Chapter Seven

The soft click of metal brushed fingers along the quiet hall. Light beat a short path across beige carpet, a footstep of reality into the blackness beyond. A white glove pressed firmly against heavy wood, the sound muffled as neatly as a bagged corpse. Ruckus from the streets filtered through closed windows, and slunk across the carpet in whispers. Demons slithered from every corner in the form of shifting shadows, the wind howled angrily at the night sky. Velvet blackness beckoned beyond the small room, marked the edge of that reality into the abyss.

The white glove lifted but a moment before landing with a dull thud against wood again. This time, it left a dent.

Why; why had he not asked her name! He'd been so intent to stare, so blessedly brainless in the moment of truth. She'd been the only thought in his head for nearly three hours, and he hadn't said one damn word to the girl! She'd just stood there and stared at the ground and walked away, and he'd just let her!

No wonder Moon thought he was a damn fool, because he was! It was her standing right there on his doorstep, eating his treats, and just damn well existing in his presence and he just stood there! Really?! Was he insane?!

No one, he repeated the thought again, no one had even caught his eye in over a year! Because of Moon, and her amazing, ridiculous, gorgeous, amazing (he might be repeating himself a bit) self had blinded him from anything and anyone else. Yet he'd spoken to her before at some point, so why hadn't she had the same effect on him then? What the hell had changed? Why the HELL had it changed without PERMISSION!?

He gave the door another thump, just in case it got any ideas, before turning toward the living room. The vampire teeth were thrown carelessly onto the front table, shoes clacking against marble floor as he went. He drew a deep breath, releasing the transformation as he walked. Petals blurred the world just a moment before he slid onto the couch in frustrated silence.

She'd been standing right there. And she was hot.

He could retrace everything about her costume as if he'd spent hours staring at her instead of a few moments; the fishnets crisscrossing her thighs, the corset showing off the tiny waist and rounded hips. Great boobs, wow she had great boobs. He could write a whole damn sonnet on them. Hell, he could probably write his whole senior thesis on them

That…might have been a bit of a ridiculous idea; but it was a good one anyway.

He leaned forward, rubbing gently at the back of his neck as he did. It was still sore where the tree had smacked him, but the psychometry was doing well without his concentration. It was also a stroke of accidental genius that made him keep his battle tux on tonight, as it tended to speed the process. Had he thought about it, he would have made up some dumb excuse to wear it during that broken nose business last summer. Love was kind of a bitch. Probably why he'd never bothered with it before.

Interesting, that no one had ever had a problem seeing him as Mamoru when he wanted them to. After all, everyone had said his vampire costume was convincing, not a word was mentioned about Tuxedo Kamen. He wondered briefly if Moon had ever had that sort of situation. Of course, the only thing she could really double as in that outfit was a cheerleader or a stripper. Hopefully, there was less call for the second.

"Just hold up one damn minute!" he muttered forcefully, all but jumping from the couch in his rush to reason. If people could recognize him as Chiba Mamoru while still in costume, why couldn't they recognize him as Tuxedo Kamen at the same time? What was it about his costume that kept others from figuring out who he was? Why had he not thought about the henshin magic earlier?

There was only one thing to do under these circumstances, and it involved bringing out 'the Beast'. Calmly, even efficiently, he made his way back into the bedroom and gripped the heavy metal from behind the door. Pulling carefully across the carpet, the monster was set gently in the middle of the living room, lit perfectly from every direction before he withdrew the soft black cover. It slithered pleasingly to the ground, revealing in all its beautiful glory, the Beast.

Motoki could say what he liked, but giant rolling mirrors were pretty damn useful when you model for a living. Or stalk Senshi. Either way it was pretty awesome, even if his blond friend didn't agree.

He couldn't help taking of the shirt and flexing a few times, just to try it out. Then, the serious work began.

