Hello, all ye fans!
 Oh wow, it's been AWHILE since I wrote.  Sorry about
that, but I could never seem to slide in enough time to
work on the series.  And then finals came along.  But,
here ya go!
 This set of DISCLAIMERS is actually pretty long, so
if you want to skip to the story, be my guest.
 A. This is a SERIES.  Begin with "Stranded" and
    go from there.  Otherwise, the next coupla 
    parts MAY NOT make sense.
 B. I babbled on last time about the time thing, but
    forgot to mention that I went MODERN here.  Yes, 
    it's true, we DID leave the Silver Millenium.  
    The time frame is about SMR, and the place is 
    definately NOT Japan.
 C. I don't speak Japanese, and I won't pretend to
    here.  Half the time, I don't speak good Spanish! 
    (Thank you, person-who-is-NOT-DAISY, for pointing
     out my error.)  Therefore, the stuff in | | is 
    supposed to symbolize Japanese speaking, even if
    it doesn't exist in the language.  I claim Creative
    License! 
 D. I have found that I needed to modify my original 
    outline, so please excuse any bad writing.  It 
    will fade as I make the corrections.
 E. Oh yea....none of this Sailor Moon stuff belongs to
    me.  The story conception came from lady's "Soul Mates" 
    Centurus's "Generals..." and the 4lovers.jpg on this
    site.
E2. If you have actually taken a LOOK at that .jpg, I have
    cool news.  I have the whole pic on my computer, in B&W,
    and its REALLY beautiful. Perhaps I will send it to you,
    if you mail me.
 That's about it, except that for all those flames/comments/
 suggestions should be directed at jkc1984@niia.net.  And you
 should go read all of LIANNE's stories right after this.  And
 compliment her, too.

             The Four Lovers: Interim
                    CHAPTER ONE
                  Coming Together
 "You're sure you'll be fine going in today, 
Dulce?" 
 Kevin nearly flinched; his mom had yet to 
stop calling him that RIDICULOUS Spanish 
name.  After all, she barely knew any Spanish 
at all--well, only the words that helped you 
get by when you had a foreign lady in the 
Jewelry store, or the ones that she wouldn't 
teach to him, despite his age.  Yet ever 
since he'd been young, she'd taken to calling 
him that, and it just bugged him.  Bugged 
him, bugged him, BUGGED HIM!   
 <Get back on track, Kev,> his mind warned, 
and he turned to his mother and nodded.  "I'm 
sure I'm not the only kid who has ever 
started school on a Thursday, Mom.  In fact, 
we used to do it all the time."
 She smiled a brief smile, but a hint of 
worry still lay in her eyes, and to reassure 
her, he said, "I'll be fine, Mom.  You'll 
leave instructions for dinner, right?" 
 It was her turn to nod, her blue-grey eyes 
still worried.  "See you tonight," she said, 
standing back as he turned on the car.  With 
a wave, he threw it in reverse and pulled out 
of the driveway.
 He reviewed the facts about himself and his 
"situation" as began his drive to school.  He 
was Kevin Greystone, formerly of Chicago, now 
a resident of Algo, Oregon due to the loving 
breakup of his mother and father.  He was 
seventeen years old, and often defined as a 
"loner" by his friends back home.  Not to say 
that he didn't have friends; he had plenty of 
them, for their was something about his 
smooth manner, threaded with sarcasm and 
smarts.  
 <Maybe its because you look funny,> he 
thought glibly to himself.  He had, up until 
about six months ago, been a light blond, 
hair worn collar length and straight.  Then, 
suddenly, his hair seemed to rush out of his 
head, and grew quickly to touch his 
shoulders.  Not only that, but a wave of 
pale, pale, pale blond/white coloring swept 
his head, until there was nary a trace of his 
former color.  Also, his eyes seemed to like 
the color changing act; they turned a darker, 
steelier grey.
 <Maybe it's because your..MATURE,> another 
voice added, causing him to wonder when he 
started listening to the voices in his head.  
Though, really, it was right--he had matured.  
