salaices@leland.stanford.edu

Hello once again, everybody!  First off, I'd like to thank, PROFUSELY, all
of you who e-mailed me your suggestions and support, and  am very pleased
that you enjoyed the first chapter.  I took all your ideas to heart and
tried really hard to make this chapter longer and more satisfying.

All general disclaimers apply:  i.e. I don't own any of these characters,
Naoko Takeuchi does, and am not planning on kidnapping any of them in the
near future and holding them for ransom.

Small warning:  this chapter contains very light swearing, like the kind
where you stub your toe and have to cuss out the door.  Anyway, on with
the show.

* * * * *  * * *        @---'-----;------          * * * * * * *

Final Truths

by Lilac Summers

Chapter 2

        He was beside her in an instant, never having run so fast in his
life.  He easily caught her in his arms and cradled her protectively
against his chest.  At a sudden sticky wetness on his hands he looked down
and, in horror, saw that they were covered in blood...*her* blood.  Her
side was stained with the red liquid, her sailor suit unnaturally dyed.
It was now obvious why her behavior had been strange; she had been
enduring the pain and trying to keep it concealed.  Fury rose up along
with the churning fear that threatened to cloud his mind.  Fury at her for
being foolish enough to keep silent, but mostly fury at himself for not
having known, not having figured out that she was in pain, no having been
fast enough to save her...

  Sailor Moon's eyes fluttered open for a second.  "Mamo-chan?" she
breathed.  Immediately his turbulent blue eyes focused on her
pain-clouded ones.  It was only for an instant, and then she sunk back
into oblivion, leaving Tuxedo Mask floundering in a sea of fear.  With
clumsy hands he managed to grab one slim wrist to reassure himself that
his reason to live had not yet ended, and a whoosh of relieved breath
escaped him as he felt the strong pulse beneath his fingers.  He commanded
himself to take deep breaths and get himself under control.  He would be
of no help to her if he were a complete wreck.

  Gently he lay Sailor Moon's bleeding form on the side of the
fountain long enough to unsnap his cape and wrap her tightly in it.  He
had to get her into a safe place where he could tend her, and a doctor was
out of the question.  For a moment he considered taking her to one of the
senshi's houses, but quickly discarded that idea.  The girls still had to
go to school and would not have the resources to care for Usagi, and also
he wanted to be there, making sure she was all right, every second, every
minute.

  Decided, he swept her up against his chest once more, trying to
keep pressure on the injured side, and leapt towards his apartments.  His
mind was in turmoil, his soul was screaming at him to hurry, that at any
moment he could lose her, while his heart couldn't help but draw his eyes
at her beautiful face, pallid from the loss of blood.  To appease both he
increased his pace and held Sailor Moon's fragile body closer, making the
utmost effort not to jar her in any way that might cause her more pain.

  In minutes he had reached his apartment and entered through the
balcony.  Swiftly he strode to the bed with his precious cargo and
deposited her there, slowly unraveling the cape about her to find that it
had been soaked through with blood.  "Damn!  Shit, Usako, what the hell
were you thinking!?"  he swore, with more fear than fury.  He carefully
rolled the unconscious girl onto her side so that he would have a better
view of the wound and another round of curses colored the air as he saw
the extensive damage.  The laceration was long and deep, and blood had
started to crust along its side.  Moreover, the sailor suit clung to
Usagi's body tightly, as if still trying to protect its mistress from
harm.  Tuxedo Mask powered down to Darien, and then proceeded to wake up
the unconscious Sailor Moon.

  "Sailor Moon . . . Sailor Moon, come on, wake up," he commanded, lightly
nudging her shoulder.  He received no answer.

  "Sailor Moon. . . Usagi, come on, you have to wake up and power down, I
can't work through the suit!  USAGI, wake up!"  he shouted, desperately.
"USAKO!!!  Please!  I can't do this  by myself!"  His heart was
plummeting, his soul was dying, looking at her beautiful little face,
white as a ghost, unresponsive, her chest heaving from labored breaths.
"Usako . . ." he pleaded, taking a small, bloodied hand between his own
and pressing down on her side with his other to staunch the flow of
blood, as his fears hung between them.