The fuku could literally change anything about physical appearance, or so he had assumed until now. It hadn't occurred to him he could actually test that theory. Maybe he wasn't a Senshi per-say; however he did use a similar transformation to achieve Kamen status. So it had to work on the same basic principles, right?

He would have to be methodical, testing bit by bit to see what the henshin could change about him. He began with the eyes, knowing hers where crystal blue while in uniform. Yet, watching himself transform the mask completely obliterated his eyes, so that became a moot point. He moved on to hair, which also proved negligible as he wore a top hat which made everything look dark anyway.

By the end of the night, his notebook had been demolished with thoughts scribbled down, erased and rewritten, then torn from the binding in frustration. So long as the mask stayed in place, the glamour was complete. Even he did not recognize himself as Mamoru except on an internal level. The outside view became hazy and indistinct the closer he looked. However, his height and weight remained the same no matter what he seemed to do.

The discovery prompted a rewarding cup of coffee, and about 4 more hours of work on list.

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….

Mamoru walked quickly down the sidewalk in the early crisp air. A scarf tugged at his throat against the chill November air, the heavy weight of his backpack pressed firmly against him. He glanced once more through the neatly organized leaves of notebook paper as he walked, retracing his steps from the night before. It was important to look the problems directly in the face and systematically pick off the unlikely girls like disease ridden sheep in hard winter.

He had racked his brain all night long, setting the girls by the characteristics of his obsession into four major categories; personality (friendly and self sacrificing, he'd marked beside it), athletic ability (functional, yet not impressive), physical appearance (killer curves, somewhat short) and grace (or lack thereof). All of this had led him to the student directory of the college. He would start with there, and then move down to the junior college and high schools. She was likely to be similar in age, but the height would present a problem. The girls on the island tended to stay medium to short, which meant he had his job cut out for him.

He'd begun with each category marked clearly on the wall, then had filled in the space beneath with names of girls most represented by the characteristics. Many of them could have qualified for 2 or 3 out of 4, which automatically moved them toward the top of the master list. He had narrowed down a few names already, and since the athletic ability was the first, and easiest to start with, he'd begun at the gym.

Hiromi was often referred to as the best tennis player on campus. She was also, currently, first on his list of possible suspects. According to recent internet activity, she frequented this particular gym around 6:45 every morning before class.

He checked his watch quietly outside the door. It was 6:42, and several minutes before Motoki would get there still. Perfect. His friend would have to get changed before they could begin, giving Mamoru a little bit of time to scope out the scene without being suspicious, not to mention he could test the arm curl machine for Moon's weight while he was there.

It was quiet this morning, only a few other people had bothered to get up as early as he did. Thankfully, one of them was Hakaru Hiromi, number 1 with a 67% likelihood of a match. She stood about 5 foot 4 with long, lean limbs and an easygoing smile. Many people would say she was quiet and silly, with a strange sense of humor and no sense of fashion. Everyone tended to like her, despite the fact. She was strong, smart enough, and on occasion had shown a tendency to be less that graceful. They'd made her captain of the tennis team two years running and had been a member of his fan club for 4.

Luckily for him, by the time he changed and locked the book bag away she was working on pectorals, and the arm curl lay directly to her right. He couldn't help the answering grin tugging at his mouth.

"Ohiyo, Hiromi-san."

She glanced sideways, a shy smile on her face.

"Ohiyo, Chiba-san." He bent, glancing at the scales curiously. He'd lifted Moon from danger more times than could be counted, and could roughly guess at the amount of pressure. She had to weigh at least 100 pounds, otherwise she'd be skin and bones. It didn't account for muscle, but he had plenty of time to tinker this morning.

"How are classes going?" he began, watching her out of the corner of his eye. He didn't remember the last conversation they'd had, it was too far back.

"They're good. My boyfriend's a senior in the same field, so he helps a lot." She stared forward as she spoke, obviously counting reps in her head as she did. He couldn't help but note the underlying brush off she'd given him. It was something Moon would do, he was sure.