So much so that natural leadership skills had 
budded, and instead of his usual flustered 
way of solving problems, he found himself 
looking at them cooly, logically.  Actually, 
it wasn't so much odd--he'd always had a 
detatched way of looking at things--so much 
as the SPEED.  It zipped on him with almost 
no warning; soon, he became the one to turn 
to, his cooly logical head producing the 
answer.
 <Maybe it was because you can speak 
Japanese.>
 Ahh, now there was something.  Despite his 
mother's feeble Spanish and his father's 
proficency for no language but English, he'd 
somehow HAD this knack to pick up Japanese.  
When he'd been in fifth grade, there'd been 
lessons given, and as a gag he took them.  
And was entranced.  By the time high school 
came around, he was way ahead of his first 
year class.  WAY ahead.  He liked to think of 
himself as near fluent (speaking) now, though 
he knew there was a lot he had to learn.  It 
was one of the very few things he prided 
himself in, and all his friends knew his 
abilities.  They all wanted to know Japanese 
cuss words as well; he taught them some 
simple insults, and got himself in a fair 
amount of trouble.  From then on, he decided 
that he wasn't going to talk about his 
proficency.
 He was about to ruminate more when he pulled 
up to school.  He shut off the car, stuck his 
keys in his pocket, and checked over his bag.  
Summoning up his courage enough, he entered 
the building.
 <There's no one around...good,> he thought 
as he warily made his way to the Principal's 
office.  The night before he'd decided to 
delibrately go late to school so that he'd 
avoid all the office hubab there was in the 
mornings.  If this school was anything like 
the school back at home, he'd have finally 
gotten his schedule around, oh, the end of 
the day. And that just wouldn't do--better 
late than never.
 He opened the Main Office door and walked up 
to the desk, tapping softly on the metal 
bell.  A woman with short blond hair and red, 
red lips walked up, voice pleasantly asking, 
"Can I help you?" as an evil thought glared 
from her eyes.
 <Oh boy,> he thought.  "Yes," he said, 
endeavoring to keep his voice controlled, 
"I'm a new student, and I'm here to get my 
schedule."
 Her mouth pursed in distaste, but she said, 
"Right this way."
 Fifteen minutes and several nasty looks 
later, he was on his way.  He brushed off the 
offer of a map; he'd already memorized the 
school's schematic on the plane flight here.  
He had a remarkably good memory as well, and 
an eye for plans and detail; <Hmmm...with 
these skills and your ability to speak 
Japanese, you're planning to become what...a 
Japanese architect?> 
 <Oh shutup!> he protested as he put his bag 
away, grabbing two notebooks and his pens and 
checking his schedule.  Then his watch.  And 
then his schedule again.
 <3rd hour, Japanese,> he thought.  <Well, 
this is a good omen.>  He checked the room 
number--E219--then headed toward his class.
 He knocked politely, and was greeted by a 
heavyset, light skinned man with curly hair, 
glasses, and a look of death in his eyes.  
<HE TEACHES JAPANESE?> he managed to think as 
he introduced himself.
 "Ahhh...Mr. Greystone.  Transfer from 
Chicago?"
 "Yes, sir."
 "We might do well to make it on time to 
class, Mr. Greystone."
 A flicker of a smile touched his lips as he 
said, "Of course, sir."
 The man--who he now knew was Mr. Niendor, 
the teacher on his schedule--seemed a little 
shocked by his words/expression, and stood 
aside to let him into the class.  It was 
fairly crowded, now silent, thirty pairs of 
eyes turned to stare at the new visitor.  He 
noted that the class was mostly male, of the 
rough hewn, lower class type.  His guard 
instantly went up.
 "Take a seat, Mr. Greystone," he said, and 
obediantly Kevin headed back towards the only 
empty seats he could see.  He ignored his 
classmates as he went, putting on an air of 
aloofness--but they didn't ignore him.  Low 
whispers came to him:
 |Grey haired jerk.|
 |Look at the weirdo!|
 |Stupid, stuck-up idiot.|
 |Not ANOTHER one.|
 He fumed for a second, yet controlled 
himself and took his seat.  They thought that 
lowly of him, that they'd speak in the 
language of the CLASSROOM to CRITICIZE him?  
