Phobia by Adamina

Disclaimer: I do not own sailormoon.

	*** ***

	She ran.
	How could she not? The world was against her, turning their 
backs on her, betraying her as if she were some inhuman life form that 
people feared and resented. They would howl at her in the most 
terrifying voices, throw objects at her cruelly and sneer, demanding 
that she return to wherever she came from. But she didn't know, she 
sobbed harshly. She didn't know anything. 
	Her hair, long and golden, was hidden in red acrylic paint, 
merging with blue and yellow and other various colors that she couldn't 
bare to think of. Her clothes were ripped and torn, splattered with 
food not a soul could distinguish, and her knees, arms, and hands were 
scraped badly from falling continuously on the ground as she ran away. 
Away from them. 
	Tears. She hated them more than she hated those who spit at her. 
How many times had she been told to suck them up and take the blow? 
Told that that tears were from the devil, weak and pitiful. Pathetic, 
she thought, just as she was. They were for wimps, worms, and abandoned 
children. None of which anyone wanted to be near, no matter what 
anybody said.
	But they kept coming. Like the rainfall that fell late last 
night, they drowned out her breath and covered her face like 
suffocating quilts. Layer by layer, they took her lungs with desperate 
cries, and draped over her body with racking humiliation. She'd clung 
to the last edge of the cliff she was teetering over, but her nails 
that dug into the stone and dirt were breaking, and her fingers were 
slipping, so slowly, and her hands couldn't -wouldn't- hold on any 
longer. She would fall soon. No doubt, she would die. 
	Everybody forgot her.
	Her body shifted to spin around the corner. Her elbow scraped 
the brick wall beside her. But she didn't feel the pain. Her body was 
numb of everything except the ache emanating from her soul, spreading 
like a plague to every inch of her body. It hurt, God it hurt! A sting 
that had no cure to calm it. Her hands clutched each other, rubbing up 
to her elbows until she was hugging herself for the only comfort she'd 
ever known, and couldn't need enough. There were no hugs at night, not 
for her. There were no kisses of love, no words of joy, no soothing 
voices to vanish all her worries and doubts. Instead there was a cold 
steel gate in front of her, refusing to let her get passed anything but 
tolerance. And even that was hard to accomplish.
	The already vile smelling substance on her shirt somehow 
strengthened, it’s scent moving over her and sealing her thoughts. Her 
parents, her only family, waved her away with but a word. Hard eyes, 
unfeeling voices, careless gestures -they were all for her. Was she a 
mistake? Oh no. Tsukino Usagi was too high in breed to be a mistake for 
Tsukino Kenji and Ikuko. She was a reward, instead, and was placed in 
front of everyone just like trophy to be admired for fine work and hard 
duty. Her life was rich with privileges and expectations.
	Oh, but Christ, what was a life where a five-year-old had to sit 
at the dinner table and recite the entire alphabet in French? To her, 
mistake and reward came in the same package. 
	Her toe found a crack in the sidewalk, caught, and tripped. She 
didn't bother to even fling her hands out and brace. Her jaw hit the 
cement hard. Pain exploded behind her eyes and for a moment she feared 
her jaw to be broken.
	The fear grew even greater when she realized she wouldn't have 
cared.
	She lay there a minute, not listening or looking, and wondered 
if it was worth it to stand again. Death looked to be such a rewarding 
experience from where she was, and she almost reached out as if to grab 
it. Her cheek was scraped hard, blood trickling down to stain the 
cement. Her uniform had the same crimson color from where she'd cut 
herself after being shoved into the utensils in the Biology Lab. The 
teacher was gone. The room was full. Faces of hatred flooded her sight.
	All she could think of was how her mother would react when she 
witnessed the horrible state that her expensive outfit was in. 
	Punishment would no doubt come in full swing.
	She pressed her forehead to the ground. A leg stepped over her, 
another just barely missed stepping on her hand. Neither missed a beat 
or hesitated to go on. She knew their thoughts well.
	A pesky disturbance lying on the ground. It was time to clean up 
the city.
	The dull ache, ever familiar, started spreading again. The 
numbness started fading, and faded fast, and what seemed like snake 
teeth bit hard into her as she attempted to stand. Her lips trembled 
open on a shaky breath, salty tears falling on the dry lips and burning 
them. And she whispered so absently, "H-help me?"
	But no one heard. Neither did she.
	Her hand, bloodied, pressed against the wall as she began to run 
once more. What had seemed like hours before was only twenty minutes 
when the last tomato was thrown at her. Classmates, people she'd known 
since junior years, despised her name and hissed whenever mentioned. 
Kicking at her as one might a wounded puppy, they ran her from the 
building with paint cans and food following her the entire way. For 
what reason? She couldn't say. She wasn't even sure that she wanted to 
know if it caused her that much more distress. 
	They demanded something from her. Her eyes squinted from the 
headache that nudged at her eyebrows, blinked at the red substance 
dripping off her eyebrows. What did they demand? What couldn't she 
give? She had it all, they said, and yet she couldn't give an inch. She 
owned the world, yet refused its earth. They accused her so bitingly, 
lashed out when she couldn't speak a word. She had no love, and didn't 
love. Her food was stale and her body just as fresh. She sucked in life 
and didn't live. Her silence spoke so many voices, and they threw it 
back at her ten times more. 
	She was their phobia.
	It was fate that had led her there, she knew. Even as it did, 
fate rejected her with ice and bared its teeth if ever she came near. 
Her sobs were stuck in her throat, crying to get out, and she just 
shook her head rapidly as she approached the cemetery. Her heart felt 
ready to burst from the pressure she'd held on it, not knowing why she 
held the pressure there. Empty she was, yet filled with much despair.
	She had no place to go and death was calling. Even when life was 
taken from her Usagi was sure that she would still be lost. Even the 
God she foresworn herself to, the God that promised her release, had 
left her alone in her time of defeat and backed away from her as if her 
curse were contagious.
	"Why?" she slumped to her knees when they buckled to the ground, 
unable to hold her withering self up any longer. "Why do you hate me?" 
Whether the question was to God, to civilization, or to herself, it was 
still sounded out and echoed back with no answer. No answer but one.
	One hates because one can't love.
	Nobody could love her.
	It could have been the gust of wind that made her face tilt up, 
drying the tears that streaked her face and marked their place, setting 
her heart at a speeding pace when she came face to face with stone gray 
tomb that stood where she'd fallen.
	Shaky hands shook further as they reached up to outline the 
solid indented words, and a sensation so strong and unbearable drowned 
in her, squeezed at her contracting heart, and bled internal wounds as 
visions -dream? Memories?- Wept with it. The first words smacked her 
hard.
	Here lies Chiba Mamoru.
	Flowers surrounded the grave as if the man had been buried that 
very day. And a picture freshly placed lay beside the stone. A man was 
smiling at her, almost arrogantly yet charming at the same time. His 
eyes were so blue, she thought sorrowfully, and his hair so silky. 
	Her frown deepened. She'd seen him before. Heard that name 
before. Where? How?
	Did it matter? A voice snapped so bitterly that she had to bite 
her lip in order to trade pain for pain, and pulled back the tears. 
He's dead now!
	She'd missed the funeral. She hadn't even realized there was 
one. 

