Standard Disclaimer: Sailor Moon does not belong to me. It belongs to Takeuchi Naoko, Kodansha, Toei Ltd., and tons of other people. Thank you very much for creating such a wonderful story and please don't sue me. ^_^;;; However . . . the events of this story and some of these characters are MY property. No stealing! In a time of peace . . . In a time of war . . . Two kingdoms lived side by side . . . Two hearts cried out for one another . . . And thus was a legend born. SAILOR MOON IN ANOTHER LIFE: THE LEGEND'S BEGINNING by Fushigi Kismet Jed Raven, Zephyr Mist, November Light, and Kenneth Knight were lounging around the living room of the latter's apartment. They had already gone over recent developments and most of them didn't like the trend events were taking one little bit. "Now what?" Jed asked, breaking the silence, as he stared contemplatively at a wall upon which hung a painting, done by a little known artist, of five men in armor. The face of the man in the center was heavily shadowed. Kenneth sighed. "Now we wait . . . plan for the worst . . . and hope for the best." The Four Who Wait aka And Dream . . . A voice called out to him in the mist. He ran towards it, not knowing where to go or what to do, only that he had to reach that voice . . . he *had* to . . . before . . . before . . . The alarm rang shrilly at his ear and Mamo Darien bolted upright in bed. Glaring at the clock radio, he had half a mind to smash it before he realized that he was running late for work. With a groan, he hopped out of bed and began dressing. Usa Serena snapped awake abruptly, glaring at her alarm . . . before she realized that it wasn't on. She shivered a little, pulling her sheets closer about her body. What had woken her? She has been dreaming . . . She had been calling out to someone and he - He? - had been running towards her . . . She had almost been able to see his face when . . . She had woken up. Strangely disturbed by the overly abrupt end to her nocturnal wanderings, Serena tossed aside her sheets and got up out of bed. There was no fighting it . . . It was just going to be one of those days. Usa Kevin, Elaine, and Sammy poked their heads around the kitchen doorway, staring wide-eyed at the sight in front of them. "Ohayo!" Serena said, setting out the places at the breakfast table. Elaine noticed with some trepidation that her daughter was making use of the stove to cook what looked like pancakes, bacon, and eggs. "Serena . . . You're cooking breakfast?" "Hai!" the blonde teenager replied, pouring hot coffee into her parents' mugs, then putting away the orange juice. "I decided that I wanted something more than cold cereal." She smiled. "Serena, you *do* realize that it's eight-thirty in the morning on a SUNDAY, don't you?" her father asked, a little frightened by his daughter's uncharacteristic behavior. "Yes, why are the three of you looking at me like that? It's not like I've never gotten up early before!" "Yes, it is!" Sammy exclaimed, walking into the kitchen and sitting down at his place at the table. "Oh, I guess you don't want any breakfast then?" "Hey! I never said that . . . I think it's great that you're improving yourself!" Sammy said immediately, the smell of bacon making his mouth water. "Why thank you, Samuel," Serena said, hiding a smile as she passed him his plate. He gave her a sour look for the use of his full name, but it instantly turned into a smile as he chewed happily on a forkful of bacon. "Hey, this ish weelly good, Sewena!" "Don't chew with your mouth open," she said absently. Her mother stared at her before walking over and placing a hand on her forehead. "Honey, are you all right?" "I'm just fine," she snapped back irritated. "What is *wrong* with you people?!" "Well, no fever," her mother said slowly. "Would you sit down and eat?" Serena demanded, gesturing to her parents to sit down. Her mother seated herself, and her father walked over and did the same. "Mmmm, looks good, honey," her mother said cautiously. After all, whenever Serena's cooking looked like it had turned out well . . . was usually when they knew to call the Poison Center. "Tastes great!" Sammy said, stuffing three pancakes in his mouth at once. "Sammy, you'll choke!" his mother said, alarmed. "A little moderation, son," his father said. "Can I have seconds?" Sammy asked as he finished his stack of pancakes. "O . . . Okay!" Serena said, beaming from ear to ear as she took Sammy's plate. It had been a long time since she had cooked anything edible and she was rather proud of herself. Her