So, in return, he muttered, just loud enough 
for them to hear, |I understand you.|
 That shut them up, and quickly.
 The rest of the class breezed by; he was 
given a book and some workbooks (to do 
exercises out of), the teacher introduced 
some review grammer point, and set them to 
their work.  He finished easily, arranged his 
materials on his desk, and looked around.  He 
wasn't surprised to see some people glancing 
back at him, and he met their glances smugly.  
Some turned away in obvious surprise; some in 
embarrassment; but two caught his eye.  They 
didn't turn away when he met their gaze, but 
stared with a bit of surprise and--what was 
this?--relief?  One, a blond with close 
cropped hair, even smiled.
 <This is just odd,> he thought, checking his 
watch.  This period was almost over, and he 
checked his schedule to see if he'd have time 
to get back to his locker before heading onto 
his next class, Trig.  He surpressed a 
grimace, hoping this class wouldn't be as bad 
as the one back home.
 The bell rang a few minutes later, and he 
waited until the room was almost clear before 
walking out of the classroom himself.  He 
didn't want to get into a fight with those 
people he "understood" on his first day of 
school.
 Outside in the hall, someone touched his 
arm.
 "WHAT?" he asked, whirling in anger, then 
stopping in surprise.  It was the blond who'd 
smiled at him, next to a boy with a short, 
luxurious mane of auburn hair.  
 "My name is Jared Gold," the blond 
immediately said, offering his hand.  "And 
this is Nathan Marble."  The boy offered his 
hand.
 "Kevin Greystone," he replied, not sure 
where this was going.  At home, usually one 
introduced themself if they wanted to be a 
friend--but he didn't know.  Maybe Oregon 
honor demanded knowing the face of your 
attacker.
 "I was impressed that you caught the 'talk' 
today," Nathan said, his voice low and thick 
and melodic, catching him by surprise.  He 
didn't think that the brown eyed boy, who was 
rather slim, could produce such a voice.  
 "Thank you, I think," Kevin replied.
 Jared smiled.  "You were AWESOME!" he said.  
"The last new student to walk through that 
was intimidated, but you held your head up 
and talked back.  They are going to hate you 
for the rest of the school year."
 He couldn't help a smile; apparently Jared 
had a gift for turning a death sentance into 
a happy, cheery proclamation.  "Sounds 
wonderful," he said drily.
 Now Nathan grinned.  "Oh it is.  They hate 
Jared and I, and man, you should see what 
they try to do to you at lunch."
 "Speaking of lunch, what lunch do you have, 
Kevin Greystone?" Jared asked.
 He checked the schedule.  "B," he replied.  
 They both brightened; "Your lunch, too?" he 
asked.
 "Yep," Jared said.  He looked around, and 
sighed.  "Oh well, we're going to be late, 
but meet us by the front doors.  We'll take 
you out for lunch."
 He debated it a moment, looking serious, 
then said, "All right."  
 "Cool...see ya there, Kev," Jared smiled, 
and then the two boys walked off.  
 Kevin smiled to himself, and then took off 
the other way toward towards Trig, in a 
fairly decent mood.

*       *       *       *
 Kevin found that he enjoyed the lunch--the 
small lunch shop made a fair turkey sandwich, 
and they served scones, too!--but he enjoyed 
the company of his two classmates more.  The 
boys naturally found that they had quite a 
few common subjects, and all were rather well 
read in them.  Of course, there were 
differances, mostly personality, but it all 
seemed to make things click even easier.  
Kevin couldn't stand to sit with clones of 
himself, but Jared, with his personality like 
his last name, golden and shining in the sun, 
witty and fun, was nothing like him.  He and 
Nathan had more in common, being serious and 
all, but underneath his cool exterior, Nathan 
had bubblings of the same fun streak that 
Jared was composed of.  Upon comparing 
schedules, he found they only shared Japanese 
and English; how strange to be taking the 
languages together.  Yet there had to be a 
reason--if there was one thing that he and 
Nathan and Jared agreed about, it was that 
there was Reasons for these sorts of things, 
explanations beyond them, almost like Destiny 
had set them up.  He remembered their 
conversation in the cafe...
