Sailor Moon Fan Fiction ❯ Touch ❯ Touch 2 ( Chapter 2 )

MarshAngel

watsonma@hotmail.com
http://angelmoon.sinfree.net
rated R-NC17
disclaimer: standard i.e.: no claim of ownership has or will be made

This is an alternate reality/first season story. There is NO Mamoru (Darien), NO Tuxedo Kamen, NO Rini and NO outer scouts. Usagi is known to be the Princess, they've defeated Beryl and they have no real memories of the past. Usagi and friends are around sixteen. Further explanations? Email.
This fanfic is tentatively rated R and if so requested I will change the rating to NC-17 but I don't think its too explicit so I'll leave it at R for now.

Touch
Chapter 2

Usagi had been pleasantly surprised to have managed to escape detention. Sitting through a routine Senshi meeting was almost as pointless as detention however; especially since lately anything even mildly related to fighting evil irked her last nerve.

"What do we know so far?" Luna questioned

"That the powers of evil are trying to kill us and take over the world," Makoto muttered sarcastically. It was fairly damn obvious. She should know. A youma had aimed a rather sharp disc at her head just last night.

"I was hoping for something a little more specific than that," Luna retorted dryly.

"Well it seems to me that the dark kingdom is going out of its way to attract our attention. All the attacks are concentrated in the Juuban area with no focus on collecting energy or any other sinister behavior one might associate with evil, if you discount general mayhem, which is their means of gaining attention. I suspect they've calculated the speed of our response to their previous attacks and determined our general locality. They're testing us, determining just what is necessary for our elimination," Ami stated with a worried look on our face.

"I think this general has a different plan than the rest," Mina spoke up. "He was at one of the battles once just looking. He had this look on his face like he was bored and he just watched as though he didn't care what was going on. I think Ami's right, Mina agreed."

"Wait a sec!" Usagi snapped. "I don't remember seeing a general. When did you see a general?"

"Calm down airhead!" Rei snapped. You weren't there. That was the time you sprained your ankle.

"Oh. And let me guess you just forgot to tell me."

"What's to tell?" Makoto asked. "He's just like the rest of them; tall, dark, handsome, powerful, and out to kill us."

"Oh, and he wasn't wearing a uniform…. Not the same one anyway," Mina added.

"Then how did you know he was a general?" Usagi questioned.

"He was the one the youmas took orders from Airhead. Now can we get back to what were talking about?" Ray snapped.

"They're testing us probably even trying to figure out our identities," Ami said. "We need to be careful."

Usagi froze. "If they find out who we are, they could come after us at anytime!"

"Exactly, which is why we should try to be as inconspicuous as possible," Rei said. "Which means you don't get to be Meatball Head anymore."

"What!"

"I'm confused," Mina began. "What does her being a meatball head have to do with anything?"

"That's my question to pyro," Usagi snapped, ignoring the use of the hated nickname.

"Your hairstyle has to go."

"It does not!" Usagi insisted indignantly.

"It does too"

"Does not!"

"Stop" Luna yelled. Everyone froze while Rei and Usagi glared at each other. That wasn't unusual however so they were ignored as Luna spoke.

"Rei has a point Usagi. Your hairstyle is unusual; it makes you stand out and now is not a good time to be an individual or to happen to be the only girl in Tokyo with the same hairdo as Sailor Moon who also happens to look just like her. Blending in is key so you're going to need to let down your hair."

"But I've always worn my hair this way."

"Exactly. Which is why it is now time for a change," Luna announced.

"And if I don't?" Usagi asked, testing the waters.

"Then I'll just have to sneak in and cut it in your sleep," Rei threatened with a grin. Her smile faded as she realized that once again Usagi would have to sacrifice for a fight she hated.

Usagi's face turned a whiter shade of pale. The night came flooding back to her and a fearful look came over her face. The thought that someone might have sneaked into her bedroom and done the things she'd dreamed about scared her to death.

"Calm down Meatball Head," Rei reassured when she saw the horrified look on Usagi's suddenly pale. "I was only kidding."

Usagi forced a barely believable smile. She'd barely managed to push back the memory of last night until just then. "I guess we better get it over with then huh," she said stiffly.