father took a bite and his face changed from a nervous one to a happy one. "Me too!" Hearing the praises of her husband and son, Tsukino Elaine finally ventured to take a nibble at a pancake. "Oh, this is very good, Serena!" Her daughter smiled even more, filling up Sammy's plate with more pancakes. "Whoever marries you is going to be one lucky guy," her father said absently. The plate clattered to the ground, the food spilling out all over the place. "Aw man, my breakfast!" Sammy whined. Immediately Serena was on her knees, cleaning up the mess. "Gomen, gomen nasai! I'll get it all cleaned up! It won't be a sec! Then you can have your seconds, Sammy." "Just leave it to buns-for-brains there to mess everything up after it was going so well." Sammy rolled his eyes. "Sammy!" his father reprimanded him. "Apologize to your sister!" Elaine started getting to her feet. "I'll help, Serena." "N-No, Mom!" Serena said. "You stay right there and eat your breakfast! I'll clean this up in a jiffy, okay?" Elaine sunk back down onto her chair. "All right, dear." "Gomen . . ." Sammy said sullenly, his father glaring at him. "Daijobu," Serena said in a tiny voice, suddenly finding herself fighting tears. Elaine looked at her daughter thoughtfully for a moment before turning back to her excellent breakfast. Raye's eyes snapped open in the darkness. For an instant a wave of disorientation overcame her. Where was she? This was not her room in the palace . . . In the palace . . . Recognition flooded back and with it a strange aftertaste of terror and sorrow. This was her home. This was the shrine where she had lived with her grandfather since she was five years old. Since . . . her mother had died, and her father had made it known that he would not be burdened with her care. She stared blankly at her wall, remembering . . . "Daddy . . . Daddy, don't leave me! Don't you love me? Daddy!" He whirled about to look at the little girl he was roughly dragging by the arm up the steps to the shrine. "How could I ever love someone like you? You're too willful - nothing like your mother! Kami-sama, how could she do this to me?! How could she die and leave me with a brat like you to look after?! The elections are in three weeks!" "You don't love me. Do you, Daddy?" she murmured quietly, woodenly, her cheeks streaked with tears. "Did you love Mommy? Do you care that she's dead?" Suddenly something grew hard inside of her and she knew that she hated him. Hated him for what he had done to her mother, for what he was doing to her. "You killed her! You killed her! You left her to die! When she was sick you wouldn't even look at her! I hate you! I HATE YOU!!!" "URUSAI!!!!!" he screamed, slapping her across the face. Her head snapped back but still she glared up at him defiantly, using her inheritance from him - his own fierce temper and strong will - to keep from crying or from touching the stinging red mark that the blow had left upon her face. She was biting her lip so hard that her mouth filled with the taste of blood. "I hate you," she whispered. "You aren't a man! You always run away . . . from everything!" His face grew redder and he growled before turning around, yanking her quickly, far too quickly - her feet caught on the stairs and she stumbled repeatedly, skinning her knees - up the last few steps. "FATHER-IN-LAW!!!" he yelled as he came to the top and the little old man came rushing out. When he saw Raye his eyes narrowed and he strode forward quickly, angry at the father who would treat his only child of a dead wife so cruelly. Raye's father shoved the girl at him and spat out, "She's yours now, old man. I took your daughter and she died, leaving me nothing but this baggage. I'll thank you to take it back." Raye's grandfather caught the stumbling girl and looked down at her anguished face resolutely battling against the desire to cry. "You wish me to raise this girl, daughter of your own flesh and blood?!" the priest demanded, looking up. His anger was palpable. "She is none of mine," the father replied. "I relinquish her to you." "And this will not affect your *political* career any? The man who refuses to acknowledge his own daughter? That of his departed wife?" "I cannot raise her. I am not suited. Here she will receive adequate care and training, and perhaps she will become a priestess in time. Who could fault me?" "I could," the old man replied. "But I cannot fault your words. Indeed, she will do better here than with you." "Then you will take her?" "How could I refuse the child of the daughter of