A/N: This chapter is dedicated to one of my best friends, Revolutionnaire Rouge, who it seems to me has been overworked this week. This one's for you, Giri-chan!

Disclaimer: If I owned Sailor Moon, my English teacher would be grovelling at my feet.

Subject to Change

...have to…it…Serenity…need…she…us… The voice wove in and out of her subconscious, like the audio from a staticky TV channel. Serena slowly drifted into awareness, and as the fog receded, so did the voice and the indistinct shadow in the mist…

Serena coughed, her lungs wracking in an attempt to get rid of the dust that had settled along their interior. Feeling like she had just swallowed a squirrel, Serena used her elbows to haul herself up out of the pit of pebble-sized rubble that she had woken up in.

I must've blacked out for a second, she thought, coughing some more. She crawled behind a boulder-sized chunk of cement and peered around it. There's the youma. But where's Seiko?

Before she could look for him, a scream reached her ears. Straining up further on her tiptoes to peer over the concrete, she saw the youma – which must have been the thing to blow the theater to bits – wrapping its appendages around a middle-aged woman and her companion. She shoved Seiko out of her mind – he would have to take care of himself for now – and shoved a hand into her pocket for her communicator.

She punched the distress call button, expecting it to light up like it usually did to signal that it was calling the girls. But it remained dim. Figuring that she hadn't pushed it hard enough, she punched the button, harder. A jet of water shot out, hitting her square between the eyes.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me…" She punched the Mercury call button, then the Mars. Neither lit up. Serena grimaced, her mind flashing back to the day that she had dropped the communicator in the locker room toilet. It must have broken then. Crud. Crud, crud, crud, crud, crud!

Serena took a deep breath. This was okay. She could do it. She could fight a youma without Ami and Rei. She had done it before. It wasn't like they were good for much else but chasing each other around and hurling insults, anyways. Well, that and defusing potentially explosive calculators, but that was beside the point. What really scared Serena was fighting alone. Being alone at all. Tuxedo Mask would most likely not be showing up, and without Mars or Mercury, she would be completely without backup.

Don't think, just do it and get it over with. Serena pulled out her brooch, voice shaky and thin. "Moon…Prism…"

"Serena!"

Serena quickly stuffed her brooch back in her pocket and spun. "Seiko!" she exclaimed, the relief in her voice mingled with annoyance. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. What about you?"

"Not a scratch – " she noticed a long, bleeding gash on his forehead and gasped. "Seiko! You are hurt!"

"It's no big deal," he protested, but Serena was already rummaging around in her purse. She finally found what she was looking for – her school handkerchief, the one that had her name embroidered in the corner.

"Here, at least you can wipe all that dust away from it with this," said Serena firmly, using the square of cloth to carefully swab the grime and bits of cement fragments out of the wound. When she had made it as clean as she could, she stepped away from him and balled the soiled kerchief up in her hand. (A/N: Nooooo! EBOOOOOOOOOOOLA!) "It's not much, but – "

"No, no, it's great," said Seiko earnestly. He reached out, and his fingers brushed her hand. He clasped it tentatively. Serena stared from their hands to Seiko, mind racing with thoughts. First flattery that he was doing this, then uncertainty, because she didn't think she liked him that way, then betrayal, because didn't she like Tuxedo Mask, then pain because she wasn't allowed to ask Tuxedo Mask, then a hot flash of sickness because she could still remember the fury in his eyes at the jewelry shop…

"Serena, I…"

I can't do this. I can't do this right now. Serena's eyes flickered desperately in every which way: side to side, up and down. A flash of movement above her caught her eye – another chunk of the cement roof, scraping downwards. It was going to fall in a couple of seconds…immediately, Serena's eyes went to the ground below it, to make sure no one was standing there –

But there was. A little boy, no older than eight. Serena's first thought was to wonder why in the heck a kid his age was even at a slasher flick like this; the second was to get to him, and push him out of the way, fast.

One didn't fight youma as often as Serena did without developing lightning-fast reflexes. Snatching her hand away from Seiko's and blurring into motion, she sprinted and dove for the kid –

The ceiling groaned –

Her fingers brushed the cloth of the boy's shirt –

The chunk scraped free of the ceiling and began to plummet downwards –

Serena shoved the boy out of the way and landed with a bone-jarring crack on the ground –

Right in the middle of the boulder's path.

Faster…faster…faster! Tuxedo Mask pumped his legs harder, faster. His speed was already so great that his cape had been torn off by the drag forces, but would it be great enough to beat the downward velocity of the plunging cement?