She reached up and pulled the pins out of her buns and combed through it with her fingers.

"Now what do you propose I do with all this hair?" Usagi questioned almost condescendingly. "I can't leave it down, its too long and it would be a knotted mess, and braiding it will take way too long and if you even dare to propose I cut it I will smack each and everyone of you with it."

"Then what do you want us to do Usagi?" Mina asked. "You don't have to cut it all off you know. You can have it the same length as mine or Rei's."

"Really that makes me feel so much better Min," Usagi muttered sarcastically. "As much as blending in seems to be important I'd really don't want to go around looking exactly like you."

Ami and Rei shared a glance. They'd discussed Usagi's growing tendency towards sarcasm. She had changed so much. She needed a break; they all did. Although, Rei suspected it was too late for it to make too much of a difference. Usagi was battle scarred.

"Well you have to do something Usagi," Luna insisted.

"Fine," she snapped. "Give me the damn scissors."

"I swear this shit only happens to me," she muttered under her breath. Rei handed her the scissors and Usagi grabbed her long locks roughly and to everyone's shock hacked off well over a foot of her unusually long hair.

"There! Happy now?" Everyone stared at her in shock. In Usagi's hand was a huge chunk of hair. Her hair now just barely touched her hip.

Usagi looked at the long shock of blonde hair in her hand in horror as if just realizing what she'd done. Her face turned pillar white and she ran from the room to the bathroom and proceeded to throw up.

"What the hell did I do?" She asked herself out loud as she finally managed to get control of herself.

"You cut your hair," Mina replied simply as came into the room behind her. Mina lifted the ends of Usagi's thick hair that was now a little below her waist and a mass of golden waves. "And you even managed to cut it straight."

Usagi sat up in her bed with her arms wrapped around her legs and her head resting on her knees. Once again she didn't have to be up for at least another half an hour and she still felt tired. She'd been dreaming again but nothing like the last one. She remembered a lot but it seemed so much of it was fading fast and she fought desperately with her mind to hang on to the memory of the dream.

She'd dreamt with such clarity she'd been certain it was real. It had been as though she'd gone to bed only to wake up in a whole new world. She'd seemingly woken up to face a new day, and had sat up in an unfamiliar bed at least five or six times the size of the one she sat on now. The room had been enormous. The bed she had risen from seemed a permanent, immovable fixture of the magnificent room with its enormous pillars all the way to a high ceiling.

The part of her that belonged entirely to the dream knew this place well and was happy here. It felt like home, but as she luxuriated in the expensive printed linen sheets, she was aware it was not her home and this was definitely not her bed.

She had been utterly naked beneath the sheets but she hadn't been the least bit surprised or ashamed of her nudity. She wrapped the sheets around her body, climbed out of the high bed and walked towards the open balcony that ran the entire length of one long wall where bright sunlight spilled unto the cold stone floors of the room. She luxuriated in the glow of the sunlight without heading out unto the actual balcony. It wouldn't do for anyone to see her here. This wasn't her home and of all the places in the solar system she could be, this was the place that topped the list of places she should never be.

Seemingly out of nowhere arms wrapped around her and although her automatic reaction would be panic or fight, she relaxed and let the arms envelop her. She leaned into the hard body of the man whose strong arms steadied and comforted her. He kissed her shoulder traveling up her neck. She allowed the sheet to drop as he caressed her.

"Serenity"

And then suddenly to her disappointment, he stopped.

"You should go home," the man said emotionlessly.

"I don't want to." Without looking at him, she could feel his frown and the rigidity of his expression. He was angry with her. Her body stiffened against his.

"Go home to you mother and your pretty little princess protectors. Isn't your fiancée staying in the palace? Maybe you should go wish him a good morning perhaps give him a little kiss."

"Has he kissed you yet? Have you let him touch your perfect breasts?" He squeezed one breast with little tenderness before slipping his hand between her legs. "Perhaps you've let him touch you here?"

She pushed away from him harshly. "Must you always be so crude?"

"Ahh yes that is what your people have always thought of us." He stated bitterly.

"That is not what I meant and you know it well. What is the matter with you?"

"Go home Serenity. You don't belong here."

