(Drum roll!) Hi! It's me again! Yes, I, the Elvenwarrior, the scholar, have returned! And not without a tale of daring, great fight scenes, and, of course, love of the purest kind. True Love. AND I got a lot of responses to Cinderella, so I'm hoping for responses on this one, as well. 
Disclaimer: I DON'T OWN SAILOR MOON, YOU LUNATICS! (^_^) LEAVE ME ALONE, OKAY? Frankly, I don't have the money (let's face it, I'm broke!) or the time to buy the characters, so I'm using them this way! Also, I'm using the name MacLeod because it sounds cool, and anyways, I'm a fan of Highlander. 
Okay, just one more thing, and then you get to READ my story! YIPPEE! This story is in several parts. It's called "Tales of Time" because it's going to follow our beloved duo (Serena and Darien) through their lives and incarnations. I also spelled Darien's name differently, just to add a small bit of flavor. Flames or praise, the e-mail is elven17@hotmail.com.
AND...On with the show!
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Tales of Time: Part One
Thief of Hearts-Chapter One
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A city far in the future, but it's not Crystal Tokyo. It seems like a quiet night in a city built of hard steel and cold glass. Right up to the sound of an alarm, the screech of tires, and the sound of rapid gunshots.
	A figure in black barreled down a street, whizzing past red lights on a sleek, black Ninja motorcycle. A dull-colored car followed behind it, gunshots streaming from it tinted windows.
	The helmeted figure glanced behind it, and swerved onto a main street, where cars zoomed.
	Several drivers yelled at the figure as it dodged in and out of traffic, past traffic lights, and, finally, past a pair of motorcycle police. Lights flashing, they took off after the figure.
	"Hey! Watch it!" a pedestrian crossing a walkway yelled as the Ninja roared by. He launched a loose chunk of granite after it, and caught the rider square on the left shoulder, making its weight transfer, causing the bike to tip and skid, it's rider trapped. 
	The motorcycle cops caught the rider before the dull-colored car did. They hauled it up, and yanked the angel-covered helmet off...
	Revealing long, blonde hair, and large blue eyes, seemingly innocent. But the mouth was thin in pain, and the black, short jacket was sticking to her shoulder where she'd been hit with the granite.
	"You've had quite a trip." One cop said. The girl looked at the scrapped-up Ninja.
	"Just wish it'd been longer." She said softly. The other cop pulled a satchel out of her saddlebags, and opened it. "Get out of there! That doesn't concern you!" she cried, trying to twist away from the first cop.
	"Hey, Ralph. Look at these sparklers." He said tot he other cop, pulling out a long string of diamonds. Ralph looked at the girl.
	"Where'd you get those, Serena?" he asked, almost shaking the familiar girl.
	The girl was well known with all the precincts in the city. She was Serena MacLeod, daughter of high-ranking officer who had been killed in the name of justice. She had, since her father's death, turned to thievery to help her mother and herself survive. She was noted for her bravery (she'd saved several other officers from death when she'd taken it upon herself to root out her father's killer, and killed him with a cold efficiency that scared most of the departments to hell.), and for her recklessness. 
Before her father's death, she'd been a great martial artist and dancer, making magical images appear from her movements, as if with magic. Her father, Reilly MacLeod, had always said that his daughter would be the next great performer, combining the beauty of both martial arts and dance. But he'd never lived to see that day, and Serena had never fulfilled the dream of his.
"They were withheld payment." She replied.
"Well, we're still going to have to take you in on reckless driving. Someone'll come by for your bike." Ralph said, handcuffing her.
"NO!" She started struggling. "No other police, please!"
"Sorry, Rena, but I have to." He said, locking the handcuffs to his bike.
"No! They'll find me!" she protested as Ralph guided the bike back to the precinct.

A lone figure stood in front of a window, gazing out on the once-quiet city. His black hair was relatively neat, but a little mused from raking his finger through it.
Dark blue eyes looked out from behind thin, gray glasses, and were worried with creases, which was normal for this man.
"Mr. O'Malley." A beep. The man turned from the window, and hit something on a table behind him. 