"Oh? What field is that exactly?" this weight was very close, but he had to test on either side of it to be sure.

"Architecture. How about you?" He grimaced, 110 was probably a bit too much. Oh well, training with it would make future rescues all the easier. He kept that weight for this workout at least, and it would help later on with the list.

"Business, and its fine."

Silence reigned for a few moments. Mamoru racked his brain to something he could manipulate the conversation into. But how much did he honestly know about her interests? Was his Senshi really an architecture nut? It didn't seem terribly likely, that field was challenging and required a lot of late nights. It was not a good combination with her nocturnal activities.

"Can you believe that?" she muttered, pausing long enough to grab a towel. "I don't understand what's going on. 2 years ago, we'd never even heard of these things, and now they're attacking every few weeks. It creeps me out."

Confused, wondering eyes fell on the TV mounted on the opposite wall. Someone had stumbled over their battle ground from last night and found one of the weapons it had used. Looked like Mercury's blood was still on it, but of course the newscaster wouldn't know that. They hypothesized it had gotten one of the Senshi anyway, since there hadn't been any hospital admittances related to the fight.

He wondered suddenly if DNA testing was an option in the future. Of course, that would mean samples of all the Senshi so they could differentiate, and even then it wouldn't tie them down to actual civilians unless they gave samples too. It was another dead end, but at least it hadn't taken forever to get to.

"Ever been in one of those attacks?" he asked offhand, realizing first that he hadn't remembered to count reps, and second that his muscles were starting to burn.

"Hai. 8 months ago on the tennis field. I don't even want to think of what would have happened if the Senshi weren't there."

He tried to remember that attack in particular. At night, he was sure, down in the arena area in the tennis courts. Moon had been trapped in a giant tennis ball when he arrived, bouncing around rather humorously and wailing like a child. They hadn't had their little spat yet; it would have been almost 2 months prior.

"Did you get to meet any of them?" He did 5 more reps before his arms started to give under the pressure. The pain distracted him, kept him focused on the workout externally. But he watched for any telltale signs of acknowledgment from her. She gave none.

"Hai, Sailor Moon. She helped me up after it was all over. She and Tuxedo Kamen were the only two to show that night. They were probably on a date nearby or something." Mamoru grunted irritably. "They are such a cute couple." She smiled as she said it, no hint of bitterness or longing. Interesting, either she was a very good actress, or she really wasn't the famed superhero.

"Couple, hu? What makes you think they're even together?" he switched directions, grunting with the effort it took to pull that much weight from behind. Instead of fighting it, he turned and adjusted the weight downward.

"Everyone knows they're dating, come on Chiba-san." He couldn't help but grunt noncommittally and continue on. This girl was too emotionally detached from the situation; she seemed to talk about it like a fairytale instead of a heart-crushing reality. Moon's views were obvious on the subject. Given current answers, he would have to assume Hiromi was not, in fact, the one he was looking for. Not to mention she had almost no bust at all in the workout bra. And she seemed a smidge tall when she stood up.

"Nice talking to you, Chiba-san. Good luck with your future testing." She was walking away, and he felt no real need to follow.

"Hai, you as well." The answer was noncommittal, almost automatic as he thought. Was there a way to narrow down a major as well, given hours of operation? Probably not, since the Youma didn't exactly have timed attacks. But maybe he could move those with a greater workload down a bit in priority, as she would probably not be doing well if she was in one. After all, she wasn't the most self motivated girl he'd ever met, and was well known to be a crybaby under stress.

It hadn't worked out as well as he'd hoped, but some part of that must have already known it since he wasn't particularly heartbroken. Still, he decided, he'd watch her just to be safe. The boyfriend, if he was real, would be the true disqualifier. Moon would never even bother with another guy for how messed up she was about him. That thought brought another tiny smile. Good, no one else was allowed to even touch her.

"I see you were hitting on Hiromi-san." Shock rippled through him at the sudden appearance of blond hair and mischievous green eyes. The weights dropped automatically as Motoki placed one finger on the side of his nose. "Not interested in superheroes anymore?"

"Motoki-kun." Mamoru shot him a warning glance before lifting the weights once more.

"Yeah, I'd be looking elsewhere if one of them hit me too. Abusive little buggers." The blond continued, hardly missing a beat.

"Motoki." He warned again, trying to focus on anything else. His friend was obviously way too comfortable with the subject.

"You know the really freaky thing is some people actually come back for more after that. It's like they enjoy pain. Weirdoes." By now, the evil grin reached 'world domination' status. Fists tightened in quiet anger in the face of Loki himself.

"I'm going to punch you."

Motoki grinned in conquest, knowing he'd hit the mark spot on.

"We'll still be besties."

The affirmation eased tensions, releasing the dark man from his trance. He shook his head, disgusted sometimes with the choice of best friends. Really, who would want to hang out with someone who did nothing but point out the fact you were a fool sometimes?

"You know, I couldn't help but notice she's a short klutzy blond."

-Or someone who could see right through you.

"…I hate you."

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….

Weeks passed, cold air grew progressively colder as the seasons changed. Fallen leaves gave way to snow and ice, the wind burned instead of howled and night became crystalline instead of haunting. The days shortened, as they did each year, the sun dimmed low in the heavens.

The list dwindled and rebuilt itself; names no longer belonged to faces. Every day, it seemed, the numbers shifted, prowled the back of his mind like a starving jaguar ready to strike. No one had the same effect as the slayer from Halloween. To be honest, he'd had to pump himself up for each conversation so far, all for nothing. He was beginning to think her disguise involved men's clothing.

To top it off, the maddening Senshi had been consistent in holding Moon back to the very last moment, thus spreading his chance of being there thin as tissue paper. Two more rainbow crystals had been unearthed, each side winning one more of the tokens. Both nights, he'd been visited with dreams of the Princess, and both nights it had left him restless and irritable. He was behind; fighting to catch up and yet could not.

Luckily, school work could now be focused on. With the presentation of the list came better time management, which meant he could finally prioritize. It was difficult to get her out of his head still; especially during long study hours. It was functional for now. Not to mention the fact that every single conversation he'd had with each of the girls did nothing but cement them back into the background.

The only problem was overly-concerned professors, who felt they had to take time from his schedule outside of class. Just because it was December and quickly closing in on finals did not mean they had a right to make his life more difficult than they had to. He glanced at the note scribbled hastily across one of his papers before hoisting himself out of the chair. He came down the steps leisurely, flinging his winter coat over one shoulder. Professor Yatsuki was not known to waste words with students, so this meeting had to at least be somewhat important.

"Chiba-san, I have an extra credit assignment for you." Silvery grey hair bobbed upward just long enough for spectacles to flash before returning downward. Mamoru waited while the last of the papers were shuffled together. "I've been asked to teach a special class for youngsters in the area for credit with the local school systems, but I don't have time for it. I know your grades have been suffering lately, so I thought you might like the chance to get them back up."

Heavy blue eyes closed, wishing they could roll blatantly. He wanted Mamoru –of all people- to teach a class to youngsters? He couldn't even stand talking to them for the most part. Just look at him and Odango-brain!

"I have a 3.8 though."

"Exactly," the spectacles were fumbled with unsteady hands as the old man nodded, "you're usually sitting at 4.1 at this point in the semester. I have a reading curriculum set up, and they'll have to do a few paper assignments as well. Are you interested or not?"

No curriculum to plan out, at least that was something. Of course normally it would be a breeze to dedicate a little bit of time each week teaching underclassmen, but 'youngsters' implied kids, so he assumed it wouldn't exactly be college level reading. He also had the search for Moon to worry about, and that took a good chunk out of his days.

"Can I ask someone to do the grading?" He began, knowing already the answer would be yes. He had to be the best in all his classes, and this semester was not turning out the way he had originally hoped it would. "I don't currently have time with my workload."