"And if I don't?"

"Then I will make sure that when I eventually let you leave here your womb will be filled with my child. What would your Prince Melon say then? I bet your mother would be so proud." She didn't bother to correct him. Her betrothed's name was Mael not some pretty little Terran fruit.

"You wouldn't dare!" She snapped angrily.

"I don't think you'd even try to stop me."

She slapped him hard across the face and with a quick burst of power transported herself thousands of miles in an instant back to her apartments in the palace on the moon.

It hurt most because she knew he was right. She would never deny him. Was she really that depraved?

As her reverie ended with only the barest of details remaining in her mind, Usagi got up and walked over to the mirror on her closet door and looked at herself. It was strange that she could remember herself as she had been in the dream as though she could see herself through his eyes but she couldn't remember his face.

She had looked much like this in the dream, she thought. Her hair had been longer, as it had been only a few days ago and hanging loose in a mass of waves around her nude body. In her dream she'd known things about him instinctively, as they related to her anyway. He thought she was beautiful. He wanted her.

As she got dressed she realized something. She was illogically pleased to have someone find her beautiful even if he didn't exist.

Usagi rushed into class at the last minute with her hair swinging in a high ponytail. Everyone stared at her in amazement as she rolled her eyes. She might have thought to shock them sooner. The look on their faces was almost worth all the hair she'd cut.

She was in a good mood, possibly as a result of just feeling beautiful for a change. There was also the fact that nothing weird had happened on the way to school. It wasn't much, but she gave herself a mental pat on the back for trying to be upbeat.

"Usagi, I'd like to talk to you after class," her teacher announced as she took her place. He had a rather odd look on his face that worried her. Usagi shared a worried glance with Makoto who sat behind her but she just shrugged in ignorance.

She couldn't shake the feeling that something was very wrong and it was ruining her good mood. The fact that he wanted to see her after class rather than waiting until after school was a hint that it just might be something serious. Mr. Mitchell kept giving her these odd looks throughout the entire period of his class.

At the end of class she stopped at his desk.

"You wanted to see me Mr. Mitchell?"

"In a moment Usagi. We need to talk, alone." He had a deadly serious look on his face. He seemed almost nervous she realized. He waited until everyone left the room before he closed the door and indicated she should sit.

"We need to talk about your essay Usagi," He stated solemnly.

"My essay?" Usagi questioned surprised. "I didn't think you'd read that," She stammered, blushing. "No one ever does."

"Is that why you wrote what you did?"

"I guess so. No one ever reads them. I just thought I'd say how I really felt for once."

"And this is how you really feel?" He looked at her as if her affirmation meant all the world.

"Yeah?" Usagi replied hesitantly, confused. The essay wasn't that big of a deal. All she'd done was explain how difficult things were to understand and that she had many responsibilities that kept her up at night that made it even more difficult to wake up in the morning. Adding detention didn't make things any better it just complicated her life especially since the punishing aspect of the whole thing had worn off since she expected it on a daily basis. It was probably not a good idea to have written it but it shouldn't have resulted in the look she now saw on his face.

It was a look of nervous concern.

"Usagi, I'm aware that as a teenager you have certain emotions you might be dealing with that are very confusing to you. I'm sure there are many things in your life that are probably contributing to those emotions, complicating them and undoubtedly confusing you at times…"

Why was this beginning to sound like "The Speech" her parents had given her a few years ago.

"Usagi, I understand, as your teacher that you may have certain feelings for me. I'm in a position that might cause you to focus your emotions and your desires on me but…"

"What!" Usagi interrupted in shock. " I don't understand. What are you talking about?"

"I'm aware you think you have a crush on me Usagi," He stated earnestly. "The paper you wrote was very…" he searched for the right word blushing a fierce red. Usagi simply stared at him wide eyed.

It had never for a moment occurred to her to be even attracted to the man. It wasn't that he was unattractive but he was her teacher. He had beautiful gray eyes, short dark hair and a square chin. He was good looking man in the same patriarchal sexless way her father was good looking. What the hell was he talking about?

"…effusive, extremely erotic actually," he finished.

Usagi stared at him wide-eyed disbelieving the words that had left his lips. Effusive and erotic? Erotic? How? Why? How?

"I don't understand," she stuttered. "What are you talking about? I don't have a crush on you." He covered his unexpected slight disappointment with a stern look.

"Usagi, you wrote me a letter, a very erotic letter. I'm not even sure I want to say some of the things you said out loud."

"I didn't write you a letter. I wrote an essay about why I hated school. I don't know what you mean. Maybe you mixed it up with someone else's."

He looked confused and just a little skeptical. He picked up three sheets of paper on his desk and handed her the handwritten sheets. "Isn't that your essay?"

Usagi took the papers and stared at them in bafflement. It looked exactly like her handwriting but as she read she realized they weren't her words. Her eyes opened wide in shock and her face turned red. She was on the verge of hyperventilating as she read the words he thought she'd written. It was perverse, it was dirty; it was literally sex on paper. There were descriptions of acts that he seemed to think she was asking him to do to her that hadn't even entered into her mind as a possibility. Her body temperature shot up seemingly several degrees to the point that she was uncomfortable in her clothes.

"I… I…" Usagi stuttered unable to get her tongue around words she didn't even think her brain could send to her tongue at the moment.

"That is your handwriting isn't it Usagi?"

Her name was at the top of the page, in her very own handwriting. She recognized every curve and slant. It had all been written from a female perspective and parts of it read exactly like the dream she'd had the other night.
"No," she denied. "It looks like mine but it can't be mine. I didn't write this. I couldn't have written this." Usagi looked up at him with a panicked pleading look. "I don't know how…"

He didn't believe her. She could see it in his eyes. She was devastated.
"You don't believe me," She whispered, astounded and not quite believing what was happening.

"Usagi, that is the paper you placed in my hands when you left detention. I read it myself. Your name is at the top, written in your own handwriting. I believe you did write that letter."

Usagi was stunned. How could she deny the evidence? It was her word vs. a very tangible letter in her own hand condemning her.

"But I didn't, I swear I didn't," she denied tears running down her cheeks.

"If this had been another student I might have written it off as nothing but I've witnessed some very erratic behavior from you and I think you might need some help. I've spoken to Dr. Kurokomo, the school psychologist and he'd like to see you in his office after school.

Usagi was stunned. A psychologist? She might have laughed if she weren't so distressed. She was beginning to think she might just need some help. She was apparently losing her mind.

Usagi left the classroom in a daze. How could all this be happening to her? She felt like she was living a nightmare. Tears streamed down her face and she rushed into the nearest bathroom, tears soon became sobs and she couldn't seem to stop. What if she really was losing her mind? What if she'd actually written that letter? Did that mean she'd imagined everything else that happened to her as well?

She had to get a hold of herself. Maybe therapy was the answer. Then again, she thought bitterly, she'd never actually be able to tell her therapist everything, nothing that wouldn't convince him immediately to have her locked away in a padded cell for life. She managed to get herself to calm down and she washed her face. Her eyes were still red but there was nothing she could do about that.

She barely even noticed the questioning eyes of her teacher and fellow students who noticed her swollen red eyes as she walked into her next class handed in her late pass and sat down.

Usagi was beginning to think that the most embarrassing part of the whole situation was that she couldn't get the letter out of her head. Every time she thought about it her skin flushed and she couldn't help but wonder about all the erotic things she'd supposedly 'asked' to have done to her. Worst yet, thinking about it only served to make her feel more out of control and frustrated.

The rest of the day seemed like a countdown to the eventual meeting with the school psychologist. Her friends had questioned her swollen eyes but she'd merely forced a barely existent smile and told them it was nothing. She didn't even dare attempt an explanation, she was afraid no one would believe the 'truth' at this point, especially now that she was unsure as to just what the truth was.

Usagi slipped quietly into the office. A very tall broad shouldered man with dark hair stood with his back toward her facing the single window in the room. It was a nice office, Usagi noted. There were a few paintings on the wall, two potted plants and a shelf with books.

There was a leather chaise on one side with a chair next to it. She guessed that would be where she was supposed to lie down and tell him all her problems. She was a bit surprised. The office looked like what she assumed a professional psychologist's would; it wasn't what she had expected of a school psychologist.

"Have a seat Usagi," he commanded without turning around, as though he had eyes in the back of his head.

She sat down and waited for him turn around. The room was uncomfortably silent for a while and she noticed he had a copy of the letter on his desk.

Suddenly he turned around when she least suspected it and fixed her with an intent stare. Her stomach nearly dropped out beneath his gaze.

He didn't look anything like she'd expected. One thing was for certain if he had been her teacher she might not have been so quick to deny the possibility that she had written him an erotic letter. He was quite frankly the most disturbingly handsome man she'd ever seen and without doubt, the kind of man who inspired erotic letters.

His blue eyes were icy and piercing and caused and involuntary shudder. If she planned to tell this man anything it might not be through any choice of her own. His gaze was hypnotic as though he could get anything out of her he desired.

"So, did you write the letter Usagi?" Right to the point. "Your teacher says you claim you didn't write it."

"I didn't," Usagi said defiantly with more confidence than she actually felt.

He smiled a sly half smile that made her nervous. He sat down across the desk from her. "So you're saying that Mr. Mitchell made up the story to stroke his own ego?" he didn't wait for her to answer. "Somehow that doesn't seem entirely implausible."

Usagi was shocked; too shocked to smile. She remained silent unable to stop admiring his perfect features. It came to her attention, by the way that he looked at her with amusement in his eyes, that he was aware of her gaze. She was embarrassed. No doubt he probably thought she was some sex-craved teenager who wrote dirty letters to her teachers and had probably performed everyone of the acts described in that letter.

He sat down behind his desk. "I think I'm supposed to ask you why you think you're here," he stated blandly as though he were unfamiliar with the procedures associated with the job.

Usagi stared at him oddly. "If you did it would be a fairly stupid question. I didn't ask to be here and the reason is sitting on your desk."

"Oh yes, the letter," he said absently as though he'd forgotten, although she was fairly certain he remembered quite clearly.

"I don't think writing an erotic letter to a teacher qualifies you as a nut do you?"

"Not if you didn't write it and I didn't so I suppose I'm perfectly sane in which case I should probably go." She didn't make any move to leave however, the intent way he was looking at her left her frozen in her seat.

"How do you explain the existence of the letter?"

"I can't," she replied simply. The explanations she'd mulled over in her mind all day had all come down to two main theories both of which would inevitably lead to the questioning of her sanity. The first scenario was one in which she had actually written the letter and somehow forgotten, and the other was that her ghostly stalker had done it. She couldn't afford to mention either aloud.

"What if I told you I believe you?"

"I wouldn't believe you," she answered before her brain could stop her.

He raised an eyebrow and smiled. Why did she get the feeling this man wasn't what he appeared to be?

"Why is that?"

"I wouldn't believe me if I were sitting where you were. A teacher claims I wrote it and there is evidence in writing that looks like mine, that says I did and the only one who believes I didn't is me and when I look at the letter I actually wonder if even I believe me."

"You think you might have written the letter?" Usagi flushed in response. She was pretty sure she didn't have the necessary knowledge.

"I don't think I could have but what if I did? I don't have the necessary knowledge to have come up with something like that and I'm really not sure everything in it is possible." Usagi turned bright red as she finished.

"It is," he assured smiling once again, amused at her wide-eyed surprise. "I've tried most of them myself."

Usagi's mouth fell open. She couldn't believe he'd actually said that. It was probably a highly inappropriate thing to have said but he didn't look the slightest bit guilty and she believed him.

"Are you implying you wrote the letter but somehow didn't realize you did? That's rather far-fetched don't you think?" He asked.

"I guess so," she replied quietly. "But I don't see another explanation." And even if she did, she wasn't about to mention it.

"What was the essay you actually wrote about?"

"I was supposed to write an essay on the importance of punctuality and attention in class. It's always the same essay and no one ever reads them so sometimes I put in a few lines of gibberish but no one ever notices."

"So you wrote an essay on punctuality?"

"No. I wrote an essay on why writing that essay and going to detention was all pointless and why I hate school. I never expected anyone to read it if they had bothered before they would have caught all the nonsense I wrote all those other times."