my flesh?" Raye's father nodded then looked at the girl. "Sayonara, Raye." She did not look at him, carefully keeping her face buried in her grandfather's robes. Her father looked at her an instant longer than left. When he was gone, her grandfather pulled her gently away and said, looking into her face, "You can cry now," whereupon she burst into a fresh flood of tears and cried and cried until her soul felt empty but for the pain that swallowed her up inside. Little Raye sat on the curb in front of the Hikawa Shrine. She stared down at her shoes. The two crows she had befriended stared at her shoes as well. They were the traditional sandals of a miko. In fact, Raye was dressed from head to toe in the traditional red and white robes of a miko. She sighed, kicking at the asphalt. She loved her grandfather and she loved the shrine . . . what she didn't love were all the rituals and restrictions placed upon her. She didn't much like the Catholic school her father had enrolled her in either. The nuns were too strict and what was the point of a *Shinto* girl attending a *Catholic* school anyway? She and her grandfather had puzzled over it for an afternoon before her grandfather had finally said, "There are many kamis" then told her to go out and play. Raye frowned. And then there was the Sacred Fire. Oji-san had made it her job to tend to it, which she didn't mind . . . but sometimes it seemed to speak to her and that she found a little creepy. Sometimes it showed her things . . . images of future events. It had shown her Phobos and Deimos arriving in the fierce storm last week a month before the storm had occurred. A woman had come to the shrine yesterday asking for spiritual help in finding her lost daughter . . . Raye had been looking at the fire at the time and had been assailed by a vision. It hadn't been a pretty one. The girl had been tied up and left in an empty warehouse. She had told her grandfather who then told the woman who proceeded to go into hysterics before calling her husband, the Chief of Police. He had sent out several squad cars to check all the abandoned warehouses in town and they had found the kidnapper in the process of tying up the girl. He had been arrested and the police had come around the shrine asking intrusive questions. Raye knew that they were asking about her. She had heard her grandfather yelling loudly, "Leave her alone, can't you?! Her sight is simply a gift from the Kamis!" The mother of the girl had put a restraining hand on her husband's arm and said, "Let's just give thanks that his little girl knew how to find ours and leave them be." The chief had grumbled, apparently not that religious a man, and had called off his officers and left. The incident had troubled Raye greatly. Her visions frightened her. She didn't want to see the terrible things they showed her. A tear trailed down her cheek. She didn't want to be here. The other children had learned about her "power" as they called it, and they were all frightened of her. She missed being at home with her friends Seira and Ruriko. But she didn't really miss them either, because they had simply been daughters of her father's friends and their main sources of enjoyment were pretend tea parties and acting like socialites. That and TV. And Raye didn't like TVs. She had been watching the one at home when it had exploded and her father had come and struck her across the face until her nose bled. She hated TV. She hated her father. "Daijobu?" a hesitant voice asked. Raye's head whipped up and she stared at the person addressing her. It was a boy about three years older than her with dark black hair and ocean blue eyes. He was looking at her with concern. Raye thought to herself in bewildered amazement. "Daijobu?" he asked again. Raye smiled. "Daijobu." He looked at her and smiled back, holding out his hand. "I'm Mamo Darien." She took it. "I'm Hino Raye." "Wanna be friends?" "Sure!" She looked at him with wondering eyes. A real friend . . . "Wanna come in for tea? We have chocolate cupcakes!" "Yum!" he said, looking at her. "I love chocolate." "Me, too. Come one, let's go eat some! We've got lots!" "Do you live here with your Mom and Dad?" he asked her hesitantly. "No, with my grandpa." She paused a moment before saying, "My mom's dead and my dad doesn't want me anymore." He looked at her carefully before saying. "My parents are dead, too." "Then where do you live?" she asked. "At the orphanage." His eyes glowed a dark blue as he whispered to her, "Well, I *used* to live at the orphanage . . . I'm running away!" "Running away?!