"Yes, that's fine. But the final grade will come from you, and you'll answer to me. I would like a 5 page reflection paper on your view of self, as well as a detailed teaching plan. The course is twelve weeks long, from January to April, one class a week. Your subject is to know one's self through literature. Set up times with the Juuban school administrator by the end of this week."

"Hai."

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…..

Mamoru was not a happy man on arriving back at his apartment. It looked like his poor, unoffending door had taken quite the beating from those love crazed girls. Stacked nearly to his hip and sprawling four feet in either directed were tons of Christmas presents. Disbelieving navy blue eyes rolled heavenward as he hefted his shoulder pack to the ground and dug in his pants for the keys. Now he was going to have to dig this mess out and he was tired.

Maybe the worst thought of all, though, was the fact that one of them might be from his little minx, which meant he would have to go through every one individually. Groaning, he slammed his head against the dark wood in frustration. WHY did she have to make this so difficult?! Why couldn't she just be a good little girl and tell him her secret identity? It was only fair, he reasoned to himself, since he'd given his without any objections.

One hand touched his nose as he winced internally. Well, she had given hers…but that didn't matter. All he had to do was dig through mountains of worthless trash to find the one present she would get him. There was no doubt in his mind that the very moment he saw whatever it was, he would know exactly whom it was from. Then, in a perfect world, it would be conveniently labeled, he'd chase her down tonight and simply pin the girl to a wall for about…an hour or so. The night or a week wouldn't be too bad either; he amended with a wicked little chuckle.

Sorting through the mountain took a lot longer that it normally would have. Mamoru was meticulous with his phone book and college directory, marking off the impossibilities, the improbabilities, and the wackoes. The regulars, of course, were always there with their 'perfect' gifts which usually consisted of chocolate, replacement jackets for the green one that had mysteriously gone missing a few weeks back, a few interesting looking textbooks, coffee, and an incredibly fancy ballpoint pen.

He carefully filed away all the things he could actually use without being seen (lest by seeing their present in use, said girl would assume he was interested) and tossed everything else in a pile. The jackets and such would be returned for cash, the chocolates would go in his stash by the bed, the coffee in the cupboard, and the pen would never leave the apartment. After all of that was said and done, he turned to the weird presents.

One had been a fruit basket (someone from his health class, as said the card) random strawberry things, which were the most disgusting sweets he'd ever tried, various cds and electronics, and a box filled with lacy underwear.

"That…is just wrong." He muttered determinedly as the raunchy note was quickly stuffed back in the package and the whole thing tossed into the fireplace. After all of that work and nothing had stood out as something she would get him. He suddenly felt very weak and tired as he slouched against the stone, feeling the heat burn into his face a little. It...it would have been really nice to get something from her… But then, he hadn't done the same in return had he?

Sighing in thought and exhaustion, he turned from the roaring flames to fix himself some coffee.

Something glittering silver caught his eye in the moonlight. Despite the bitter cold threatening him from the other side of the crystal barrier, Mamoru reached forward to slide the door open. Chilling December air frosted across his skin as he stepped onto the snow covered patio in curiosity. Across the grey and black sky floated the silvery feathers of snow, so big and fluffy they could almost be confused for pillow stuffing. The low din of city traffic was muffled beneath the soft blanket of ivory, giving a perfect ambiance to the gentle feeling that surged in his chest.

There, laying in all its sweet glory, was a long stemmed white rose perched on the snow coated railing. He was almost afraid to touch the precious object lest through his mortal hands it would vanish or turn to dust beneath his grasp. A happy grin broke the night-long scowl as the tip of his finger brushed against the petals. His heart thrummed once, hard, as he swallowed. That had to be what her lips felt like. Down his fingers trailed, amazed at how unbelievably long the stem was…like her body…. Crisscrossing the curved green shaft lay the jagged daggers of her sharp tongue, and wound between the soft, heart-shaped green leaves a navy blue ribbon. He touched it curiously, wondering at how such a girly gift could make him feel so warm in the cool December night.

