salaices@leland.stanford.edu

Hello everybody!  I return bearing gifts!  Due to a lovely invention
called Summer vacation, I have had plenty o' time to write . . . and this
is it! The fruit of my labors, if you will.  Indeed, it is the VERY LAST
chapter of "Final Truths."  "Last?" you ask?  Yes, loyal Moonie!
Everything is resolved here, with a bit more Mamo-angst thrown in to make
it worthwhile.  I hope you like it!

THANKS go out to all who have been kindly feeding my e-mail
addiction.  YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE!  To protect your anonymity, I
will not mention any names (Ninx, Jade, J Bay, and Sailor Mercurio, are a
few). I will, however, plug a few of their stories (as if they even need
plugging or, uh, whatever) but they are Ninx's "Four Lover's" series and
Jade's newest called "Feelings Concealed, Feelings Revealed."

I'd also like to bow down at Andrea Hui's and Artemis' feet for
maintaining this fab site.

Disclaimer:  (in case you missed it the first five times):  Sailor Moon
belongs to Naoko Tekeuchi.  I am borrowing these characters for a work
of fiction for which I am receiving no monetary compensation.  Under
the First Amendment in the Constitution, we, as American citizens,
have the freedom of the press and thus . . .Just kidding!  Don't come
after me with a blunt instrument, okay?

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

Final Truths

by
Lilac Summers

Chapter 6

  Usagi was enjoying her traipse around the mall on Sunday.  She had
slept most of Saturday away, her body using the much-needed sleep to
recuperate from both the hectic week and the healing wound at her
side.  Due to her marvelous healing ability, the gash was already
completely closed; the thread used for the stitches had been the sort
that broke away or dissolved when it had done its job and was already
disappearing.  The only discomfort she suffered was a slight pulling at
her side when she tried moving too exuberantly.

  So now she walked happily down the crowded halls of the mall,
swinging her purchases back and forth while she luxuriated in her small
moment of solitude.  Her family had taken Reeny to the zoo, but Usagi
had gotten out of the obligation by telling her parents she had already
made plans with her friends.  These plans actually consisted of a
Senshi meeting to be held later in the afternoon, but she had not felt the
need to enlighten her parents about this.

  She hummed contentedly to herself, not noticing the admiring glances
from the males whose paths she crossed, and replayed in her mind the
near-success of breaking Mamoru down.  Ooh, that didn't sound so
good . . . Okay, then, of *reclaiming* her Mamo-chan.  She positively
*knew* that she was a hairs-breadth away from finding out what was
keeping him away and, dammit, having him *ADMIT,* for the first time in
this lifetime, that he was madly in love with her.  Oh, she knew, alright,
that he was.  But she had yet to hear the words and she wanted them.
She deserved them.  It was, after all, every young girl's dream to be told
by the man of her dreams that she was his one-and-only.  Usagi was no
different.

  But, for now, she had decided to let him stew for awhile, to think of
what he was missing.  Her cheeks colored becomingly at the
remembrance of that last kiss.  WOW!  It had seared her all the way
down to her toes.  Nevermind the fact that Minako, Rei, Ami, and
Makoto were now calling her "Hot Lips" after they had wheedled, over
that last bag of popcorn, every last detail of her encounter with Mamoru.

  She paused on her excursion when a large sign emblazoned with the
screaming word "SALE" caught her attention.  Almost in a hypnotized
state she was drawn to the shop window, peering inside with glistening,
awe-struck eyes at the array of clothes marked 50% off.  She was ready
to make an about-face and march into that store with credit card in hand
when a certain reflection on the store window caught her eye.  The
clean window, in clear detail, mirrored back both Usagi's reflection and
that of a tall, black-haired young man lounging by a potted palm.  The
man was wearing a distinctive olive-green jacket.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

  Mamoru hated Sunday mall-traffic.  It seemed like every family,
teenager, and adult in the city had decided that Sunday was the God-
ordained day for mall-hopping.  Of course, how could he possibly expect
Usagi to do differently when shopping, along with eating and sleeping,
was one of her favorite hobbies?  When that little tug on his being had
informed him of Usagi's whereabouts, he had seriously considered
ignoring it.  Impossible.

  He had not seen her since Friday night, but had moped around his
apartment, in turn arguing with himself about his course of action and
reliving that wondrous kiss.  Okay, most of the time he had been
reliving that kiss . . . and thinking about how much he wanted a repeat
performance for the next million years.  But then that abhorred voice in
his head would remind him that Usagi could NOT be with him, that he
would be her downfall.  And the dreams, those dreadful dreams, just
wouldn't STOP!  Moreover, to make things worse, even those dreams
seemed to tell him to do two different things!  Which was he to choose?
The regular scene, where on his wedding day he witnessed Usagi's
death and heard that hateful voice warning him away, obviously meant
that he should stay away from Usagi for her sake.  The new, somewhat
more frightening dream, contained that cruel white-haired stranger and
the older Usagi.  Both dreams ended with Usagi's death, but the second
seemed to demand he intervene in some way . . . .But how could he do
that if he was supposed to stay away?  It was just very confusing.

  However, when Sunday rolled along he could stay away no longer.
Promising himself that he would follow her ONLY to keep her safe, he
hauled himself out of bed and followed his senses to her.  It's not that
he HAD to see her, he told himself.  It wasn't as if he couldn't go an
entire weekend without her . . . really it wasn't.  He would merely act
like her bodyguard, that's all.  Who knew what atrocity could befall her
in the mall . . .

  Pathetic.  Mamoru, you are pathetic.  With a wry twist of his lips he
admitted to himself that he was lying.  The truth was that he COULDN'T
keep away for a whole weekend.  After all, what dangers could there be
in a crowded mall, unless it was being trampled by over-zealous
shoppers.  Yet, admitting that he was getting his daily Usagi-hit didn't
mean he was actually going to leave.  No, he would continue to shadow
her until the end of the earth, if that was the only way he could be with
her.

  Now, lounging behind a potted palm tree, perhaps a bit over-confident
in his ability to stay hidden (as she had yet to notice him in all these
weeks) he cast lazy eyes over her petite form.  Of course, HE didn't
miss the longing glances cast her way by other men.  But she, bless her
innocent soul, was completely oblivious to them.  Mamoru had to clench
his fists and tighten his jaw against the almost overwhelming urge to
beat some sense into every jackass who dared look over-long in her
direction.  When they had dated, in those by-gone happy days, he had
served to keep the hoards at bay.  A well placed icy look, a possessive
arm around her slim shoulders . . . those were enough to warn even the
most adventurous men away from her.  But no longer.  Today, in a short
white skirt that revealed the golden length of her fabulous legs and
sleeveless blue shirt to complement her eyes, Usagi looked exactly as
what she was:  a beautiful, fresh, unattached young woman enjoying
herself at the mall.  And the men were more than happy to try their luck.

  So Mamoru remained hidden, ironically unaware of the glances turned
HIS way from the women who passed, and wished for her shopping to
be done so she would leave this crowded place--and the lascivious
glances of other men--behind.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

  Usagi examined the reflection a bit more.  Yes, it was definitely her
Mamo-chan standing by the plant, partially hidden by the green fronds.
She was about to whirl around and go talk to him when some instinct
stopped her.  She really wasn't prepared to talk to him; instead, she had
hoped that he would have more time to think about what she had said
before they met again.  But that wasn't the only thing that stopped her
from going up to him.  There was a certain air of furtiveness that
surrounded him . . . as if he didn't expect her to know he was there.  It
was an almost watchful silence . . .

  Usagi's expression brightened in realization, and then a bit of
embarrassement, anger, and flattery joined in.  All together, she was
experiencing  a veritable cornucopia of emotions.  Why, that scoundrel!
HE had been the one following her all these weeks!  For a while now
she had had the odd sensation of being watched, but every time she
looked around there was no one around.  The feeling was not
unpleasant, she had felt more protected than threatened, so she just
wrote off the feeling to her imagination.  But now, oh, now it all made
sense!  She had her very own stalker!  And suddenly, the situation
seemed more laughable than anything else.  A fiendish glee filled her,
and she planned her vengeance on him for keeping himself hidden.  All
these weeks, when she had been dying for simply a glance at his
beloved face, he had been getting his fill!  And STILL he would not
admit that he loved her.  Ooh, he was gonna get it . . . but how?

  As Usagi planned her revenge, a handsome guy, perhaps around
nineteen years old, decided he must take fate into his hands and
approach the lovely vision that had kept him entranced since she
passed the shoe-store.  Stopping briefly before a store window, John
smoothed bak his blonde hair and made sure his clothes were straight
before affecting an air of studied cool.  Ready, he sauntered towards the
beautiful blonde with the strange hair-style . . .

  Usagi STILL stood before the store, her little brow furrowed in thought.
With unintelligible mutters she discounted this and that idea.  Already
two store clerks had stepped outside to ask her if she wanted to come
in and browse, only to meet a set of confused blue eyes.  Come in?
Come in where?  Oh, the store?  No, no thank you.  Maybe later . . .   So
they would go back inside and whisper to themselves about the strange
young lady who had been standing outside, looking through their
window, for a good fifteen minutes

  The young man had reached his objective.  She was in sight.  It should
all be easy sailing from now . . .

"Excuse me . . ."

"Hmm, no thank you.  Maybe later."  Usagi waved a hand in the general
direction of the voice,  wishing to stall any other endeavor to get her
into the store.  She was thinking, darn it!  Couldn't clerks respect that?

   John stumbled back in shock.  How could she reject him when she
hadn't even looked at him?  He was about to stumble off in humiliation
when his mother's words floated through his head:  "if at first you don't
succeed, try, try again."

  Words of wisdom, those.   Plastering a charming smile on his face, he
bent forward again.
"Excuse me . . ."

  Exasperated, Usagi turned around.  "WHAT?!"
Immediately she realized her mistake.  The young man before her wasn't
wearing the uniform the store clerks had on, and he seemed taken
aback by her harsh treatment.  Usagi turned cherry red.

  "Oops!" she giggled nervously, blushingly scratching the back of her
head.  "I'm sorry!  I thought you were someone else!"

  John, reeling from the sheer volume of that "WHAT," made the utmost
effort to retrieve his hard-earned cool.  "Uh, no problem!  W-Was
someone bothering you?"

  Usagi laughed gaily, completely enchanting poor, defenseless John.
"You could say that.  But it doesn't matter.  I had no right to talk to
you like that.  Gomen!

  Looking into mirthful blue eyes surrounded by a bounty of dark lashes,
John would have forgiven her if she had hurled a knife in his direction.
He relaxed at her easy manner and prepared to make a conquest, not
noticing the sudden light that had entered Usagi's eyes.

  There are certain times when Usagi has ideas so fiendish, one must
worry about placing the fate of the world in her hands.  This was one of
those times.  A little demon was whispering a plan into Usagi's ear, and
she was ready to take action.  For a second, her conscience struggled
to the surface and begged her not to take advantage of the poor boy, but
she squashed it under the heel of her intentions.  She was out to teach
Mamoru a lesson, and John was going to help her . . . whether he knew it
or not.

  Usagi prepared to make a conquest.

* * * * * * * * * * *

  Mamoru had been on the point of becoming comatose.  Usagi, for
reasons known only to her, had been gazing into the same store
window for close to fifteen minutes.  Meanwhile, his legs had fallen
asleep and he'd had to fend off two thirteen year olds who had tried their
budding flirting skills on him.  He rolled his eyes skyward as Usagi
dismissed another clerk.  They should have obviously learned by now
that they couldn't' make Usagi do anything that she didn't want
to . . . WAIT JUST ONE SECOND!  That guy wasn't a shop clerk!  Mamoru
straitened from behind the tree, casting dagger-like looks at the
presumptuous moron who was obviously trying to pick up Usagi.  He
smiled, cheering for his Usako as she whirled and screamed at the
hapless boy.  That's it, Usako!  You tell him!  You set him
strai . . . uh oh.  Why was she laughing?  Usako, why are you laughing?
Boot him out!

  She was ignoring his every telepathic command.  His attention was so
focused on the couple, he was surprised the guy didn't drop dead by the
venomous look he was giving him.  And Usako . . . well, Usako didn't
seem to know what was going on.  That was it:  Usako just didn't know
what that guy was up to.  That had to be it.  She was just being friendly.
Any minute now she would say her goodbyes and be on her merry way.
Any minute now . . . .Any minute . . .

  Usagi placed a soft hand on the mystery guy's shoulder and Mamoru
saw red.  Burning, volcanic-tinted red.  Why, the little minx was
FLIRTING with him!  Well, it was about to stop now, if he had anything
to say about it!  Mamoru readied himself to burst forward . . . only to
stop at the forceful voice in his head.  YOU MORON!  What are you
doing?!  You can't have Usagi see you, you'll blow your cover.  Just stay
cool, it'll blow over.  You are probably interpreting this all wrong . . .

  With calming deep breaths he waited, watching the farce unfolding
before him.  The guy, whoever that jerk was, was hooked.  Mamoru,
however, still clung to the precarious hope that Usagi had not a clue as
to what she was doing.  This meant, however, that she wasn't batting
those big blue eyes at that guy, but she had something stuck in her eye.
And that she was just swinging back that great length of hair back
because it got in her way.  And she had her hand on his arm only
because she wanted to test the texture of his sleeves . . .  And all those
rationalizations were shot to hell as mystery boy offered Usagi his arm
and she took it happily, making their way to a nearby ice-scream stand.

  With a furious curse, Mamoru made to follow.  But he couldn't.  He just
couldn't watch his Usako with some over-blonde surfer.  He slammed a
fist into the trunk of the potted palm and stalked off in the other
direction, cursing himself for ever getting out of bed this
morning . . . for ever being born.

  So intent was he on his escape, he never saw Usagi look back over
her shoulder and stare with satisfaction at his angry, retreating back.
Then, she saw the potted palm that had completely snapped in the
middle and now hung limply, and she broke out into a smile.

Usagi:1
Mamoru:0

* * * * * * * * * * *

 "Usagi, you did WHAT?!"
 "Usagi, I can't believe you put poor Mamoru through that!"
 "Way to go, Usagi!"
 "Usagi, was that guy John cute?"