	**Flash**
	"A twenty-eight?? Are you slow, or just plain stupid?" Blues 
eyes piercing, grin cocky, he held up the crumpled test paper and 
arched a brow expectantly.
	She fumed.
	**Flash**

	Astonishment twined with dread. The questions on the tip of her 
tongue were unknowingly, instantly already answered and she soon found 
herself with no more questions to ask. Feeling compelled to give into 
the urge and rest her head on the top of the tomb, she closed her eyes 
and did so. 
	Misery crawled on two legs over her, in her. Then swarmed her to 
feast at her already breaking heart.

	**Flash**
	"Tuxedo Kamen can not be trusted, Sailormoon." Ami told her 
wisely, tapping into her computer. The symbol of Mercury was placed on 
the back of it, and tiny sounds of computer transfer transmitted from 
the little device. "We can't be sure if he's on our side."
	But she knew he was. He HAD to be. No one could know better than 
her.
	Her heart told her so.
	**Flash**

	A cry of anguish sounded from her before she could catch it. 
Stupid, she reprimanded herself. Too weak to deny the visions, too 
desperate to make the warmth they brought vanish away, and all too 
certain that they would --just like everything else-- Usagi buried her 
face in the roses and sobbed for the threaded pain each warm memory 
brought. 

	**Flash**
	"No matter what, you let the girl go!" 
	He stood over her, so brave and magnificent, facing Zoicite and 
demanding Usagi's safety.
	All she was was confused. Rising on one elbow, she wondered what 
Mamoru was doing facing the menacing general that vanished in flower 
petals.
	**Flash**

	The warmer the memory, the emptier she became. She grinded her 
teeth to keep from whimpering. The physical pain was once again drowned 
out by every emotion that welled up inside her. There was no room for 
pain and whining, she lashed at herself. She was a Soldier after all. 
Her position demanded leadership and bravery. Her role in the world 
ordered she rise above petty feelings. She wasn't like everyone else 
anyway.
	But she had none of the strength society screamed at her to 
have. Her vision began to blacken, her muscles began to melt into cold, 
cold water that froze into ice, and she sank into the ground at the 
bottom of Mamoru's grave. 
	"You are not fit to be Sailormoon." The wind, the voice of all 
that surrounded her, seemed to cackle in her ear. 
	She wasn't fit to be Sailormoon.
	She wasn't fit to be.

