Bleed (Just to Know You're Alive)

Chapter 8

anything between these slashes are thoughts

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"You got him?"

"Yeah, he's fine."

Neff carefully adjusted his sleeping prince on the back seat of the Oldsmobile, allowing his head to flop onto Jed's lap. It was amazing that a guy could sleep through so much--including being shaken, yelled at, carried across a field, dropped (twice), and shoved into a less-than-pleasant-smelling car. Through it all, the black-haired man continued to snore pleasantly, oblivious to what was happening around him.

Jed watched his prince, who was now beginning to drool on his knee. "I don't know what you gave him, Malachi, but I'd sure like some. Can you start handing it out at parties?"

The brunette snorted. "Hey, why bother with alcohol when you can pass out instantaneously? It would sure make for some easy crowd control." Neff backed out through the rear passenger door and stood leaning against the Shitmobile, trying to slow his wheezing breaths to a less painful level. Mamoru was lighter than he looked, but he was still pretty darn heavy--all six feet one inch of him. Normally, Neff would have no trouble hauling him across the field, but right now his less-than-healthy lungs and throat were making any sort of physical activity a painful experience.

He felt a light bump on his shoulder. "Can I have a minute?"

Malachi stood in the fading dusk, his silver hair dimly reflecting the last of the pinkish sunlight. Though his face was still creased with exhaustion and emotion, he was looking at Neff a lot more steadily than he had in the past hour, which was, the brunette noted, a vast improvement.

He started to say something that sounded like "sure," but it disappeared into a round of hacking coughs, punctuated by the occasional wince. He finally managed to nod, not noticing the pained expression on Malachi's face. As soon as he regained some of his composure (and dignity), the two men shuffled off, leaving Jed with a Prince in his lap. Zory hovered over him like a hummingbird on speed, emotional outburst apparently forgotten.

"Neff, I..." Malachi tried to look at the brunette as he talked, but every time he did, all he could see was the technicolor mess of bruises around his neck, mocking him, trying to make him squirm. He squashed the guilt before it could come bubbling up - not now. He had to try this "being strong" thing, and he had to do it now, or everything was going to Hell in a handbasket.

"I'm sorry, Neff. I can't even tell you how sorry I am. I don't even know if there are words for it." Green eyes locked on brown ones, with an intensity so fierce that Neff had to try hard not to look away. "I was mad, too mad, a-and I felt that Kunzite sneaking up on me, and I didn't want him take control...But I almost did. He was right there, breathing down my neck. I couldn't stop him. I couldn't stop -myself-."

"Malachi, it's okay. I mean, not what you did, I'm not really fond of that," Neff ammended, when it looked like Malachi intended to interrupt. "But I understand. You have a lot to deal with, and I did something monumentally stupid. It was all my idea, to tell Mamoru about...well, you know. Jed tried to stop me, but you know how I am. There's a reason -you're- the leader, let's put it that way."

Malachi snorted. "Yeah, some leader I've made so far."

"No, man, I'm serious." Neff brushed a few strands of stringy, sweaty hair from his face. He had another shower in his future, it seemed. "So you're having a hard time with that guy. I don't blame you. I'd have gone batshit by now. But you're winning, whether you know it or not. Kunzite - the good one, I mean - he's got a good head on his shoulders. Shit in the emotional department, but I shouldn't throw stones."

He paused for a second, and then continued. "I mean it, though. Even before all this Prince-saving, clone-ass-kicking, almost-dying-every-six-hours thing, you were still the 'leader' of the group. Such as we were, I mean. Hell, you're the leader of the house, whether you know it or not. All those little squirrely pledges think you're God's Gift to Fraternities, man. Even if you don't get laid often enough. Maybe you should ask Mamoru if he--"

"If you'll recall, Neff," Malachi interjected, trying hard to squash a smile, "the Prince has a fiancé. Who has ten Sailor Soldiers at her disposal. Who, I might add, are already het up enough with the possibility that he was cheating with another woman. So what happens if they find out he was cheating with a -man-?"

Neff couldn't help it. He exploded into giggles - very manly giggles, he would maintain later. "Oh, I imagine there would be carnage and cussing and all varieties of chaos. Sounds kind of like a Friday night."

"Well, usually there isn't much carnage. Unless Rock decides to jump off the roof."

"Don't remind me. We're still paying that bill."

The two men lapsed into a comfortable silence, both somewhat unsure of how to continue, or even if they wanted to.

"Well," Malachi continued, brushing a bit of grass from his sling, "regardless of what you may think of my leadership capabilities, that doesn't make what happened today any better. Leader or not, I still screwed up beyond reason."

"So you screwed up. Know what that tells me?"

"That I'm a dumbass?"

The brunette smirked. "That too, but we were already aware of that fact. It tells me that you're human. And I'll take Human Malachi over Inhuman Kunzite any day of the week, even on Thursday bar nights when you make me limit my alcohol intake. You're gonna screw up no matter what you do, Malachi, just like the rest of us. And probably less than me, if my track record for today is any indication."

"I think we're pretty well tied, there."

"Except that you get bonus points for getting the Prince in bed."

The white-haired man could hardly help the burst of laughter that erupted in his throat. It was short-lived, but there nonetheless, and afterwards he felt as though a very miniscule weight had been lifted from his chest. It felt like it was the first time he had laughed in a very long time. His face dropped into his one good hand, only managing to obscure part of the redness that faintly tinted his cheeks. "I am never going to live that down, am I?"

"Not while I'm around," the brunette declared proudly.

"Just as long as you don't start posting it all over the frat house, I think I'm safe. At least you don't have incriminating photos."

"Not yet, anyway."

The last of the light faded, the dusk quickly turning to blackness. A nearby streetlight flickered to life, bathing the two men in an artificial orange glow. It was growing chilly out, and Malachi vaguely wished that he still had his jacket with him.

After a few moments, all amusement had drained from the white-haired man's face. He gave his companion a sober look. "Neff, I want you to do something for me."

The brunette lowered his hand from his bruised throat. He had been rubbing it subconsciously, and only now remembered that he was trying to avoid making his friend feel guilty. "What?"

Malachi took a breath, not sure of how to continue, and not sure that he wanted to. After collecting his thoughts he finally said, "I don't know whether this will ever happen again. Mamoru did help, but... just like you said, I'm still human. And I can't guarantee that I'll be able to stop myself the next time around, either. I know you're a tough guy, Neff, but that could have just as easily been Jed or Zory, or even another frat brother. Hell, that could've been Mamoru."

"You wouldn't hurt the Prince. That much I'm sure of."

"Yeah? Yesterday I probably would've said the same thing about you. If you weren't as strong as you are, Neff, I could've snapped your neck like a twig before I even knew what was happening. And that's exactly what could happen to just about anyone else who might get stuck in the same position."

Neff stayed silent, unsure of what to say. As much as both of them hated to admit it, it was true. Even before all this Shitennou, clones attacking nonsense, Malachi had been exceptionally strong. Now, with all the benefits of Kunzite's powers on top of that, he was a regular Superman, sans the spandex. If Neff did not have his own superhuman strength to back him up, he probably would have been dead within seconds.

"Neff, if anything like this ever happens again, I want you to do whatever you need to do to stop me."

The brunette was pretty sure his stomach dropped about three feet. "Oh man, Malachi, don't ask me to do that."

The white-haired man fixed him with that steel gaze that could make many grown men cry. "Neff, someone has to protect them. -I- can't. Not from myself. Your job is to take out -every- threat to the Prince's safety, Neff, no matter who that threat may be. You're the only one who would be able to stop me; you and I both know that."

Neff was not anxious to be saddled with this responsibility. "Jed could--"

"No, he most certainly could -not,-" Malachi interrupted. "Physically, he may be as strong as you are. But he's never been good in situations under extreme duress. Remember when you practically sliced three of your fingers off, at the barbeque?"

"I doubt the blood stains on the back stairs will ever let me forget. But that doesn't--"

Malachi cut him off again. "Yes, it does. Zory immediately had your fingers wrapped in a dish towel, dialing 911 and trying to keep you from passing out from shock. You probably don't remember much of what happened next, as I imagine you were too busy worrying about your fingers."

Neff didn't say anything, because he knew it would be interrupted. Malachi was just not in a mood to be wrong, apparently.

"You've seen Zory worry, but that's nothing compared to Jed. At least Zory manages to stay coherent, even when he's bawling or pulling his hair out. Jed was talking a mile a minute, and I almost had to tie him to the deck to keep to keep him from floating off the deck. He was practically vibrating fear. A battle is one thing; you know who your enemies are there. But there was no bad guy there. And if it comes down to it, he won't be able to find one -here-, either."

"Malachi, I know you're worried. We all are. But I know -you-, and Nephrite knows Kunzite, and on the list of things that you'd never do, that is one of them. Take us out, maybe. It's happened." Neff ignored the pained look on his friend's face. He had a point to make. "But between you and Kunzite, you would never let the Prince get hurt, and you would never hurt -him-. I know that."

"No, you don't. And I don't, and he doesn't. No one knows that. Maybe I did, once. Before, Kunzite had him under control, when we - they - were trapped in those rocks. But that was different. I wasn't there. I wasn't a factor. When it was just the two of them..." Malachi sighed. He was starting to feel extremely depressed. It was just turning out to be one of those weeks, it seemed. He ran his hands through his hair, massaging his scalp as though all of the tension he was feeling had built up under his skin.

"Promise me you'll do whatever you have to, Neff," he said, so quiet the plea was almost inaudible. "Please, promise me? I need to know...I need to know someone will stop me, if it happens. Zory would, but can't, and Jed could, but won't. I need to know that the Prince will be safe, no matter what."

Neff sighed, staring up at the sky. Dark clouds hung ominously above them, dimly reflecting the city lights with a sort of unnatural glow. A few light drops of rain were beginning to splatter down.

He meant what he said about Malachi hurting Mamoru. No matter how blind his fury made him, he knew that nothing could make his leader go after his Prince. But Malachi's tone made him feel even the tiniest shred of doubt, and that in itself was unnerving. Much as he believed it never would, what if something like that did happen? What if Malachi went over the edge, and got his hands on Mamoru? Then Neff would have to choose. He would have to decide between one or the other. Between someone who was more than a leader to him and far more than a friend, and someone who he had not only sworn to protect, but who he was beginning to love just as much as the other Shitennou. And as much as the thought pained him, he knew already what his choice would be. No matter what the stakes were, no matter who would get hurt in the process, he knew without question that his Prince would always come first. Protect the Prince at all costs. That would, now and forever, be his choice.

He looked back down at Malachi, brushing bangs away from his brown eyes. "Alright. I'll do it. I'm not saying I agree with it, but I'll do it."

"Thank you."

"Yeah." Neff didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to think about being forced to do harm to Malachi. He knew that time would never come, even if Malachi didn't. But his plea had sowed doubts in Neff's mind. What if there -was- something that could cause him to attack the Prince, something he just couldn't imagine? Some memory that pushed him over the edge, some conversation or argument that loomed off in the distance?

Three heavy raindrops landed on Neff's head with heavy, wet plops. Then three more, and then four or five at a time, and then the skies ripped open and rain came down from all sides.

"C'mon, you two, your chariot awaits!" Zory called from the car, his head partially stuck out the driver's side window. "The last thing either of you need is a cold on top of everything else!"

Jed snorted, a bit muffled, as his window was not open. "You heard Mama Zory, guys. Get in, before he wakes the Prince up."

Neff shook the rain out of his hair like a dog, slowly lumbering his way back to the car. Rain or no rain, both men's physical injuries were making any sort of running an impossibility, and Neff much preferred getting a little wet over doing any more harm to his respiratory system.