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide and her mouth open in an "o" of amazement. "Can I come with you?" "Nani? Why'd anyone want to run away from chocolate cupcakes?" Raye stared at him for an instant before bursting into a fit of giggles. Oh . . . It felt good to laugh! Darien stayed with them at the shrine for three weeks. Raye had done her part in convincing her grandfather, and Darien's good manners and willingness to help out around the shrine had done the rest. The old priest was forced to admit privately to himself after the first few days that Raye had been much more cheerful and a great deal happier since he had arrived. It made him realize that Raye was lonely. Even though Darien refused to disclose which orphanage he had come from, Raye's grandfather had made a few discreet inquiries of his own, and the state of the place he finally found left him more determined than ever that Darien should never have to return. He and Raye were more than willing to house the boy for as long as needed. However, at the end of three weeks Darien felt obliged to go. Raye and her grandfather worriedly allowed him to leave, expecting him back within the week. When he did come back, two weeks had elapsed and he informed them that he had landed his first job and was working steadily. He had rented a small room above a florist shop. He had even enrolled in school. It was then that they knew he would be all right. And when he promised to visit her every week, Raye knew that she too could make the most of her life. She tried. She really did. But it seemed that good intentions didn't usually work out in the long run. Perhaps it was a mixture of her father and Kaidou-san's influence that began making her miserable again. She remembered meeting Kaidou on her eleventh birthday. Her father had introduced him as, "My assistant, Kaidou-san. He visited the house several times before when you were younger, but you probably don't remember him. He will be your escort today." "Today is my *birthday*!" she had protested, enraged that he was foregoing his duty to her once again. "I know. But I also have several important political meetings to attend today, so I had to readjust my priorities. You're a politician's daughter, Raye. You should take the situation with good grace and a smile." She looked away from his cold eyes and turned to the young assistant, taking his proffered arm. "Shall we then?" He nodded. She hated him. Hated everything that he represented. Hated all that he was and wanted to become . . . by following in her father's footsteps. She hated him with an intensity that almost overcame her hatred for her father. When did that hatred turn into love? He came every year in place of her father. She never saw her father, only Kaidou. For holidays, scheduled "appointments," and of course . . . birthdays. In time, she learned to tolerate his presence and make his arrival an excuse to go shopping with the money her father sent with him. His quiet courtesy and seemingly genuine concern for her well-being and happiness little by little softened her feelings towards him. They went to a political ball together when she was twelve, but instead of him walking *her* home, she found their situation to be exactly the opposite. Dismayed by a failed bill, Kaidou had drunk a bit too much of the other political party's congratulatory champagne, and Raye found herself burdened with the task of seeing him home. "I guess," he slurred, unhappily, "I'm just not cut out to be a politician. I haven't enough drive to be able to hurt the people close to me to get what I want. I'm a washout." "You're intoxicated," Raye said, unlocking his door and helping him inside. He shut the door behind them with a bang and she turned around, startled. "You're what's intoxicating, Raye," he told her, pushing her against the wall, his hand touching her face. "K-Kaidou-san," she stammered, flushing. "You don't know what you're saying. Don't say anything you're going to regret in the morning." "I'm not going to regret any of this in the morning," he said, watching her intensely. "You're shaking, Raye. Don't be afraid of me. I'm not going to hurt you. I'll never hurt you." "You're drunk," she whispered, "and horribly disappointed. You're going to regret this." "Why would I? Now, I can finally tell you how I feel." "How you feel?" "I've wanted you for a long time," he said. "You're a beautiful girl, Raye. Aren't you aware of it?" "Iie," she whispered. "I'm not beautiful. I'm nothing. I'm