God, please…don't let Serena die…

He lunged forward, surrendering himself to momentum, and felt Serena slam into his arms, then felt the skin of his legs mercilessly scraped and peeled away as he skidded across the stone-strewn carpet. Not a split second after he crashed into a row of smashed seats, he felt a tremendous thuuuuddd shudder across the room. It rattled his teeth in his jaw, and he tightened his hold on Serena until its last echoes had melted away into the cacophony of the youma's deafening shrieks.

The moment he was able to concentrate on her, he knew something was wrong. Her body was tense, her limbs stiffly curled and trembling slightly. Most of his rescuees were limp when he scooped them up, rendered flaccid by their shock or their injuries. Why was Serena so rigid? Had she been hurt?

He released her and disentangled himself from her hair, wincing internally as he saw the way his blood clung to the strands. (A/N: NOOOOOO! EBOLAAAAAAA! RUUUUUN!) His grimace deepened into a frown when he saw the way she was hugging herself with her arms, as though cold. What was wrong with her?

"Uh, hey." He winced again as he spoke; how stupid did he sound? Call it idiotic pride, but for some reason, he wanted Serena to think that Tuxedo Mask was suave and cool. "Are you alright, little girl?" Great, now he sounded like some elderly policeman. "I mean, you're not hurt, are you?"

Serena shrank backwards, eyes wide and frightened like a doe. Her white-knuckled hands were clutched tightly around something. He had never seen her look this vulnerable before. He didn't think he had ever seen anyone look that vulnerable. "I…."

"That youma didn't do anything to you, did it?" he prompted, reaching towards her without thinking. She shrank away, pressing back against the crumpled plastic seats. He snatched his hand back as though burned. His chest stung. What was Serena so frightened of? Surely not him? "Miss? Do I…frighten you?"

Not letting her eyes meet his, Serena nodded. He felt something plummet from his chest to his toes. Felt as though the breath had been punched out of him.

He swallowed. His mouth was dry. It couldn't form the word he wanted to ask – why?

He forced himself to stand up, barely noticing the shrieks of pain his leg nerves lanced into his brain. "You'd better get going. I have to take care of the youma. Go find your friend."

Serena's mouth opened, but he didn't want to hear what she was going to say. It hurt too much already. First he had hurt her as Darien, and now he had hurt her as Tuxedo Mask – couldn't he do anything right? What was it with him and hurting people? It was just lucky, he guessed, that he could still talk to her as Darien, that she didn't know that he was Darien. Maybe as Darien he could find out why Tuxedo Mask terrified her so.

Serena watched Tuxedo Mask stride away. She felt as though her very bones were quaking within her. Why was she so frightened? She was in her civilian form. Tuxedo Mask didn't – couldn't – know that she was Sailor Moon.

But that didn't matter. She knew that she was Sailor Moon, and that he was mad at her, and that was enough. That, and the fact that even though he was mad at her, she still wanted to throw herself into his arms and stay with him forever and ever.

A shriek from the youma finally roused her from her depressed lethargy. She scrambled to her feet and reached for her brooch. Idiot! How could she have forgotten about the youma?

By the time the pink lights of her transformation had faded, the theater had become eerily quiet. Sailor Moon sprang out of her pose and leapt across the various pieces of wreckage towards the spot where the youma had last been. She found it locked in a fight against Tuxedo Mask, who looked strangely vulnerable without his cape swirling around him.

Sailor Moon bit her lip. She could use her tiara now, but it might clip Tuxedo Mask. She could call out to Tuxedo Mask to move, but she didn't know how he would react to her presence. And she didn't know if she wanted to find out.

But the decision was made for her. Zoicite appeared, stepping out of a hurricane of cherry blossoms.

"Senshi." The general's voice was monotone. Sailor Moon clenched the ball of cloth tighter in her hand as she turned away from the battle between Tuxedo Mask and the youma to look at the auburn-haired woman. Behind her, she heard the sounds of battle between Tuxedo Mask and the zombie silence, as though they had both stopped to watch the scene unfold before them.

"My queen greets you, Sailor Moon." Abnormally glassy eyes shone dully out of a grey face. Zoicite looked like a zombie.

Sailor Moon's eyes narrowed. Her queen? Zoicite had a queen?

"She wishes you to know that be you her mother or a Higher Guardian, she will grant you amnesty should you join us."

"Join…you?" Sailor Moon echoed.

"She bids me inform you that a High Senshi will find a high position in her new era. There are others like you who have joined her."

"Joined…"

"But if you continue to resist us…" Zoicite's voice ended with a snake-like hiss. "There will be no mercy as there was before. There will be no resurrection. The gates to Hell are barred."