 /Jared looked pensive for once as he sipped 
his coffee, yet Nathan spoke up quickly.  
"It's not that we don't have free will," he 
near whispered, deep voice a tad hoarse, 
"just that some events are predestined.  
Think of it as knots along a string.  
Somewhere along that line, you're going to 
hit it." 
 "What about if you stray off the line?" 
 Now Jared smiled, and answered, "You'll hit 
another destined patch.  They wait for you 
wherever you go."/
 As they hung out more, they exchanged their 
lives as well.  Nathan was the son of a 
wealthy, wealthy man who had a keen mind and 
an instinct for business, something 
apparently inheirited by his son. His mother 
was a high class designer, 'high class' 
meaning she only designed her fabulous 
dresses for her friends. Jared (or Red, or 
Jade--he went by all three) lived alone with 
his mother and some cats, none of which were 
black--he stressed this vehemently.  When 
asked about it, he usually replied, "I just 
DON'T LIKE BLACK CATS!" in his most uncalm 
voice.  Neither of them had much family 
besides that, and didn't care for anymore.  
<And it's not like the three of us are 
spoiled,> Kevin thought, trying to 
rationalize why he wouldn't want a little 
sister or brother, <it's just that there's no 
more room in our lives.>
 About a week and a half into their 
friendship, the two sprang a surprise on 
them.  Nathan was driving them home (they'd 
agreed to carpool, especially after finding 
that their houses were close to each others) 
when he suddenly turned down a sidestreet 
close to Kevin's.  Kev watched his house 
disappear from sight, and then asked quietly, 
"Where are we going?"
 "To see Petal," Jared replied matter of 
factly.  
 "We haven't been by in awhile," Nathan 
confided.  "He's probably worried."
 "Who's Petal?" Kevin asked.
 The two exchanged looks, which made Kevin 
nervous (Nathan was driving, after all!), and 
then Jared flipped back, "We never mentioned 
Petal to you?"
 "Not that I recall," Kevin replied, wary.
 There was a moment of silence from the front 
seat, and then Jared started, "Petal, Nathan 
and I have been friends from childhood, and 
are all close.  Unfortunatly, Petal no longer 
attends school with us."
 "Why?" 
 "You'll have to meet him to see why," he 
replied, turning straight.  
 Mystified, Kevin sat back, wondering.  Why 
would this guy--Nathan had said "He's"--not 
attend school with the rest of them?  
<Perhaps he's not in good health,> he 
thought.  <Or maybe there's a religious 
reason for it.> He grinned.  <Maybe he just 
DOESN'T like school, like any normal teen.>
 Yet that didn't make sense, not with the 
calibar of student that Nathan and Jared 
were.  Not that they were uppity, or 
anything...
 His thoughts were stopped by Nathan 
wrenching the car into the driveway, and he 
slid, with a grimace, into the door.  He 
thought he saw Nathan grin at him, and his 
grimace deepened.  Nathan had to be one of 
the craziest drivers he knew--he liked speed, 
and tight corners, and all sorts of things 
that happened to drive Kevin partially nuts.  
And, worst of all, Nate KNEW it drove him 
nuts.
 They all got out of the car, and for a 
moment Kevin studied the bi-level house, 
which was a shade of pastel green that 
bordered between pretty and gross.  
Arrangements of evergreens and gravel lined 
the tan walkway up to the house, were Jared 
knocked softly on the door.
 In a moment, a blond woman with high 
cheekbones and hazel eyes appeared, looking 
nervous.  That changed, though, when she saw 
the boys.  "Nathan!" she exclaimed.  "Jared! 
It's good to see you!"  Her eyes glanced over 
him, and the corners of her mouth tightened.  
"Who's your friend?" she asked, politely as 
she could.  
 "This is Kevin Greystone," Nathan introduced 
quietly, a solemn fierceness in his voice.  
"He's just moved here."
 "Oh," said the woman, who Kev thought HAD to 
be Mrs. Petal.  "Well, come on in, boys.  
Zach's been asking about you two."
 Jared smiled as they stepped through.  "It 
has been a long time.  I'm sure he'll 
understand, though."
 She nodded, her eyes fiercly raking over 
Kevin's form when he went through the 
opening.  She nearly slammed the door shut 
behind him, and he winced.  He'd been hated 
instantly before, but there was some reason 
to that.  This, though...
 He slipped off his shoes and followed the 
boys silently down the stairs, turning right 
and taking a few steps into a doorway...and 
stopping.
 The room was all white, and nearly bare, 
except for a table, a bed, and naked bulb 
hanging from the ceiling.  The boy he 
presumed was Petal was sitting on the brown 
table, in sweats, head bent furiously over a 
book.  His hair was a sweet blond color, and 
hung in loose curls around his face, 
shielding that in shadow.  He didn't look up 
when they entered, though Kev figured he knew 
they were there.
 "Petal?" Jared said softly.
 "The hydronium ion is found..." he looked 
up, startled from that thought to see Jared.  
Now Kev could see his shining, gray-green 
eyes, and the pale skin stretched over his 
high cheekbones, taught enough to make him 
wince.  He noticed now the thin hand that 
held the book, and how baggy the sweats were, 
hanging off his body.
 <He is sick,> he thought, and incredible 
sympathy sprung up in him for the poor man.  
<But with what?> he wondered.
 "Jared, Nathan," Petal whispered.  "And a 
friend."  He managed a smile.  "Welcome to my 
humble room."
 "My name is Kevin Greystone," he said 
softly.  "It's nice to meet you, Petal."
 A dry chuckle surged in his throat.  
"Actually, my name is Zachary, but these 
two," and he shakily pointed at the boys, 
"don't like to call me that.  Too long for 
them, they say, but I think they just like 
Petal better." 
 "Not true, Petal.  That's what you told us 
to call you when we were little," Jared 
pointed out.  
 Petal's eyes glazed over, and his head 
dropped.  "So I did," he murmured to himself.  
Looking back up, he said, "My name is Zachary 
Petal, Kevin Greystone.  It's nice to meet 
you."  He paused for a moment, taking in air.  
"Yes, I am sick, though I couldn't tell you 
with what.  I've been this way for the last 
six months or so.  Which is why I haven't 
been at school."
 "Not that we haven't been keeping him 
updated," Jared said, stepping across the 
floor--which was a light wood, and covered in 
plastic--to hand him a slip of paper.  The 
boy looked at it and laughed, a sharp, dry 
cackle rising from his throat.  
 "What?" Nathan asked.
 Zach wiped a fake tear from his eye.  "I'm 
passed you in all of this!" he said.  "I just 
started acids today, and you guys are stuck 
back in formulas!"
 The two boys exchanged glances, and Nathan 
turned to Kevin.  "Petal's our class 
valedictorian, though he's home schooled 
right now.  No one can touch him--he's that 
smart," he whispered.  "Probably passes you 
in Japanese."
 <Really?> Kevin thought.  |You speak 
Japanese, sick one?| he called out.
 Petal blinked, then replied, |Of course.  
Who doesn't?|
 Kevin smiled, and Petal smiled back.  |Is 
that all?|
 |Nope, though I'm hardly as proficent in 
Spanish as I am in Japanese.| 
 The other two looked between them, and 
smiled.  |Are you two on friendly terms, 
then?| Jared asked.
 Kev started to answer, but it was Petal who 
opened his mouth first. |I would be honored 
to call Kevin Greystone my friend,| he said.
 "Funny, Petal's usually more finicky," 
Nathan murmured.
 |I heard that,| Petal called out.  He then 
trained his bright green-gray eyes on Kevin, 
and asked, |Well?|
 |Ditto,| Kevin replied.
 Petal stared for a moment, then laughed.  
Soon, all four of them had clustered around 
the boy on the desk, laughing and joking like 
best friends should.  And Kevin felt a peace, 
a contentedness, strike his heart, and he 
sighed with it, soaking up every moment of it 
he could.  For he knew that peace does not 
always last.