It was a dark and stormy night.

High above the streets, a girl in a red-and-white sailor fuku looked up into the rain. Fire poured upward, out of her gloved hands. As long as she could keep the shield alight, she could keep herself dry. In this way she would strengthen her stamina and her willpower. Ten thousand years ago, in another lifetime, these exercises had been routine. Sailor Mars would make it routine, would strengthen herself..

It was what she owed to her fellow Guardians.

It was what she owed to her Princess.

Mars dismissed the shield, and cold rain dashed over her like an insult. Just the pique she needed. She drew up a shield just as the thunder rolled, and the rainfall became a torrent. In an instant, the fire shield was a blanket of steam both falling and rising around her.

"Damn," she said. "Again."

Her arms shook as she held them up. She began the words—

"... burn bright," A man's voice carried over the rain.

There—silhouetted in the door to the stairway—she would know that insouciant posture anywhere. Jadeite.

A battle calculation worked itself out behind Mars' eyes. Did Jadeite want a fight? If so, why did he announce himself so?

In three strides, she covered the distance between them. She glared up at him. "What did you say?"

Jadeite's expression was mild but his eyes held mischief. "O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright," he repeated, quite clearly now. "Methinks she hangs upon the cheek of night like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear."

What right had he to look so dry and debonair when she was splattered with rain? Belatedly Mars realized she should have swept away without another word, but instead she was lingering and validating his compliments (bizarre compliments). Her temper had gotten the better of her dignity. She was better than that. She took conversational control.

"You've been tracking me?" she asked.

"No," he said, "You were the one who decided to practice fire magic with all the restraint of an enraged goose. I investigated you because otherwise, someone else would have."

"What do you care who investigates me?"

Jadeite tilted his head to the side. His blue eyes combed Sailor Mars up and down, as if he would see through the Make-Up spell and to the girl beneath. He would not see through. Mars knew he would not. Then why was her heart beating so fast? "What do I care? Well. You're an interesting little fire-witch, Sailor Mars. I think we can figure out something more… mutually beneficial than a clumsy brawl."

Mars breathed in sharply. "What did you—" she blinked. "Is that—"

For the first time, she looked down and saw that Jadeite was holding a plastic bag stuffed full of takeout containers. A rich, steamy aroma filled the air, redolent of chicken broth.

"I've learned this," he said, "magic demands fuel. Let's call a truce for the hour. Break bread," he held up the plastic bag, "and answer one another's questions."

"You want me to give information about my allies, for soup?"

"Soup dumplings, and they're the best this side of town. Believe me. Also," he added belatedly, "We'll answer questions about ourselves. The Dark Kingdom and your silly little Moon Agency will be off-topic."

"What…? We're not the Moon Agency."

"Great, duly noted, now I don't want to hear another word," Jadeite replied. "Soup dumplings, or not?" He gestured to the door.

Well. She could take him in a fight; wasn't she the powerful Soldier of Flames and War? She stepped inside and let him close the door behind her. He led her down the stairs and into a paneled corridor, where he held open the door to—she drew her breath sharply.

"A hotel room."

"I can set up a card table," he offered, "in the rain."

She glared at him. He sighed. "If you like, you can set fire to the bed, for all I care. Ye gods, you're a suspicious one."

That did not merit a response. Mars swept past him into the luxurious penthouse. She took in the velvet drapes, pulled aside to reveal a panorama of the city, with Tokyo Tower looming out of the mist. A table with two chairs awaited them, perfectly placed to take in the view.

And yes, there was a bed.

Mars sniffed scornfully and sat down. She wished she had had a little bit more time in which to dry off. She felt like a soggy cat.

But she couldn't let Jadeite get away with all the conversation of the night.

"You have a taste for Szechuan food?" she asked as he set out the takeout containers. It wasn't exactly inspired but it was also hard to think of anything else when Mars realized that she was indeed pretty hungry.

"Who doesn't?" he replied.

"Have you always lived in Tokyo?"

He scoffed—he actually scoffed at her beloved city. "Of course not."

"Where did you live before?"

"There lies your way," he replied, "Due west. Now, sweet and sour baby back ribs—the sauce is messy but worth it—"

"This is the Land of the Rising Sun," Mars pointed out, "everything is west of here."

"Sauteed bok choy, and these are the dumplings, beef and chicken. I answered your question, now you answer mine."

"'West' is barely an answer."

"What happened to you planetary soldiers after Tokyo Tower?" he asked. Mars' protest died on her lips.

"You don't know?" she asked.

"I know that we were in the middle of a battle—and it was a good fight, I was having fun, at least— when Sailor Venus starts yelling at Kunzite like 'This isn't who you really are.' One of your girls, quite reasonably, asks 'What do you mean by that, Sailor Venus,' and she yells something that none of us really catch."

Mars stared at him. A gloved hand came up to cover her mouth.

He went on, "And then you all went—still. Zoisite suggested that the four of you were having a 'flashback.' I think he's been watching too many daytime soaps. When you resumed fighting, all four of you were sloppy, to be perfectly honest. You didn't fight me back, Mars," he added, "and we've had such a good repartee, the two of us! A little kidnapping, you awaken as a Guardian. A little illusion, you char right through to the substance underneath."

Mars found her voice. "Is this all a game to you?"

"Certainly not. I'm speaking to you as an equal— an opponent that I respect."

Equal. Mars tapped her chin in thought, but discreetly took in another good look at Jadeite. She measured the breadth of his shoulders, the sharpness of his chin, the timbre of his voice.

"You haven't answered my question," he replied. "What happened after Tokyo Tower?"

What happened, indeed. Mars paused, debating the best phrasing, and then decided to be blunt: "We remembered."

The dramatic moment satisfied, Mars took up a takeout container and helped herself to a dumpling.

"So it was a flashback," Jadeite said, adding "Point to Zoisite" under his breath. "A flashback to what?" he prompted her after a time.

But Mars was feeling contrary: she ate instead of answering. It was excellent food: the dumplings were still hot and bursting with umami flavor.

When she was good and ready, she said, "This is not our first time meeting."

"Well, of course this isn't, you ruined my excellent plan with the bus."

She shook her head. "I mean a previous lifetime. Reincarnation."

"Is that so? Were we enemies then, too?"

"You really don't know?" she asked.

"No, I thought I made that clear," he said, his patience clearly fraying.

"Ridiculous man," she sniffed. "What is Venus the goddess of?"

"Love, isn't it?"

"Venus' words awoke a memory of love in each of us." She paused, watching him.

"She did that on purpose?" He blinked. "In the middle of battle?"

Mars' eyes narrowed. She had indeed had words with Venus, regarding her sense of timing. But she would not give Jadeite the satisfaction. "Yes, she did."

"A memory…" His mouth slipped into a smile, which grew, albeit crookedly. He tilted his head, and his gaze searched her face.

"What's that look for?"

"I'm trying to imagine you in love. When liver, brain, and heart, those sovereign thrones, are all supplied…"

"When did my liver come into this?"

"And filled her sweet perfections…" He leaned on one elbow, closer to her, and caught her eyes with his, "With one self king."

Sailor Mars felt a palpitation in her heart, as her senses—sight, hearing, especially touch—flared up. She breathed deeply to regain her composure; she would not be the one to break eye contact. But a terrible, traitorous part of her wanted to lean in a little closer; the idea of a kiss bloomed in her mind like a firework.

"Do you remember anything?" she asked.

His eyebrows lifted. "I can remember lots of things," he said.

Mars' gloved hands made fists in her lap. "A previous lifetime," Mars said, maintaining eye contact. "You, me. You— you must understand."

"You," he echoed, "and me."

His gaze dropped from her eyes to her mouth, and Sailor Mars felt a current of heat come over her. Then she remembered there was a table between them, with takeout containers.

"It would explain a few things," Jadeite said slowly. "But…" he leaned back. "I am sorry, I must disappoint you, Mars. I don't remember anything like that."

"Sailor Mars," she corrected brusquely. The spell shattered: she was her own woman again. "Then why the truce? Why the food?"

"Maybe I didn't want to find you collapsed in the rain, after spending all your magic."

"I wouldn't have collapsed."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm sure you had everything under control. Besides… this is a perfect opportunity to try and recruit you to the Dark Kingdom."

Sailor Mars leapt to her feet, but Jadeite just held out his hands. "Relax! We're completely alone; I'm not going to ambush you. I just want you to know there are other options out there than your Moon Agency."

Sailor Mars didn't relax. "You think I would work for you?"

"Well…" he contemplated the curtains in thought, then said, "Not really, but I had to make an effort. I, for one, would love to see you on our team. Our uniforms are both flattering and practical. Think about it."

"Not a chance," she said to him calmly.

"What, like you don't have a single complaint about the Moon Agency?"

"It's not about complaints, it's about—Moon Agency again, whatever gave you that idea?"

He shrugged. "It used to be, my business cards said 'Jay Daito, Dark Agency.' Kunzite kept standing dramatically in the shadows and saying our enemies wore the crest of the Moon. I just figured they were a rival agency."

Sailor Mars looked at his uniform, then at her own. She snapped her fingers and a little orange flame danced into being, bobbing above her palm. "Magic? Battles?"

