A.N.:  Okay, here's the second chapter.  It's still pretty depressing, though I reiterate my earlier promise that there will be humor later on.  This story will have a happy ending if it kills me, and I maintain the statement that I never meant to include so much angst.  Stick with me, guys; it will pick up eventually.

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CHAPTER TWO

By the time she returned home from the funeral, Serena was shivering uncontrollably.  She had not been aware enough of her surroundings even to realize that rain had begun to fall during the service, at least not until after she had become soaked to the bone.  She had not noticed the cold or the rain; it had not seemed strange to her, after all, that her body should become as frozen as her soul.

Her sense of guilt had prevented her from taking refuge under the umbrellas of her family members, just as that sense of guilt refused to allow her to care for herself now.  She felt, wordlessly, that justice would only be served if she fell ill from her exposure to the elements.  Her friends, after all, had died far more horribly, and she had earned far worse.

Her mother, however, did not see her situation in the same light.  She ordered the girl to her room, instructing her daughter to change into dry clothing.  Serena sighed, though she hesitated only a moment before obeying.  She did not have the energy with which to fight.

Serena slipped into her room, retreating, once again, into the solitude of her small domain.  Her mother, she knew, would not interfere as long as her daughter remained within the relative safety of her bedroom.  Serena could finally have a measure of the seclusion she had craved so strongly throughout the burial service.

She climbed onto her bed, wrapping her arms around herself and curling her slender body into a tight ball.  She was still shivering, her teeth chattering almost painfully.  Her eyes were tightly clenched against tears, and her heart threatened to burst with the agony of her guilt and her grief.

She could hear her parents and small brother moving about the house, hear their footfalls and the muted sounds of their voices.  They whispered quietly to each other, clearly afraid she would hear their words.  She knew they spoke of both the day's events and the horrors that had led to this, and they did not wish her to hear.  They were trying to give her the peace she so desperately needed and would never find. 

They hadn't realized, yet, that she did not deserve such a peace. 

They had, at least, ceased to interrogate her further.  Her family had realized that she would not speak, would not reveal what knowledge she possessed, and they had finally stopped their attempts to persuade her to confess what she knew.  They did not wish to make Serena suffer any more than she already had, though she knew they still questioned her involvement in the deaths of her friends. 

She did not blame them for their unspoken fears.  They knew virtually nothing of the events that had led to the slaughter of her guardians, and she would have been as uncertain as they had she been in their place.   

Serena groaned softly.  She trusted her parents, but she could not give them the answers they sought.  They could not understand the horrors she had faced, the events that had so altered her very soul.  They could not understand, and any attempt to explain would only cause more suffering. 

Serena had little wish to extend their pain, and she had even less desire to be the source of their worry.  Still, she knew that she could not protect them from their fears when she had yet to conquer her own.

Her own struggle had only begun, and she did not possess the energy needed to shelter her mortal family.  They needed to find their own way, their own peace.  She could not provide the comfort they sought, and she could not give any more of herself than she already had.  They must fight their worries on their own. 

The pale girl sighed, not caring that the violent shaking of her slight form had finally eased.  She could not find any relief in the gentle warmth seeping into her slender body from the blankets beneath her, and she could not feel any lessening of her burdens.

Those burdens continued to press on her, and she idly wondered if she would eventually be smothered by her pain.  She could feel little regret in the thought, could feel nothing more than a terrible dread and an even more terrible sorrow. 

Her own life had ceased to hold any value for her.  She knew she was living on stolen time, on life taken from her sacrificed guardians.  Though she would honor their unwanted gift by continuing to fight for this world, Serena was no longer afraid of meeting her own end during the endless struggle to come.

She was not afraid of death.  Had she not made a promise to her companions, Serena would have welcomed the afterlife.  No matter how painful her inevitable death would certainly be, life, in her eyes, was far more terrifying. 

Serena shuddered, knowing she had both nothing and far too much to live for.  She could not die, not yet, when so many depended on her ability to protect the planet and its inhabitants, but she also had little desire to continue in this world herself. 

Her guardians had been taken from her, and she no longer had anyone in whom she could depend or trust.  She was alone, and she knew her forced and reluctant solitude would never truly end.  Never again would Serena find one in whom she could confide as easily as she had her guardians, and never again would she be able to share the side of herself that had so wholly consumed her life.