Zory was already perched behind the wheel, his seat pulled so far up that Neff probably would not have even fit if he had tried. "Who says you get to drive, blondie?"

"Being that our Prince is passed out in the back, I think it better that someone who is not prone to road rage be situated behind the wheel," the green-eyed man replied diplomatically. "Besides, it's my turn, so there."

"Hey, just because I have the inexplicable urge to choke bad drivers with their own cell phones and run them over until they are a bloody and mangled pulp on the asphalt does not mean I have road rage."

Malachi shook his head, climbing awkwardly into the back seat. "Neff, would it really kill you to be a passenger for ten minutes?" With a sigh, the brunette moved around to the passenger side, grumbling something about obnoxious little blonde men.

"I'm so glad you're here," Jed whimpered desperately as Malachi wrenched the door shut. "I think I've lost all feeling in my legs. Are you sure you didn't replace him with cement when you un-melted him?"

"You're just a pansy, Jed." Neff got situated in the front seat, kicking aside a few empty Coke cans to do so.

Malachi merely sighed as he helped Jed transfer the black-haired man onto his own lap. As he flopped onto the white-haired man's leg, Mamoru shifted and muttered something unintelligable, though Malachi was sure he heard the words "drywall" and "eggs."

"So, what do we do when he wakes up?" Neff asked, as the Oldsmobile sputtered to life and Zory lurched the hunk of metal out into traffic.

"I think we should just wait until he wakes up. Take it one step at a time." Malachi said, tone neutral. -If- he wakes up,his brain added morosely. I don't know why he -wouldn't-, but I'm not exactly having my best day for predictions.

"Malachi..."

The white-haired man looked down to his lap, where the Prince had begun to stir. At the same time, he gripped Malachi's well-worn jeans, as though he wasn't sure his perch was all that substantial.

"I'm here, Prince." Malachi rubbed his free hand across his Prince's back.

"Where's 'here?'" Mamoru muttered, sound strangled by his face's proximity to Malachi's legs.

"The Shitmobile, Prince. We're going home."

"Oh good. No one's gonna kill me when we get there, right?"

"Nope. And even if there were, we'd kill them first."

"Okay. 'M gonna go back 'sleep now."

Jed chuckled softly, reaching over to pat Mamoru's shoulder. "You do that, Prince. We'll make sure no freaky short-skirted clone chicks try to have their way with you."

If Mamoru was awake enough to hear him, he made no indication. Making good on his word, he was softly snoring within seconds, one hand still loosely gripping a fold of Malachi's jeans, as though it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

Zory cast a mildly amused glance at Malachi through the rear-view mirror. "Well, at least he's getting some rest for once, right?"

Malachi only nodded slightly, one hand distractedly stroking Mamoru's back. Not even Zory's suddenly lighter mood could put a dent in the cold numbness that wrapped around him like a cloak. This day had worn him out something awful, and it was more than a strain on him physically. His nerves were ragged, his mind fatigued, his body was one big ball of ache, and he could not even work up the energy to feel miserable anymore. He was beyond working on overdrive right now, and it was probably by sheer force of will that he was still sitting upright and conscious.

Apparently, this fact was not lost on anyone else. While Zory was parking the car and Neff was showing one last display of manly strength by hauling Mamoru back to Malachi's room, the white-haired man was shaken out of his stupor by a hand on his arm.

Jed pushed his hair out of his face, slicking it back with the rain. "C'mon, let's get you inside, huh? It's freezing out here."

"I can take care of myself, Jed," Malachi muttered in protest, though he allowed himself to be led to the front door, anyway. Pride or no pride, there was no sense in standing around in the pouring rain.

"Yeah, I'm sure you're a big boy and you can tie your own shoes and everything. But you look like a fucking zombie right now, and if you slip and crack your face open on the front step, we're gonna have to carry -you- in, too. Personally, I don't fancy the prospect of dragging you down the hall. The guys would look at me all funny."

"Which would be entirely different from other occasions how?"

"Oh, eat me." Jed shook himself briefly as soon as they were under the fraternity's wooden overhang.

Water poured down from the roof, spilling onto the porch. The door was already open - it -was- sunset, after all, so all the kegs were being brought inside for a night of good partying. A few pledges were situated in the lounge on an old paisely couch, beers in hand. They watched Jed direct an utterly exhausted Malachi into the house and down the hall with no small amount of intrigue.

"Shit, man, what happened to you, Malachi?" one called, taking a swig from his beer. "Someone die?"

"Almost." Before he was asked to explain, Malachi disappeared into his room. The door was opened and shut so fast, Jed caught it right in the nose; the curt slam indicated "I am to be undisturbed" in no uncertain terms.

As the blonde turned back toward the kitchen, cussing under his breath and rubbing his face, Neff appeared with two cups of coffee.

"Let me guess," Jed muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose and wincing. "Put the Prince in there, did you?"

"How'd you guess?"

"Oh, I had a very intimate encounter with the door."

"Which is probably the most intimate encounter you've had recently."

"Fuck you, man."

"Yeah. You, too." Neff took a sip of his coffee, grunting slightly. His throat wasn't really ready for complicated tasks, like swallowing.

The blonde eyed him over his mug. "Very smooth, my man. Dump scalding liquid on your already shitty throat. Your brilliance astounds me."

"Well, screw you, too." The brunette sneered, swatting Jed on the back. Unfortunately, the blonde was taking a drink of his coffee at the time, and proceeded to slosh it all over himself.

"Shit, Neff! Nice going!" He then proceeded to wipe coffee onto the already-soiled Budweiser shirt. "I hope Malachi wasn't especially fond of this shirt."

"Nah, he doesn't even like Budweiser, piss that it is." Neff found a seat on a couch in an empty corner of the lounge. The night was still young, and the crowd would not be arriving for a few hours yet. Normally he would be zeroing in on the spot with the most people, but he did not particularly feel like socializing tonight.

"Hey Jed, man, you coming out with us tonight?" a less-than-sober frat brother hollered across the room. "We're gonna get a bunch of guys together and play softball! Well, at least we'll be heading to the field with a few six packs, and if we end up swinging sticks at things, so be it."

"I think I'll opt out tonight, guys," the blonde answered meekly, rubbing at a particularly painful bruise on his side. He didn't want to think about what it would feel like to get tackled by a bunch of drunken guys with sticks at the moment.

"Aww, c'mon J-Dog! We need someone out there who doesn't throw like a girl, and--dude, chicks! We need some chicks at this thing! Hey girls, you wanna play some softball?" His attention thus averted, the pledge stumbled off towards the kitchen, narrowly dodging Zory as he did so.

"Can we please relocate some place quieter?" the blonde asked, wrinkling his nose up at the smell of beer and other, less legal things.

"Sounds alright by me," Neff muttered. He stood rather stiffly, picking up his coffee cup and Mamoru's cellphone, which apparently hadn't moved since their earlier unfortunate encounter with raving Senshi.

Jed followed suit, wincing as he did so - unlike the brunette, who had a throat to agonize over, Jed's chest and lungs were still the focus of -his- attention. Seeing this, Zory quickly stepped in, slipping a slender arm around an unbruised portion of his friend's waist as the three men wandered vaguely in the direction of Neff's unoccupied room.

"That's not necessary, you know," Jed groused, although he didn't much sound like he meant it. Truth be told, he could use all the help he was offered, but he had a macho appearence to maintain. That was, at least, until Neff shut his door.

Zory deposited the other blonde on a well-worn armchair, and he let out a strange noise, somewhere between a grunt and a whine. "I can't tell you how glad I'll be when this day is over and done with."

"I'll drink to that," Neff croaked, holding up his coffee in a mock toast. He took a hearty swig, and made a face as the warm liquid hit his throat. If he hadn't needed the caffeine so badly, the drink wouldn't be worth it, but he figured he couldn't afford to be asleep tonight.

"Stop that." Zory flipped on the light switch, as the sun had already set completely, and Neff's room was not the cleanest or least hazardous in the frathouse. "You really shouldn't be drinking that stuff right now, Neff. I don't need to remind you that your windpipe was just about crushed a few hours ago - the least you can do is let it heal properly."

Neff rolled his eyes. "Yes, Mother. Three bags full, Mother." He ducked as a running shoe sailed over his head, leaving a greasy smear when it hit the fall and fell to the floor.

"So where did our jolly pair get to?" Zory eyed the bed skeptically before clearing a pile of dirty shirts out of the way and perching on one corner.

"Locked themselves in Malachi's room, of course. I imagine they're both comatose by now."

"Or they're making sweet, sweet love on Malachi's bed," Jed quipped, his head tilted fully back against the back of the chair. "To which I say, 'I'm glad this room isn't next to theirs.'"

Zory snickered. "I highly doubt that either of them are up to much loving right now."

"They should be. Malachi seriously needs to get laid, man. I'm telling you, it'd solve all their problems."

"I don't think every problem can be solved by taking one's pants off, Jed, though I'm sure they appreciate your concern."

Neff snickered, then winced as another gulp of coffee stung his throat.

"Would you quit that?" Zory snapped, storming into Neff's bathroom to get him some water. He had to pick his way across the unclean floor, and made a noise of disgust as he searched for something resembling a cup. "What are you doing drinking caffeine this late, anyway?"

"Well, someone needs to stay awake tonight, and Malachi's definitely not up to it. We're all so tired right now, if that clone bitch were to attack while we're asleep, she could knock the whole house over before any of us wake up."

Jed lifted his head. "Do my ears decieve me, or was that Neff thinking ahead just now?"

"Har har, Mister Funny Jed," Neff muttered, as Zory reappeared from the bathroom. He thrusted a somewhat mold-encrusted glass into Neff's hands, his face scrunched in disgust.

"It was the best I could do without braving the kitchen again," the blonde explained, wiping his hands furiously on his jeans.

Jed looked like he wanted to interject, probably with another quip about how badly Malachi and Mamoru were in need of a good lay, when the tune of Cirque du Soleil's "Alegria" rudely interrupted him. It was Mamoru's cellphone, hopping around furiously on Neff's bed as it rang, and everyone stopped to stare at it, nothing short of incredulous.

"Someone want to answer that?" Neff asked, practically having to shout over the incessant tone. He picked it up, with much more suspicion than the mold-covered cup in his other hand, and looked from Zory to Jed.

"Give it to him," Jed whined, splaying out further on the armchair. "If it's the Senshi, I can't deal with that right now. Besides, he speaks Japanese. A little. Right?"

Zory's face dropped into his hands. "Jed, you were speaking Japanese this morning, you idiot. You're sharing the same brain as a native Japanese speaker, remember? You know the language by default."

"Whatever, all that shared knowledge stuff is too much for my fragile brain to handle." He scrunched his eyes up, as if attempting to glare at his own forehead--or rather, the extra being that resided just beyond said forehead. "And you shut up too, you Neanderthal."

The phone continued blaring its cheerful tune. "Someone please, answer that," Neff groaned.

"Why don't you answer it?"

"I have a crushed windpipe, darn it, I can't talk on the phone now."

"You seem to be talking just fine at the moment."

"No way, man. My throat's killing me." He took a swig from the mouldy glass, just to prove it.

"Well someone answer it!" Zory shrieked over the ever-present ring.

"Why don't you answer it?" Jed looked at him pointedly.

"Because I'm freaking scared of those women, and I'm not afraid to admit it, that's why."

"Well someone has to answer it, and I'm sure as hell not."

"Me either."

Neff merely shook his head and made a sort of grunt, throwing his own "me either" in there.

All three intendly watched the phone, buzzing and blaring pleasantly in Neff's hand. "So what do we do now?" Zory asked cautiously.

"Maybe if we leave it alone, it'll stop." Jed eyed the small object as though it might make a flying leap onto his face.

Before anyone had better, more logical plans of attack for the whinging cellphone, a groggy, disheveled Prince flung the door open, blinking to adjust to the amount of light in the room.

"'Zat my phone?" he said blearily, rubbing his face in an attempt to become fully conscious.

Neff held the small phone in the air, looking like he'd rather step on it than answer it. "We've been drawing straws to see who gets to face the wrath of those terrifying women. So far, the conclusion is 'no one.'"

"Give it to me."

The three Shitennou blanched. "Excuse me?" Zory managed, over various choking noises. "Prince, are you insane? You can't deal with them right now."

"If I don't do it now, I never will. I mean, who knows when I'll start melting on people again." Mamoru nearly stomped all the way into the room, and held out his hand expectantly. "Hand it over."

His tone left little room for argument. It was the sort of voice that was seldom heard coming from Mamoru--the kind that was firm and decisive, that gave orders instead of requests, that was usually reserved for epic battles and matters of the state, rather than whether or not he was allowed to answer his own cell phone. It was a voice that had been heard more frequently once, in a kingdom that was lost and forgotten long ago, and which stirred in his guardians a deep, unquestioning obedience which even they could not explain.

Without a word, Neff dropped the phone into his hand.

The Prince of Earth stared at the tiny blaring object in his palm, steeling himself. He took a deep breath, then flipped the phone open. "Hello?"

The other end of the line was silent for a moment, and then someone cleared their throat. "Mamoru-san."

Mamoru tried his hardest not to faint when he heard Rei's voice. At least she wasn't screaming obscenities. Yet. "Rei-chan. It's...I'm...Well, you called. Did everything go well with Usako's surgery? I've been...There were things. I was going to call back--"

"I'm sorry."

"--but I was kind of...what?"

"I'm sorry. We all are."

Zory exchanged a look with Jed, as they both were unable to comprehend the strange look on their Prince's face. He almost looked like his jaw was coming unhinged.

"You're...sorry?" Mamoru said, with no small amount of incredulity. That was not like them. They must have been having some serious guilt about the things they'd said and done, in order to apologize. Or Usagi had continued to slap people around after his nightmare had cut out.

"The three of us are -especially- sorry," Makoto's voice came in, a little further away from the phone. "We didn't have any right to threaten you like that. It was just a bunch of misunderstandings, and we should have given you the benefit of the doubt, but we didn't."

"We were stupid, Prince." More than anything, it was Haruka's voice, especially remorseful, that almost caused the Prince to keel over. "We didn't give you the respect you rightly deserve. And I should have listened to you, when you were trying to tell me about the...things."

"The clones," Ami clarified, apparently getting her own handle on the phone. "Haruka-san told us what you told her, after she tried to call you from the tree. She thought you were just making up stories, but Usagi-chan saw what happened earlier, with..." There was an awkward pause, as though Ami didn't really want to dwell on 'what happened earlier.' "Well, anyway."

"I...I don't know what to say." Mamoru was speechless. He knew he wanted to say 'apology accepted,' to put it all behind him, to return to the happy place where Usagi loved him and the Senshi were just mildly paranoid, instead of raging anti-Mamoru tinhats, but he was so shocked by the gesture that all the words failed him.

"You don't have to accept the apology," Rei said, coming back within range of the phone. "We said some awful things, Mamoru-san, and you deserve better. But just know that we feel terrible. Our behavior was inexcusable, especially in front of Usagi. We want to make it right, if you'll let us."

Mamoru decided that he needed to sit down. He aimed for the nearest surface--the edge of Neff's bed--and would have missed it by about three feet, had Zory not intervened. "O-okay..." he stammered.

"Can you forgive us, Mamoru-san? We know we said some pretty harsh things earlier, and we're so sorry for that. None of us were thinking straight. It all just looked so bad, and--well, logic sort of flew out the window. We'll understand it if you never want to speak to us again, but we really hope you can forgive our moment of stupidity."

Chiba Mamoru, Prince of the Earth, warrior who could turn his enemies to dust with a few words and some well-placed sparkles, had never been so floored in his life. When he finally found his voice again, all he could manage was, "sure. Of... of course I can."

There was an audible chorus of relieved sighs on the other end, followed by a few distant "thank yous." Mamoru would have smiled at the irony, or grinned in triumph, if he were not frozen in a state of shock.

"Now that that's all behind us," Rei continued, the phone back at her ear, "there's a few things that need clearing up. Do you mind, Mamoru-san?"

"They don't involve yelling at me, do they?"

"I promise, there will be no yelling involved."

"Can I ask how Usa is, first?"

"She's recovering just fine. They released her this morning, and Ikuko-san is up pampering her right now. She made us promise that we'd let her talk to you as soon as she's finished eating the giant meal Ikuko made for her." The smile was evident in Rei's voice. "She's already demolished five courses."

Mamoru could barely help the grin that spread across his face. Somehow, the news of Usagi's appetite made his heart swell for her just as much as if someone had described to him how soft her hair was. "That's my girl," he croaked.

"Alright, first question, Mamoru-san. Are you okay? Between what you said yesterday and what happened today..."

"I'm fine, Rei-chan. Sleep deprived and kicked around a lot, but I'll live." Somehow, after three days of going without food or sleep, being repeatedly beaten within an inch of his life, and having his emotions bulldozed to the ground and then stomped upon by white stiletto sailor senshi boots, it seemed like the under statement of the year. But his Usako was okay and the Senshi were feeling apologetic, and his hellish experience was beginning to look not so bad after all.

"So, was there more than what Usagi...I mean, more than earlier? I mean, I'm pretty sure that qualifies as 'a lot,' but Haruka-san gave us the distinct impression that it's been going on awhile. And Mako-chan said she talked to someone earlier, and -they- said something about a clone with a Space Sword."

"Oh, I've seen the full gamut of clonse in the last 72 hours, Rei-chan. And let me say, I have a new found respect for any youma, daimon, lemure, phage, or any other unfortunate thing that happens to get in your way." Mamoru wanted to ask what Rei meant by 'more than what Usagi...', but he figured he'd get to it later. Right now, he was going to enjoy the relative calm of this conversation.

"I'd probably find this amusing, were the circumstances different. Hold on, I'm gonna give the phone to Ami-chan. She wants to take some notes on these clone things."

There was a brief shuffle on the phone's other end, during which the three forgotten Shitennou gave each other more confused looks. The call was going well - remarkably well, in fact - and despite his need to sit down, the Prince didn't look like he was in immediate danger of wetting himself. They only wished Malachi was awake enough to be here.

"So, you say there were clones of all of us?" Ami said, her tone proclaiming that she was now all business. Mamoru could hear her fingers clacking away on her computer, preparing God only knew what kinds of spreadsheets and data charts. "Did they show up in any particular order?"

"It's gotten hard to keep track, what with all the maiming." Mamoru paused, considering. Which one -was- the first he'd seen?

"The first one tried to freeze you to death, remember?"

All four occupants of the room practically jumped out of their skins and turned their attention to the door, where an exhausted Malachi was propped up against a doorway, looking like he would just assume fall asleep in it than continue talking.

"The first clone was, erm, a clone of you, Ami-chan. Albeit not a very convincing one," Mamoru said, sounding almost embarassed to be discussing it. "I was totally unprepared for an attack, and she got most of the way to freezing me before the Golden Crystal kicked in."

"And then you fainted," Malachi supplied from the doorway, and it took all of Mamoru's self control to keep from making a sour face at him.

"Yes, thank you, I remember that part well enough," the Prince said, switching to English. Then back to Japanese: "They followed a kind of pattern after that: Mars first, then she came back with Jupiter. Uranus, Neptune and Venus all appeared at once in one of my classes, then came back with Saturn and Pluto."

He paused, giving Ami time to input all of that into her computer.

"And then the...other one?" Ami asked quietly, once the flurry of typing had stopped.

"Yeah," Mamoru answered stiffly, feeling like he should say more, but not really wanting to delve into all the horrible details of his most recent encounter. Besides, if they knew about how he had kissed that abomination... no, he did not want to think about that just now. They were not angry at him anymore, and that was the main thing.

"What were their powers like? Were they similar to ours?"

"Pretty much. The attack names were the same and everything, and I think one of them used the same henshin phrase. I think they felt a bit different, but then, that might've just been the exploding pain of having the snot beat out of me."

"Except Lunette," Malachi amended. "Her powers were completely different from Usagi's."

"Do -you- want to do all the talking?" The prince raised an eyebrow, flip-flopping between languages as easily as changing his shoes.

"Just trying to be helpful, here." The white-haired man stifled a yawn.

"Well thanks for the help, but you really should be in bed."

"Preferably with him in it," Jed muttered, earning a swat on the back of the head from Zory.

"Mamoru-san?"

"Sorry, Ami-chan. The Sailor Moon clone is a bit different, but it's hard to tell how." Mostly because of temporary loss of sanity whenever he was near her.

"Usagi-chan thinks its because she doesn't have the ginzuishou. Mamoru-san, is someone there with you?"

"Just some...friends. Their Japanese isn't really all that good, though, so don't worry about them listening in. They just keep pestering me."

"I resent that," Malachi said from the doorway, in perfect, unaccented Japanese. "I believe 'they just keep saving me from certain doom' is more appropriate."

There was silence on the phone line, and Mamoru cleared his throat.

"Ami-chan, I can explain--"

"Mamoru-san." Ami's tone had gone flat, and Mamoru could almost -hear- her scowling. "I thought we were past this. Now, will you tell me who they really are?"

"Well..."

"Usagi-chan thinks they're from the Dark Kingdom, and they're trying to hurt you. Is this true?"

"No!" Mamoru yelled, practically throwing the phone from the force of his response. He blushed a little at the outburst, but kept going. "No, Ami-chan, it's not like that. I mean, they were in the Dark Kingdom, once, but I was, too..."

He had to stop and clear his throat. No time to dwell on that now. "No. No, they'd never hurt me. In fact, they've done more to get hurt -for- me than I've ever seen from you guys. I mean, at least you have some tactical skills. These guys just throw themselves in front of whatever comes my way, no matter how sharp and pointy it is. They're trying to make up for twenty years of living in rocks."

"Tell me about what happened earlier, Mamoru-san." Ami's voice abruptly turned into Rei's - from the disgruntled sigh on the other end, it was obvious that the black-haired girl had stolen the phone, obviously without permission. "You don't have to tell me everything, if it's too painful. But tell me what Usagi was seeing. She can't tell us, even though she tried, because it scares her too much. But we have to know. Tell me about the Sailor Moon clone."

"Wait, what was Usako seeing?" A cold pang of horror twisted his stomach at the thought of her watching him kiss that disgusting creature.

"She saw you get hurt, Mamoru-san. Do you think you can get stabbed by a Moon Tier and not have your girlfriend know about it?"

"Oh. I - I guess I hadn't thought of that." So maybe she hadn't seen the worst part, after all. Relief flowed through him, but only minimally. The event had still happened, whether he liked to admit it or not. Much as he wanted to hide it, he knew he could not keep it from his Princess. At the very least, she would be able to hear it from him, and not misinterpret what had probably looked like a very bad scene.

"So what did happen? Usagi's description was pretty jumbled. All we really got was that you were in a bad state, and that some copy of her was responsible."

"It's... well, it would take a long time to describe, Rei-chan. That clone--she's called Lunette--" he hardly bothered to hide the contempt in his voice at the mention of her name, "she showed up right after one of our fights, and I... I guess I was sort of confused at the time, and..."