* * * * * * * * * *

  Usagi was swimming in a large, warm ocean where there was no burning
pain.  In fact, there was no feeling whatsoever.  But it didn't matter,
because it was calm and blue and there was no fighting, no evil, no pain,
no thought, no responsibilities, no need to save the earth over and over
again, no need to see her friends get hurt and die and reborn and. . .and
there was no Mamoru.  Ruthlessly Usagi trampled this little rip in her
ocean out.  See, that didn't matter, because there was also no fear, and
no lies to her parents, no failing grades and no humiliation, no feelings
of failure and worthlessness . . . and no love.  The rip in Usagi's warm
ocean got larger.

  Usagi saw herself, in her warm blue ocean, swimming towards this growing
rip in the fabric of her subconsciousness.  The rip was letting through
harsh light, and her ocean was so comfortably shadowed.  Somewhere in her
mind she knew that she could choose between the calm ocean and the world
out there, the world filled with those emotions that hurt you and ripped
up your heart.  With trembling fingertips she pulled the water of the
surrounding serenity over the rip, smoothing out the fracture, smoothing
out the light.

"USAKO!!!"

  Usagi was startled over her work, and the water pulled away to uncover
the rip once more.  Again she shielded her eyes from the light with one
hand and swept water over the break with the other.

"Please . . ."

  Usagi faltered.

"I can't do this by myself!"

  Slowly her fingertips moved away from the placid blue liquid.  With
clearing eyes she noticed her fingertips were beginning to stain the water
red, that her entire hand, in fact, was red from her blood.

"Usako. . ."

Now her other hand joined its partner, and she took the edges of the rip
in a tight grip.  The ocean she floated in was still warm and clear,
though tiny reddish tendrils seeped in from the rip to color the water
crimson.  With one last glance at the peace she left behind, she tore the
rip apart until the light spilled completely over her, and she stepped
into the pain.

She made her choice.

* * * * * * * * *

"Uhhhhh..."

 The light moan had escaped from Sailor Moon's lips.  With a ray of hope
lighting his heart, Mamoru lifted wet eyes to her wan face and noticed the
languid fluttering of her eyelids.

  "YES!  Yes . . . come on baby, fight for me.  Open your eyes.  Come back
to me, Usako," he urged her, tightening his grip on her hand as if he
could pull her from subconsciousness by the force of his will alone.  The
hand he used to put pressure on her wound was already slippery with blood,
but he had feared leaving her long enough to get towels to absorb her
blood and, instead, had ripped the sheets into a bundle to staunch the
blood at her side.

  Usagi followed the sound of the velvety voice and fought to lift her
eyelids, which stubbornly refused to do as she commanded.  It seemed to
take a superhuman effort to finally permit a few rays of light through,
and then move on to full consciousness.

  "Mamo-chan?  What . . .  Where?   AAAAARRRRGH!"  With wakefulness,
however, came pain.  Her questions went unanswered verbally as the searing
heat at her side provided the response she needed.

   "Usako, thank God you've come back!  Hold on, just hold on.  I'll make
it better, love, I swear . . . but I need you to power down for me,
okay?"

   Sailor Moon nodded weakly, tears overflowing through clenched eyelids,
after all the effort she had made to open them.   She bit down hard on her
lip and forced a trembling hand to the brooch at the center of her sailor
suit bow.  In a flash of light Usagi Tsukino lay on the bed where once had
been Sailor Moon.  She was dressed in the pajamas she had been wearing
when the fight had begun and she had been called out of her bed.  As
opposed to the torn and bloodied suit, the pink pajamas were unsullied, in
stark contrast to the ever-widening red stain she lay upon and that was
beginning to seep into the soft flannel of her clothes.

  Unfortunately, with the loss of the suit also came the loss of the
extra stamina and strength the Sailor Senshi enjoyed.  The heat at her
side became a full-fledged inferno, forcing her eyes open in shock, her
breath to labor in confused gasps, and prohibiting her throat from even
working to produce a scream at the agony.  When the edges of her vision
started to cloud again and lead her to that peaceful ocean-world, she
almost sobbed in welcome.

   "NO!  Come on Usagi, you listen to me!   STAY AWAKE!  You've fought so
hard to get here, you aren't leaving me again!  Stay with me now!"  Mamoru
was shouting at a faltering Usagi.  He couldn't have her slip away again
into unconsciousness.  He could only imagine the extent of her pain, but
he feared she would not choose to return if she slipped back into sleep.

  Usagi was desperately trying to do as Mamoru commanded, a hidden part of
her telling her to prove herself to him by working through the pain and
not taking the coward's way out into oblivion.  She clenched his hand in
hers against the pain, bit her lip until it bled, and forced her eyes to
remain open, if unseeing, against the tears.

  Mamoru winced at the pain in his hand, her grip was so intense,
but welcomed any pain he might endure that would ease hers.  "There, don't
slip on me.  I have to close the wound now, Usagi."  He slipped his aching
hand from her grasp and slowly brought both of her arms to the headboard,
tying her hands gently to one of the poles with a ripped length of sheet.
When her eyes widened in fear, he explained softly, "I can't hold you down
and stitch the wound at the same time, and you might not be able to
control yourself."  When her eyes seemed, impossibly, to get even larger,
Mamoru called himself a thousand different types of a moron for
foreshadowing the pain to come to her.  With a disgusted shake of his head
directed towards himself he stalked out of the room to retrieve the
implements he would need for the procedure, and maybe to whack his head
against the bathroom wall for being such an idiot jerk.

  Usagi watched him leave, sobbing silently at the pain at her side and at
the pain in her heart.  Maybe her system was becoming callous against the
burning at her side, because the breaking of her heart seemed to be so
much more painful than any wound she had or could ever receive.  The
disgust on Mamoru's face had been plain for her to see.  And who could
blame him, with the way she was handling all this.  Well, she had
obviously failed in her attempt at courage.  My God, she might as well
have reverted back to old Usagi antics of wailing and whining with what a
sissy she'd been.  What had happened, instead?  She'd ended up in Mamoru's
apartment, where he had to take care of her, another nuisance to add to
all the others she must have inflicted on him during the course of their
relationship.  Poor Usagi, who couldn't care for herself, who always had
to be rescued cuz she was too much of a klutz to do any good for herself,
by herself. . . . .  She couldn't keep her sobbing quiet at such
inner-torture, and turned her head towards the large window that faced the
balcony, trying to stifle as much sound as possible without the aid of her
bound hands and also trying to shake as little as possible so as not to
disturb the dulling pain at her side.

   Mamoru walked back into the room, laden with medical supplies, after
slamming his fist and knocking his head into the hallway wall a few times
for being such an idiot.  He thought he had it under control now, he could
handle it, no problem.  He'd stitch her up, send her off, not look into
those gorgeous blue eyes, not stare at her delicate pink lips, and
concentrate solely on the wound and any pain she may receive thereof.
Nothing more, nothing less.

  After giving himself this thorough little pep-talk, he was utterly
floored when he walked in to see Usagi's slim shoulders shaking, her knees
drawn up lightly against her bleeding side to relieve any pressure, her
sobs, which she was trying so valiantly to hide, audible nonetheless.
Mamoru forced his bleeding heart to stop jumping underneath his chest and
gulped to clear the baseball stuck in his throat.  He ached, so
completely, to simply go and comfort her from what he erroneously
interpreted as physical pain.  He just wanted to go up to her and hold her
and tell her that she would never feel pain again, ever.  Was that too
much to ask?  But, deep down, Mamoru knew that it *was* too much to ask,
because she was the protector of the world and always, ALWAYS, there would
be someone out there who would rely on her.  Hell, HE would always rely on
her.  But whom could she rely on?  Him?  God, he would be more than happy
to spend eternity as her pillar, as the one who she could always go to, as
her lover and husband and . . . and friend, too.  But that was a joke,
because he had had that, and he had thrown it all away because of some
stupid dreams.  And the worst part was, he would do it all over again,
just on that tiny chance that those dreams told the truth and he could
save her by leaving her.

  So whom did that leave?  The Senshi?  Mamoru didn't doubt any one of
those girls wouldn't lay down their lives for their friend and leader.
But never, NEVER would any of them ever feel that awesome connection with
Usagi's soul, understand her so completely that he could follow every line
of reason, every thought, every dream that she could EVER have (as
difficult as that could be at times.)  So he gazed at that precious
person, whom he'd imagined more than once occupying his bed-- but not like
this... never like this-- and his soul melted and yearned, and his
brain hardened and denied.