  Rei, Ami, Makoto, and Minako surrounded Usagi, who was drowning in
the sea of questions.  Perhaps telling them what she had done had not
been the greatest idea.  Luna and Artemis, for their part, watched
disapprovingly from the corner, long-ago having realized that this Senshi
meeting's topic of conversation would never actually get around to
having anything to do about actual Senshi matter.

  Rei shoved her way to the forefront, looming over Usagi.  "Tell me
again!  I don't believe it!"

  Usagi, cowed by Rei's fearful aura, obediently related the entire mall
incident.  The furor began anew after her conclusion.

  "Well, I, for one, think it's about time she took matters into her own
hands!"  To demonstrate, Makoto pounded one fist into the palm of her
other hand, shooting the girls a bloodthirsty smile.

  Ami sweatdropped.  "I don't think it was well done of her at all!  She
shouldn't have lied to that poor guy . . . especially if he was cute."
Ami blushed furiously as the room became deathly silent.  Usagi looked
over at Minako.

"Did she say what I think she said?"

  Minako nodded enthusiastically and looked at Ami approvingly.  "I
believe our dear Ami-chan is finally coming around!  That, my girls, is
what we intellectuals call an 'Einsteinian Slip'!"

  Ami stopped blushing long enough to correct Minako.  "You mean, a
'Freudian Slip'."

  Minako frowned at Ami.  "Whatever.  They're both dead guys, right?
Anyway, if you want my opinion, Usagi, I believe that you had a right to
set Mamoru straight."  She wagged a finger in front of Usagi's face.
"You have got to teach him that you aren't gonna wait around forever!
And as for that poor guy . . . well, all's fair in love and skirmishes!"

  Ami opened up to correct again, but then snapped her mouth shut and
slumped over in defeat.

 Rei was pensive for a second, but then nodded.  "For once, I think
Minako has it right.  Or, uh, mostly right.  It's a certainty that Mamoru
still loves you, Usagi.  You have to show him what he could be missing or
he'll take you for granted."

  "Yeah," quipped Makoto, "like that killer kiss!"

  The girls grabbed at this topic with greedy hands and proceeded to
wheedle even more information out of Usagi.  Luna looked over at
Artemis and bopped him on the head when she realized he was
listening avidly.  Oh,this was going to be a long afternoon . . .

* * * * * *  * * * *

  While the girls had been drilling Usagi, Mamoru had been stalking
around the city, trying desperately to banish from his mind the picture of
Usagi hanging off that jerk's arm.  That was supposed to be HIM,
Mamoru, taking Usagi to the ice-cream shop.  It was supposed to be
HIM hearing her laughter, HIM to whom her smile was directed . . .

  Now he was trapped.  He was the one who was pushing her away.
How could he expect someone like her to live her life alone?  It should
be no surprise that she had decided to find someone new . . .

  But NO, dammit!  She had no right!  Just two days ago she had kissed
him with a fervor that denied description.  How dare she replace him so
soon?  How dare she make him suffer like this?

  After walking out of the mall he had fought an internal battle with
himself, once again going over the well-trod ground of every argument
as to why he had to stay away from her.  He had realized something
frightening . . . he was on the verge of throwing caution to the wind and
striding back inside to reclaim his love.  He was at the point of
selfishly keeping Usagi for himself while knowing that he would bring her
certain death . . . and it scared him.  He was so scared of losing all his
control to her, the control that he had cultivated during years of
solitude at the orphanage.  And he was more than willing to throw it away
for her, and put her in danger in the process.  Mamoru never knew that he
was that selfish, or that needy.  He hated the feeling.

  Finally, night had fallen.  For a few more hours he brooded at the park,
watching the last straggling couples take their picnic baskets and leave.
Unable to control himself, he had walked to Usagi's house and stared
up at her dark window, wondering if her dreams were ever as disturbed
as his own.  He thought not, for she was not haunted with the demons
that disturbed other mortals.  He doubted shadows dared to enter the
sleep of one as untainted as she.  While he . . . he despaired of
sleeping just a few hours without nightmares.  He feared that
those dreams were just reflections of his own darkness.  Glancing once
more at her window, wishing he were there with her, he turned and left,
blending eerily into the shadows around him.

* * * * * * * * * *

  Mamoru never thought of how wrong his conclusions could be, for
Usagi was dreaming . . . and her dreams were not pleasant.  It was not
the first time Usagi had nightmares.  In fact, for a while after defeating
Beryl her dreams had been haunted by writhing shapes and screams.
She had never told anyone, and slowly they had gone away.  This
dream, however, was new.  At first, it had begun as a lovely dream.

                         //////////

  Usagi, resplendent in bridal white, walked down the isle with Mamoru
at her side.  It was their wedding, and the beautiful old church was
filled with friends, old and new.  Finally, FINALLY, they were wed.  As he
slowly lowered his head to give her a kiss that would seal their union
forever, the world seemed to explode and she was engulfed by a fierce
light that burned her alive.  The pain was unbelievable, but still she
heard the booming voice that reverberated through the channels of her
mind.