"This was before girls in sailor suits began to show up, wielding magic sticks and crying fit to break glass. What can I say? The weirdness escalated gradually. Now I'm just… used to it." He paused. "Sailor Mars," he began, standing up.

She bristled. For a moment she'd forgotten how tall he was, how much space he could take up when he wanted. How dare he suck the air out of the room like that.

"How old are you?"

The question took her aback. "How old am I? How old are you?"

"Older than you are," he said in a maddeningly superior tone. "I'll give a word to the wise."

"A typical man." She crossed her arms.

"We're not unalike. We have our duties and responsibilities, and we don't shirk them. You won't be happy until your mind is clear."

"How do you know that?"

"Let's say I have good intuition," he said. He stepped closer to the window, hands in his pockets, eyes on the misty horizon. "So. You say you used to love me, well. Hold it a fashion and a toy in blood. The suppliance of a minute, no more."

"You're telling me to forget you. But poetically," she added, scorn lining her words, "you have to talk poetically."

"If it's any consolation," he began—then Sailor Mars walked closer to him, until they were eye-to-eye (well, eye-to-epaulet), and his voice trailed off as he looked down at her. He cleared his throat— and when he spoke again, his voice was lower, deeper. "It's hard for me to say this, so only Shakespeare can help. I'm telling you, from the table of your memory, wipe away all trivial fond records."

"What does Shakespeare have to do with it?"

"He's the greatest writer of all time."

"How do you know?"

"Everyone knows that."

"What do you care," she asked, more deliberately, "about Shakespeare?"

"What do you care about me?" he asked.

Mars could feel her teeth grinding together, her mouth twisting into a frown. "I shouldn't," she said. "You're just a man like all other men; you're out for yourself and your precious career in the Dark Kingdom, which is my sworn enemy. But I know you're better than this, because of a handful of memories I didn't even want."

"You assume a lot about me."

"And you assume I can forget easily."

He looked away from her; on a whim she couldn't explain, Mars reached up and cupped his face to look at her again. A tremor passed through him. Her gloved fingers entangled in the curls of his tawny hair, and one of his hands came up to cover her own. His eyes fluttered shut.

"You feel it," Mars whispered, and in spite of everything she felt a surge of triumph in her hammering heart. "You feel what we have."

"My love is as a fever, longing still for that which longer nurseth the disease," he murmured in one rapid breath.

She frowned. "That," she said, "had better be Shakespeare."

He smiled, and opened his eyes to catlike slits. "Sonnet one hundred and forty-seven."

"Where did you study Shakespeare?" she asked, trying to make her voice soft and patient. She wasn't sure the effort paid off.

"You are persistent." His hand traced her glove down to her elbow. "Back home," he said lightly.

"Where is that?"

"The Cloud and Zhihui School for Dramatic Arts. The teachers, ah, had a passion for the Bard. I guess I caught it, too."

Mars withdrew her hand from his face. "Look me in the eye. Where is the Cloud and Zhihui School?"

"The city."

"Not Tokyo?"

"No, not Tokyo. West of here, like I said."

"Where?"

"Home," he said, with force. His brow furrowed and he dropped her hand.

"Give me a name," she said.

"I'm having an off day." He turned towards the window. "Lay off."

"You don't remember your home?" she asked.

"Haven't you noticed magic can mess with your head?"

"No," she said. "I've been thinking more clearly since my awakening."

"Just thinking?"

She refused to take the bait. He wouldn't know that no, it wasn't just thinking. She felt more deeply, she lived more fully, now that she had awakened. He could use that as evidence that—

"Magic messes with your head," he said. "I know I'm not getting enough sleep; none of us are getting enough sunshine; the magic has made us erratic." His brows furrowed in thought. "How old are you?"

"Older than you think I am," she replied promptly. She threw back her shoulders and tried to stand in a warrior's attitude— showing not a trace of weakness.

His expression was flat, controlled—except for the way his eyes darkened. For some reason, the stormy color made her excited. "It's hard to pin you down," he said slowly. "But you're… young. I keep thinking of you as a trained soldier, but you're…"

Sailor Mars felt her heart racing faster, leaping and pitching, as it did on the summer days when she swam too far into the Pacific Ocean. Just too close to the riptide. She couldn't take the suspense, the way he looked at her. "What am I?" she asked. She took a step forward, into his personal bubble. "A pathetic little girl in a white dress?"

Abruptly she gasped and bit her lip. Why the devil had she said that? She should have watched her tongue.

And—and now Jadeite was staring at her mouth. "No," he mumbled. "Not that young."

And Sailor Mars remembered, suddenly.

Rei Hino's first love.

A man named Kaidou.

They had stood in almost precisely this attitude—and Rei had made a mistake.

And here, now, was the chance to blot out that mistake.

Or compound it.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"Nothing," she said. "I saw a ghost. Jadeite," she began, then—no. She shut her eyes, ducked her chin. She'd sounded too plaintive. She would never again be the desperate girl in the rain. She had sworn.

"I'm not going to join your team," he said.

Her eyes fluttered open. "Excuse me?"

"I may be stuck with a bunch of rude mechanicals, but they're the team I've got. When I pursue a goal, my mind is intent, my heart is pure."

"Pure," she repeated.

He laughed softly and smiled at the shifting expression on her face. "You—"

A bell-like chime filled the room. Jadeite stepped back; clearly he recognized it. "My communicator…"

"You have communicators, too…" Mars said to herself.

Jadeite silenced his communicator without checking it. When he looked up at Sailor Mars again, he smirked. "Do you really think you have such a sway over me? My, someone's got high self-esteem."

Her mouth tightened into a vexed frown.

"A bad-tempered, imperious little firestarter," he said slowly, adjusting the fit of his pristine gloves, "Dabbling with the occult and fawning over me like a schoolgirl—"

"I don't fawn," Sailor Mars said. A warm breeze stirred her hair, even though the room was closed.

"No, I'm afraid you'd just distract me. That's all you girls of the Moon Agency are good for—"

"Moon Kingdom."

"Pretty lights and temper tantrums. Your days are waning— mark me, waning. But—" he grinned wickedly, "When we win, I could keep you in —"

Sailor Mars moved viper-fast. Her gloved hand covered his mouth.

"Enough," she said, looking furiously into his eyes. "Thank you. For the meal."

She pushed him back, and didn't wait for him to straighten out. Sailor Mars moved quickly out of the hotel room, back out onto the roof, and took off, leaping over Tokyo on the helter-skelter rooftop path that led back to Hikawa Shrine.

Finally, Sailor Mars landed on the shaded veranda. She transformed back into Rei Hino with a deep sigh, and entered her home.

Grandpa was already asleep. Rei slipped quietly into her room. Quietly she got out a pillow, and quietly she began to beat the stuffing out of it.

"I—absolutely— hate— selfish— lecherous— ungrateful— Dark Kingdom— MEN."

She buried her face in the pillow and screamed.

But even screaming can't last forever. She took deep, slow breaths to control her emotions. Back to equilibrium. After all, she should have remembered he was a corrupted pawn of the Dark Kingdom. He wasn't really worth getting mad at.

She looked herself in the mirror and said gravely, "At least I didn't kiss him."

He had almost kissed her.

He left the hotel room as it was (hotels liked a reputation for being haunted, plus a generous tip) and returned to the Dark Kingdom. He had headed straight for his room, ignoring Kunzite's questions and Zoisite's dry little hints alike.

He shut the door. He undid the buttons at his collar. God, a man could barely breathe in that uniform. He tore off his gloves, bent to unfasten his boots in a fumbling rush.

All the time, Jadeite burned with the near-kiss.

Finally he stopped before his mirror and pressed his hand over his mouth—just as Sailor Mars had done an hour before. To shut him up.

His voice was muffled. "At least I didn't tell her to get thee to a nunnery." He drew his hand away.

He stared at his hand for a moment, remembering— when her hair was within reach, when her chin had been set so stubbornly, when she had closed her eyes in thought, and he could have touched her, or even—

He sighed. It would have been, he told himself, a bad idea all around.

He met his gaze in the mirror again. "Well, well, well, Jadeite," he addressed the man in the glass, "what a surprise! You're openly, brazenly contracted with the forces of evil, but apparently you have standards. Good. For. You."

The sarcastic smile melted off his face.

"How will she love," he asked himself, "when the rich golden shaft hath killed the flock of all affections else that live in her?"

A heavy fist knocked at the door. "Jadeite?"

"Yes, Nephrite?"

"Beryl. She's been waiting for you for hours. She's really pissed by now."

"I'm on my way," Jadeite replied. He closed the shutters on his thoughts of Sailor Mars; Beryl must not find out about this. He did not question this impulse; he turned the shutters into stone walls, and walked away from them.

But… was it supposed to be this easy? To shuffle the images in his mind, dissipate his thoughts into smoke?

"Magic messes with your head," Jadeite said. What had he been— so focused on? Protecting something— no, wait, that was absurd— When was the last time Jadeite had felt like anything was sacred?

When he was refreshed and re-attired, he left his chambers, and headed for Beryl's throne room. He walked jauntily; he was dimly aware that in his mind, in a cavernous oubliette, a man from Hong Kong whispered, "Eyes, look your last… arms, take your last embrace… and lips, o you the doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss. The rest is silence."