"Yes?" His voice was a rich, soft baritone, kind sounding. It matched the kindness hidden by the steel armor Darian O'Malley had fashioned long ago.
"We've located Serena MacLeod. She's being held at the 74th precinct for reckless driving." The voice on the other end said. His eyes suddenly flamed.
"You're sure?" he asked.
"Yes, sir. She was caught with the vast majority of your famous jewelry collection." 
"Finally. We've caught The Thief."

Serena blinked as the cell door swung open. Her stance changed from leaning against the wall, relaxed but alert, to tenseness anyone could sense. This was all ingrained from extreme training sessions with her martial arts instructor. Sessions she'd learned to appreciate for all they'd taught her.
"Serena MacLeod?" someone asked. 
"Yes?" She knew it would be the same questions, the same people asking them, as it was when she was first brought in.
"Who does the jewelry REALLY belong to?" 
"I told you. It belongs to me. It was reimbursement." A shadow appeared at the door, blocking the blinding glare of light.
"No, it doesn't. Darian O'Malley had come forward and claimed them as stolen from his private collection." Serena's face blanched at the sound of a name she hadn't heard in a very, very long time. Someone handcuffed her and read her her rights. 
She recalled the heist with alarming clarity. It had been sent her way from a miffed mistress, who had failed to inform her that the person she'd be stealing from would be the infamous Darian O'Malley, head of the largest international, multi-business, multi-million dollar company in the world. If the conceited lady had even bothered with dropping THAT name, Serena would've dropkicked the cow out of her apartment before she could've said her own name three times fast.
 It had been too easy, really. No high-tech security systems, no guards, nothing. The larger pieces had been under spots that Serena knew were alarms in themselves. Her first heist, she'd been caught because of one of those suckers. Now, she knew what they looked like, and steered clear of them. The smaller pieces were in simple glass cases, of which the glass could easily be slipped in and out of. Those, she'd taken.
"Do you want a lawyer?" someone asked, interrupting her thoughts. 
"No." She didn't need a lawyer. She heard this O'Malley mentioned too often in her crowd (and from her deceased father), it seemed. He'd take his "mistress-of-the-moment" jewelry (It was rumored that he had such a large collection, no mistress wore a previously worn piece.), and clear her of the charges. He hated the bad publicity. It was as simple as that. 
Serena was lead out of the airless room, and past busy desks. In holding cells, prostitutes and dealers waited to be processed.
She moved into the interrogating room, and stopped dead.
Suddenly, there he was, a face she'd only seen on newsstands and on magazine covers.
Ebony hair was falling in his face as he inspected the jewelry. Dark, blue eyes full of concern (for his belongings, she assumed), hidden behind thin-rimmed glasses. 
"Mr. O'Malley." An officer said. He turned, and Serena felt her breath catch.
He was drop-dead GORGEUOUS. Now, she could see why each mistress he took was envious of the next one to come. The next would get to gaze at his face in the morning. But she didn't see why the woman who had hired her would want to hurt this man, unless he had made some grievance against her, like he had unintentionally against Serena.
"Is this she?" he asked. Even his voice was beautiful. It was a rich baritone, soft and smooth as silk, designed to calm.
"Yes, sir."
"Could you leave us alone, please?" Nodding, the officer walked out, leaving Serena along and handcuffed to face the most powerful man in the world.
"You're very good. Reckless, but good." He said. He looked at her, his eyes pinning her to the where she stood. "Do you know the value of what you stole, girl?"
"Yes." He held up a necklace. "Pure gold with seven real diamonds, and twenty hundred rhinestones. Worth seven million, five thousand dollars. You got it for twenty thousand dollars." She peered at it, then corrected herself. "Eight real, pure diamonds. Nineteen hundred rhinestones." Her jeweler's eye was well known on the streets.
"Close. And this?" He held up a sparkling bracelet.
"Fake." She replied.
"How do you know?"
"It sparkles too brightly. Nothing natural does that. It's plaster. Antique, but plaster." He smiled at her.