worthless." "That's your father speaking," he snarled, almost savagely. "But he's becoming aware of just how beautiful you are. Would it surprise you that he's already thinking of ways to use you in his politics?" "Iie, it wouldn't." "I'm not like him, Raye. I would never want to use you." "Why?" she asked him, frightened by the look in his brown eyes. "Because I love you," he responded, kissing her forcefully, his hands pulling her into his arms. She found that her arms were around his neck and that she was clinging to him as though her life depended on it. When he finally pulled away, her lashes were wet with tears. "Why do you love me?" "Because you're everything that your father and I are not. You're pure and uncorrupted. You're beautiful, Raye." Looking into his eyes, she could believe it. They met many times that year in secret, going out on dates and spending time together. His kisses were marks of his possession of her, rather than of his regard for her, but she never realized it until much later. Darien worried over her a great deal, because while Raye promised him that she wouldn't do anything rash or allow her relationship with Kaidou to become too physical too quickly, there was something about Kaidou that he didn't like . . . didn't approve of. Perhaps it was the glint in his eyes as he saw Raye, a coldness in his personality, the cool way in which he treated Darien, or perhaps it was more fundamentally simple than that. Perhaps it was the way in which Raye blindly followed him without regard for the consequences. was the thought that plagued Darien day and night, The way in which he broke Raye's heart made it all the worse. She had hurried towards the spot for their date today, her heart thudding in her chest. She had dressed up that day for him in the new dress he had bought her, and she wondered how he would like it. Arriving at their meeting place her eyes lit upon a tall figure. Not Kaidou, but her father. "Otou-san!" she had said, shocked by his presence there. Seeing her, he strode over quickly and tightly grabbed her arm, pulling her over to a nearby bench and forcing her to sit down. "Kaidou-san will not be meeting you today," he said, sitting down himself. "You . . . know?" she asked apprehensively. "Of course I know," he said with a harsh laugh. "That damned fool." "He's not a fool!" Raye protested. "Don't call him that!" Her father turned to look at her. "Perhaps you won't think the same way after I tell you where he is right now." He waited for her to settle down before speaking. "He's with his new fiancee shopping for wedding clothes." "You're lying," Raye said, tears springing to her eyes. "He's not! He's-" "He *is*. His new fiancee is a very beautiful and well-bred young lady. The daughter of the head of the Democratic Liberal Party.* Is it any wonder he chose her over you? With this marriage . . . he will have a shining political future." "But he and I-" "So you still think that he loves you? He made a deal with me the other day . . . If I could use my influence to get the head of the DLP to accept his daughter's engagement with Kaidou, then Kaidou would not inform the public of his relationship with *you*. Of the defilement of *my* underage daughter. It would be enough to ruin both our careers, but for him it was a calculated risk. And it paid off nicely." "But we never . . . We didn't . . ." He laughed again, unpleasantly. "Does the truth matter in cases such as these? I didn't train him to be an idiot, after all. Kaidou is a politician. You're a politician's daughter. It's time to be aware of that." She saw Kaidou only once after that. He came to Hikawa Jinja the morning of his wedding day and asked to see her. She obliged him, but her eyes were cool and the atmosphere of the room was frigid. "I guess you are fit to be a politician . . . after all." He had only one thing to say to her. "There was a time . . . when I really did love you." "Never come here again," she said quietly. "Never see me again." "Hai," he said shortly. "Good-bye, Raye." When he had gone, she burst into tears. Later, she would take refuge in Darien's arms, but that day she was all alone with her heartache. It was her thirteenth birthday. So ended that chapter in her life. Ended as many things did. Quietly, painfully, without a struggle. Raye dressed quickly. As she slid open her door, sunlight streamed into her room. She took a deep breath and stepped outside. Rill languidly stepped out of bed, allowing the sheet to fall from her body. She stood, admiring her naked figure in the mirror