  "One day it shall come to pass that Mamoru Chiba and Usagi Tsukino
will wed.  On that day, a great calamity shall befall Usagi Tsukino."

  Mamoru was screaming into nothingness, his once-pristine wedding
tuxedo torn and bloodied from an unknown battle.  He called the voice a
liar and denied its words, but to no avail, for before his eyes Usagi was
engulfed by the light and taken by the fiery void.

  She died.

                           /////////

  Usagi's eyes snapped open.  Her breathing was shallow and her
sheets twisted around her.  However, she was not as upset as one
would imagine.  She figured it would have been otherwise if the roles in
the dream had been reversed, if Mamoru had been the one to die.  But,
otherwise, she was unconcerned, for now she had her answer.  She
was shaking, not with fear at the remnants of her dream, but with fierce
joy and burning anger.

  Slipping lightly out of bed so as not to disturb Luna, she dressed
quickly in the skirt and shirt she had worn that day.  She smiled up at
the moon, absorbing its rays as a sun-worshiper absorbs the sunlight.
The moonlight always seemed to make her more powerful, let her think
clearer, calm her fears.  Now, the sharp crescent moon seemed to smile
at her and agree.  Yes, my daughter, you have your answer.  Do not
doubt it, for just as you share the same heart, you share the same love
. . . you share the same fears.  Now, go out there and give him hell.

  Usagi's eyes glittered intensely.  A dream, she had been dumped
because of a dream.

  Looking up at the moon as she climbed out her window she
whispered, "don't you worry.  I'll give him a fight he won't soon forget."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  Mamoru was drunk.  Okay, perhaps not totally drunk, but definitely
gone enough so that any dreams he might have would be of pink
elephants and not death.  And he most definitely would not be picturing
Usagi with that imbecile from the mall today, no siree.  Mamoru took
another swig of the sake he usually kept for guests.  He wasn't, as a
rule, a drinker.  As a man who prized his control and also had to be alert
at all hours should danger present itself, he felt pumping alcohol into
his system would be a stupid and irresponsible thing to do.  What was
more, the damn stuff tasted awful!  However, tonight he had decided
enough was enough.  No more thinking for Mamoru.  The quickest way
t o do that, short of knocking himself unconscious with the help of his
bedroom wall, was to get totally smashed. Yes-sir-eeeee.

  The room was spinning around him pleasantly when the
doorbell rang.  In his disconcerted state he looked at the sake bottle
accusingly, as if the ringing in his head was entirely the alcohol's
fault. When the ringing was replaced by insistent knocking, his sluggish
mind finally informed him that the noise was coming from the door.
Someone was at the door.  Mamoru squinted blearily at the clock on the
shelf where it read 1:30 AM.  Who would come knocking at this hour?

  He hauled himself off the couch, hugging the bottle to his chest
protectively as he made his way to the door.  Even tipsy his movements
were firm and sure, innate agility compensating for the loss of cerebral
direction.  When he reached the door, Mamoru flung it open, not even
bothering to ask who it was.

  The sight that greeted Usagi was that of a delightfully rumpled
Mamoru.  His shirt hung unbuttoned and untucked from his black
jeans, exposing a muscular chest.  His hair was mussed and locks fell
over his blue eyes, which seemed a tad unfocused.  He was cradling a
bottle of sake as if it were a baby.

  Mamoru, for his part, could only stare at Usagi.  Had his thoughts
somehow conveyed themselves to her?  For, although he had been
drinking to rid himself of her image, the only thing his alcohol-befuddled
mind could concentrate on was her face . . . and how much he missed
her.  He glanced from the bottle to her, from her to the bottle, for a few
seconds before carefully setting down the bottle on the side table beside
a drooping arrangement of flowers.  Then, just as carefully, he shut the
door on his no-doubt imaginary Usagi.  Mamoru, old man, that's enough
drinking for you tonight!  You know you're drunk when you start having
visions.  Besides, it wasn't working.  Nothing short of a coma could get
Usagi out of your head.  He was turning back dejectedly when the
pounding resumed, more insistent than before.  His eyes snapped wide
in comprehension.   Usagi really was outside!  Mamoru had the sinking
feeling that perhaps he had been mistaken:  he was not drunk
*enough*!  Already the vapors of alcohol were clearing with alarming
speed.

  "Mamoru!  Mamoru open the door this second!"

  Mamoru groaned in frustration and stepped towards the door.  "Go
away, Usagi.  You have no business being here at this hour.  There is
nothing more to talk about!"

  Usagi, on the other side of the door, stomped her foot.  "I beg to
differ!  Mamoru, if you don't open this door I will scream loud enough to
wake up every one of you neighbors!"  When all she heard was a muffled "go
right ahead," she took the doorknob into her hands and wrenched
angrily, expecting to be met with the resistance of the lock.  To her
total surprise, the knob twisted easily and the door crashed open.

