A/N: For reasons that will become clear shortly, this chapter is narrated entirely by Mamoru. And I expect the next one will be all Usa. Hope you don't mind.

yese0721: I love your reviews. They always give me wonderful ideas! It's good that we're in sync because your suggestions give me the perfect nudges when I'm hitting a block. And don't worry, there's a little more Sailor Moon/Tuxedo Kamen in this chapter.

Enjoy and review! Seriously. I live for your reviews.

Standard Disclaimer: I do not own Sailor Moon. Sailor Moon and all characters belong to Naoko Takeuchi.

Mamoru

God help me.

Shortly after I had dashed away from the school yard, I had felt a familiar ping in my head.

Please. Not here. Not now.

I was in a convenience store several blocks away, futilely searching the aisles for pepper spray. I was focused on the task of protecting Usagi. I didn't want to be distracted with my duty of protecting someone else.

I had tried to evade the coming transformation with no idea what would happen if I succumbed to the instinct. But the longer I resisted, the worse the pain became, increasing in intensity until my temples were throbbing, my chest ached, and my stomach felt as if it was about to empty its contents into the dirty tile floor. I darted out of the shop and into an alleyway as I had numerous times before, just as a rose materialized in my hand. It was good to see that was still working. In an instant, Usagi's school uniform was replaced by the formal garb of Tuxedo Kamen.

Unfortunately, that was all that had changed.

The golden odangos remained, top hat now perched precariously between them, and the tuxedo was much too large for this diminutive body. The sleeves hung well past my hands and the shoulders of the coat slid around on my frame as I jumped to the nearest rooftop. I flailed frantically in the air when my pants refused to leap with me. Usagi's hips were too narrow to hold up the wide slacks on their own and gravity won out, bringing the black material down around my ankles and revealing my white panties.

I didn't have time for this!

I landed hard on the rooftop, my side colliding with the uneven cement and tearing tiny scratches along the skin of my exposed left leg.

"Damn it!"

Quickly, I gathered the waist of the paints back around my hips and grasped them firmly in one hand as I ran where my senses led me, surveying what damage had been done to the street already. Debris from what looked like an explosion littered the streets and sidewalk below. Civilians were fleeing in the opposite direction, cars abandoned in their panic. This was going to be another arduous battle.

What would Sailor Moon think when she saw her masked savior had been turned into a blithering, blundering blonde?

My questions had been answered all too soon as I came to halt, my senses telling me I had arrived by the side of my charge.

Now, here I was, staring down from the rooftop at my own body squeezed into the impossibly tight fuku of Sailor Moon like a horribly offensive sausage in too small of a casing. Every piece of the uniform was present from the ruby studded tiara to the fuschia, high heeled boots. Even golden earrings dangled from my earlobes in stark contrast to the cropped, midnight hair. The absolute worst part, though, was the skirt. That glorious and cursed skirt that tantalized my thoughts when it caressed the creamy thighs of the moon heroine now protruded stiffly from angular hips in a most repellant way. The sailor fuku also included no tights, a fact that before had seemed both impractical yet erotic. Now, however, I wished for what could have been one saving grace as I glared at the dark hair of men's legs that dominated the image unabashedly.

The only thought that could pull me away from the mental hole I was digging in the sand was the realization that Usagi was Sailor Moon.

It couldn't be. Not Odango Atama. She was too much of a klutz. And just a normal girl. She could t be the fearless superhero that saved the planet on a daily basis. My mind struggled to fuse the two girls. They were complete opposites. It didn't fit.

Or did it?

Of course it did. I could see it now. Both girls held the same look of determination in their matching crystalline eyes. Golden hair flowed from silly odangos in the same sunshine hue. Both radiated love and kindness to everyone, always putting others ahead of their own safety.

Of course Usagi was Sailor Moon. How could she not be? And that meant, obviously, that the other Senshi were…

My eyes roamed around the circle of girls. I could see them now for who they were.

Makoto, Minako, Ami. One was still missing. Rei. Of course she would be the senshi of fire.

But now the question wasn't 'what would Sailor Moon think?' It was 'what is Usagi going to think?' This wasn't right. She shouldn't find out this way. Discovering that her protector was none other than her tormentor would devastate her. Or possibly enrage her. She needed to be focused on the current threat. And now, as Sailor Moon, she could totally dust me with her tiara if she wanted to. I was only mildly comforted by the fact that Rei wasn't here yet to set me on fire. Then I remembered Makoto could just as easily shock me all the way into next Tuesday.

I inhaled deeply and set my jaw. Yes, this was an onslaught of information that would need time to be processed, but right now, I didn't have that time. And neither did Usagi.

"Sailor Moon!" I called down to her. Her face changed from confusion to shock to...something I couldn't quite pin down. But it wasn't good. "We can talk about this later," I ordered. "Right now, there are people who need your help!"

She literally shook her head clear, black locks bouncing over her tiara. "Right. But we are definitely talking about this later!"

She rushed into the street, the other Senshi following suit, though their heads lingered in my direction.

And I learned something new that afternoon.

I learned that it is impossible to sweep a grown man off his feet when you are the size of an elf, your hands suited for building little baby toys and decorating sugar cookies, not hoisting burly men into the air out of the trajectory of literal bombs. Suffice it to say, things did not go well. There were a few close calls, one of which resulted in Sailor Moon strewn over my prostrate form, the weight of her masculine body crushing mine into the pavement, lungs unable to expand and face ground into the asphalt. Eventually the youma was defeated, but once again it was a narrow victory, only made more difficult by our unfortunate body swap. Not to mention the humiliation of watching my own body twirling around in a magical display of light, miniskirt fluttering, while crying out "Moon Tiara Action!"

When the battle was over, we were all a little worse for wear. And now that there was no longer any reason to keep our identities a secret, Usagi grabbed me by the lapel and dragged me back into the alley way, quickly undoing her transformation. I undid mine as well and then suddenly came face to face with her livid expression.

"What the heck, baka! You're Tuxedo Kamen?" she raged. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I could ask you the same thing," I shot back. "You never told me you were Sailor Moon."

She crossed her arms and stuck her nose in the air. "Yeah, well that's different."

"How is that different?" I snarled. We were falling back into our usual routine. It was easier than the alternative.

"Because! I have a responsibility! All of my decisions are based on that. And all of your decisions are based on driving me insane!" She hollered at me in the alley, her feet crunching against broken glass and rubble as she stomped around indignantly.

"Are you kidding me? Not every aspect of my life revolves around you," I seethed. The consternation in her face faltered. "Outside of this unbearable situation we seem to have found ourselves in, I hardly give you a second thought, Odango-Atama. You think I like having to save your ass every other day? Don't flatter yourself."

The fury that only a moment ago had set her eyes alight had died, a darkness now capturing them and sinking them deeper into their oceans.

The Sailor Senshi had arrived by now and stood in a semi-circle behind us, dressed in their street clothes, watching the theatre unfold before them.

I had gone too far.

"You know, I'm not good at a lot of things. But I had one good thing going for me in my life," she muttered, almost inaudible. "Being Sailor Moon is the one thing I'm decently good at. The one thing that makes me feel good about myself and strong. And now you've ruined that for me, too."

She gruffly brushed past me and rounded the corner, her friends on her heels. Makoto and Rei both offered threatening glares as they disappeared out of sight.

Shit.

We had come so far in such a short time and I had managed to undo it all with one stupid comment made out of my own pride. In the few years I had known her, Usagi had forgiven me many times over. She had even forgiven me for that unthinkable moment in the shower just last night. But this time I really had gone too far. She would never forgive me for this. And the very worst part of it was that what I had said was a complete lie.

Usagi dominated the majority of my thoughts. And if I wasn't thinking about her, I was thinking about Sailor Moon, which I now knew was Usagi, too. I had always been fascinated by the effervescent blonde. She made me feel warm and a little less lonely just by occupying the same room as me. I had only instigated the bickering and teasing dynamic as a means to have an excuse to talk to her. Because how could someone as bright and full of love and light as she was be interested in someone as brooding and hollow as I am?