for a moment. Then she turned to look at her unconscious bedmate and licked her lips in remembrance. Yes, indeed, he had done very nicely last night. She did so *hate* to sleep alone. Of course, she would have no need of him tonight, but last night had certainly been adequate for her needs. And after she had sated her more primal needs she had sucked his energy nearly dry. She wouldn't have nearly enough energy for her needs if she didn't resort to such methods. And truth to be told, she did rather enjoy watching the faces of her victims as she drew the energy from their bodies. She picked up an article of clothing from where she had dropped it on the floor in her haste last night and proceeded to dress. While she usually dumped the bodies in a dumpster, this one had done so well she had even spared his life. It would be a shame to waste him. Perhaps she would only leave him in an alley and seek him out in a few months when she felt like tasting his energy again. After she had sated her appetite by trying a wide variety of others, of course. She sat down on her bed and raked her long nails across his bare chest, licking the blood on her fingers. Hmmm . . . yes, an alley it was. That was enough pleasure for now. Time to work. Time to kill. Zephyr sighed, slumped against the couch on the floor, the phone to his ear. "I'm *fine*, Mom. And you?" Pause. "That's good . . . I'm glad you're all right now." Hesitation. "He's not . . . treating you badly is he?" Pause. "Yeah, I know he's still my "father."" Pause. "Just take care of yourself, okay, Mom?" Shock. "Wha-What do you mean I must've met someone?! That's ridiculous . . . That's preposterous . . . That's . . . downright absurd!" Pause. "Yeah, okay, I'll send her your love." He smiled, his eyes closed, his face at peace. "Do I love her? Well, you're still my girl, Mom. Always." Laughter. "No, I won't let that stand in my way." Tense silence. "Is that him coming?" Hurriedly: "Better not let him catch you!" Pause. "Yeah, I love you, too, Mom." Click. Zephyr sat for a long time, staring out at nothing before he looked up and over to where Kenneth was standing in the doorway. "Hey." "Hey." Kenneth looked at him, worry crossing his face. "Things okay at home?" "Yeah. Mom just found a new job and *he's* actually treating her decently." "Good news." "I can't help but worry, though." "Of course." "You know, she asked me to be as happy as I possibly could. Because she wanted that much for me." "You have a wonderful mother." "Yeah, and an asshole for a stepfather." "Things like that can't be helped," Kenneth murmured. "You don't pick your relatives, after all." "No, I guess not. I suppose you know." Kenneth grimaced. "Let's not get into that." A moment, then: "So . . . Who did you meet?" Zephyr snatched a pillow off of the sofa and flung it into Kenneth's face. "And there you have the only answer you're going to get from me!" Kenneth peeled the pillow off of his face before flinging it back at his friend and diving at him, grabbing another pillow off the couch as he went and whapping Zephyr upside the head with it. Zeph grabbed the bowl of potato chips on the table and emptied it on Kenneth's head. Keth grabbed a can of soda, shook it up and opened it so it sprayed out in a foamy gush of caffinated liquid right into Zephyr's face. "Oh, I'm gonna *get* you for that!" the dripping blonde growled. "Oh yeah? You and what army?!" Keth demanded, running a hand through his potato chip studded hair. Nev walked into the room, took one look, and walked out. "I don't even want to know." Keth and Zeph exchanged a look and Nev suddenly found a barrage of pillows striking him from behind. "Oh, that was a low blow!" When Jed walked into the apartment half an hour later he found Nev using the overturned couch as a barricade, Keth concealed behind the coffee table, and Zeph using the three potted plants by the doorway to the next room as cover. All of them were flinging food and pillows at one another. Zeph had somehow managed to procure a few water balloons as well and was flinging them about at whatever moved. All three were yelling at each other and paying no attention to him. He took that opportunity to try and quietly sneak out. A water balloon exploding between his shoulder blades drove the notion out of his mind completely as he whirled around with a berserker cry of rage and grabbing the nearest supplies, Nev's bowl of pretzels, began attacking at large. Downstairs . . . A geneticist shook his head as he looked over at his fellow scientist. "I don't