  "Hrrrmph,"  Mamoru cleared his throat to get Usagi's attention, having
schooled his face into an unyielding mask.  Usagi's shoulders instantly
stilled, and he could make out the slight movement of her head as she
rubbed her tears off on the comforter.  Slowly, very slowly, she turned
her face away from the windows until it finally faced him.

  "Alright, might as well get started," began Mamoru, walking towards the
bed, "First I'm going to disinfect it and then I'll sow the cut together.
I'm not going to lie to you, it's going to hurt, but I want you to stay
awake so that you can switch back to Sailor Moon when I'm done.  Your
superpowers will help the pain recede and the wound heal faster."

  His manner was clinical, detached, as if she were any girl off the
street he was helping, and not the person he had claimed to love for all
eternity.  Hurt and-- yes, maybe it was a bit of anger --welled up in
Usagi at his callous treatment.  He provided no kind words, soothing eye
contact, or anything.  Dammit, she'd seen vets treat Luna with more warmth
than Mamoru did now to her.  Resolutely, she vowed not to scream even if
it hurt like a demon, and she wouldn't cry even if it killed her.  If he
wanted to be impersonal, fine, she could be impersonal.

  Mamoru was having a devil of a time trying to keep any care out of his
voice and demeanor.  He refused to look at her, for fear that a glance at
any of her beseeching looks and he would melt into a puddle of butter at
her feet.  No, better to make her think that this was business as usual,
that he accepted her being wounded as he would any other fellow warrior
and nothing else.  With respect, of course, for strength during battle,
but definitely not love, or lover-like concern.  A doctor--  that was
exactly what he was-- a doctor and nothing less.  Except perhaps that a
doctor's hand didn't shake when they raised the hem of a patient's pink
pajamas to expose a smooth, bare midriff, marred only by the jagged cut.
Mamoru, after unwittingly placing a large hand on her flat stomach,
luxuriating in the feel of her skin, hoped to God that it would not scar,
so as not to leave any marks on her skin.

  Usagi couldn't help but blush when Mamoru raised the top of her pajamas.
True, he stopped just underneath her breasts, but she rarely wore anything
that revealed so much bare stomach.  She quickly stole a look at Mamoru's
face to see how he was reacting and saw only that same clinical face.  The
blush increased, but this time out of humiliation.  She turned her head
away so he wouldn't see her shame.  But, oh, how unfair that he
should be the object of her desire and she nothing more than a klutzy teen
(or maybe even a kid) to him.  Her humiliation was short-lived, however,
when liquid fire, or all the furies of hell, was poured directly on the
wound.

  Mamoru steeled himself against a scream.  He had finally escaped the
trance so much silky skin had woven on him, and had ruthlessly reached for
the alcohol to continue the treatment.  He had glanced up at Usagi for
conformation, but had met only with the sight of tons of golden hair, as
she had turned away from him.  Well, so much the better, he thought.
Maybe it would hurt less if it was unexpected and quick.  It'd be over
with before she had time to process the pain . . . he hoped.

   It wasn't over with before she had time to process the pain.  Her
entire system went still and taut in denial.  Her sensory neurons were
going insane with such an overload of pain.  Black beckoned invitingly
around the edges of her vision, but Usagi denied herself the pleasure.
Her eyes, instead, had opened so wide as to almost pop out of their
sockets.  The scream had built up instantly at her throat, and she had
been about to vent it when she remembered her promise to herself.  Insane
with pain, she clamped down on her lower lip with her teeth 'till she drew
blood.  Her hands tightened around the pole of the headboard in a grip
that would have easily snapped the metal in two had she been Sailor Moon.
And the pain continued.

  Mamoru was looking up at the back of Usagi's head worriedly.  When he
hadn't heard the scream that any human would have released, he assumed the
worst and thought that Usagi had fainted on him.

"Usagi?  Usagi, are you okay?  Are you awake?  USAGI, answer me!"

  With wild eyes, Usagi bit down harder on her lip and forced herself to
breathe.   Slowly, by degrees, the inferno cooled to a roar.  she released
her bottom lip and gulped saliva to ease her aching throat.  She then
closed her eyes gently and opened them again, trying to rid them of the
wildness she guessed must still lurk there.