"And you thought she was Usagi," Rei said simply.

"Sort of, yeah. I mean, of course I know my own Usako, but this clone just showed up out of nowhere and I wanted so much to see her just then, and..."

"Mamoru-san, calm down. I'm not trying to convict you for falling into the enemy's trap, alright? But if that clone did suck you in so easily, this is pretty serious. To use a tactic like that, they had to know a lot about you, right?"

"They already knew my civilian form right from the beginning. After that, it's not too difficult to figure out who I'm madly in love with."

"They seem to only be targetting you, Mamoru-san, which is rather unusual for an enemy." Ami's voice returned, along with the furious clack of her computer.

Sure it's unusual,Mamoru thought dryly. Normally they just want me in addition to ruling the universe. Like a perk.

"Any idea what they're after?"

"Isn't it obvious?" he asked wearily.

"Easy, Mamoru-san, it's just a question." Ami paused in her furious finger assault on her computer, clucking her tongue and sighing. As soon as it stopped, it began again. "And they don't seem to want anything else? The Golden Crystal, the Earth, using you to get to us?"

"No, they're pretty straightforward about what they want. My head on a pike, to be specific."

"Have they ever mentioned who sent them?"

"Not so much as a word about it. But I did find something..." Seems like years ago, now,Mamoru thought. "During the Dark Kingdom, Nephrite had a base under this university. I stumbled upon it - well, that pert little Uranus clone threw me into it, rather." There was a sharp intake of breath and a quiet muttering that wasn't from the phone, but it certainly sounded like Haruka - had he been put on a speaker?

"Did you find anything there?" Makoto's voice; apparently, the phone was seeing a lot of action today. "I mean, relevant things. I don't want to think about the other stuff that could be down there."

"There was one thing. A statue of Beryl, that I was told used to be like a Tupperware container for captured energy. It should have been long drained dry, but...but it was -glowing-. Like someone was using it."

"You see, I -knew- it!" Minako's voice, now. "I knew those guys were behind it! They've got you duped, Mamoru-san."

"Hey, I most definitely did not say that they were behind it, and I would thank you to keep your accusations to yourself," Mamoru snapped, his infrequently used royal authority creeping back into his voice. He was not going to stand by while his guardians were accused of still playing for the wrong side.

"Mamoru-san, don't be so blind. Usagi-chan told us who she saw, and you don't think it's more than a coincidence that they showed up, with a Dark Kingdom base suddenly back in operations?"

"No, Minako-chan, I don't think any such thing. For one thing, it was not 'back in operations.' The only thing that was in working order was that statue. No youma running around, no henchmen cackling evilly, nothing was happening. For all I know, it was a decoy. And unless -you've- taken a Silence Glaive to your stomach, or had your shoulder broken in a ten foot fall, in any recent span of time, I don't think you have the right to claim things about my guardians."

Minako's voice was so sour, Mamoru had the resist the urge to pucker at just the sound. "Oh, so -they're- your guardians now? I suppose, since you have your situation so well under control, you don't need -our- help anymore."

"Minako-chan," Rei said, with no small amount of warning. The unspoken part of that sentence was 'knock it off before I knock -you- off.'

"May I remind you," the Prince said, struggling to stay calm, "that up until six hours ago, you all wanted to do me greivous bodily harm, and made that clear in no uncertain terms? I was pretty sure you'd shoot me on sight if I ever came back home, which does not for very willing guardians make."

Mamoru's was losing his fight with the creeping rage. "Now, if you would so kindly -shut up-, Minako-chan, I would like to get the rest of this story out in the open! Unless, of course, you would -also- like to accuse -me- of working undercover for the Death Busters, while you're thinking of it."

"And how do you know that they aren't just using you?" Minako raged, apparently on a role now. "How do you know that they haven't been trying to gain your trust in order to get information about us? We're talking about people who murdered innocent people for the fun of it! Low-lifes who gain sick pleasure from destroying all that is good in the world! Their actions in the past helped destroy an entire kingdom! They're Dark Kingdom scum and they're always gonna be Dark Kingdom scum!"

"That's enough!" Mamoru was on his feet now, his hand gripping the phone so hard that it nearly cracked beneath his fingers. Thousands of years of royal blood charged his voice with a noble power that positively boomed across the seemingly minute ocean that divided them, echoing throughout both the frat house and the Tsukino residence like the first tremors of a devastating earthquake. In the final, shuddering reverberations, all went quiet. The music that had been blaring from beyond the hallway had stopped, as frat boys stared at each other in confusion, wondering what that sound was--for it could not have been human--and why it instilled in them such a sudden urgency for silence. Over the phone, not even a breath could be heard from the girls. Around Mamoru, the Prince's guardians were watching him with expressions of various shades between silent awe and knowing smiles. He failed to notice their internal struggles to keep from kneeling in front of him just then.

Through the sudden stillness, only the sound of the Prince of Earth taking a calming breath could be heard. "Don't ever say that again, Minako." His voice was low and controlled, the power that had escalated behind it still there, but harnessed. It was very quiet, but in the all-consuming silence, could not have been heard more clearly if he were shouting it through a bullhorn. "You don't know what you're talking about. The Shitennou have been my guardians from the very beginning. Circumstances have prevented them from performing their original duties until now, but they have chosen to return to me, and I have chosen to accept them. Regardless of whether or not you choose to trust them, you -will- accept my decision. They are my guardians and my brothers, and I will not have you showing them such disrespect again." It was difficult to tell when he had stopped speaking as Mamoru and started speaking as Prince Endymion. The two seemed one in the same, and looking at him now, with his torn and bloodied t-shirt, his unkempt hair, his eyes dark and swollen from exhaustion, the black-haired man could not have appeared more noble if he were standing on a dais with a golden crown upon his head.

"Do I make myself clear?"

No one on the other line dared to speak, or even breathe, in response. Had that just been Mamoru, the man who, for all intents and purposes, was about as commanding as a hamster with pinkeye? No, it had started out as Mamoru, but by the time his command - for that was indeed what it was - had ended, he was sharing space with Prince Endymion, who had rarely seen the light of day for years.

"That was not a rhetorical question, Minako. Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?"

Finally, Minako spoke up, full of both shame and reverence. "Yes."

"Good to hear. Now, can I get back to telling Rei-chan about what happened earlier?"

"Mamochan?"

Usako. She'd been there for the whole time, and he barely noticed. Well, she hadn't been able to get a word in edgewise, between the apolgies. Then, he was focused on defending the Shitennou's honor. But now, with just the sound of his name, he was pulled away from all that. Usagi was the only person in the entire world worth listening to at that moment, so far as he was concerned.

"Yes, Usako?"

"I...I want to talk to you by myself. I need to say some things, private things, and..."

"That's more than fine by me, Usako." Truthfully, he was terrified and elated at the same time. Terrified because, well, he was sure Usako would demand all the details of his encounter with Lunette. And elated because maybe now he would have a chance to clear up all of -their- misunderstandings, to go back to some semblence of normalcy in their relationship. Enraged clones promoting wanton death and destruction notwithstanding.

"Well, you heard your Prince." The giggle in the back of Usagi's voice was not lost on the black-haired man. "Go on, go talk to Mama in the kitchen. Before he has to yell at you again."

Apparently, that was all the warning they needed. Mamoru could hear six pairs of feet quickly shuffle out of the room, talking quietly to each other. After they all passed, the door clicked shut, and the couple was alone.

Except for the fact that the Shitennou were still there, watching him. The Prince made a motion to shoo them out of the room, but before they could even take a step, Usagi spoke up.

"They don't have to go, Mamochan. Actually, I kinda want them to stay. I want to say something to Kunzite later, if you're okay with that."

"I think that would be a great idea." When Malachi gave Mamoru a strange look, he gestured from the white-haired man to the phone a few times, to indicate that he was going to converse with everyone's favorite galaxy saving heroine. Malachi didn't say anything to that; he just positioned himself in Neff's other available chair, of the plastic lawn variety, and waited.

"So tell me all about it!" the odangoed girl chirped.

"A-about Lunette? Well, uh..."

"Not that, silly. About your new friends!"

"Oh, okay. But first I should really--"

"How did you meet them? Did you know them right away?"

"Well, sort of. But--"

"Have you been having fun with them? I hope they're making you get out more, Mamochan, because you're really by yourself too much."

"Well--"

"What's it like fighting with them? Are they very different from Senshi?"

"Darn it, Usako, I'm trying to tell you that I accidently kissed Lunette." Mamoru sighed. He really did not mean to blurt it out like that, but he just couldn't stand her not knowing. He did not want to hang up this phone with a guilty conscience again.

Oddly enough, Usagi's tone never lost its cheerfulness. "Mamochan, were you or were you not under that clone's influence at the time?"

"I was. I mean, I think I was, it's sort of hard to remember, but..."

"Then what are you so worried about? Goodness, Mamochan, do you have any idea how many enemies I've seen you 'accidently kiss?' We need to start charging them for it, there's so many lined up." She giggled so lightly that Mamoru thought his knees would go weak. "We should start one of those kissing booths! Daimon and youma get a special discount! Forget the whole doctor thing, Mamochan. You'll make way more money this way."

"I really hope you're joking."

"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not," she teased. "But that's not important. The important thing is that I love you and I don't care if that clone made you do the Macarena, 'cause it wasn't your fault and I won't get mad about it. I'm just glad you're okay! I was so worried..."

"You're too good to me, Usako."

"I have to be good to you, after those awful things I said." Usagi sighed, and Mamoru could almost imagine her face. She was probably frowning, blue eyes looking off to the side, at her carpet or her shoes. She was probably fidgeting, too, trying her little hands into very large knots. "Mamochan, I'm sorry. I should have let you explain. I was mad, but I should know better than to think you'd hurt me like that."

If Mamoru could have jumped through the phone and given her a big hug, he would have. "Usako, it was all misunderstandings. Lunette was following me, and I couldn't get her to leave, and before I knew it she was on me and next to the phone. It wasn't your fault. You had a right to be angry."

"But not that angry, Mamochan. The Senshi just had me all het up; they couldn't go one day without muttering things about 'ooh, I hope he's not doing things with co-eds right now, or I'll put my fist in his well, anyway.' And I was always telling them to stop, that we could trust you, but I didn't. Not when it mattered. It's easy to -say- I trust you, but I'm always getting upset when you even look at other women, and I get all jealous because they're prettier than me, or do things better than me. And it's not fair, because -you- never do that when I look at other men."

"Because I know you're not serious. Usako, you're a teenage girl; you're supposed to have crushes. It's in your genetic code. You also happen to be a social anomoly - I don't think any of your classmates have had a relationship so serious that rings were exchanged over it."

Usagi giggled, and Mamoru couldn't stop the madman grin that came to his face. "I know it's normal, but that doesn't mean I don't feel bad. You never even roll your eyes or anything!"

"Do you -want- me to start being a jealous boyfriend? Because I could probably start with giving Haruka-san a run for her money. Although I think you've already done a better job than me in that department."

"You -saw- that?" The blue-eyed girl sounded almost embarrassed. "I didn't mean to hit her that hard. I just got so upset, and then my hand was flying... actually, Mamochan, maybe you should stay the way you are. I think we only need one spazz in this relationship."

The four guardians watched their Prince as he lounged on Neff's bed, the easy grin on his face showing that he had already forgotten that they were listening. For him, there was only one other person in the world right now, and that person was the cheerful schoolgirl on the other end of the phone line. It was difficult for them not to smile, the way he looked so happy and relaxed, as though the horrors of the last few days were little more than a bad dream.

Malachi sat back against the plastic chair, doing his best to remain awake until it was his turn for the phone. A hand brushed through his hair from behind. "Couldn't sleep?" Zory said softly, just quietly enough that Mamoru could not hear. The silver-haired man knew what he meant. He had fully intended to be unconscious at this moment, and probably would have been, if not for that phonecall.

He nodded slightly towards Mamoru. "Not while he's up, I can't."

The blonde sighed, his fingers playing through the silken white strands. He saved his disapproving look for later, because he knew that Malachi could not help himself. Even though he was dead on his feet, even though Mamoru would have been just down the hall, even though his Prince had three other guardians there with him, the leader of the Shitennou would have still been too worried to let himself get any rest. With the impending threat of the Lunette clone, along with any other force of evil that might come riding on her heels, his protection mode was now on hyperdrive, and he would not rest unless he was certain that his Prince was safe. Which meant that he had to be able to see him at all times.

"How's that shoulder doing? Want some painkillers?"

"I could really use some."

Zory dug the bottle out of his pocket and pried the lid open, careful not to rattle the pills too much. Unobtrusively, he slipped two of them into the other man's big hand. Both were distinctly aware that if they made too big a deal about it, Mamoru would start guilting about Malachi's injuries. Which, being Mamoru, would be a dangerous thing for him to do right now. Maybe in a week or two, when the threat was gone and Mamoru was in better shape, they would let him heal Malachi's shoulder, and any other remaining injuries that the others had. For now, they needed to keep him from overexerting himself.

"Malachi?"

"Nngh?" the guardian responded eloquently, having just popped the painkillers in his mouth. He was in mid-motion, reaching for Neff's moldy water glass, when he found a cellphone placed in his hand, instead.

Mamoru smiled pleasantly from his position, almost looming over the slumped, exhausted Malachi. "Usako wants to talk to you. She promised to be brief, because I told her you look like crap and need some sleep."

"Thanks, Prince." Malachi looked at the phone as though he were afraid to use it. He wasn't quite sure what he was expecting to come out of the other end. He half expected, 'Hey, are you the same Kunzite who killed Mamoru a few years ago and skipped off with him to the Dark Kingdom? You are? Oh, well, then, if you would kindly stay -away- from him before I send eight irate Senshi to maim you beyond recognition, that'd be really swell.'

Clearing his throat, he said in the least exhausted voice he could muster, "Hello?"

"Hey, would this be Kunzite?"

"Yep. Would this be the Princess?"

The young girl giggled--a warm, refreshing sound, like sunshine on water. "It would be. Mamochan said you're beat, so I won't keep you long. I just wanted to clear some things up with you, okay?"

"I'm all yours, Princess."

"Is he okay? I mean, really? 'Cause I know he has this really bad habit of saying he's okay when he's really not, and I just want to make sure."

"After talking to you, Princess, he looks better than he has in days." The white haired man smirked at the look that Mamoru gave him. "And that's saying an awful lot, being that he also has this habit of forgetting to eat for days at a time."

"You noticed that too, did you? You managed to do something about it, I hope. He's very difficult to pin down long enough to get a decent meal in him, even when armed with my mama's cooking."

"Oh, we force-fed him eggs this morning, and we might even get something else in him tonight, if we're lucky."

"I'm glad to hear it. And I have to know--are you making him do something other than stare at a text book sometimes? Like maybe, have some fun? Because he really needs to learn how to get out."

"You can trust me, Princess, when I say that he won't be spending all his time stuck in a text book."

"Well, Mamochan speaks really highly of you guys, so I know I don't have to worry about anything. If you have his trust, you know that you already have mine."

"Coming from you, Princess, that is a great compliment."

She giggled again, and for a few moments, Malachi almost forgot that he was tired. She was like the first gust of warm wind on a spring day. "You can stop with the Princess thing. Usagi is just fine, Kunzite."

"Usagi, then. And you can call me Malachi."

"Malachi." Usagi said the name slowly, trying to copy his pronunciation. "So, Malachi, how big a threat are these clones, really? Mamochan doesn't want to worry me, so he won't tell me the whole truth, but I know you will."

"It's...They're rough, Pri--Usagi. They're powerful, they know our weaknesses." Malachi looked at Mamoru, then at the other three Shitennou. "We're fighting our hardest, but we're getting the crap beaten out of us."

"You don't think it's the Dark Kingdom, do you?"

"The statue in Nephrite's old base was probably a decoy. We don't know for sure, but the Dark Kingdom was never that sophisticated. More smashing, less planning."

"And that's the only lead you have?"

Malachi sighed, rubbing his forehead. He wished the painkillers would kick in. "That's the only lead we have. None of the clones have mentioned an organization of any kind, or a motive, aside from 'do everything in your power to kill the Prince.' I'm afraid that whoever's in charge, they're waiting for the right time to drop the other shoe."

There was silence on the line for a moment, as Usagi tried to take it all in.

"You'll do your best to protect him for me?"

"We'd lay down our lives for him, Princess." Malachi ignored the sour face Mamoru made when he said that. It was true, after all, even if they'd been having some issues with that as of late.

"Usagi, Malachi. Call me Usagi. And I don't want you to do -that-; just keep him from being as reckless as he is when he's at home. Now he's the one they're after, but I know him, and he won't like being coddled. But if he's being silly, you have my permission to coddle the hell out of him."

"Well as long as I have your permission," the white-haired man replied, barely able to mask the amusement in his voice.

"Just make sure my Mamochan comes back to me in one piece, okay? I don't want to play 'hunt for the lost sailor crystal' any time soon."

"I promise you that we will do everything in our power to make sure he does."

"Thank you, Makalai. You don't know how much it means to me knowing that he has someone there to take care of him."

"It's Malachi, Pr--Usagi. And it's our pleasure, trust me."

"Malachi. Right. I'll remember that. Now, you sound like you're gonna fall asleep on me, Malachi, so you'd better let me say goodbye to my Mamochan. Get some rest, huh? Have a good night!"

"Thank you, Usagi. You too." Malachi barely had time to remove the phone from his ear before it was eagerly snatched up by an impatient Prince.

"Well, that sounded relatively painless." Zory had gone back to running his fingers through the long silver strands of hair. He loved playing with Malachi's hair (though for some reason, the white-haired man never let him tie it into pigtails).

Malachi yawned into his fist. "I'd forgotten how easy she is to talk to. She excepted us right off the bat, no questions asked. Just like the past never happened."

"Yeah, if there's one thing I remember about the Princess, it's that she'll take you as you are, no matter what you've done. At least, that's the impression I got."

"Oh c'mon, Usako, don't make me say that."

"Mamochan, are you embarrassed to tell your fiance that you love her in front of your friends?"

"Well, not exactly, but..."

"I'm not hanging up until you say it."

Mamoru sighed, suddenly very much aware that Jed and Neff were both watching him. "I love you, precious," he mumbled.

"I love you too, Mamochan. Oh, Ikuko-mama's giving me the look, so I'd better go. Bye now!"

Mamoru hung up the phone, throwing a dirty look at both Neff and Jed, who looked like they were making a great effort to hold back laughter. "What?"

"Oh, nothing. We didn't say a word," Jed said innocently.

"...Precious," Neff added meekly, causing both of them to lose it.

Zory sighed, exasperated. "You're both a couple of imbeciles, you know that?"

The blonde received no reply, as the two men continued to laugh, with only the occasional pauses for breath. He grabbed Malachi by his good arm, and hoisted him as best he could out of his chair. With a last look of frustration, he steered the white-haired guardian out of the room and back towards his own before Malachi could even hope to protest.

Lost in their helpless hysterics, Neff and Jed continued to laugh heartily even as their Prince disappeared out of the room, and if they noticed or cared, they didn't show it. Mamoru followed Zory and Malachi out into the hallway, past reveling fratboys who had recovered quite nicely from the booming, otherworldly scare they'd had. A few greeted him and offered him a drink, but he turned down the alcohol every time. He'd barely eaten all day, and wasn't even sure of how much had made it into his body, as having a Tier put through your stomach was not good for gastrointestinal health. Booze on an empty stomach was the least intelligent thing he could do.

"I'll leave the painkillers on the table, so they won't accidentally get absorbed into the general drug train in this house," he heard Zory say, as he entered the bedroom he was now apparently sharing. The blonde was settling his friend into bed as best he could, but Malachi kept trying to get up, much to his chagrin.

"Zory, I'm not sleeping until the Prince gets some of his own," he said anxiously, as he was firmly pushed back down on his bed. "I can't afford—-"

"You can't afford to be awake for ten more seconds, Malachi, and you damn well know it." Mamoru stepped into the room and leaned on the doorway, giving his guardian a stern look. "I slept all the way home and for the last half an hour, and need I remind you that your other half practially anesthetized me? It wasn't your average, garden variety sleep. Right now, I could do with a shower just as badly as you could do with uninterrupted shut-eye. Argue, and we'll have to finish that wrestling match. And you've got a handicap."

"I only need one arm to beat you into the ground, you know."

"You couldn't beat me into the ground if you had two functioning arms and a baseball bat. But we'll settle that matter later, after you sleep."

"Prince, that clone's going to attack again."

"Of course she is. And you won't be much of a defense against her if you can't even keep your eyes open."

"And I'll be even less helpful if I'm not even conscious at the time."

"Look, if it makes you feel any better, I'll stay right here the whole time. If anything happens to me, you'll be right there to take care of it, alright?"

The white-haired man sighed, looking like he was not in much shape to argue. Mamoru smiled, deciding that that was as close to a 'yes' as he was going to get. "Good. I promise, you're not going to sleep through anyone maiming me. And if you do, you have permission to hit me."

"Oh, that makes me feel a lot better," the guardian grumbled, allowing Zory to prop up several pillows behind him. "At the very least, I should be on the couch. This is the Prince's bed now."

The black-haired man chuckled. "I think I can live with lending it to you for one night, Malachi. I doubt that couch is very accommodating for people with broken shoulders."

Zory plopped the bottle of pills down on the nightstand. "I'll leave the painkillers here. I think Mamoru can figure out the dosage so you don't go hurting yourself."

"Gee, thanks," Malachi growled.

"If he gives you any trouble, Prince, just get Neff in here to hold him down for you. Can I get you guys anything?"

"Well, now that you mention it..." Mamoru looked down at his clothes. There was practically nothing left of his shirt; whatever spots that were not ripped or bloodstained were smeared with dirt, sweat, and other things he wasn't quite sure about. His pants were not much better, nor were his shoes, and a film of dirt and grime covered practically every bit of exposed skin. "A change of clothes and a bar of soap look mightily appealing right now."

"You can borrow something of mine, Prince." Neff appeared at the doorway, with Jed right behind. "Malachi's stuff would drown you, Jed's too damn small, and Zory doesn't own anything but dresses."

"I'll have you know there's a nice pantsuit in there, too, thank you very much," Zory snapped, trying his best to glare at the brunette. At best, he looked pouty. Jed errupted into a new bout of laughter as Neff shoved past him to find a pair of accomodating clothes.

Malachi sighed, though it was obvious that he was surpressing his own laughter. "Zory, sometimes I think it would be better if you just didn't say anything to those two."

"I can't help it! It's not -my- fault I'm small, blonde, phsyically underwhelming--"

"--female--"

"--and happen to own a dress or two," the blonde finished, exasperated. "They're not -my- dresses, anyway! I think Tethys left them for me as a joke."

"She always did have an interesting sense of humor," Jed said, looking a little wistful. He looked like he was about to get sucked back into his 'survivor's guilt,' of sorts, but the moment passed, and he was back to his genial, dumbfounded self in seconds.