  She walked in determinedly, watching Mamoru turn in shock at her
entrance as he stood by the living room couch.  "How did you . . .?"

  "It was unlocked," supplied Usagi with saccharine sweetness that
belied the righteous anger in her eyes.  She saw Mamoru roll his eyes,
no doubt asking himself how he could overlook such a thing.

  "Then, Usagi, I'm sure you can let yourself right back out.  You are not
wanted here."

  Usagi was about to make some rejoinder when the scent of alcohol hit
her.  Waving one hand futilely in front of her face she looked at him with
disapproval.  "Ewwwww.  You've been drinking," she accused.

  Her condemnation riled him, and the anger burned away the last traces
of the sake, leaving him coldly sober.  However, it did not retreat enough
to calm him, so his emotions remained dangerously close to the
surface.

  "What of it?  What, little bunny, do you intend to do about it?"  With a
challenge he brought the bottle back to his lips, though the liquor stayed
sour on his tongue.

  "Really, Mamoru.  You're being unreasonable."

  He took a threatening step forward.  "*I'm* being unreasonable?  How,
possibly, could *I* be the unreasonable one when you are the one who
is refusing to leave when you are so obviously unwanted?"  he said
cruelly.  "You, my dear, could drive a saint to drink!"  To spite her
again he took another swig.

  It was not the smartest thing to taunt Usagi in her present state.  Her
anger at him had been building since she had left her home.  Although a
part of her understood his reasons for pushing her aside, for loving her
so much that he would rather sacrifice his happiness, a much larger part
of her was tired of being treated like a child.  She had had every right
to know, since the very beginning, why he had decided to end their
relationship.  He had never, not once, thought of discussing it with her.
Standing in his apartment, she had been fighting to be calm and reign in
her temper, thinking that shouting would get her nowhere.  But he was
taunting her, and his being drunk was no excuse.  Usagi was absolutely
furious, and would hold back no longer.  She jumped into the fray full
force.

  In two strides she was in front of him.  With a quick movement she
ripped the bottle out of his numb fingers and hurled it at the wall, where
it gave a satisfying crash.  Mamoru stood there, dumbfounded, watching
alcohol splatter the carpet.  He turned darkening eyes upon the
avenging angel before him.  "Why you little brat!  Who the hell . . ."  He
was not allowed to finish.   Usagi, again using the element of surprise to
her advantage, pushed Mamoru on the chest hard enough so he fell
back and found himself sprawled on the couch.

  "Shut up!  Just SHUT UP!  You, mister, are not going to be doing any
talking right now.  You, for once, are going to listen!  And, by God,
Mamo-chan, I will get through to you if I have to hurl that vase of
flowers at your head!"

  Mamoru would not have been more surprised if she had whipped out a
gun and threatened him with it.  It was close to two in the morning and
Usagi seemed girded up for a fight.  He, however, was not going to sit
back and let her have a go at him, when the entire situation was HER
fault!

  He reared up, towering over her.  She did not budge an inch, curse her,
but stood staring angrily up at him, her little mouth pursed at his
flagrant disregard for her orders.  "Really?  And what am I supposed to
listen to?  A confession?"  With a lightening-fast movement he gripped
both her arms, not ungently, and lifted her up so she was face-to-face
with him and her feet swung a foot off the ground, satisfaction coursing
through him as she watched her eyes widen warily.  He brought her very
close to his face, so he could whisper savagely, "Are you here to tell me,
Usagi, about your new conquest?  It didn't take you long, did it, after
all those professions of love on Friday.  I guess twenty-four hours is too
long to wait without a boyfriend."  His eyes burning indigo-blue, he
looked at her with rage.  "Tell me, my love, what his name is.  Did you
let him kiss you?  Did you let him fuc . . ."

  Usagi, who had been witnessing, fascinated, what Mamoru was truly
like during a jealous rage, had also been congratulating herself on a job
well-done.  She was a little wary of her position, yes, but it was so
satisfying to see proof of his jealousy.  Even, she admitted with a little
frown, if he *was* getting a little *too* riled up for comfort.  So, when
she heard him start to utter that vile word, she was quite scandalized,
and insulted.  She angled back one sandled foot and kicked him in the
knee.  Hard.

  He dropped her instantly as the pain raced up his leg, and fell back on
the sofa.  Usagi, meanwhile, scrambled up from where she had fallen
and took a few hasty steps back.  Thus, with the length of the coffee
table as a barrier, she glared at the equally furious Mamoru.

  "How dare you!  How dare you insult *me*!  Who is the one whose been
stalking whom here, after all!"

  Mamoru went utterly still, a dark flush covering his face.  "You knew?"