"Very good." He placed the jewelry back in the bag, and handed it to an associate, previously unnoticed by Serena. "But I still must punish you for stealing from me." While he was saying that, he walked around her, sizing her up. 
Despite her height (or, rather, lack of it, she must've topped 5'5"), a sort of energy emanated from her body. She wore black army fatigues, minus the camouflage pattern, slim black boots, a black leather jacket that looked like it had survived having a bomb dropped on it, and, barely visible under the jacket, a black shirt.
Her long, blonde hair hung down her back to her ankles, pulled back into to meatballs, and large, blue eyes looked back at him.
"I won't tell you a lot, O'Malley." She replied. His eyes slitted. 
"You've got a lot of nerve for a thief."
"If I didn't, I wouldn't be a thief." Serena shifted uncomfortably in her handcuffs. "Just let me go, and I won't bother you."
"Unlikely. I must be repaid for what you've done." He said, getting closer to her. Serena jerked back in disgust at what she thought he meant, and Darian laughed, a low, deep chuckle. "Relax, meatball head." Her cuffed hands went to her odd hairstyle. "That's what I have mistresses for." 
Apparently, someone had given her a painkiller, because she suddenly winced, and lowered her hands.
"Are you alright?" he asked, now concerned.
"Yeah, fine. Couldn't be better. Always happens when someone chucks a piece of granite at me." She replied caustically.
"Guard!" The officer who had brought her in entered. Darian glared at him. "Remove the handcuffs."
"Mr. O'Malley, I'm not permitted-,"
"I said, remove them. This child can't hurt me." He ordered. The officer blanched, and quickly removed the cuffs. Just as quickly, Darian waved him out again.
"Are you sure I can't hurt you?" Serena asked, rubbing her wrists.
"Yes. You're hurt, and I have sufficient bodyguards." He replied easily.
"So you say. But I've only seen one so far." Darian studied her intently, then meticulously started straightening his black Armani jacket.
"Why do you lie?" he asked quietly.
"What?" This soft question surprised her. She hadn't expected him to be so blunt.
"Why do you lie? Who are you protecting?" He turned to face her, and Serena couldn't meet his dark blue eyes. "What made you crack my safe?"
"I DIDN'T crack your safe." She said.
"Of course you didn't." Sarcasm was thick in his voice. 
"You don't believe me. I knew you would. But I don't have the resources to crack a safe. ANY safe. Especially one like you have. I only took the jewelry. That I'll admit. I caught mobsters ransacking your safe. They were chasing me, and one caught me and threw me through a window. That's what set off the alarm." Serena said, removing her jacket carefully, revealing a black shirt lacerated from glass and soaked with blood. "My blood can't lie, O'Malley." 
He just stared at her. "My God." Serena smiled weakly.
"Do I get out now?" she asked. Darian just looked at her, and knocked on the door to be released.
"I'd have to think about that." he said smoothly. That didn't reassure her.

"Bastard." Serena muttered yet again as she was led to the main room in the station.
He was having her released, all right. But into HIS care! Right now, Serena had enough bravado to dance down New York's Broadway in the middle of rush hour naked, rather than being the care of the man who had, without realizing it, cost her father his life and her mother her job, not to mention her sanity, and later, her very life.
"I hope you realize what you're doing, Mr. O'Malley. This girl's got a rap sheet longer than both my legs, put together." The man at the desk said, pulling out a small manila folder with Serena's last name on it.
"I definitely know what I'm doing, Lieutenant. But thanks for the warning." Darian replied. He opened the folder, and pulled out a small red wallet. "Interesting. Never figured a girl like her to keep momentos." He opened it, and found himself looking at a picture of a man who was vaguely familiar to him. 
"Yeah, well, Serena's not what most people figure. That's Serena's da. He was killed in gang-turf war. Bravest man I ever saw. He would've given his life for Rena. After his death, Rena took to stealing. She's been in and out of most of the police stations and juvies in this city. Not that she's a bad kid. But she's has a pair of lightening hands that keep her in here." " The Lieutenant said. Darian flipped it to another picture, this time of a smiling woman who bore a remarkable resemblance to Serena. "That's her ma. She was a great lady. Cooked the best meatloaf this side of France. She was kind, kinder than a lot of the wives we get here, and I think some of that rubbed off on Serena. She's got a kind heart under all that armor." Darian smiled. This was a Serena he as going to have to meet someday. He flipped to another picture, this time of a small girl, her head adorned with two meatballs (guess who, folks!), standing in the middle of a group of girls. One had blonde hair, like Serena's, one had brown hair, one had black hair, as dark as Darian's, and one had blue hair. They were all smiling.
"Who're they?" Darian asked, showing the lieutenant the picture.
"My friends." Serena replied, coming up behind him. Darian jumped. "We don't move in the same circles now," she said to his questioning look. She turned to the lieutenant. "As I recall, my fingers also keep me alive, martin."
"Nice to see you alive, Rena. After what Ralph and Tommy told us, you might've been killed when your bike went down." Lieutenant Martin said.
"I'm still kinda roughed up, Martin. But I don't know about the Ninja. Sparks were flying when I went down." Serena said.
"For as long as I've known you, Serena, there are always sparks flying." Martin replied.
"Does she spark often?" Darian asked. Serena glared at him.
"Not as much as she used to."
"I only did that when I was little. Everyone grows up, O'Malley." She commented.
She was tenser than when he'd met her in the interrogation room, he realized. Even though her back was no doubt hurting her, all of the muscles in her body were drawn tight.
"If we're done here, then we'll leave, lieutenant." Darian said tightly.
"But-," Serena began.
Darian grabbed her unhandcuffed hands, her folder of things, and led to out to waiting limo.
He shoved her in, and sat beside her.
"Home, Clem." He ordered. Then he turned to Serena. "I'll bargain with you."
"With what? You've got me in a tight spot." She replied. She glanced around the limo. "We're on your turf now."
"Miss MacLeod-," Serena waved off the formality.
"Call me Serena. I prefer not using my last name." She said. >Too many memories. < Darian thought.
"Serena, you and I are in the same boat."
"How?"
"I still have a mistress to worry about. She's new, and won't appreciate me bringing home another girl." Serena's eyes widened, because she knew exactly what he was talking about now. 
"I'll be no man's whore. Too many girls I know get killed doing that." she replied.
"You could get killed doing what you're doing right now." Darian's midnight blue eyes sparked dangerously.
"At least I don't sell my body to sickos." Serena flared back. She backed into the seat, finding the best defensive position. Darian moved closer. 
"Allow me to sweeten the deal. I'll have your motorcycle fully repaired, and give you enough money to make it worth your while." He said, a dangerous glint in his eyes.
"There isn't anything you could give me that would make it worth my while, Mr. O'Malley." She replied, her eyes a calm blue sea. Her hand snaked behind her, and latched onto the door handle. "Let me go, and I'll be fine."
"What about your motorcycle?" he asked.
"I have connections." She tenses her body, even though it made the pain shoot through her body, and prepared to jump out of the limo.
"Clem! Stop!" Darian cried. The limo screeched to a halt. He yanked Serena away from the door, and said, "I will not let you go."
"Tough, O'Malley." She said. She slammed her foot into his stomach, and leapt out the door. 
She rolled into midday traffic, and stood to see a taxi honking at her as it barreled at her.
Serena froze for half an instant, then summoned all her strength, and leapt over the taxi (Little image of Luke Skywalker appears! ^_^)
Suddenly, two clear, sharp gunshots rang out, and Darian, watching from the limo, saw Serena fall to the ground.
"Serena!" he cried. He dashed out of the limo, and winced as his lungs refused to breathe. 
She'd seen the mobman when she'd jumped. She'd known that the gun he carried was for her. But the bullet didn't touch her.
"Thanks to her training, she developed lightening reflexes, and, somehow, (even though people will tell you it's physically impossible), she dodged the bullet.
The second bullet just barely skimmed her right leg, but the pain was too much for her mind to handle, considering she'd already gone through a window, had a piece of granite land on her back, and been trapped underneath a skidding motorcycle. When she landed, she did something she despised. Serena MacLeod fainted.