	**Flash**
	She held his hand in hers as he lay on her lap, bleeding, dying, 
and looking up her with saddening eyes. His hand was clasped tight in 
her fisted one, and she refused to let go. 
	His voice was hoarse when he managed his last words for her. For 
his Princess. 
	"I'll find a way back to you."
	**Flash**

	She'd lost him then, and had lost him now without even knowing 
it. She couldn't keep up, couldn't get by. Falling, falling, falling 
blindly into the Pit of Forever, and never knowing what came when 
forever ended.
	Where did her friends go? Why did he leave her? Why did THEY 
leave her when she needed them most? They knew, they KNEW she needed 
them, and they went away without a trace. She was alone now: A super 
hero without a savior. A rope left twisting in the wind.

	**Flash**
	"You are my family, Usako." His hand rested softly on her back 
as she lay her head on his knee. Safe, protected, content, she rubbed 
it there to comfort both him and herself.
	"I'll always be your family."
	**Flash**

	She couldn't feel her hands any longer. The wind had picked up, 
ruthlessly cold, and her fingers had reddened in frostbite. She could 
have sworn she felt her body shiver, but wasn't sure as her conscience 
floated from reality to darkness. It curled up inside of her, trying to 
block out the shrieking noises it screamed in her ear. She couldn't get 
away from it, couldn't move. A part of her didn't want to move, and 
demanded that she stay where she was.
	No one would come looking for her empty body anyway.

	**Flash**
	"Aishiteru, Usako."
	**Flash**

	When did the world start to scowl at her? she wondered. It was a 
familiar question that she'd always thought. And answered, At the 
beginning.
	But she was happy at the beginning, she remembered as she began 
slipping away. Before she'd always thought that death would be a 
peaceful transition, a simple slide into the after world. But instead 
it was noisy, painful and freezing. The shadows of death caught her 
throat and squeezed the rest of her breath right out of her. She 
gasped, hanging on for one last instant and let the rest of the 
memories flood her. 
	Yes, she thought again, she'd been happy in the beginning. And 
then they left her for something better. They had always hated her in 
secret, she was sure. Why else would they leave? He had loved another, 
no doubt. Why else would he rather die than be with her? The world 
would rather be black without her than light with her, why else would 
they forget her morally? Life would rather discard her than let her 
find reason to live. Why else was she dying?
	She became her own phobia.
	Why else was she letting death take her?
	Single and abandoned, the last tear drop smoothed down the 
injured cheek, burning and churning the ivory skin to red. It wasn't 
warm, nor was it cold. It just was. And when it hit the ground, and her 
last breath chocked out, they were no more.

	*** *** ***

	And then steel bands were wrapped around her, shaking her, 
jolting her into what she thought was the next life. For a terrifying 
moment she knew that those jolts could only be the first sign of The 
Beyond, and started to fight against the horrible shadow that had come 
to drag her the rest of the way. It was a bumpy ride, she observed, and 
it came with firm grips on each arm and a soft surface beneath her. 
	Joining it, conflicting shouts.
	She recognized one as her own, and realized her body was 
trembling horribly, twisting and writhing wildly beneath the icy grips. 
Her hands pushed up and felt a barrier. Suddenly, Usagi felt 
claustrophobic, and opened her lips to scream when her eyes wouldn't be 
willed to follow. Death had blinded her, and when no more sound came 
from her, it had taken her voice as well.
	Death would kill her again.
	But she was still shaking, and yet she wasn't. Ears perking, 
head shaking, she tried to depict the babble of words drumming in her 
head.
	"Wake up! Come on, baby, it was just a bad dream. Please, just 
wake up!" 
	There was desperation in the deep voice, and soothing to twine 
it. And it was so warm, she thought longingly, and so familiar. It 
comforted her frightened soul and willed her without order and steel to 
do as it requested.
	She woke up.
	Deep blue eyes like the sea peered down at her, concern filling 
them to the fullest. She recognized those eyes. Relief spread through 
her like a wave even though she could do no more than watch those blue 
eyes right back. Her arms, feeling too heavy to lift, stayed pinned to 
her sides as the owner's body balanced itself over her, legs tangling 
with her own.
	She was alive.
	"Baby?" The word came from the mouth. "Are you okay? What's 
wrong?" His hand lifted to her forehead, checking for fever.
	Afraid she'd might ruin this moment, more afraid that this 
moment was just an illusion, she said nothing and didn't move a muscle.
	"You're sweating, Usako. You feel warm. Do you want some water? 
Hold on," one of the hands that had one of her arms pinned released it, 
curling under her back and pulling her against a soft wall, a body, and 
dragging her with it as they shifted to the side.
	A light switched on. Darkness fled.
	And there was her Mamoru.
	It took her a couple seconds to open her mouth, but when she did 
the throaty sound trembled passed her lips, "M-Mamo-chan?"
	"That's it. Sit up. You had yourself one hell of a nightmare, 
didn't you? