"As far as I know," Doctor Mizuno began with a sigh, as she flipped through the papers on her clipboard, "she should be a perfectly healthy young woman. We've done cat scans, blood tests, MRIs - everything I could possibly think of - and come up with nothing. She's suffered no stress, no trauma to the head, no illness. There is no apparent reason for her condition, and yet her coma persists." She glanced up, noting the worried, pale faces of the girl's parents.

"I'm so sorry," she said softly. "There is nothing that medical science can do for her. All I can recommend is that you not give up hope."

Mamoru stared blankly, his mind refusing entirely to process the happenings of the last few moments. There was not a beautiful woman in his arms, she was not touching his face with those delicate, cool fingers, and she was certainly not speaking to him in some musical, foreign language.

And yet his eyes traced the fine lines of her face, drinking in those startlingly blue eyes fringed with thick black lashes, her pale cheeks, and her glossy pink lips, pursed so deliciously in confusion. Her palm cupped his cheek, drawing his attention back to her speech. It was a beautiful, lyrical language, every sentence a song, and he was sure no such language had ever been spoken on Earth.

She seemed to realize that he couldn't understand her, because she switched to what sounded like Latin. She spoke only a few words before his blank stare told her he still couldn't understand her. Speaking rapidly, she went through a myriad of languages…Greek, French, Italian, German, and English all came and went before she at last began cycling through various Asian languages and dialects.

"Japanese? I wouldn't think so with those eyes of yours," she said, and promptly moved on to Chinese. Mamoru's dazed mind cleared immediately, and he gasped out a response.

"Yes, yes, Japanese! I speak Japanese!"

"Oh, wonderful. I was beginning to think I wouldn't be able to communicate with you at all!" She smiled beatifically at him, and Mamoru felt his heart skip a beat.

"Well, uh…I know this is going to sound weird, but…why are you here? What just happened here?"

She frowned, a distressed expression crossing her face for a moment.

"Didn't you summon me, Endymion?" She asked.

"It's Mamoru. My name is Mamoru," he replied. "And, well…I guess I summoned you, but it was sort of an accident. Artemis said that you were fated to return when reunited with Endymion."

"Oh, no," she gasped, scrambling off his lap in complete horror, "oh, no, this is all wrong! Artemis, I need you!"

Artemis stepped smoothly out of the shadows, appearing not at all shocked at the turn of events.

"I am here, your highness," he said, bowing low. To Mamoru he looked ridiculous, bowing so to a young woman easily a foot shorter than he.

"You," Serenity said firmly, "are not Artemis."

"Not the Artemis you knew, your highness," he agreed. "I am his grandson, many generations over. I am willing and prepared to serve you as faithfully as my namesake did so many centuries ago." He remained as he was, bent at the waist nearly ninety degrees, until she finally gave him leave to rise.

"I thank you, and I gratefully accept your offer of assistance. I fear I will require much of it in a very short space of time." She turned away, crossing the room quickly, beckoning to both men to follow.

"You see," she said grimly, "a very grave error has been made here today."

"I don't understand," Artemis said, "there should be no error. The wax sculpture of your likeness has long been protected by my family in preparation for your return. The legends were clear. They said you were fated to return, and you have."

"Oh, yes," she agreed. "I'm certain the legends were clear. It is the interpretation of them that has caused this situation. You see, I stand before you now with a borrowed body and a borrowed soul."

Mamoru's brow furrowed in confusion.

"I don't get it. How can you borrow a soul? I thought it was pretty much one to a customer," he said wryly.

"And so it is," she replied. "My soul, like yours, Mamoru, has already been reborn. Souls never die, for though life for the body ends, the soul is eternal. My reincarnation is alive at this time. I believe the legends must have spoken of our reunion in this time, not of the meeting of a man and a wax sculpture," she said, and Mamoru thought he detected a hint of bitterness in her voice.

"Souls can easily become confused, and it can be dangerous to meddle in affairs beyond your scope of knowledge. This has all been a grave mistake, and I fear it will soon be too late to rectify."

"But how can you be borrowing someone's soul? What will happen to your reincarnation if she has no soul?" Mamoru's mind was whirling again, and he was halfway towards convincing himself that he'd fallen asleep reading some bizarre sci-fi novel, and was now having a dream of epic proportions.

"That is what I fear most of all. Without a soul, the human body will die. Perhaps it will take a few days, but death for one without a soul is inevitable. She will die if we do not come up with a solution soon. This vessel is not equipped to carry a soul permanently. It is very unpredictable magic that binds this soul to this form. Eventually, this soul will leave this body, and I do not know what will happen if there is no living person for it to return to. I would hate," she whispered, holding Mamoru's eyes, "to lose you when I was so close to finding you again."

The sight of her tragic face touched something in Mamoru he'd long forgotten existed. Almost as if it had a will of its own, his hand came up to trace the soft curve of her cheek, stroking the warm skin beneath her ear. Her eyes closed, and her face turned into his hand, savoring the touch.

"Don't cry," he said softly, because he was suddenly very afraid that she would, and this woman stirred emotions in him that no other human being ever had. His reactions to her were both puzzling and terrifying. One of her cool hands held his to her cheek. She drew in a deep, steadying breath and all at once dropped his hand.

"I hope," she said briskly, "that you gentlemen can find something to occupy you for the time being. There is much to be done and very little time."

"What may I do to assist you, your highness?" Artemis asked, sinking into another low bow. She waved him away in irritation.

"Enough formalities, if you please," she replied, "I haven't the time for them. As for your offer of assistance, I fear you will be quite unable to assist me unless you can read Lunarian. Can you?"

"No, my lady," Artemis responded. "It has long been considered a dead language."

She clicked her tongue, lifting heavy tomes from the desk, brushing dust from covers to read the titles, and stacking them as they were discarded.

"If I may ask, my lady, what are you looking for?"

"A book of legends, Artemis. Anything that will help me to better understand exactly where this legend has gone awry and what can be done to correct it. Somehow the legends and prophecies and fate have been enmeshed until everything is a mess, and, though my soul is alive this day, I have been dead for over a thousand years and I have no idea how to fix it all. Here," she dropped a stack of books into his arms, and retrieved another stack for Mamoru.

"What are we supposed to do with these?" Mamoru asked. "We can't read them."

"I know, I know," she said, fluttering her fingers at them as she opened a few texts on the table. "Even if you can't read them, perhaps there are some paintings within that might lend insight as to the content of the book. We haven't the time to read them all."

"How much time do we have?" Mamoru asked. Even as the question crossed his lips, he was uncertain if he really wanted to know the answer. Her delicate shoulders rose in small, graceful shrug. She kept her eyes firmly on the text before her, scanning the page quickly.

"I am as yet uncertain. It could be only hours. It will certainly not be more than a few days." Her tone was desolate, the impossibility of the task suddenly evident. She flipped the pages of the book quickly, sighing as she abandoned it in favor of another.

"Artemis," she asked, "have you a more modern history of them moon? Something from this time?"

"Yes, I believe so," he said. "I keep them in the lobby. They're easily found and don't require special care, which I why I don't keep them in here. I'll be just a moment." He returned scant seconds later with a heavy book and handed it over to Serenity. She opened it, marveling at the glossy pages and colorful pictures. Pages rustled as she flipped through them, gleaning bits of information. Finally she stopped, a horrified gasp on her lips.

"What has happened to my home?" Her voice was broken, and her fingers traced the enlarged photograph of the moon's surface delicately. Tears threatened, glistening in her eyes like diamonds.

"Your highness, is it possible that you do not know?" Artemis asked hesitantly.

"Artemis," her voice was clipped, irritated. "I died there. I do not share the memories of those alive today. This is not the moon I remember. This is…this is a catastrophe. This is horrific."

Artemis blew out an unsteady breath. "Your highness, after your death, in the battle, the kingdom of the moon was completely destroyed. So completely was it demolished that it is now unable to even support life. Those who could escape made a new life on the Earth, and those who could not…died where they lay. Very few still believe there was ever a kingdom on the moon. Your sacrifice has been forgotten; your story told only in legends and never as fact."

"I…see." She visibly composed herself, blinking back her tears. She flipped a few more pages before she once again found a picture that interested her.

"That sculpture," she said. "Where might it be found?"

Artemis peered over her shoulder at the page. She was pointing to a sculpture of Prince Endymion, dressed for battle, a forbidding expression on his handsome face. Mamoru could see the resemblance to himself in the sculpture.

"I…don't know. It doesn't say. If I could have a little time, I'm certain I can find out."

"Do," she said crisply, closing the book. "That is where I am supposed to be. I can feel it."