The Princess knows. How much longer can you keep her here, a captive songbird in this drab, lifeless cage?"

Demando finally looked at him, his sad, infinite eyes pleading. "Have I been wrong all this time?"

"I don't know, but I do know you meant well."

"That's not enough."

"No, it's not."

"It's not fair."

"No, it isn't."

" . . . I love her . . ."

"Yes. You do."

"Saffir," he whispered, "what should I do now?"

" . . . Only you can make that decision."

So he did.

* * *

The silvery moon had altered its position in the Nemesian sky since the morning. Now dusk was upon them, bringing darkness on and an ever-colder chill. Still, the Princess waited.

When Prince Demando came, she was huddled up in a little ball for warmth beneath the misplaced pomegranate tree. She was that tree: beautiful, but misplaced. He had been thinking about what she'd taught him. How meaningful was it if he did not live what he'd been taught?

She didn't look up at him, so he knelt on one knee and lifted her chin delicately in his hand. Streaks of tears stained her ice-cold face, her eyes glassy. Oh, what had he done? He had never felt sorrier. But she did not look on him with contempt, only sadness. The tears generated themselves anew as he gazed at her.

"You do know I lied to you when I said I'd never loved you?"

Tears squeezed out and she pressed her lips together in agony. "I – I thought – I mean, I hoped, but . . . you sounded so sincere." Her voice fell into a whisper.

"No." He bore into her eyes, trying to make her understand. "No one has ever meant so much to me as you do. You're right. I am a liar."

"So am I . . . I said I hated you. It was a lie."

He dropped his hand. She would meet his eyes on her own now. "I'm sorry," he said in earnest, "that I made you lie."

"It wasn't you. I wanted to hurt you. It was wrong. Oh Kami, I'm the one who's sorry!" She buried her face in her hands in shame.

"We both are." He made that clear, and that was that. "Let's not lie to each other more."

She nodded her assent silently. It was a promise.

Moments went by in heavy silence.

"I've been wrong . . ." he started to speak slowly. He was thinking carefully of how to say it. "All this time, I – I thought love was an exchange. I thought that if I gave you my love, you should have to give me yours. Of all the things that you taught me, I should have known better. There are no excuses. And you tried to tell me, didn't you? That love is not an exchange? Not an exchange . . . but a gift."

She brought her eyes from her hands to look at him, both surprised and oddly pleased at his revelation.

He was calm and sorrowful. "But I didn't understand, or else I refused to listen." His eyes sharpened and pleaded with her, nearing hysteria "Please, Serenity, please; you must forgive me!" He looked as though he would break if she said no. And it slowly registered with her that it was the first time he had ever used her name directly.

Trembling, "I forgive you."

He settled back down, calm once more, releasing his breath in a slow, steady exhale. Taking her hand in his own, he brought it to his lips and kissed the back of it lightly, then caressed her palm against his cheek tenderly.

"I wish to give you this one gift, then." He paused, drawing in his breath. To bear his soul now was to risk death. He went forward courageously, " . . . Please . . . won't you allow me to love you? I ask for nothing in return. That would be wrong. Love is a gift, and I know that now. It's the best gift, the only gift I have to offer you – if you'll have it. Serenity . . . won't you take my gift?"

Once more, she felt in him that he had every intention of giving up living on that very spot if she'd said no. But Serenity could not say no. He was asking permission to love her; he wanted her to take the love he offered, but he demanded nothing in return. It was truly selfless. It was real. It was love. He loved her, and she had taught him how.

Somehow, she was able to tell her head to nod, though she could not order her lips to move.

He sighed contentedly, closed his eyes, rested his head into her palm for a moment of comfort. Then reluctantly, with a great effort, he brought her hand back down and placed it in her lap. He leaned forward and kissed her chastely, softly on the corner of her mouth. He didn't linger. Gracefully, in one fluid movement, he rose and walked away, leaving her alone in the walled garden. He would not force her to come in. She would when she was ready.

Serenity burst out into fresh sobs, but he was gone.

Kami. How she loved him.

Part II

In the middle of the night, all was silent. The palace was asleep. Serenity battled within herself, her heart against her mind. But the decision was made in an instant. At then end of her struggle, she knew what had to be. The White Prince, nor any other being in the universe, had not the power to declare void what two souls had already joined. It would have been useless; what's more, it would have been wrong for her to deny it.

Leaving the garden, she went up through the door and down the windowed wing; out onto the balcony she found him there, gazing into the sky, but not seeing. He saw her and waited, unsuspecting. She hesitated only for an instant before throwing herself into his arms, burying her face into his white sleeping garment. She knew he'd be awake.

He straightened uncomfortably, unused to her deliberate touch and attention. Then he carefully wrapped his arms around her, reciprocating with an equally tight embrace.