--

Unsure of what else to do, I continued with our previous plan. I headed to Usagi's house to check in with her parents while the girls had, what I now realized was, a Senshi meeting. This body knew the way home from mere muscle memory and I stared at my feet as they dragged along the gritty sidewalk. The air still stung with ash and smoke from the explosions of the youma and the sky had hazed over with a grey blanket of smoke. The air was still and the oppressive cloud seemed to press down on me, forcing the weight in my chest down into my stomach. I felt sick. Not even Dream Mom's cookies sounded appealing.

When I entered the Tsukino family home, I found Dream Mom in the living room, eyes glued to the television set. Images of smoldering buildings and screaming civilians plagued the screen as the voice of a broadcaster narrated the events of this afternoon's battle. Usagi's mother watched in horror, pain and worry creased across her lovely face.

"Hi, mom," I called from the genkan as I removed my shoes.

"Oh my god, Usagi!" she cried, running to me and encircling me in her arms. "I'm so glad you're okay!"

She cradled me to her bosom and I didn't fight it. After a moment, I lifted my arms and wrapped them around her as well, reveling in the love of a mother for her child. I knew she wasn't my mother, but I could feel her love all the same. It warmed my empty chest a little, similarly to the way Usagi did. Maybe it was a gift given to all Tsukino women. I didn't want to let go.

"I saw the earthquake on the news," she murmured into my hair. "I was so worried when you didn't come home."

"I'm sorry," I wishipered into her apron. "I'm so sorry." The tears I had been holding back pricked in my eyes and I squeezed them shut against the stinging pain, the tears rolling down my cheeks from the effort.

"Oh, honey. I'm just glad you're safe." She planted a kiss between my hair buns as she stroked comforting circles on my back. Was this what it felt like to be loved? How lucky Usagi was.

Another onslaught of tears welled up inside of me and poured out of my soul, tears that had been laying dormant somewhere for years. I weeped. True, unadulterated weeping. I grieved openly for my own loss, the loss of my parents, the loss of myself, and now the loss of Usagi: the one person who had made me feel whole in spite of my brokenness. Just as I was beginning to realize how much she meant to me, I had lost her.

"Usa? Sweetie, are you okay?" Concern colored Dream Mom's voice as she cupped my cheeks and lifted my face to meet her discerning eyes. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?" She lifted on of my arms and then the other, giving me a quick scan for any hidden injuries.

I couldn't answer her. I couldn't speak at all. But I was most certainly not okay. I simply shook my head.

With a tender hand, Dream Mom led me to the couch, sitting with me before pulling me into her embrace once more.

"Shhh, it's okay," she comforted me. "Mama's here. You're okay." This brought a fresh wave of sobs that racked my body and I shivered against her warmth.

"Will you please tell me what's bothering you? Maybe I can help?" If only she could help. I shook my head again.

The sobs were coming fast now, one right on the tail of the last, and I couldn't breathe. The weight in my chest was pressing in on all sides, all encompassing and overwhelming, my airway constricting to almost nothing.

"Okay, breathe, honey, breathe," she instructed. She took one of my hands in hers and placed it against her chest. I could feel the steady beat of her heart beneath my fingers. "Breathe with me. Ready? In and out." She exaggerated the movements of her chest and encouraged me to follow along with her. After a moment, my breathing slowed and matched her rhythm and I regained control of my faculties.

I had never cried like that before. And now I was exhausted. My body felt entirely wasted from the combined efforts of the day. I longed for a nap. But I didn't want to leave the safety of Dream Mom's arms.

"Let's get you a snack," she crooned with a grin, wiping tears from my face with gentle fingers.

I sniffed. "Did you make more cookies?" My voice was hoarse.

She smiled broadly and shook her head. "Chocolate silk pie."

I loved this woman and I never wanted to leave.

Dream Mom settled me at the kitchen table with a generous slice of chocolately goodness topped with freshly whipped cream and perfectly ripe trawberries. My mouth full and my strength renewing, she sat across from me with a knowing twinkle in her eyes.

"I know you haven't been feeling yourself lately," she began. "You don't have to tell me what's going on. I respect your privacy. But mother's do know their children."

She raised her eyebrows at me and I swallowed my bite nervously. What did she mean by that?

"This is about a boy, isn't it?"

I chased a piece of crust around the plate with my fork. "Sort of." I really didn't want to lie to this wonderful mother, but what could I possibly tell her?

