Chapter 1: Usagi

There was no where else to go, no where else to start but here. Except, she didn't know where here was. The landscape reminded her of the Japanese countryside, full of trees that jutted up into the air as if trying to claw at the auburn sky.

Just what kind of thinking was that?

She staggered and fell, a half cloak of crimson along the right side of her body, staining the white bodysuit and tattered blue skirt of her senshi fuku. Her lungs ached and her head swam. A fearsome chill ran through her slender frame. The ruddy smell of dirt and brushing of grass failed to irritate her numb, worn body. Tears had been long spent. Was Ami alive? Where was anyone here, anywhere? She had never dreamed of such violence, but she would not give up.

Why wasn't the silver crystal healing her as it always did?

Maybe it was giving up.

'Patience, patience, my moonlight princess,' said a loving voice, beckoning from a remembrance of inner solitude. It carried on to say, 'You expect the world to deliver everything to you on a silver platter. Life is not to so simple. It is why you have the silver crystal. You shall always have it as your protector. You must remember not to give up...on...yourself.'

Usagi could see a hand descend to her nose and tap it three times in succession, and felt herself puzzled then, but certain now. If she did not heed those words, nothing would matter. She heaved air out of her lungs as though pushing a great weight, then hauled it back in with monumental effort.

Contact with the presence of the crystal reminded her of Luna's gentle purr on the odd occasion she might relax in a moment of Usagi's affections and distracted petting. The feline guardian was so confident, but always prepared for battle. When she would lie on Usagi's lap she would, for a time, forget her worries about the Negaverse and her charge.

Warmth suffused Usagi's battered body, and her breathing began to ease. Slowly the dim world brightened. A hesitant glance told her that her arm had not been restored, but the socket had smoothed over, though still smeared with blood. She began to laugh, and as the high pitched noise reached a peak, so did the intensity of her loss in a wail that disturbed birds throughout the forest.

How long it was she cried she could not tell, but as the auburn sky became ochre, so did the realization that she needed shelter. Soberly, and bitterly, she turned her mind again to the silver crystal, which told her that life was not distant. Walking was no great achievement, except that somehow she found gratitude for her continued existence.

The great clawing spires of the forest took on a beaten and damaged appearance. Usagi noted the telltale signs of machines having cut back the ravenous hunger of nature. In the chill of maroon night, she observed a well lit walled structure that began to dominate the horizon at her approach. Blearily she carried on, except that she was distracted by the dark silhouette of another in her vicinity.

Imbalanced, she half reached up toward her tiara and said, 'Who's there!'

"Hey, whoa, whoa," answered the decidedly short individual in a gruff baritone. On any other occasion she might have been amused that he was scarcely inches taller than she. The fellow, definitely male, continued, "Ain't gonna hurt ya. Hey, you gettin' my common-speak, girlie? I don't know if my implant's workin' right."

'Neh?' Usagi blurted, but then nodded. She said, 'I do understand.'

"Gots damn that's a relief," said the fellow. In the moonlight his formal shirt clashed with the haphazard lengths of leather vest and loose pants.

'What do you want?' Usagi demanded, trying to suppress the shuddering waves of weakness that threatened to drop her to the ground.

"Look, I can't see ya ain't 'xactly staggerin' with health there," he said and pulled something out of his pocket. He reached forward with it and continued, "Name's Garen. Dunno if yer hungry, look like ya might faint—ah flak!"

Usagi folded like a broken chair into his arms and knew nothing else for a time. The next thing she felt was warmth, swaddled in some kind of sweater-like...wait, wool? And then...singing? No, humming. A man was humming. Usagi picked out the melody, and it was melancholy. She lay on her back, and the room to which she opened her awareness was patchwork and small. It had a uniform coating of paint on the uneven panels...some brand of military green, or blue. Maybe grey?

"Ah-hah...lookit that. Still wit' us, huh?" said Garen in a masculine croon that reminded her of Mamoru's kinder moments. Except that Garen was probably half his height, though...she noticed that he was quite attractive.

'Wher—' she began, but her dry throat prompted a violent, painful series of coughs that curled her into a ball on the bed on her side. She felt a gentle hand on her shoulder, and tears streaming down her face again.

"Y've been through it, ah kin see that," Garen said, gently. "Ah applied a few medi-patches, an' yer healin' up good, but yer awful scrawny. When'd'ya last eat?"

'I've lost everyone, Garen! Luna...Ami...Rei...Makoto...Mina...everyone!' Usagi said, and then listened to her own short, ragged breathing. Her parched voice sounded strange as she rasped, 'I cry and nothing changes! Why won't it all go back to normal?'

"Yer too young t'be a D-Bee," he said and Usagi's sobbing eased as he helped her sit up and sample something bitter from a flask.

'Ah! What is it?' she said and coughed again.

"Protein smoothy. Yer so scraggin' thin I feed you anything solid ya gonna get sick all over th' bed, and gettin' it clean's a bother," he said by way of explanation. He handed her the flask and gestured for her to knock it back, but warned, "Take yer time wit' it."

While Garen busied himself with tasks outside of the room, Usagi took a chance to look at her arm and stomach. Her eyes narrowed and she scoffed, 'Scrawny. I've always been this skinny.'

"Shore," Garen agreed out of turn as he entered the room. He looked her over and grimaced. "I don't know a girl what eats so little as you. You finish that junk?"

Usagi unfurled her long legs and let her feet rest on the floor experimentally. She gauged Garen's movements, then said, "Hai."

"Good," he said and then plopped his well muscled frame upon a stool he pulled out from a cubby hole somewhere. His grey-gold eyes lit into her and he said, "I gots a question for ya."

Usagi pulled the blanket up over her chest and buried herself in it so that she could see him just over the bundle she created by pulling up her knees to her chin. Garen frowned, then shook his head.

"Yer cute fer a Moon Princess," he said. "Thought y'd'be more regal 'er something."

'What do you know!' Usagi said with a start. 'I lost everything! No. It was taken from me! Have you...ever...lost, anything, Garen?'

"Shore have. Too many times t' count now. Startin' from scratch's mah specialty."

Usagi lowered her eyes thoughtfully, then looked back at him and said simply, "Gomen."

"Yeah, whatchu say. Listen, Usa, I weren't jestin' ya 'bout the royalty bit. Coalition's got high-types what lord over us allatime, but ah din't never meet actual royalty as I hear you are. Anyway, I got yer attenshun, which was what I was goin' for. You want your arm back?"

Usagi squinted at him. The silver crystal couldn't restore it. How could he? Garen shifted on the stool with his hands on it.

"Can't give you yer flesh-an'-blood back, but I know a guy who's a natch with prosthetics."

'Iye!'

Garen's eyes wouldn't shift away. Normally when she let loose such a high pitched response, Mamoru would turn tail and declare her silly and foolish. This man was not so easily dissuaded. He did not say anything and so she finally asked:

'Why?'

He pulled a thin length of something metallic and gleaming from his gambler shirt pocket, bit off the end, chewed, and said, "Made a compromise, and a promise, too. You bein' here ain't right, an' ah know a guy what aims t'fix it. Ah'm gonna get square wit' Conroy, Usagi, but I gotta get you on yer path 'fore that can happen."

He was a mystery, and there were so many questions. Too many. Nothing seemed real. Everything was fantastic. Terrible. Horrible. Why not him? Why not everything? At some point she curled up and began to snore. The next morning she was alone, and took the time to check herself over, clumsily removing the cloth patches over wounds she had only felt and not seen. On a ramshackle nightstand was a change of clothing. Tans and green, a vest of felt and a heavy grey cloak. It bore an earthy odor, and Usagi surmised that it belonged to her...savior? Hero? Friend? So many questions...but at least the clothing was a good fit. The empty right sleeve felt odd, but she persevered to don the adornments. The frustration came, but it went away before emotion could latch on.

There would be no more tears.

When she finally left the room; when he would not appear to pester her for food or anything else; when she finally decided it was time to take control, she found him pouring over some manner of tablet-like device. Reading. He was seated on a weather beaten but clean couch, legs crossed under him in a pose that reminded her of Ami. Her heart skipped a beat: She was imagining things after all! Then he looked up and his smile made her face fall.

"Eh? Hey ya...ya clean up groot," he said, then hastily corrected, "good, I mean."

"Ahm, thank you," she replied in accented English and glanced over herself. "It was not easy to dress, but..." no, enough Usagi-chan...no more complaining! "...it is a good fit. Thank you."

A screen across from the couch flickered and began to beep. Garen grumbled something unintelligible and said, "Yeh! Red Core! Take the call!"

"It is Carl," said a dispassionate feminine voice and Usagi's head swiveled toward it just in time to see a clean cut man of distinguished presentation appear upon the small flat panel.

"Greetings, Garen. I catch you at a bad time?"

A blush warmed Usagi's face and chest as the buttery smooth tenor wafted to her ears.

"Never, boyo," Garen said and laughed.

Boyo? What is that? Usagi wondered.

"Astounding. Resplendent! Ah, I see your quarry has awoken," stated the fellow and Usagi wondered if his skin was as creamy as it looked. Fah, filters were commonplace back home. But were they here? The fellow blinked at her examination and said, "I'll take your fixed gaze as a complement, Tsukino Usagi. Konbanwa."

"Ah, konbanwa," she replied, surprised to find herself breathless. "How...how do you know me?"

What might have been a micro expression appeared and was just as quickly gone: A hint of pleasure, just before he said, "The same way anyone knows you, Sailor Moon. I've been where you live."