"I accept your precious, beloved gift although, although – I'm terribly unworthy!" she cried, voice muffled in his chest. "And," she lifted her face so she could look into his eyes. Somehow she knew he would not believe unless he read it in her soul. "I humbly offer my own in return."

The warmth surrounded them and lifted them up. The night was bitterly cold, but they did not notice it.

* * *

Behind the locked door, the large two stories high chamber room opened up before them. The moonlight from her dear home drifted in through the sheer-curtained windows and built-in skylights in the yawning ceiling.

Serenity returned from the door and approached him once more, reclaimed his hand, and continued leading him, walking slowly backwards toward the large canopied bed. The bed sheets were still perfectly made, an indication that he hadn't slept at all that night. She stopped directly in front of the foot of the bed, still facing him. Moonlight glided in through the skylight, enveloping her and making her look like a glowing divinity or an apparition of light. Then she took his hands in her own, each hand finding a partner, fingertips facing upwards in a hopeless entanglement.

All this time he watched her with silent, almost reverent admiration. Now Serenity, still holding his hands, glided forward and up, tilting her head in order to meet his mouth with her own. At first he didn't move, but allowed her to kiss him in her innocent naïveté before leaning into her and deepening their contact. Even still there was a slight space between them, separating them from complete bodily contact. He did not try to cross this voluntary barrier just yet.

She was unused to this amount of intensity. At first she squirmed, but when he didn't let up, she settled into his mouth, letting it leisurely caress her own. This went on for a minute or so until, by example, she learned how to reciprocate.

This effort pleased him infinitely. So in his characteristic way, he did the last thing one would expect. He pulled away, and simply looked at her.

She had forgotten their hands were still entwined, until he pulled his out of her grasp. They came up instead to rest on her soft bare shoulders. He smoothed his hands over these, catching and pulling away the narrow sleeves of her nightgown as if in an afterthought. They continued on a trail over the tops of her shoulders and down the length of her arms, bringing the thin nightgown along with them. By the time he reached her elbows, the dress slipped away through his fingers of its own accord, dropping to her ankles. He did not try to hold it up. She was completely naked in front of him.

He studied her in the moonlight, gravely, the way an artist will tenderly scrutinize his most perfect and beloved sculpture, his gaze visibly making her blush. (He thought for an instant that perhaps she was too perfect, too sacred for him. But her eyes told him that this was what she wanted, and his heart swelled to realize it.) Then he lifted his hands once more and traced over her shoulders, starting near the base of the neck and stopping when the shoulders rounded over into her arms. He liked the touch of her on his fingertips.

She liked the touch of his fingertips. They were gentle, not probing, and warm, leaving tingling trails over her skin wherever they went.

He touched the front of her then, palms out and upward as if in prayer, stroking out to eventually return to the familiar, chaste territory of her shoulders (he didn't wish to scare her by rushing), but always in the same tender, languid way.

She shivered and he asked, concern edged in his voice, "Are you afraid?"

She looked into his violet eyes, dyed a deeper shade by the nighttime shadows. Afraid? How could she be afraid?

"No." She spoke softly, but confidently.

She wanted to love him – she had finally realized that.

He kissed her lightly, hands still resting on her shoulder blades.

Then she added, "I'm a virgin."

"I know." He did.

"Are you?"

"Am I what? Afraid?"

"No . . . a virgin?"

He nodded silently.

Her midnight eyes widened at him, her eyebrows arched upwards in pleasant surprise.

His own eyebrows rose back at her as if in their defense. Solemnly, like he was with all things, "Did you think that when I said I've only ever loved you I didn't mean it?"

She shook her head. "No, I don't know what I thought . . . but I'm glad."

She moved to lift off his shirt. He let her undress him noiselessly. He didn't help her at all, except to move his limbs when needed, but reveled in the feel of her touch, as she had in his.

Even after all this, they had not yet embraced. He was determined that it should be her that come to him. He had taken her from her home without her consent, and he was decided never to take her like that again.

He had more self-control than the average man, to say the least. How he longed to reach out and clasp her to himself with every fiber - physical and emotional - in his being!

But his nine-month long patience was rewarded as she finally reached out to him, taking his subtly muscled arms and wrapping them about herself, then putting her own slender arms around his back. Their forms fit together like two pieces of a puzzle, like the crescent moon and the gibbous moon would if they were ever to meet in the earthen night sky, he arching slightly over her, and she arching up to him. Their noses touched, eyelashes close enough to brush each others' cheeks, but they didn't kiss again – not yet.

With a soft cry her legs weakened, and she fell backward. He crumpled with her, one entity, never severing their connection, but instead steadying them so that they landed like a drifting blossom onto the silken comfort of the bed beneath them.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Everyone: You did WHAT????

Suki: Ehehehehehe . . . don't kill me. Please?

Please review minna-san! Even if it's just to say "update." That way I know people are reading it and that I'm not a total loser. .