"You didn't -have- to keep them, you know," Malachi continued, decidedly overlooking Jed's momentary lapse. "You could have gotten rid of them a long time ago."

"Yeah, but they're so pretty. It'd be a shame to waste them..."

"Maybe you can wear one of them to the next kegger and pick yourself up a hotOW! Dammit, Zory!" Jed rubbed his knee, whining in pain. "Ever consider a career in soccer? You kick like a fucking maniac."

"I just prefer not to be picked on by the likes of you two," the blonde griped.

"Here you go, Prince," Neff announced, returning with an armful of clothes. "Sorry they're not exactly high fashion, but they were the only clean things I could find."

"Anything would be better than what I'm wearing now," Mamoru muttered, unfolding the t-shirt the brunette had handed to him. He read the front, blinked, read it again. The black-haired man lowered the shirt, raising an eyebrow at Neff. "Seme - It's Lonely at the Top?"

That sent yet another eruption of laughter up from Jed. "Oh man, I just got that! Neff, you freaking wore that to the bar last week, too!"

"It's Zory's fault," Neff insisted stoically. "He gave me that thing for Christmas. Told me it meant something entirely different, the little bitch."

Zory leaned against Malachi's desk, grinning despite himself. "Damn, my evil plans have been revealed. Now I can't play tricks on you guys in other languages anymore. Not unless I learn a new one."

Mamoru shook his head at Zory. "I would have never expected that of you."

The blonde flashed him a vicious smirk. "I always get my revenge on them, trust me. They had uke shirts, too, but I knew I couldn't convince Neff to wear something that said 'root for the underdog.'"

"You're all twisted, you know that? I'd almost feel badly for the counterparts living in your heads, if I weren't so amused." Mamoru pulled off the remains of his Azabu shirt and dropped it into a messy heap on the floor.

He heard someone mutter 'oh God' as they got an eyeful of his bare chest, bruised in every color of the rainbow, dingy with blood and various other bodily fluids. Even though the wound in his abdomen was healed as though nothing had happened, they didn't account for a scar. It was bright, angry red, the size of a small melon, jagged from the places where the Tier's decoration had ripped his skin further. It would go away eventually, maybe even disappear the next time he used the Golden Crystal. There was also a smaller, dime-sized hole on his ribcage, reminiscent of the stiletto heel that had punctured his lung when he was too depressed to save himself.

The Prince had nothing constructive to say, looking from four stricken faces to his ravaged, beaten body. He didn't -feel- all that bad, compared to a few hours ago, but he sure looked like all nine levels of Hell. Despite his heartening coversation with Usagi, his face was drawn, skin streched as though it was on the face of a corpse. Dark bags under his eyes weren't helping the cadaver image any, and just the look in his eyes alone made it look like he'd aged a few decades over twenty years.

And he knew what was going through the Shitennou's collective mindset - this was -their- fault. If they had just protected him better, if they had done this and that, maybe he would have been spared all that pain. But he knew that wasn't true. Whoever this enemy was, for whatever reason they wanted him dead, they would have done this damage no matter how well trained they had been. They were out of practice, and they were still getting comfortable with the concept of two entirely seperate entities becoming just one, fighting memories and personal tastes and just the concept of having thousand-year-old spirits, technically an incarnation of you, living in your head.

Somehow, it didn't seem like all of this had taken place over the course of a few days. It was like they had fallen into a time warp, and they were going normal speed while everything else had slowed to a crawl. He wondered if he could put a call through to the Time Gate and see what Setsuna had to say. Then he wondered if Setsuna even had a phone at the Time Gate. And then he wondered why he was wondering such weird things in the first place.

Mamoru shifted uncomfortably beneath their collective gaze, turning away to pull on the new shirt, twisted though the message was. The action gave them an eyeful of the intricate web of cuts, burns, and abrasions on his back that he had earned from such fun-filled activities as being blown through windows and brick walls. Purple and greenish bruises dotted all along his spine, accenting the many others that covered his shoulders and ribs. A patch of hair was missing from the back of his head, replaced with a dark mess of blood that had dried in the tangled black locks. Something that looked like frostbite spread over one shoulder. Half-healed burn scars created a patchwork pattern all down his neck, where the tiny Jupiter clone had tried to electrocute him to death.

He was like one of those villains from horror movies, the ones who could be blown to bits, and still come back with the chainsaw. Except there was no makeup or CG animation involved, and the closest thing Mamoru had to a chainsaw was a shiny piece of jewelry that made things go all sparkly.

"Just stop it, alright?" Mamoru had managed to cover the worst of it with Neff's somewhat baggy shirt, and now stood hugging the rest of his clothes to his chest, his eyes avoiding the guilt and worry on their faces. "It's not that bad. It looks worse than it really is."

"I sure hope it does," Malachi said, tone surprisingly neutral. Mamoru realized that his painkillers had finally started to kick in, and the white-haired guardian was looking more than a little bleary. He'd started to slump over in bed, propped up against approximately eighty pillows, and the Prince knew that even without sedatives, as soon as his shoulder stopped hurting, he'd be out like a light.

"Guys, do you mind if I talk to Malachi for a minute alone? You can come back in after he passes out, but I just...uh..."

"No need to explain, Prince," Jed said. He jerked his head in the direction of the door. "C'mon, boys. There's beer with our names on it. Well, maybe we'll make Zory a mai tai or something equally metrosexual."

Before Zory could kick him again, Jed flew out the door, with the little blonde blur on his heels. Neff sighed, sounding remarkably like Malachi in his frustrations, and took off after them with the slightest hint of a smile on his face.

The door closed behind them, and Mamoru breathed a sigh of relief. More than anything, he was glad simply that the awkward moment had passed. All of this extra attention his guardians were paying him, especially regarding his injuries, was making him more than a little uncomfortable.

"I take it the painkillers are working?" Mamoru deposited Neff's clothes on the floor, crossing the room to the bed.

"I've decided that I really like those things," Malachi answered groggily. "They make everything seem so much nicer." After a moment he added, a little more soberly, "So you noticed."

"What, Zory sneaking you pills? You guys don't think you can hide that sort of thing from me that easily, do you?" He pulled the covers over his friend, straightening them out. "I'm not only a med student, Malachi, I'm also a master at hiding ailments. Next time, loudly proclaim that you're thirsty, and then take them in the kitchen while you're getting your drink. It's more discrete, and doesn't involve questionable glasses of water. At least, not unless you haven't done your dishes in a while."

"Thanks for the tip. You're a real master of stealth, you are."

Mamoru smiled, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "I have to be sometimes. When you have a girlfriend who tries to smother you with worry when you get even a headache, it's best not to be announcing it every time you feel a little sick."

"Or maybe it's because you're all anal about letting people give you a hand."

"Oh, all things considered, I really don't think you're one to talk in that department, Malachi."

"Touché, I suppose," Malachi grumbled, head flopping back on the pillows. He sighed. "What now, Prince? Where can we go from here? We can't just wait for Lunette to come back. "

"We may have to. What other leads do we have? The Dark Kingdom base?" Mamoru let out a sigh of his own. He threw up his hands. "If it -is- a decoy, they'd have us chasing our tails for God knows how long, and then they'd have us right where they want us. If it's real, then the last thing I want to do is hop right into the enemy's lair. No sense giving them homecourt advantage."

"You sound like Neff."

"You almost make that sound like an insult."

The white-haired man snorted. "Sometimes it can be." He sighed, sinking back into the pillows. Those painkillers almost worked a little -too- well. Maybe he had made a mistake in taking them--the last thing he really needed right now was to be heavily medicated.

Mamoru's hand softly brushed his forehead. "How's that headache? Did it go away?"

"Of course it did. Soon as you jumped inside there. Oh, and please don't do that again. I have enough extra beings creeping around in my brain without adding you to the party."

"Trust me, I don't plan on doing that again for a very long time." Mamoru shuddered. Just the thought of Malachi Brain Tentacles trying to eat him was enough to give him nightmares for the next month.

Malachi closed his eyes against the oppressive glare of the bedroom light. "I guess I never thanked you for doing that. Even though it was an incredibly stupid thing to do," he added pointedly. "If you hadn't stepped in, I..." He turned away, watching the rain splatter against the dark window.

"I know. Don't worry about it anymore, Malachi." He watched his guardian's face, still drawn and weary from the day's events. Mamoru knew that, for all the hell that Malachi looked right now, it was merely a shadow of what he had actually been feeling lately. He remembered what it was like when he'd stumbled across the 'Malachi' part of his consciousness, frightened and confused and mentally shivering with exhaustion, barely coherent and unable to understand a word of the reassurance that Mamoru attempted to offer. "Now hurry up and go to sleep. And that's doctor's orders."

"Well I can't argue with doctor's orders. You'll stick to your promise? You won't go running off somewhere as soon as I'm unconscious?"

"I promise, I will be right here the entire time."

And while part of Malachi was afraid the Prince was going to worm out on that promise, the rest of him was far too exhausted to give anything but the benefit of the doubt. He attempted to roll on his side, but the sling made it impossible. With a resigned sigh, he closed his eyes and sprawled on his back as best he could.

Mamoru watched, perched on the end of the bed, until he saw the soft, even breathing. Malachi was definitely asleep, and hopefully it would last longer this time. He didn't intend on receiving any calls any time soon, and tonight's frathouse rituals seemed unusually quiet. With any luck, there would be no clones, no wanton chaos and destruction, and his body could try and recover from an indescribably long 72 hours.

He picked up the rest of the loaner clothes Neff had left for him, holding them flat in his hands as though he wasn't sure what to do with them. He needed a shower - his overwhelming funk made that clear in no uncertain terms. He probably needed a meal. And at some point in the future, he needed more sleep. There wasn't any need to make Malachi worry at that point, but he was definitely more tired than he let on. Knowing that everything had been squared away in Tokyo had given him a small recharge, but it wasn't nearly enough.

And there was still the issue of Lunette, and her Big Bad Supervisor, to deal with.

He sighed, retreating into the adjacent bathroom. If his experience with the phone call was any indication, then Malachi would be on his feet the moment he tried to leave the room. He had looked perfectly dead to the world when Mamoru stumbled out of bed in search of the source of the ringing, but it seemed that it had taken only a few minutes for his extra senses to kick in. He should have known that even a bad injury and days of worry and sleeplessness were not enough to tranquilize his guardian into not noticing when he went missing for a scant few minutes. Mamoru had no idea where the showers were in this house, but he had a feeling that they were at least as far away as Neff's room. Which meant that he would not be making a trip there at least until Malachi had had a decent level of rest.

Fortunately, he had a perfectly clean bathroom at his disposal, complete with some basic sanitary products. After catching a glance at Neff's bathroom, he was tremendously relieved to see that Malachi believed in soap. He made use of the sink, managing to scrub off the worst of the grime and gore, and discarded the rest of his nearly-disintegrated clothing. The soapy water stung some of his remaining cuts and abrasions, but the pain was far preferable over feeling like a common swine, standing around in his own filth.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror, running his hands through his damp hair. "Prince, that clone's going to attack again."He had acted like the thought did not bother him, but the truth was, Mamoru was more than a little scared. Not for himself, exactly; he had had so many near-death experiences lately that he was rather numb to the whole concept of being killed. No, what scared him was the thought that today's events might happen all over again, that he would turn on his friends and guardians without even a second thought. He had come very close to killing them last time--none of them said it, but he could see for himself how extensive the damage was, and this was after they had caught some of the feedback from his healing powers.