"It can be scary to have such strong feelings for someone. It gives them the power to hurt us more deeply than we knew was possible." She offered me a sympathetic smile.

How right she was. Usagi's words had cut through me like one of my own roses. But it was only because of the hurt I had caused her first. Could I ever mean as much to Usagi as she meant to me?

"I don't know how to fix it," I confessed, dropping my eyes to the remnants of my pie.

She reached across the table and covered my hand with hers, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"It's alright, dear. The ones we're meant to be with always come back to us."

I could see so much of Usagi in her smile, the way it spread across her lips and touched her eyes, the single dimple on her left cheek. I couldn't help but return her smile. It was infectious. Just like her daughter's.

"Thank you," I whispered.

She patted my hand. "You're a good girl, Usa. And remember, everything always turns out the way it's supposed to." She released me and stood up from the table. "Are you going anywhere tonight?"

I considered it. I would have to face Usagi at some point, but that could probably be put off until tomorrow. The plan was for me to gather clothes for the weekend and make another excuse to be out all night, but now, sitting in the Tsukino's cheery kitchen, I couldn't think of any reason why I had to follow through with that. Why couldn't I just stay here and let Usagi have the apartment to herself? She would probably be happy to be away from me tonight. And something about the comforting presence of Dream Mom made the idea of leaving the house almost unbearable.

"Nope," I decided right then. I would hide out here for the night.

"Are you too grown up to have a girls' night with your old mom?" One corner of her mouth tugged up in a playful smirk.

"Of course not!" I exclaimed, thrilled at the prospect of spending more time with this marvelous woman.

"I was hoping you'd say that." She removed her apron and folded it carefully. Leaning down to place it on a lower shelf, she reappeared above the counter with a basket in hand. "I already got supplies. And sushi is on the way."

"I don't understand. If they love each other, then why won't they just be together?"

Ikuko (I had finally learned her name when Dad--Kenji--came home) and I were curled up on the couch watching her latest American soap opera.

"It's not that simple," she explained around a mouthful of tuna. "Relationships can be messy and complicated, especially when you get older and factor your own individual responsibilities into the mix." Her clay face mask cracked as she chewed. "Derek does love Meredith, but he feels a responsibility to do right by his wife and try to make things work with her, even though she hurt him."

I had a matching mask on my own face and my nails had been freshly manicured and painted "ballet pink." Ikuko had gone with "rose petal red" and had taught me how to apply it to her nails. Both of us had our hair tied up in bandanas and the cucumbers that had once sat over our eyes had been eaten long ago. And I didn't feel silly at all. In fact, I was the happiest I had been in a long time.

"Didn't she forfeit that right when she slept with his best friend?" I pressed.

I could see why this show interested Ikuko and practically every other woman I knew. It was full of love, reveals, and the cruel twist of fate--all of the excitement missing from the typical life of a housewife. It would easily occupy her mundane days. Besides, everyone loved a good medical drama. Even me, if I had to admit it.

"It's not about Alison's right to Derek. It's about his own sense of duty and drive to be a good person." She plopped another bite of sushi into her mouth with her cherry blossom painted chopsticks."Besides, neither Derek nor Meredith could love each other fully if he didn't do everything he could to save his broken marriage first. It would be a relationship built on a sandy foundation."

Were all mothers this wise? Or was Ikuko just very special?

I admired her own relationship with Kenji, too. When the sushi had arrived, he had popped his head into the doorway excitedly and asked what we were celebrating. Ikuko had shooed him out, insisting that it was just for "us girls" and he was to have none of it. The show was mostly for my benefit though. I could hear their hushed conversation in the kitchen a moment later as she explained to her husband that Usagi was in desperate need of some "mother-daughter-time" and encouraged him to take Shingo out to the arcade. They had shared a brief kiss and a giggle from something suggestive that Kenji had done or said to his wife, no doubt. Her life may have been ordinary, but the way she lived it was remarkable to me.

"So, what? Meredith just has to suffer and watch from the sidelines while Derek figures out what he wants?" It didn't seem right. These two people who had both come from backgrounds of pain and loneliness had finally found each other, the universe had brought them together, and now they were choosing to be apart.