She had survived the struggle that had taken her companions, but she would now be forced to spend the remainder of her life alone.  She knew this, just as she knew that she did not have any other choice.  She would not destroy any more lives than she already had, and she would not allow anyone else to become close to her and so come into danger.  From this point on, Serena might as well be incapable of honest friendship or love. 

Nor, she reflected sadly, would she have wanted anything else.  The deaths of her friends had helped her realize that any true affection on her part could only be a danger to those around her.  Her isolation was best for everyone concerned.

Serena had become cut off from her loved ones, and she knew and accepted this.  She knew that hers was a deeper purpose, that her sacrifices were necessary.  Still, her heart was heavy with sudden loneliness.

That loneliness bit deeply into her soul, darkened her eyes with self-loathing and fear.  Above all else, Serena hated to be alone.  She doubted her own courage far too greatly to trust fully herself in her task, and she feared the outcome should she fail.

Still, Serena already knew her own future, and an eternity of fighting had as little appeal as an eternity of loneliness.  She had never been meant for the warrior's life, and the knowledge that she would spend the remainder of her endless years drifting from one enemy to the next, from one battle to another, lay heavily upon her.  She had never wanted much from life, but she still dreaded this.

Serena swallowed painfully, knowing she had finally found ample reason to regret her inheritance.  Her mother's legacy, and her own, had never before been so unappealing.  The gifts passed to her from her mother's line had never been so great a burden, and Serena could not help questioning why she, the weakest of them all, had come to bear it.  She was not strong enough for this.

Why had she survived?  Any of the others would have been better suited for this struggle.  Serena herself was both physically and emotionally weak, and she could not hope to succeed even half as well as they. 

Her senshi had been warriors, but she was not.  Serena did not have Mina's ruthless dedication or Lita's sheer physical strength.  She was not as passionate for this fight as Raye, and she lacked Amy's overwhelming intelligence.  Serena had never been meant for this fight, and the world would suffer for her lack of skills.

She was only herself, and she was limited by far too many things.  She had not, after all, been trained for this.  She had been meant to rule, not to fight.  Serena, like her mother, should have been the last defense, not the first and only.  The world deserved far better than an untrained warrior as its guardian.

She sighed again, still shivering.  The worst was still to come, and increasingly powerful enemies would only continue to challenge the safety of her adopted home.  The agony she had already endured had been nothing compared to what would be, and she knew this.  In spite of everything she had given, her struggle had only just begun.

She knew, too, that she would never be allowed to fight unhindered.  The world would continue to press her for answers, continue to ask for explanations to her behavior and her losses.  The people would never truly allow her friends to rest peacefully, and she would never be free of this guilt.

Serena slowly opened her eyes, once more chastising herself for her weakness.  Her friends had died to protect her, and she could not allow this loss to become meaningless in light of her continued self-pity.  She needed to be strong.

Though Serena wanted nothing more than to escape this pain, she knew she could never escape the responsibility for what had happened.  She could never resurrect her guardians, and she could never erase the horrors she had faced from her mind or her soul.  She was as maimed by this darkness as her guardians had been, and she could not escape the terrors branded into her mind.

Serena cursed softly, and her fingers tightened into fists.  How had it come to this? she wondered.  Hadn't they given enough?  This life should have brought peace and justice, not blood and pain.  Her senshi should not have been forced to endure this. 

Footsteps sounded outside her door, and Serena was, once again, shaken from her reverie by the entrance of her mother.  Irene Tsukino gently pushed the bedroom door aside, not realizing that her pale daughter had quickly shut her eyes in an attempt to feign sleep.  The girl did not, after all, want even this deeply concerned woman to intrude upon her uncharacteristically dark thoughts.

Still ignorant of her daughter's pretense, Serena's mother slowly stepped across the room.  She moved quietly to the bed, watching her daughter's pale face for several long moments.  Irene was utterly silent, though Serena knew her mother's body was shaking almost as much as her own had been only a moment before. 

Serena was not greatly surprised to hear her mother's stifled sobs as the woman suddenly knelt by the girl's bed.  Serena, after all, had not been the only one devastated by this loss, though she was the only being who truly understood the significance of her guardians' deaths. 