And he had been inside Malachi's head, had seen first-hand certain memories that he knew he was not supposed to see. It had not been his intent to go digging around in his friend's brain for all the secret parts of his past, but how could he help it when Malachi just left those memories hanging like open books for anyone to see? He had seen that moment of absolute despair, when Malachi himself had been so certain that their lives were already approaching their ends that he was willing to give up everything to prevent it. That one memory shook Mamoru to the bone, and even now in the warm glow of the bathroom he could feel himself shudder. He would give anything to make it so that Malachi had not had to go through that, and he would give even more to make sure that he never had to go through it again. Especially knowing that he was the cause of it all in the first place.

So what was left for him to do? He had a feeling that the final battle was approaching, much more quickly than the Shitennou wanted to believe. He'd stripped down the clones' forces until Lunette was all that remained. And if he had learned anything in his years with the Senshi, it was that the head villain always kept their appearance to the very last. And they always made sure -their- form of punishment was at least ten times greater than anything the minions had come up with. Mamoru scrubbed at his skin furiously with the bar of soap. That was most certainly -not- a reassuring thought.

His only option was to initiate this battle before the Big Baddies had the chance to think of it themselves. That meant initiating it without the Shitennou finding out. But here again was a no-win situation. He could lie to them and run out, probably on a kamikaze mission, to stop the madness once and for all and keep them from getting hurt. Or he could let events happen as they would, knowing full well of the consequences, both for himself and his guardians.

It was another thing he'd learned through the years with the Senshi. "The guardians always go first." Usually, that meant -he- went first, too. But this time he was not the protector, he was the protectee. The odds that he would be forced to watch the Shitennou die, in order to keep him alive, were disgustingly high. He'd already seen proof of that. How many times had they hovered on the brink of death lately, just to be pulled out at the last minute by the Golden Crystal? He didn't know how many more times he could watch.

Mamoru picked up the pair of loaned boxers from the pile of clothing, finding the kitten-print fabric somewhat disconcerting. He had the feeling Neff chose that pair on purpose; it was in his nature to tease. This was followed by a pair of pants which, more or less, fit him. His old pair would barely qualify as an oil rag, let alone clothing, and he would take this generosity any way it came to him. He took another look in the mirror, grateful that he at least looked like a living human, if an exhausted one.

The only flaw in the "don't tell the Shitennou and fight the Last Battle on your own" plan, as he saw it, was how furious Malachi would be when he found his Prince had escaped the premises, after swearing he wouldn't go anywhere. He was not one to take such promises lightly, and Mamoru knew that he would be due an angry talking-to as soon as he came back.

-If- I come back,he thought, picking up the remains of his pants and underwear. I have to be realistic about this. I'm talking about going to the supposed lair of my very real enemy, no backup, to fight it out one-on-one with the person who stops at nothing to kill me. The Golden Crystal has a lot of power, but how much can -I- do before I run out? And what do I have to gain by playing right into my enemy's hands?

He could spare the Shitennou indescribable amoutns of pain, that's what. Because they were friends first and guardians second, and no one ever wants to see their friends hurting. Especially when that hurting is potentially life-threatening, as it had been in the last few days. While they were protecting him, it was also his duty to protect -them-, and the best way to do that was to make sure they were here when he was fighting. And unless he came up with a better idea in the next half hour, it was the only way to do it.

The thought did vaguely cross his mind that after the stern talking-to that Neff had given him, going against their wishes like this could be something akin to a betrayal. But regardless of how hurt his Shitennou might be that he refused to have them by his side during the final battle, Mamoru felt justified in knowing that he was doing this to protect them. His decision was not because he didn't want guardians; it was because he -did- want them, and that would only happen if they survived long enough to stick around.

He tossed the remainders of his clothing into the waste basket--they had served him well, but it was time they passed on to Clothing Heaven--and returned to the bedroom. Malachi still lay sprawled on the pillows, his deep, steady breathing the only sign of life out of him. How long would it be before he jolted himself awake to find Mamoru missing? Ten minutes? Fifteen? If he ran fast, he might be able to make it out of here before Malachi opened his eyes. And then, of course, they would be delayed by their search for him, and hopefully would not figure out where he had gone for some time. With luck, it would buy him just enough time to do what he needed to do.

With a resigned sigh, he turned away from the white-haired guardian who slept peacefully on the bed, and reached for the doorknob.

Before his fingers even touched it, the door suddenly swung open, and Mamoru narrowly avoided adding insult to a multitude of injuries by getting a faceful of door. "He finally asleep?" Neff asked gruffly, his voice still being somewhat hoarse, his intense brown eyes showing surprisingly cheerful given the circumstances.

"Oh, yeah. I was just coming to find you guys." Okay, so that was not entirely true, but "oh yeah, I was just about to sneak off on my own to fight an epic battle" did not seem like the best answer.

"Zory said you'd be stuck in here until he woke up, so--"

"We come bearing sustenance!" Jed bellowed behind the brunette, thrusting a pizza box up above his head like a trophy.

Mamoru tried to motion for Jed to keep it down, but Neff just chuckled, moving aside to allow the two blondes through the doorway. "He'll sleep through anything, trust me. After living in this house, he's immune to any and all loud noises." Indeed, even Malachi's breathing had remained steady despite the shouts.

The black-haired man shook his head. "And yet he'll be wide awake the moment I'm twenty meters away from him. He never ceases to amaze me."

"Or me, for that matter." Zory tossed him a can of Vanilla Coke. "It was the only available alternative to beer," he explained. "And I figured you wouldn't be up to drinking with us just yet. At least not until you've got a bit less on your mind."

Jed set the pizza on the floor, prying open the box with relish. "Not exactly fine cuisine, but Neff's too fucking lazy to cook."

"Even if I wanted to, the kitchen's too crowded. I think half of Stanford is getting wasted on our table."

Mamoru popped open the can of Coke, taking a sip. Ah, caffeine; a reliable friend of his. "They seem subdued tonight, if my first introduction to frat life was any indication."

"Yeah, I'd don't know what's up with that." Jed helped himself to a very large slice of pizza. "Maybe it's the weather. I know I probably wouldn't want to be making out in the bushes in a downpour."

"I find that hard to believe." Neff raised an eyebrow, dubious.

Jed snorted. "Well, okay, -I- would, but you know I have the common sense of a gerbil. These guys, on the other hand, like staying dry when they--"

"Pizza, Prince?" Zory interjected, holding out a greasy slice expectantly. "It's not exactly the greatest of meals, but I don't even want to think about how much of your breakfast ever made it into your system after...Just eat it, please, for the sake of my sanity."

Mamoru set his soda on a nearby table, and accepted the pizza with no small amount of trepidation. He'd gotten used to instant ramen and microwaved dinners in recent weeks, but what they lacked in flavor and nutrient content, they made up for fat and calories. Of course, he could probably use some of both, as God only knew how much weight he'd lost recently. Carefully, he took a bite, and Zory looked immensely pleased with himself. Mamoru guessed it was his idea to bring in food, and there had been no argument from the other two, considering the way they devoured the pizza.

"I see you cleaned up," Jed said, over a mouthful of pepperoni. It sounded more like "ah shmee you creaned muh," but somehow Mamoru managed to translate.

"Unlike some people--" he glared briefly at Neff "--Malachi has a firm grasp on the concept of soap. It'll have to do until I can get in a shower, and since I don't want to trip his Mam-O-Meter's alarm wire, I don't think I'll get one of those any time soon."

"I know about soap. It's that block of stuff on my sink that's turning green. Or, wait, was that that granola bar I left in there..."

Zory's face scrunched up in disgust. "Neff, I am never entering your bathroom again."

"Now, now, Zory, we can't all be hygienically obsessed like you." Jed sank onto the couch, steadily devouring his pizza.

"Taking care of my hair does not make me obsessed. And I wouldn't sit there if I were you. Malachi'll squish you into a pulp if you get crumbs on his clean couch."

The blonde mumbled something around his food that sounded somewhat like "oh shit" before he meekly slid to the floor. The four fratboys settled themselves around the box, the pizza becoming a sort of sacred hearth from which all were eager to partake.

"I know I'm the culturally inept one here, but doesn't pizza usually take longer than this to have delivered? How'd you guys get one so fast?"

"Swiped one from the living room," Neff said simply, picking out all the mushrooms and eating them with his fingers. He seemed to be eating his pizza one ingredient at a time, which Mamoru found weirdly fascinating. Especially since he was still going though slices faster than anyone else in the room.

Mamoru raised an eyebrow. "You just took it?" His new friends never ceased to confuse him. Was stealing pizza an American thing, a fraternity thing, or merely a Shitennou thing? Or was it a combination of all three?

"There were at least ten out there," Jed amended, as if this explained everything. When nothing else was said, Mamoru decided to let the matter drop. After all, there was food to be had, and regardless of how his guardians had brought it to him, he was grateful for it just the same.

The four men lapsed into silence, punctuated only by Malachi's steady breathing and the occasional pulse of loud music from another part of the house. Each continued to chew, gnaw on, and munch his piece of pizza, sipping their Coke (or, in most cases, beer) at regular intervals. Mamoru watched them in their routines - Neff's ingredient picking, Zory's delicate nibble, Jed's...well, inhaling was a good way to put it.

He wondered if he would get to see this again, this simple, quiet kind of moment. He wondered if he would come back from the final battle, whether he would be with them, all together, in this way. Was this the last time he'd ever see them? Would his phonecall with Usako be the last one he would ever have? Was he wrong to do this?

No, he couldn't have doubts now. He had to be certain, before he snuck out right under their noses, to fight on his own. He had to be sure he could break their trust, maybe even die, in order to keep them safe.

"Man, we'll have to do this all the time, when this clone shit is all over," Neff said, taking the last swig out of his beer and crushing the can with one hand. "Malachi will have to be conscious, too. But we can sit around and drink beer and be manly men and all that. Well, Zory can be a womanly man."

Zory slapped him on the back of the head, with the hand that was not occupied with pizza. "Can't you just eat without mocking me?"

"Zory, there is absolutely nothing I can do without mocking you. Period. Did you know I mock you while I'm on the toilet?"

"Frankly, I could have done without that," the blonde muttered, returning to his food. "-Especially- while I'm trying to keep this greasy mess in my stomach."

Watching them, Mamoru could barely help the grin that crept onto his face. Outside, the rain drummed steadily against the window pane. Somewhere beyond Malachi's bedroom door, muffled peals of laughter could be heard. Jed shifted in his seat, endlessly restless, as he gnawed at a piece of crust. "Yeah. We'll have to do this again, won't we?"

The black-haired man twirled the can of Coke around in his fingers. It would be alright. They would always be here, together, just like this. Even if he wasn't here with them. He wouldn't mind leaving them so much if he had to, knowing that they would still be here, teasing and having fun and generally being comfortable in one another's company.

He took another gulp of the carbonated sugar water, reveling in the caffeine. "Oh, thanks for the change of clothes, Neff. You've no idea how nice it is to be wearing something that's not disintegrating."

"Any time. I should maybe do some laundry so you actually have more than one outfit at your disposal. At least until we can get you some new clothes."

The moment those words had exited the brunette's mouth, a strange sort of sound, halfway between a gasp and a squeal, erupted from Zory. "Prince, we have to take you shopping!"

Jed promptly choked on an olive. Neff barely paused in the middle of dissecting his slice of pizza long enough to groan and shake his head. Zory was grinning at Mamoru with an expectant sort of glee. Mamoru, for his part, could only swallow his food, not entirely certain of whether he could trust that devious gleam in Zory's eyes. "Shopping? What..."

"It'll be perfect! We'll get you a whole new wardrobe! Let's see, you'll need shirts, pants, shoes--some nice ones; those look like they're half melted--at least two or three jackets... Oh! We can't forget accessories! You'd look fabulous in gold, Prince..."