"You have detention often." It wasn't a question but a statement of fact. Usagi shrugged.

"All the time. I've gotten used to it."

"Which is why it's pointless."

Usagi nodded.

"You don't have a very good record at school."

"What do you mean?" Usagi questioned, surprised at the sudden turn in conversation.

"You're late to class at least three or four times a week. Your academic record is less than spectacular, marked with many inconsistencies. Your absentee record is really quite surprising, most particularly since they're mostly excused; sprained ankle, wrist, cracked ribs, broken toe?" He gave her a pointed curious look. She returned it with an utterly blank look on her face.

"You don't participate in any extra-curricular activities; if you discount detention, and the comments by your teachers all amount to the same thing."

"Which is?" Usagi questioned not really wanting to know but too annoyed not to ask.

"A potentially great student lacking in motivation, whose progress is hindered by bad study habits and failure to take herself seriously."

"What does any of that have to do with my being here?"

"I don't know. Why don't you tell me?"

"I don't know. You're the professional, why don't you tell me?" She replied tossing his words back in his face.

"Well if you want my professional opinion," he smiled as though what he'd said was amusing to him. "If you were anyone but you, Mr. Mitchell wouldn't have sent you here."

"Meaning?"

"Mitchell seems to think that this letter is evidence of a larger problem."

"I can't say I have any idea what he means," Usagi replied tersely.

"For a beautiful young woman you live a very extraordinary life don't you?" She was as stunned by the compliment as the rest of the comment.

"What makes you think that?" She questioned skeptically.

He ignored her question. "Would you like to explain how you got all those injuries?"

"No." He smiled at her response as though he'd expected the answer and she couldn't help but think he could see right through her, that he knew everything.

"I don't think I'm supposed to accept that seeing as how you should be doing the talking and I the listening; but I will, for now. You can explain your dangerous extracurricular activities that somehow lead to cracked ribs and sprained joints another time."

For a moment he simply sat there looking at her. Her skin went hot under his gaze and she felt as exposed as if she were sitting there naked. His gaze was familiar and disconcerting but she couldn't tear her eyes away from him and for the first time she realized what he was wearing.

It wasn't the typical dress of a teacher or what she imagined for a doctor. He was wearing an amazingly well fitting casual black suit on top of a black shirt open down the front to his chest revealing tanned skin. It was utterly sexy. He didn't look at all like a doctor of any kind. In fact, he didn't look a day over twenty-five.

Suddenly he stood up and walked around the desk. He put his hand out, which she took, and lifted her out of the chair.

"I wont psychoanalyze you further Usagi. You can go home now. And no matter how late you are in the morning there'll be no detention. You'll come to see me."
Usagi was baffled. Her hand was still in his and she couldn't even begin to understand the changes her body had undergone at his touch. She was both balanced and off kilter and she had the sudden need to be outside and in fresh air. She was hot and having a hard time catching her breath.

"I'll see you tomorrow then," he said. And she managed to nod as he let her hand go and she walked to the door. As she walked out the door he handed her some papers from his desk.

She couldn't fight the feeling that something very strange had happened. Her brain was a complete mess with his voice still whispering through her mind.
I'll see you…

She was too caught up in the need to get out of the building and catch her breath to cast more than a glance at the papers. It was the infamous essay. She shoved it into her backpack and hurriedly got her stuff together and walked out the building stopping only for a moment to wait for the tingling of her skin to calm and her breath to become even and controlled once more before walking home.

When Usagi came down for dinner she realized someone was missing. Her brother had been there when she had come in but now he wasn't, not that she missed the brat.

"Where's Shingo?" She asked her parents.

"He went over to Tsuyoshi's for dinner," her mother replied. As they sat down to dinner Usagi sensed the tension in the room. She had a distinct feeling her parents had a very good idea what had happened today. Should she wait for them to bring it up or should she take control of the situation? There was one thing the past two years of battling had taught her and that was to take control of the situation while you can.

"I take it you heard from my teacher today," she said calmly.

"What would make you do something like that Usagi!" her mother all but cried out.

Usagi was suddenly angry. "Aren't you even going to ask me if I did it?"

"Well did you?" Her father questioned.

"No, as a matter of fact I didn't."