even want to know what the boss is up to . . ." His companion nodded his head sagely as another burst of yelling from upstairs punctuated the relative quiet of the lab. "That's best. I've learned in this business that if there's one thing you never do . . . It's wonder about your boss's business. It leads to more trouble than it's worth." His friend smiled. "Come on . . . He's seventeen years old! How much can a kid like that have to hide, Chris?" "Oh, I don't know," his friend muttered under his breath. "About as much as I do." Two hours later, fully depleted of supplies and *starving* for something to eat that wasn't strewn across the floor, splattered against the walls, permanently staining their clothing, or nested in their hair, the boys decided on a cease-fire . . . to take stock of their situation and clean themselves up a little. "Tell me, Zeph," Jasper said, staring at his shirt, "does marshmallow wash out?" "Why're you asking *me*?! It's not like *I'm* the clothing expert around here. Why don't you ask Nev?" "Huh? *ME*?!" "But can't you . . . you know, analyze it with your computer or something?" "Oh ho, so you're actually *volunteering* for once?!" "N-No! That's not what I meant . . . and you know it!" "Darn," Zeph said, snapping his fingers. "Shouldn't have said anything . . . Nev-" "I *don't* think so!" The three of them stared at one another for a long moment, then burst into laughter. All the tensions that had floated like a cloud over their heads these past few months had - well, not vanished, at least not completely - but had certainly been eased. They found themselves to be, once more, high school boys. Ones with an important, life-altering mission to perform, but teenage boys nonetheless. "This isn't the time to be laughing," Kenneth said sternly. "We have important duties to perform." "We know!" they chorused. "Do we have any of the rootbeer bombs left?" Zephyr hissed to Jed under his breath. "No . . . I think Nev used the last of them." "So what do you have planned for us to do, today?" November asked, ignoring all the chatter behind him. "The most important thing of all," Keth said gravely. "And that is?" Zeph said, smirking. "We've got to go grocery shopping." The three boys face-faulted. "Say what?" Zeph demanded, picking himself up off the floor. "You heard me," Keth said, and this time they could all hear the joking edge in his voice, "you've used up all my supplies. We've got to restock or else how are we going to fight properly next time?" Jed laughed. "Sounds good to me. How 'bout we get some lunch while we're at it?" "I'm in!" Zeph and Nev chimed in. "Okay, Nev pays!" Jed winked. "Hey! Why me?!" "Because you were definitely the *loser* in that battle! All your attacks were *soooo* weak!" "Like how?! Your retaliatory attacks were pathetic!" "I'm afraid I'll have to agree with Jed on this one," Zeph said, nodding his head sagely. "Nani?! Why?!" "Because your battle cry was the lamest thing I've ever heard! "You shall feel my wrath!"? Come on!" "Hey, hey, I didn't hear *you* come up with anything horribly original either!" Kenneth sweatdropped as he herded the three quarreling boys out of his apartment. "Come on, come on . . . play nice!" He sighed as he ushered them down the hallway, sparing a pitying glance for his ruined quarters and furniture as he closed the door. "I agree!" he said suddenly. "Nev pays for lunch!" "WHAT?! But . . . but . . ." Jed and Zeph laughed at the bewildered protests as Keth smiled to himself. Leaning against the wall on one side of the door, the blonde- haired, blue-eyed member of the Guardians wondered how it was that he had been the one picked to watch the parking meter. Lifting his eyes from the silent, metal sentinel, he sighed. His gaze flickered across the street as his ears picked up the jangling sound of the bell above a cafe door. A slim figure stepped out, and his heart nearly stopped beating. She was the very image of a dream he had had not so very long ago. A dream that he always kept very close to his heart. The Goddess in his memories seemed to smile a bit. "Who *is* she . . . ?" Jed breathed to himself, staring at the dark-haired girl moving with unconscious grace across the street. "Aw, is Jed smitten with someone?" a teasing voice impinged upon his thoughts, and someone draped his arm over Jed's shoulders. "No," Jed growled in response, pulling away. "Hey, who does Jed like?" another voice asked. Zephyr walked out of the store with a bag full of groceries. "Some *little* girl," November responded with a laugh.