   Mamoru was, at this point, ready to pounce on her and begin mouth to
mouth, ANYTHING to wake her up.  Fear was already getting the better of
him when Usagi calmly turned her head towards him and whispered: "don't
worry about me.  I'm just fine.  Finish it."

  Mamoru went utterly still, confusion raging in his brain and worry
building up to much larger proportions than if she had fainted because, by
God, she did not sound like his Usako.  His Usako would never look at him
with those coldly calm eyes and iron control and then demand that he
"finish it."  His Usako would be screaming her anguish to the world, and
rightly so.  It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her again if she was
really alright, but he held back.  Something in her eyes told him to not
push the point.  Anyway, she had already turned her head away from him
once more, so he took the opportunity to begin stitching up the laceration
with surgical thread and a needle, which he had conveniently found in his
medical supplies.  More than once he had had to perform this sort of
service for him since he had begun his career as Tuxedo Mask.  Now he
hoped that his experience in this would make the process as quick and
painless as possible.

   The piercing of the needle at her side was almost child's-play when
compared to the agony the alcohol had put her through, and she suffered it
quietly for around the thirty stitches that it took.  Mamoru, for his
part, was taking the smallest stitches possible to reduce the chances of
scarring, and his brow was furrowed with concentration and dripping with
sweat.  After what seemed like and eternity without a sound from her, he
bandaged her side tightly and stood up from his position on the bed,
stretching out the aching muscles in his arms and legs.

  "Okay, Usagi.  Go ahead and change into Sailor Moon.  I don't think
there will be any scarring, not with your healing abilities.  You can rest
here overnight and get your strength back.  I was mostly worried about
blood loss, as you seemed to be bleeding so much, but I guess since you
were in senshi form at the time it wasn't nearly as dangerous as I
thought.  Anyway, your color is good and the wound stopped bleeding.  I
don't know what you can tell your parents . . ."  Mamoru tapered off upon
the realization that he was babbling like a simpleton.  Truth was, his
nerves were shot, and it didn't help that Usagi was lying on his bed,
looking up at him with those lovely eyes and her golden hair spread around
her like a blanket.

 "Well, what are you waiting for?  Change into Sailor Moon, Usagi!"  he
repeated, more gruffly than was necessary, upset at himself for his prior
rambling.

  "Hmmm, I can't do that unless you untie my hands, Mamoru .  . ."

  Mamoru blushed furiously at this, and winced internally at her use of
"Mamoru."  It had been a long time, it seemed, since she had called him
that.  Up till now it had always been "Mamo-chan."  To cover up his
embarrassment and hurt he quickly undid the bindings around her hands,
pausing only momentarily when he noticed how her wrists were red from
where she had pulled at her bindings during his ministrations.  He brought
one fingertip up to trace the angry red line softly, wondering . . .

  Usagi grew still at the caress.  What the hell was he doing?!  Couldn't
he tell that it was difficult enough for her to be this close to him?
With a furious jerk she tore her hands away from the final bindings and
his warm grip, bringing them to rest on the brooch at the throat of her
pajamas.

  "Moon Crystal Power!!!"

    Mamoru blinked at the abrupt disappearance of Usagi's hand, then had
to shield his eyes against the light emanating from Usagi as she
transformed.  In an instant, it was Sailor Moon who lay on his bed, the
famous superhero, and not the brave young fourteen-year old girl (soon to
be fifteen, he amended) who had suffered more pain than anyone should ever
have to.  The back of his mind tingled instantly at the change into Sailor
Moon, but as she was not fighting and not in trouble, he was able to
confine the niggling feeling to the back of his consciousness.

    He stepped back, watching Sailor Moon adjust her bodysuit so it wasn't
so tight at her side.  His gaze fell to the soiled sheets she lay upon.
Without really thinking about it, he had swept her up in his arms and was
striding towards the living room couch.

  Sailor Moon gave a startled little shriek and then clung to his
shoulders for purchase.  "What in the world are you . . . .!"

  He looked down at her fleetingly as he set her down gently on the couch.
"I'm going to change the sheets on the bed and then we need to think of an
excuse to your parents for you not being at home.  Maybe one of the girls
can . . . SHIT!!" Mamoru slammed the palm of one hand against his forehead
in frustration.  "I forgot to tell the senshi what happened.  You call
them up on your communicator and explain everything while I change the
linens.  Mars can probably tell yours parents you spent the night."
Mamoru was already headed towards the linen closet when one soft word from
Sailor Moon froze him in his tracks.