  Usagi glowered at him.  "Yes, I knew!  Did you think I wouldn't notice
my friendly shadow?  So it's no more than what you deserve, that little
scene between John and me!"

  If possible, the flush on Mamoru's face got darker, but this time out of
anger.  "YOU LITTLE MINX!  You staged that for my benefit, didn't you?
You wanted to make me jealous!"  With an oath he reached over the
coffee table, intent on getting his hands on her . . . for what, he didn't
know.  She danced out of the way lightly, however, and smiled wickedly
at him.

  "And it worked, too, didn't it *Mamo-chan*?  That's what you get for
spying on people . . ."  Usagi laughed happily as he made another futile
movement to get her from across the table.  My, but she was starting to
enjoy herself now!

  Mamoru was seething, itching to get his hands on her to shake her for
making him go through the hell of seeing her with another man.  But
then he looked at her, eyes shining with mirth as she hopped in her
excitement at having caught him at his own game, and his anger
evaporated as quickly as it had come.  She was so beautiful, both inside
and out, and so filled with an inner joy, that it really wouldn't be long
before she *did* find someone to replace him.  And what would he do
then?  He could hardly go up to her house and demand an explanation
with her new husband looking over her shoulder.  He collapsed once more
on the couch and scrubbed his hands over his tired face and wished, not
for the first time, for a simple death to take him before that day every
came.  "Okay, Usagi, you've had your fun.  Please, go back home.  You
really *don't* belong here."

  Usagi's merriment dissipated at his defeated tone.  Confused, she
looked over at her soul-mate, wondering what had taken the revitalizing
anger out of him and made him look so beaten.

  "Mamo-chan," she began, walking towards him.

  He lifted his head from his hands and looked at her ardently, with an
emotion she could not define.  "Just GO, Usagi!"

  Her resolve hardened, and her purpose for being here reinstated itself.
"No, I won't go.  I didn't come here to taunt you about today, though I'm
glad you learned your lesson."  His eyes pierced her at that reminder,
but she continued anyway.  "What I came here to do was to tell you that
you have to choose."

  At his questioning glance, she nodded and slowly walked up to the
couch so she stood over him.  "You have to choose between me or a
dream."

  He was shocked, at first, to hear his dilemma explained so precisely
from her lips, but then he tiredly accepted that, the way this day had
gone, it really was no surprise that all should be out in the open.
Perhaps we was also a little relieved that he would no longer have to lie
to her, that now she would understand why he had been acting the way
he had.

  "So, you found out," he muttered, staring down at the floor.

  Usagi's soft lips tightened into a grim line as she looked down at his
bowed head.  "No thanks to you!" she accused grimly.  "Tell me, Mamo-
chan, did it ever occur to you to tell me what was going on?"

  Mamoru looked up at her, stating calmly, "it wouldn't have mattered."

  Her eyes widened in disbelief, chased quickly by anger.  "IT
WOULDN'T HAVE MATTERED?!  You pompous jerk, it would have
mattered to me!  It makes all the difference to me!  Do you know how it
made me feel, thinking you didn't love me anymore, and not knowing
why?  Do you have any idea how many hours I spent wondering if I had
anything left to live for, crying my nights away?"  Mamoru looked away
and it angered her all the more.  "AND WILL YOU STOP HIDING FROM
ME!  I'm not a child who you can brush off!  Dammit, look at me!"

  Mamoru refused to listen to her.  She was not going to talk him out of
his decision.  He hardened himself against the picture of her crying in
her bed, replacing it with that of her being engulfed by the burning
inferno of his dreams.

  Usagi growled deep in her throat, what little patience she had was
completely spent in the face of his obstinance.  With little fists she
reached down and took the lapels of his open shirt, jerking him forward
as she fell to her knees in front of him so they would be at eye level.
His head was forced to turn in her direction.

  His eyes were so hopeless that they gave her pause, though her grip
on his shirt didn't loosen.  She did, however, continue more softly.
"Mamo-chan, you should have told me.  I don't need you to protect me
from your dreams, or for you to make decisions concerning the both of
us."  She smiled tremulously.  "I'm a big girl now, you see?  I've fought
long enough to know that our greatest enemies are not nightmares. I
don't care what that dream says, what matters is reality.  And I would
rather spend one hour with you than an eternity without."

  Mamoru stayed silent, looking at her sweet face and fighting to resist
her.  What she said made sense, and he knew he had been in the
wrong to keep her in the dark about what was happening.  Yet, there
had been no other way.  She would have written the dreams off as silly,
because she had not suffered them every single night for many weeks
now.  He had to make her see how her life was the most important thing
in the universe to him, and he was not about to jeopardize it.

  "Usako," he began, "you don't understand.  It's not just a dream . . . I
know it isn't.  My dreams, Usako, they . . . they come true.  I can't let
that happen to you!"