"To…Hell?" Sailor Moon's lips rustled out. Her face was drained of color, pallid and slack.

Zoicite regarded her with something that seemed akin to amusement, though her lisp remained downturned. "You are young, aren't you? They are using you, aren't they? They haven't told you. They are using you – to find her."

Sailor Moon swallowed. "O – of course."

"And you don't even care. Blind little brats those Lunarians raise. All for Princess, nothing matters but Princess. You are a fool, Sailor Moon. She will be your death."

"I will…die for her…" struggled Sailor Moon. She stood frozen.

"Of course you will." Zoicite smiled now, lips curving expressionlessly. "You have already sold your soul for her."

Sailor Moon's face bleached pure white. The handkerchief fell from her hand.

"Oh, yes, that scares you, doesn't it?" Zoicite's voice slithered into her pounding ears, weaving itself around her thrashing mind and squeezing it like a boa constrictor. "They didn't tell you that, did they?"

"That's enough!" Tuxedo Mask's voice rang out, accompanied by a swish-thud sound. He strode into Sailor Moon's view, a blur of black at the corner of her eyes, interposing himself between herself and Zoicite. "Either shut up or leave."

Zoicite looked at him for a moment. "You trust in her, too? This princess? Or are you one of his? I do not know you."

"Enough," repeated Tuxedo Mask in a growl. His arm twitched; then a blade was pointed at Zoicite's throat. "Leave."

Cherry blossoms began to swirl around them, whipping up a strong wind. Sailor Moon sank to her knees, her arms pressing against her face as she squeezed her eyes shut. She felt her pigtails battering her back with stinging blows, and for the second time that day, cursed her long hair.

The wind eventually died away. Coated with the dust of a movie theater's worth of cement, Sailor Moon attempted to wobble to a standing position, but just ended up collapsing back on her butt. Tuxedo Mask was crouched a foot away from her.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." Just tired of being in conversations that involve the question, "Are you alright?" "Are you?"

"Nothing some Spongebob Band-Aids won't fix." He wasn't looking at her. His legs were crossed Indian-style, and his hatless head was bent away from her. She laughed a little anyways, not sure if he was trying to make her feel better. If he was, she didn't want to hurt his feelings by not laughing. But then again, why would he be trying to make her feel better? He was mad at her. He was the enemy – according to Luna, at least.

Their silence continued. Sailor Moon barely noticed it; she was too confused, too tired. She didn't get up to leave, and either did her. Right now, after what Zoicite had said, and after what Luna had said, and what Ami and Rei had said, and after what she had thought in front of the mirror this morning, there didn't seem any place she belonged in better than a devastated ground zero like this.

"You know what?' Tuxedo Mask said suddenly. "I'm sorry."

Sluggishly, Sailor Moon glanced over at him. "What for?"

"Everything. Not protecting you. Not being able to help you. Not being someone you can trust."

Not being someone you can trust… did that mean he was from the Dark Kingdom? She didn't care. She just wanted to throw her arms around him and hug him and comfort him until they both felt better. But she couldn't. For about a thousand reasons. Not being someone you can trust…

"I don't understand." Don't you hate me?

Tuxedo Mask sighed. "Yeah." He crawled over to a pile of desk-sized cement chunks and began to push them to one side. A crushed hand was revealed, then a smashed ribcage covered in tattered bloody denim. "Neither do I."

"What do you have for me, Zoicite?"

Zoicite knelt at her monarch's feet, eyes pupil-less. "Death, my queen."

"At last." Beryl smiled, her fangs glinting in the meager light. She liked this new Zoicite. If only Nephrite's body could have been preserved before the soul had fled. But no, Zoicite's idiotic minions had had to go and ruin the perfectly good vessel. There was still Jadeite, though – and Malachite. But they had been the two closest to him; their souls would be harder to remove… Ah, well, there would be time to think of that later. "You relayed my message?"

"Yes, My Queen."

"Sailor Moon's reaction?"

"She seemed confused. She is ignorant. A mere pawn. She knew nothing of the queen, nor the princess. She is a fool and nothing more."

"She still manages to thwart every single one of your plans. Although…" Beryl eyed her general speculatively. "Although perhaps now that will be changed. Very well, then. Tell me of Tuxedo Mask."

"He killed the youma. With the same blade. He could be one of his." Zoicite spat the word out.

"You want him dead." It was not a question, nor did it require an answer. Zoicite bared her teeth.

"You said you had death. I want more."

Zoicite reached into the folds of her uniform. When her hand re-emerged, it held something white and red. "You will have it."

L

A/N: Review, please. Is it too dark?