"Is he serious?" Mamoru muttered to Neff as the little blonde continued to rave about Mamoru's apparent fashion makeover, jabbering a mile a minute about colors and seasons and brands.

"Most likely. Zory's favorite thing in the world is buying clothes. And doing hair. And all that other femmy stuff that I try to avoid."

"Zory, you are not subjecting him to the horror that is The Gap," Jed broke in on Zory's raving. "That's just plain cruelty, man."

"There's nothing wrong with The Gap," the effeminate blonde pouted.

"$80 for a tacky scarf. You can't tell me that's not frightening."

"They do have something called sales, you know."

"Forget it. You're not turning him into some lame ultra-preppy granola-eater. The guy has enough social problems as it is."

"Well thank you, Jed."

"Any time."

While Zory and Jed launched into an argument that had something to do with style (though Mamoru could not be sure, being that they were now referring to a myriad of slang terms and store names that might as well have been a foreign language), he found himself wondering how in the world he was going to break it to Zory that, as much as it sounded like it would be fun to go on an exhausting shopping spree with him, it was not exactly on his list of priorities for things to run himself into debt with.

He had carefully budgeted his stay in the United States--his education was mostly covered by scholarships, but living overseas was expensive, after all. He had never planned to have his dorm burned to the ground and have all of his possessions destroyed in the process. As it was, he already had to replace every one of his text books, which were currently very nice piles of ash sitting on top of a larger pile of ash that was once his desk, and surrounded by the charred skeleton of his former dorm. He did not want to think about how much that in itself would set him back--his calculator alone would cost him a few hundred dollars. There were the other supplies, too--notebooks, paper, and let's not forget about that wonderfully expensive laptop computer that had been right next to his bed. And then there were the normal expenses--food, his stay in the frat house (because even though he was just a nice addition to Malachi's bedroom, he would definitely not be living here out of charity), transportation, and the many other pricey things that he did not even want to think about. And of course, what went without saying was the very large sum of money that was stowed away for his visits back to Japan--he would sooner live off of creamed corn for the next four months than sacrifice his visits with his Usako. A part-time job was out of the question; being a full-time pre-med student was far too demanding to add work in there, unless he dropped some classes (which would only cause more problems, because it would take him an extra semester to make them up). When it came right down to it, he would be lucky if he could afford a couple shirts from the nearest Wal-Mart to tide him over for the rest of the semester.

"...And we'll have to get you some sweaters! Winter's coming, and you can't be unprepared for any kind of weather, after all..."

"Zory, that sounds great and all, but I really can't afford all that."

"No one can afford all that," Jed snickered. "Zory's just being zealous. We'll be monitoring him to make sure he stays at a more sane level of spending."

"Even so, I don't think I'll be able to afford any sort of shopping trip at the moment. I didn't exactly budget for my dorm to get reduced to nothing." He kept his tone light, but as he stared down at his Coke can, he felt their concerned glances, heavy on the back of his neck.

Jed shrugged. "Well, that's no problem. If the issue's just about money, we can easily help you out there."

"No! I am not taking money from any of you, especially for something so frivolous."

"Zory's fashion sense aside, Prince, I wouldn't really call putting some clothes on your back 'frivolous.'" Neff clicked open another can of beer. "I mean, you're more than welcome to wear my clothes all semester, but that could get awkward. I only own three pairs of socks."

"I'll figure something out. It's no big deal, I just... I have to replace all my books and other supplies first."

"Prince, we're not going to let you scrounge for money all semester. Besides," Zory added jokingly, "I can't be seen in public with you if you're walking around in Neff's dirty old shirts."

Mamoru shook his head stubbornly. "Thanks for the offer, but I really can't accept it." He had never accepted handouts before, and he was not about to start now.

"Prince, all those other guys who lost their dorm rooms with yours, what do you think they're doing right now?" Neff's chestnut eyes watched him questioningly.

"Probably not taking money from their friends."

"No. They're running home to their parents and rich grandparents and siblings. They're depending on their families."

Mamoru was not seeing his point. "I don't know if you've noticed, Neff, but I don't really have one of those."

Jed's expression changed to one of mock hurt. "What would you call us, then?"

"I...It's not that I don't..." Dammit, they just had to make this complicated, didn't they? "I didn't mean that I don't consider you a family, but you're already going out of your way for me--"

"Prince, the only thing we've 'gone out of our way' to do was drive to the soccer field and get you when...earlier," Zory ammended carefully. "So Malachi's sleeping on the couch. If you told him to sleep in the cellar, he would. Besides, I seriously doubt you're letting him get away with that without a fight."

"Well, it -is- his bed. He should get to sleep in it."

"We already have enough food to feed the entire football team, some of whom actually live here." Jed devoured another slice of pizza in approximately two bites. "Feeding one more person is hardly a financial burden when you have twenty people like -me- to feed. Besides, you never eat."

Mamoru glared at him. "I eat plenty of food, under normal circumstances."

"Prince, Top Ramen is not 'plenty of food.'"

"Hey, sometimes I'll get a salad from the cafeteria."

"Which does -not- count as food," Zory snorted. "Come on, Prince. You're acting like we've all volunteered to sleep on wooden cots in the closet, eating nothing but beef jerky and Saltines and having one set of clothing between us. Not that we wouldn't, if it came down to it, but it hasn't and we won't. We have supplies here that you can borrow, and heck, there are enough sons of lawyers and socialites in this house, I'm sure we could take up a collection to help you out."

The blonde's expression softened, and he gave Mamoru a serious look before he could try to protest. "You can't run around starving and naked all semester, just because you're more focused on your textbooks than you are on your wellbeing. We won't let you do that to yourself, and I can guarantee that Malachi won't, either."

"But..." Mamoru was losing this battle, and he knew it. "I'm just not used to depending on people. If I needed something, I'd get it myself. There was never anyone around to help me. It was 'fend for yourself or die.'"

"That was then, and this is now, Prince," Neff said. "You have people who help you. We -want- to help you, not just because it's our duty, but because you're our friend. That's what friends do."

The prince sighed, exasperated. They just wouldn't give up, would they? They were determined to support him financially, even though he would do just fine with the occasional instant meal and a few discounted shirts. It was like their earlier battles, to a certain extent. They were trying to make up for all their mistakes, prove that they really could protect and support him. At least this kind of support didn't involve grievous bodily harm.

They were all watching him expectantly. He gave another defeated sigh. "I don't even know why I argue with you guys. I can never win."

Before he could get another word out, a ponytailed blur had already tackled him in an unexpected hug. "See? You shouldn't even bother trying to talk us out of it. This is so great! Now I can get you all the clothes that I wanted, but wouldn't fit in my closet! Prince, I promise you that by the end of this semester I will have made you a fashion diva."

Mamoru gave him something of a smile, not entirely certain that he wanted to be Zory's new personal project. But the blonde looked so excited about the matter, positively bouncing in front of him, how could he say no? They were just clothes, after all.

His family. They had called themselves his family. Funny, he had always wondered what it would be like to have one of those...

"Neff, you ass, you drank all the beer!"

"It's not my fault you drink so bloody slow. First come, first serve."

...though whatever familial fantasies he'd dreamed up in his childhood had never really involved drunken fratboys. But he wouldn't complain, no sir. Family was family, and crude, sloppy, rowdy though they were, they were –his-.

"Relax, guys. I think I just heard Philip come home from a beer run. His precious Mandy the Mac Truck is practically as decrepit as Bertha."

"I just thought that was the generator crapping out again."

"Dude, beer! I'll be right back!"

And Mamoru was going to protect what was his.

"Do you think Malachi would mind if I borrowed his shower?" the Prince asked, as he watched Jed disappear out the door, in search of his booze fix.

Neff snorted, though whether it was at Mamoru or Jed, no one was sure. "Prince, Malachi wouldn't mind if you suddenly decided to take up the accordion and started playing right on top of his head. Besides, you wouldn't want to go too far. He might wake up and demand to watch. Just to make sure you weren't drowning."

"Yes, because that's a mighty big possibility." Mamoru rolled his eyes. "Exchange Student Dies In Shower; 'Couldn't Tell Which End Was Up.' Authorities Blame Destructive Superhero Lifestyle."

"And here we've been wasting time protecting you from clones. Should've realized the danger of bathroom fixtures. Do you need us to make sure the shampoo isn't lethal, as well?"

"Thanks, but I think I'll take my chances." Mamoru cast a glance at Malachi. He had barely moved throughout the entire exchange, his hair trailing aross the pillows in little silver waves, deep in his state of unconsciousness despite the uncomfortable-looking sling that held his arm in place. "Do you think he'll wake up if I go take a shower? I don't want him freaking out that I'm gone just because I needed some level of personal hygeine. I sort of promised him that I'd stay here."

Zory smiled as he cleaned up the empty pizza box and various beer and Coke cans lying around. "I'll stick around and cover for you. If he wakes up, I'll maintain that you threatened me with your overwhelmingly good looks."

"Yes, I'm sure I look especially wonderful right now, bruises and all."

"Well purple is definitely your color," the blonde said with a grin.

The black-haired Prince shook his head as he rose to his feet. Everything was working strangely to his advantage now. Usagi loved him again, and everything in Tokyo had been taken care of. The house was marginally quiet tonight, though just active enough that no one outside his own Shitennou had given him much thought. Malachi was finally taking a break from being the Prince's personal bodyguard. The clones had given him a long enough break to take care of everything, and as an added bonus get himself some food. And now, with Zory covering for him, he had no worries about his guardian waking up and going on a frenzied rampage the moment he stepped outside of the room. It was so easy. So perfect. Just as though it had been planned.

He pushed open the bathroom door, flicking on the light.

"Watch out for that shower now, Prince," Neff quipped. "Wouldn't want to lead a rescue mission in there."

Mamoru threw a smile back at them. "Thanks, Neff. I'll be careful." And he intended to be, though he was not thinking of showers when he said it.

He closed the door behind him, hearing the click of the lock that meant he would have plenty of time to plan his escape. Fortunately, the bathroom had a window with easy access to the courtyard, though he wasn't particularly excited about going through his third window in as many days. But at least this time, it would be open.

The prince threw his pile of clothes on the floor as he transformed, tuxedo replacing his new, (relatively) clean clothes. The shower door was already open, and he leaned in to turn the water on. If Malachi was satisfied that he hadn't gone anywhere, and his Mam-O-Meter didn't go off if he found himself in trouble, Mamoru would have at least half an hour before alarm bells went off.

As hot, steaming water pour furiously out of the spout, he pulled up the blinds on the small window, and flipped the locks. The rain had let up momentarily, which was fortunate – the last thing he wanted to do was go into battle with soggy underwear. Especially since he'd just changed it recently.

The window had been swollen shut – it probably didn't get much use, Mamoru thought – and it took him a few minutes to pry it up from the sill. But he finally got it open, and with a little bit of awkward climbing, he was outside in the dark, standing on the wet pavement.

Mamoru turned for one last look at the frat house. I'm sorry, guys. This is for your own good. I couldn't live with myself if you got hurt again. You can yell at me when I get back, but I have to do this. I have to fight for you. It's just how I do things.

The prince took a deep breath, steadying himself. Resolutely, he nodded, and then took off in the direction of the Humanities building.

I have to fight for you. And I will.

---

Our apologies for the time gap between chapters. Your friendly neighborhood Authoresses have been getting their asses kicked by work and commuting, respectively. We promise, Chapter 9 will be far more expedient. Just remember, lovelies - at least it's not taking us a whole year!

Spirit-hime and AngelAnne