Her mother, too, had been hurt, injured by Serena's complete unwillingness to confide in her.  Serena had barely spoken since the deaths of her friends, and Irene ached for the pain the girl was obviously feeling.  She wanted to take Serena's grief onto herself, wanted to spare her child, and her inability to do so upset her greatly. 

She could not understand that Serena's pain was necessary, that this loss had ensured the futures of both her children.  She could not understand the role that Serena's grief would play in the survival of this world.

Serena might not have been prepared for the struggle to come, but her strength had increased with the deaths of her guardians.  Their sacrifices had refined her, had unleashed the core of steel in her heart.  She could never be truly ready for her battles, but she was greater than she had been.

Still, the changes in her would not go unnoticed for long, and she would soon be forced to confront the world's perception of those alterations.  Her remaining loved ones would question Serena's new self, and she could never find an explanation that would satisfy them.  She had changed too greatly.

She was no longer the gentle, simple child the world had known.  She had lost her innocence and her trust to the shadows, and she had been altered in ways the world could not yet comprehend.  This fight had hardened her.

Her struggle had taken more than her friends, more than her future.  She had also lost her peace, her hope and her joy.  She had sacrificed her faith, and she was no longer the person she had once been.

She had been forced to face her destiny, and that destiny would not allow Serena to remain with her childish innocence and naïve dreams.  The protective world to which she had been born had been stripped away, and Serena had little choice but to face reality. 

Harsh as that reality had been, Serena had matured.  She no longer saw the world in simple tones of white and black, and she no longer felt quite so unprepared for the trials still to come.  She had grown, thought that growth had come at a terrible price.

Her mother was still beside her, stroking her golden hair with a gentle hand.  Serena automatically leaned into her mother's comforting touch, tears beginning to stream from beneath closed eyes. 

"Oh, Serena," her mother whispered, and her own voice was filled with unspoken agony.  "It'll be all right," she murmured.  "You'll see."  Her head tilted to one side, gentle eyes softening with compassion.  "I know you're hurting, but the pain won't last forever."

Serena stirred, though she still did not open her eyes.  She knew Irene truly believed her words, but Serena could not find any faith in them herself.  Her own experience with death was far greater than her sheltered mother's, and she was wise enough to realize that her pain would never truly fade. 

Her loss would never be far from her mind, her heart never free of her guilt.  Each morning would always bring only a renewal of her agony, though she might learn to function in spite of her pain. 

Serena's pale features twisted, and she turned to press her face into her pillow.  She did not want her mother to see her expression, though she knew she would not always be able to hide her emotions in this way. 

She sighed, forcing the tears to stop flowing and wishing she possessed Mina's ability to hide her thoughts.  The guilt she was feeling could not be pushed from her eyes for long, and she did not wish to arouse her mother's suspicions further.

"What happens now?" Serena whispered, attempting to distract her mortal mother.  The girl kept her face turned away, vainly striving to control her emotions until she could look Irene in the eye once more.

Irene bit her lip in response, not knowing how she might answer.  Finally, though, she sighed, shaking her head.  "I don't know," she admitted softly.  "We want to help you, Serena, but we don't know how."

She sighed again, still not moving from her place beside her daughter.  Then, after a moment's hesitation, quietly began, "Your father and I have been………discussing this, Serena, and we've agreed that you should speak with somebody about what happened."

Serena started at her mother's words, lifting her face to stare at her mother with undisguised hurt.  She shook her head violently, looking away again.  Why was her mother suddenly pushing this?  Serena had thought this discussion had been put aside.  "No," she said, voice hard.  "You know I can't do that, Mom."

Irene's eyes darkened, though the girl knew her mother was not angry with Serena herself.  "Can't?  Or won't?" Serena's mother asked tiredly.  "I know you're hurting, Serena," she repeated softly, "but you can't keep this to yourself any longer.  He'll only kill again." 

Serena closed her eyes, finally realizing that her mother, as with the rest of the world, would not rest until she felt peace again.  She winced, wishing she might have found a better explanation than the one she would be forced to give. 

She rolled onto her back, finally meeting her mother's worried gaze.  "Listen, Mom," she started, biting her lip much as her mother had a moment before.  "You don't have to worry.  The one who did this………"  She sighed again, shaking her head.  "You don't have to worry," she repeated weakly.