"No"

 He turned abruptly to face her.  "No?"

    She shook her head, not quite meeting his eyes.  "No, I'm not going to
call the Senshi.  I don't want them to know about this, they have plenty
of things on their mind."  Slowly she forced herself to look straight at
him.  "I didn't want ANY of you to know about this."

  The fury that Mamoru had first felt at her carelessness but that had
been trampled down by concern quickly reared its head.  With an oath that
sounded more like a growl he took two large steps towards her and grabbed
her chin with one hand, forcing her to meet his eyes.  "YOU ALMOST DIE OUT
THERE AND THEN YOU TELL ME YOU WON'T TELL THE SENSHI!?  What the HELL did
you think you were doing out there tonight, trying to handle this on your
own!!!  This isn't just about you, Usagi, it concerns all of us.  YOU
COULD HAVE DIED!!  What asinine idea took root in your head to think that
you could handle this by yourself?!?"

  The tears that she had been able to hold back at her physical pain came
quickly in the face of his anger, at what she judged was his low opinion
of her strength.  They swam now in her eyes, turning them into glittering
blue jewels.  Angrily she tore her chin away from his hold and leaned back
on the couch to separate herself from his looming form.  "You don't have
to overexagerate, I've handled much worse than this, BY MYSELF, before..."
she began.

  Mamoru practically snarled at her, his anger and remembered fear
throwing all rationality to the wind.  "Not around *me*, you haven't!!
The senshi and I are here to protect you!!  That is what we are for!  You
were bleeding to death out there, you silly girl.  Had I not found you you
would be nothing more than a bloody corpse right now!  Is that what you
think you could handle?!?  WE protect YOU!  It is YOUR responsibility to
inform us of anything that pertains to our job!  God knows, you need
protecting. . ."

  Each word he spoke was an arrow to her center.  Tears flowed copiously
down her face.  "Protect you," he said, "responsibility . . ."  Like it
was some sort of "job," because she was just a "silly girl, " who "needed
protecting."  Unfortunately, these last words were those that made the
hurt take over her own common sense, and made the feelings she had kept
hidden for all these weeks take on the form of words and fly out of her
mouth.  "So I need protecting?  Well, *WHO THE HELL PROTECTS ME FROM
YOU*?! You think I haven't faced worse than this alone before, but you are
wrong! I DIED WITHOUT ANY OF YOU AROUND ME, and sometimes I think that
maybe staying dead wouldn't have been so bad!!"  Sailor Moon realized, too
late,what she had just said.  She slammed a gloved hand against her lips
as if to deny that she had said them, and watched as Mamoru took the blow.

  Mamoru reeled back as if she had physically struck him.  He looked at
her in horror, his mouth opening and closing uselessly, trying futilely to
form the words that would ask her if she was joking.  Surely, *surely*,
Usagi would never have preferred death, no matter how much she was going
through now.  But a part of him knew, and feared, and recognized the
kindred feelings. How many times had he wished for death instead of
distancing himself from her . . . and why shouldn't she feel the same?
<Who the hell protects me from you?>

  Mamoru clenched his fists and fought off the desperation that threatened
to overcome him.  In a bid for sanity he grabbed any clean sheets that
were at hand and escaped to the bedroom, quickly stripping the bed bare
and replacing the sheets.  He returned to a subdued Sailor Moon, who
simply sat on the couch, one arm around her side protectively, and
whispered hoarsely:  "the bed is done.  Go rest now, we'll talk about
this tomorrow."  Sailor Moon nodded dumbly and levered herself up slowly,
sensing that Mamoru wouldn't approach her unless she was at death's door
again.  Without glancing at him she swept quickly into the bedroom, and
closed the door sharply behind her.

  Mamoru stood outside, staring at the door for what seemed like eons.
Then, with drained steps he went up to the couch that Sailor Moon had just
vacated, collapsed onto it, buried his head in his hands, and wept.

* * * * * * * * *

There!  Finished for this week!  I don't know if I can have the third
chapter in by next week, but if not, then I'll definitely have it by two
weeks.