Ikuko shook her head. "Meredith wouldn't love him the way she does if he wasn't that kind of a man."

We watched the rest of the episode and gorged ourselves on sushi before Ikuko shut off the television, signaling for bedtime. I conceded obediently, feeling eternally grateful for the short time I had spent with Usagi's mother. I hadn't realized how desperately I had been longing for exactly what she could offer.

I readied myself for bed, showering methodically and caring for my hair the way Usagi had taught me. From the bottom drawer of the dresser, I eventually succeeded in locating a matching pajama set and dressed myself for sleep. Just as I was about to crawl into the pink bunny laden bed, a thought occurred to me. I tiptoed stealthily across the hall and tapped quietly on the door.

"Mom? Are you still awake?" I whispered.

The door creaked open and Ikuko stood before me, a lavender nightgown draped over her graceful frame, accentuating the violet hue to her greying hair.

"Usagi, honey? Are you okay?" she asked, slightly worried, but softly enough not to wake Kenji.

"Yes, I'm fine," I assured her. "I just wanted to say thank you for spending time with me tonight. It was just what I needed. I really enjoyed it." I offered her a single red rose and smiled up at her surprised yet pleased face, tiny wrinkles forming in the corners of her eyes.

She accepted the gift and inhaled its scent with another grin. "You're welcome, honey. I love you." She kissed my forehead. "Now get some rest. Your mind will be clearer in the morning. You'll know what to do." And with a final smile, she closed her bedroom door and I returned to Usagi's room, climbing into bed and surrendering to sleep.

--

Darkness stretched before me and I searched through the mist, desperately fighting my way toward something. No, someone. I didn't know who it was, but I knew that I would cease to exist if I failed to find them.

Where are you?" I cried to the abyss. "Why have you left me alone again?" Again? This had happened before…

"You are not alone."

There was a voice with me and surely a person went with it. And although I was relieved to have found a fellow soul to languish with me in the dreariness, I felt a deep disappointment at the unfamiliar tone.

"Who are you?" I demanded, casting my gaze around the barren space.

My eyes came to rest upon the silhouette of a woman unknown to me. She was tall and statuesque and held an elongated staff that glittered faintly in the dim light.

"I am a friend, a guardian," she declared. Her voice was low for a woman and held a definitive sense of authority.

"Show yourself," I commanded.

"I cannot. The time has not yet come." The shadow bowed its head regrettably. "But it is not me you seek."

"Who is it, then? Who have I been looking for?" I lamented.

I had been searching all of my life and coming up empty, not even knowing what to look for. In my dreams, it was always just outsidey grasp. And when I awoke, it was gone entirely.

"You are closer than you know," my mysterious friend disclosed. "You have found her. You just need to remember."

Her. I was searching for a her.

"Remember? Remember what? Why can't you tell me?"

The obscure figure was receding. In a frightful panic, I launched myself after her. But my feet were as heavy as cinder blocks as I trudged through the cumbersome mist, the woman growing smaller and smaller in the unilluminated distance.

"Follow your heart. It never has, and never will, lead you astray."

And then I was truly alone. No light, no sound, no wind. Just the darkness and the cool mist billowing around my legs wistfully in the still nothingness.

And then, a voice. A new voice.

"Hello?"

I knew this voice. I knew I knew it. But I couldn't remember.

"Is anyone there?"

The voice was high and clear like a bluejay singing in the first sunbeams of the morning. But her song was sad.

"I don't want to be alone."

She was frightened. Her voice was trembling.

"I'm here," I answered, fumbling forward in search of my companion. "Where are you?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "It's so dark...and I'm so cold."

I was sure I was headed in the right direction, but her voice was growing fainter.

"Don't move," I pleaded. "I'm coming to find you."

I had to find her. I had to know who she was. I had to remember...

--

"Usagi!" I awoke to Ikuko in my doorway. "Hurry up and get dressed, honey. There's a young man here to see you." She beamed and shot me a wink before dashing out of the room and down the stairs.

"Just give her a minute to get dressed," I could hear her say to the visitor. "She's a late sleeper, you know."

"Oh, I know," the voice replied, colored with irritation.

I gulped. It was my own voice.

Hell hath no fury than an Usagi scorned.