Her mother's eyes were penetrating, but Serena did not shrink from them as she might once have done.  As with so many things, Serena had ceased to be afraid of her mother's ire. 

Still, she did not want her mother to continue to worry.  Such concern would only lead to more questions, and Serena did not have the strength to continue this battle.  "It's your choice, Mom," she whispered tiredly.  "I'll speak with whomever you wish." 

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Darien Chiba slowly climbed the flights of stairs leading to his apartment, and he could not recall a time at which he had felt more weary.  His head ached, and his muscles were slow to obey his commands.  He wished for nothing more than a warm bed and the oblivion of sleep, but he knew sleep would not come this night, not as long as that girl's face remained burned into his mind.

He sighed, shaking his head at this sudden obsession that had come over him.  His need to protect the Tsukino girl from both herself and the world had consumed him, and he could think of nothing else.  Until she was safe, he knew sleep would not come easily.

He could not understand this need of his to save her from her pain.  She meant nothing to him, should mean nothing to him.  She should not be anything more than a passing duty, but he had allowed her plight to become a driving force in his life. 

He had allowed her haunted, beautiful face to penetrate even the deepest recesses of his mind and soul, and he doubted his ability to ever force her from his thoughts.  That portion of his soul that belonged to a lost world of dreams and shadows would not allow her to leave.

He wondered at himself, at his own sanity.  Why should the plight of a fourteen-year-old girl capture his attention so completely?  Though he knew she was not a killer, she had still refused to aid the government in their search for her friends' murderers.  She had refused to speak, had refused to explain her own role in their deaths.  She had refused to save others from this fate.

A thousand times since the funeral, Darien had tried to write her off and condemn her for her reticence.  A thousand times he had tried to make sense of her actions, but always he had failed.  Why did she remain silent?  She knew the identities of her friends' killers, but she would not reveal that knowledge. 

Who was she protecting?  Not herself, of course.  The condemnation she had unresistingly faced already was proof enough that she had no desire to avoid the harsh suspicions of the general public.  She might have spoken the truth at any moment during the past few days and saved herself, but she had not.  Her continued reticence was, then, for someone else, for an unknown individual who had somehow avoided the public eye and public suspicion.

Darien sighed again as he approached his front door, sliding his key into the lock and slipping inside his apartment.  He walked slowly across his living room, oblivious to the sterile beauty of his home as he continued to ponder the possible identity of the one whom Serena Tsukino was protecting. 

When no obvious answer came to him, Darien groaned and entered his bedroom.  He threw himself, facedown, onto the bed, closing his eyes as his body began to slip into that highly desired oblivion.

The harsh ringing of his telephone dragged the young man's mind back to the waking world, and Darien cursed loudly.  Without lifting his head from his pillows, his left hand inched across the bed, not stopping until his tired fingers latched onto the despised object on his bedside table.  He lifted the receiver to his ear, still not raising his head.  "Hello?" he asked, groggily impatient.

"Chiba?  Is that you?"  Darien's eyes flared open and his head shot up as he recognized the harsh voice of his superior.  He grunted something unintelligible, quickly lifting his body from the bed.

"Turn on the T.V."  As always, Darien's superior sounded gruff and angry, and that anger helped clear the cobwebs of sleep from the handsome youth's brain.  Darien quickly located the remote, sliding to the edge of his bed as he immediately obeyed his superior's orders.  "What am I looking for?" he asked, and his voice was only slightly less impatient than it had been. 

His superior heard the impatience, but he merely grunted.  "Find the news," he snapped.  "See for yourself."

Darien sighed again as he obeyed that order, quickly flipping through the various channels as he attempted to locate one of the many media stations.  "What should I be seeing?" he asked again, finally settling on one of more prominent programs.  

He did not, however, need to repeat the question for a third time.  His ice blue eyes widened as video footage of the day's funeral filled the screen.  "Gods," Darien whispered, watching as an image of Serena's pale face was quickly followed by a week-old recording of her slain and mutilated companions. 

His superior grunted, listening to Darien's suddenly ragged breathing.  "You've got that right," he snapped.  "The media's finally dug up something on the Tsukino girl.  If we don't act quickly, they'll eat her alive."