"Then how do you explain the letter?"

"I don't."

"You don't?" Her father snapped angrily. His wife put her hand on his arm to encourage restraint.

"You saw the school psychologist?" Her mother questioned.

"Yes."

"And what did he have to say about the situation?" Her father asked.

"Not much really," Usagi replied nonchalantly.

"Usagi we require more information than that."

"There's nothing to tell. Since I didn't write the letter, there was really nothing to talk about and since there was nothing to talk about, there's nothing to tell. Now may I be excused?"

She was very very annoyed at this point. The events of the whole day had worn her down completely.

"Usagi what is going on with you? You're behavior is erratic. You're not yourself."

"Nothing." She didn't wait for their approval she simply got up and left the room.

Usagi plopped out on her bed sloppily. Today was added to the list of competing days for the worst day of her life. She had just baffled her parents and herself with her behavior but at the moment she wasn't feeling particularly tolerant.

She stared at her ceiling aimlessly contemplating the possibility of just not waking up tomorrow. The possibility of another day like today was not something she wanted to think about to say little of actually facing it.

"Where have you been all day Usagi?" An angry voice demanded.

She sat up and looked down at the black cat who'd popped in through her open window.

"What now Luna?" Usagi asked exasperatedly

"What now? Why wasn't your communicator on? You missed a battle and a meeting and you didn't even call to check in with the girls this afternoon!"

Usagi chuckled silently and bitterly to herself. And he thought she had no extracurricular activities. If only he knew. Then again maybe he did. His comments were a little too intuitive.

She didn't want to deal with Luna. She didn't want to add Sailor Moon to her list of issues for the day; she just wanted to go to bed and not think for a while.

"I suggest you drop the issue and leave it for another day Luna. I don't want to deal with that right now."

"You don't want to deal with it?" Luna screeched. "The fate of the world lies in your hands and you don't want to deal with it?"

"No I don't," Usagi snapped tersely. "If I thought you'd care or understand I'd attempt to explain the level of frustration, anger, and exasperation with which I've had to cope today but I won't, because I need to keep my voice down so that my parents don't run in here to see me yelling at my cat adding additional questions to my sanity. So I suggest you leave me alone before I actually lose grasp on what's left of my sanity and blow my lid," she finished harshly.

Luna took a step backward, shocked and frightened by the turbulent emotions she'd seen in Usagi's eyes. She'd been aware for a while that the stress of battling was getting to her and changed her a little more everyday but the look in her eyes just then both scared and worried her. Something was very wrong.

"Usagi…" she began, meaning to urge her to talk about it.

"I do not want to talk about it," Usagi enunciated with finality to her tone that reduced any possibilities for further discussion to nil.

Luna left the same way she'd come.

Usagi closed her eyes and drifted off. She was halfway between the world of dreams and reality when she felt it. It was happening again. She should have been able to wake easily but she couldn't seem to move or open her eyes.

His presence was very much there this time, more solid than the last. She could smell his scent that was very much a musky wood-like scent with a touch of something fresher and airy like the scent of spring. She could feel the heat of his breath against her neck and the wetness of his tongue as it kissed her breasts, suckling like a child but harder and with a skill meant purely to induce pleasure.

His hands slipped between her legs caressing her. She moaned softly.

Serenity
She shouldn't be enjoying it. He was touching her against her will; it was a violation. But her body betrayed her, her back arching beneath the skill of his touch, bucking against his weight.

It occurred to her that at any moment he could take things to another level and steal her innocence from her with ease. She wouldn't be able to stop him. Worst yet, she would enjoy it. She would be raped and she would enjoy it; it was disgusting.

Just when she thought she could take no more her body seemed to explode in pleasure. She'd experienced her first orgasm beneath his hands and her eyes flew open and she saw blue eyes and then it all faded.

He didn't take her. It was frustrating to be both relieved and disappointed. She had experienced unbelievable pleasure beneath the hands of a faceless stranger. She despaired at her loss of control. He could do anything he wanted to at anytime and there was nothing she could do to stop him, and a part of her didn't even want to try. She couldn't help but feel that her entire life had become an out of control tornado heading aimlessly and with relentless speed towards destruction.