  She clutched his shirt more tightly, seeing the resolve in his eyes.
She could not loose this battle.  "Mamoru, it's a dream!  I don't care
if the Moon Queen herself appears in a vision, YOU make your own life.
Nothing is set in stone!  I could die tomorrow in some freak accident, so
could you!  Destiny, " Usagi struggled to put her jumbled thoughts into
word,"destiny only goes so far.  It's up to the people to see it through
till the end, to reshape it if they don't like where it's leading them.
It's like a road that you can take, but there are other roads leading off
it, too."

  She stared deep into his eyes, wondering if she was getting through to
him, but fearing that those damn dreams still held more weight than her
words.  Oh God, she was so afraid that this time she would not win.
And if she didn't, she was sure that she would not survive a life without
him.  She was sure he would not survive a life without her . . .

  "Mamo-chan!"  she cried desperately, letting go of his shirt to pound
her fists into his chest.  "Listen to me!  I'm REAL, I'm right here and
I'm waiting for you!  You can't choose dreams over reality!  Do you hear
me!?"  Usagi was blind with the tears coursing down her face, her
hands stung from the force of the hits.  Mamoru had his eyes clenched
shut as he was forced against the back of the couch, making no move
to stop her from hitting him.  "Damn you!  I don't give a damn about
some dream!  I don't care if I *DO* die when we marry!  I'd already be
dead without you!  Mamo-chan, I can't . . . I can't . . ." Sobbing she
fell in a crumpled heap on the floor, cradling her bruised hands.  "I
can't go on without you. I have already died."

  Mamoru's fists were clenched at his sides, tears seeping through his
closed eyelids.  He brought one hand to his chest, rubbing absently
where her fists had struck him repeatedly.  Could it be true?  Could they
be just dreams?   Was Usagi right, would destiny lead them through?
Opening his eyes, they fell upon the crumpled form of Usagi on the floor,
her soft sobbing echoing through the room.  Did any of it matter?
Because he could fool himself no longer . . . he could not live without
her.  And was it possible, was it even conceivable that he had been
blessed with her love, too, so that she could not live without him?  "I
have already died" she had said.  Mamoru, staring at her with dawning
understanding, knew that he, too, had been dead without her.

  Usagi was lost in her own little world of despair.  She had not won this
battle, the most important battle of her life.  She wished . . . she
wished she had been killed in her fight against Beryl.  That wouldn't hurt
nearly as much as losing him.  Her body was shaking with the force of her
tears, tears that seemed as if they would never stop.  She lost all hope.
There was nothing left.

  Slowly she became aware of a soft pressure on her hands.  Opening
her teary eyes she found a dark head bent over her bruised fingers.
Slowly, ever so slowly, the hope she thought had left her soul began to
return with a vengeance.  "Mamo-chan?" she breathed.

  Mamoru sat before her on the floor, gently kissing each bruised
knuckle.  At the sound of his name he lifted his head and smiled with
dazzling force at the beautiful woman who had chased away his fears.

  Usagi gasped with delight as she looked into eyes no longer
shadowed, heaven looking upon heaven.  Tears began to rain down her
face again, but they were tears of joy that washed away the prior tears
of despair.  With a joyful cry she threw herself into his arms, and they
wrapped around her so tightly she could hardly breathe.  But that didn't
matter to her one bit.

  Mamoru felt the soft weight of her in his arms and thanked whatever
god there was out there for giving him such a gift.  "I'm so sorry,
Usako," he whispered into her ear.

 She pulled away enough to look right at him.  "As well you should be!"
But then she smiled her most brilliant smile, blinding him and making
him fall in love with her all over again.  "But you are forgiven, as long
as you remember that you and I are a whole, buster.  You can't have one
without the other. It just doesn't work that way."

  Mamoru looked at her soberly and promised, "I'll remember."  He drew
her giggling form back deep into his arms, making a different promise to
himself silently:  "I shall never let her go."

  He shifted her slightly so he could look at her face and lowered his
lips to hers.  "I love you," he said, millimeters away from her lips.

  He watched her eyes darken to midnight with a certain kind of wisdom
that only women seem to possess.  Her lips parted into a devilish grin
and she whispered back, "I know."  Then she closed the scant distance
between them and there was no more talking for a long time.

  Mamoru's nightmares disappeared that night, and a laughing angel
replaced them.

THE END
* * * * * * * * * *

  It's DONE!  Finished!  Yay!  Oof, little did I know writing a
full-length fanfic from beginning to end would be so hard!  My
appreciation for the written word has suddenly sky-rocketed!  So, you may
be wondering, "is she gonna keep on writing?"  Well, for you crazy people
out there who need a Sailor Moon fanfic hit (and I would know absolutely
nothing about that *g*), and who enjoyed this story, I *do* have a few
ideas for some new stories.  However, I'm first going take a little break
from writing to enjoy my Summer vacation watching all the anime I can get
my greedy little hands on.  Until then, may all your dreams be Sailor
Moon dreams!