As if reaching for her, his fingers wrapped around the crisp emerald stem and he lifted the soft silvery-white head to his lips. Almost as if the flower were her flesh, already cooled by the biting winter cold, he kissed the petals till they warmed and grinned impishly into the night. She was close, maybe watching him through dark blue eyes in the cover of night, maybe to see if he would accept such a wildly inappropriate gift for someone like him. The thought caused his fingers to close slightly tighter around the strong, fresh stem.

I will take you, he thought, I will bring you out of the cold…

With slow, deliberate movements lest she be too far away to notice, he kissed the perfect white head and turned to disappear into the apartment.

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…

Two buildings down, there was a heavy clonk of binoculars on stone. She rubbed gingerly at one arm, not entirely sure what she'd done at all. It had come over a long period of time, weeks in fact. She knew she had to get him something, she knew he'd been alone for a long time, and had been searching for her. The idea of the rose had been a bit of a surprise; almost as if she'd known exactly what she would give him and it had just taken the rest of her time to catch up.

Strange how she'd found it in her subspace pocket this afternoon during training. It was just a white rose. Nothing special.

She turned to go, breath misting in the cold December air. What on earth had possessed her to do something so childish? She had raced across the city from Hikawa shrine, transformed, bounded up 11 flights of fire escape just to give that stupid flower to him, of all people. He could only think she was completely retarded. No, really. This entire thing was like a bad joke. She should have been home hours ago. She should have at least called to say she'd be gone. Her mother was probably having a heart attack right now, and her father had probably already called the cops.

Amazing how parents held no faith at all in their young to be able to defend themselves.

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…

Mamoru filled a pitcher with lukewarm water and placed the flower gently inside. He'd have to go get something a little better suited tomorrow, but for tonight it would do. It was the most pure white he'd ever seen before, the bud blossoming with tiny pursed lips. Once again, his fingers trailed along the shiny navy ribbon tied just below the petals. Why this gift? Why would she give him something he could possibly have made himself? And why leave it in the snow the way she had? Wasn't she afraid of it wilting? Why not leave it in front of his door, like the other girls had?

But Sailor Moon was not at all like other girls, he had to remember that. Everything she did had some deeper meaning.

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….

"Serenity…" he breathed against her neck, fingers trailing along her soft shoulder. She shivered, both with excitement and fear. Her eyes trailed from the fire, clashing against orbs the color of the forbidden planet. Her knees felt weak just being in his presence, just feeling his touch smooth along her arm. "Come with me."

Her eyes opened wide in surprise at his brash invitation, turning fully her body to view the Earth's High Prince. He wore no battle armor tonight, no weapon save the broadsword strapped loosely to his trim waist. The fine-spun burgundy shirt flowed against his heavily muscled chest, black breaches loose against his thighs. Serenity fought to gain control of her rapid heartbeat, and lost at the gentle smile in his eyes.

"Marry me. Now. Tonight." His fingers sought her hand, raised it to his lips as he spoke. She felt a million emotions surging through her; desire, longing, fear, shame…hope…. They had never become physical lovers, always stopped short due to shame for their respective worlds, for breaking a heavenly law. The betrayal would choke them at every turn, making something that should have been perfect into a nightmare. But here he was now, the silent promise eminent in his soft eyes. She fought all of these strange feelings, warred against logic and timing. Her body trembled beneath his touch, ached for him…

"Are you mad?" She whispered finally, eyes hardening in determination. "In 24 hours, our worlds will tear each other apart! They are mobilizing even as we speak, and you come to taunt me with a proposal against their wishes?"

He quickly wrapped both arms around her stiff, trembling frame and held her close. It was true. The high generals of his army met right now with his father to discuss tactics and plan for the coming war. It was loyalty to his family and his country alone that kept such secrets safe. He didn't dare reveal them, and she under similar circumstances did not ask. It was treason, the whole affair, yet they could neither help themselves nor their respective worlds.

"I've spoken with Kronos." He began quietly; afraid the news would scare her. "The Fates have decreed our death sentence. We will not survive the battle, and I greatly doubt anyone else will either."

She froze, mouth parted in a silent scream of agony as her fingers clutched his shirt. Tears streamed from her silvery eyes to darken the finely spun cloth before her near black. The shuddering breath rasped against her throat, not for her own fate, but for the life of her beloved Endymion…. Was it such a terrible crime? To love a man so much that your soul could burst with the feeling? Was it so distasteful to want a tiny piece of happiness in a quickly dying world?

"We swore that no one would ever touch our hearts if not each other." His voice was thick as her tears, feeling her sob against his chest in grief. "If we do survive; if the sentence is revoked, we will never see one another again. And if we are to sink to the eternal depths of the river Styx, I would do it knowing we had done everything with honor; that we have neither lied nor allowed to pass that which has been forbidden." He pulled away, just enough to cup her face, wipe at the tears beating a path across the porcelain skin. "I will never love another. But I will love the first."

Serenity couldn't help feeling the same sense of injustice as he. After all, young Eros had been allowed his Psyche, and Dionysus the sweet Ariadne…why couldn't she have her mortal lover as well? Were the Fates so strongly against such a pairing that they would destroy the known worlds should they dare to justify their love? She looked up at him, already knowing the contours of his face. They had long ago been carved into her heart by gentle hands, by soft words.

"Should we have been any other two," he whispered softly, tasting her salty lips against his, "we would have been married long ago, and perhaps had a child by now." His fingers stroked the soft skin of her long neck, eyes sure and steady against hers. "Do you love me?" he asked finally, patient and confident in the reply that was sure to come.

"Yes." She breathed without hesitance. He should never have doubted, having known how deeply she did love him. After all, Serenity was well known for her unshakable loyalty to the Gods, having been highly favored to nearly all of them since the beginning. And those affections could not bear to match how she felt for her sweet Terran Prince, that she would defy even Them to have him.

"And will you trust me?" he probed again, fingers trailing from her hair to her cinched waist. She could not help the shudder of pleasure, of excitement gripping her at the prospect of leaving with him.

"Yes." Again, she answered swiftly to his question, fingers tightening in his shirt. He smiled, lifting a lock of silver hair to his lips.

"Then come."

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…

Mamoru woke in a cold sweat, limbs and joints aching as if he'd been beaten. The dreams came with more force every day; he could still feel the silk of her hair, the salty taste of her lips. This damn princess was seriously cutting into the sleep schedule around here, and it was pissing him off. Body trembling and burning in pain, he slipped out from beneath the heavy covers and into the kitchen without bothering to turn on the light. He soon found there was no need for it anyway.

The rose she had given him was not of this world. In the cloaking shade of midnight, it burned dimly with silvery light, dividing the darkness from it, chasing away the shadows. The bud, in all its glory, glittered like the newly risen moon in the sky, casting pale fingers across the counters, across his face.

He came forward cautiously; suddenly aware of the princely gift she had given him. The stem had put down roots in the night; the flower had righted itself to stand perfectly erect in the large pitcher. Gently, he reached forward to touch the glistening bud with curious fingers.

It still gave like the swaying of a stem unbroken, but the touch of its petals shot a simmering warmth down the length of his arm, straight through his soul.

And stopped.

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…

Usagi gasped and lurched upward in bed. She could have sworn someone else was in the room. It was midnight on Christmas Eve, and she still felt the ghost of fingers against her jaw. The otherworldly feeling caused a shiver to erupt down her spine as she reached up with tentative fingers. There was nothing there, but the pressure persisted a few moments more despite the fact. Gooseflesh burst across her skin at the feeling, causing the only sane reaction possible.

She screamed.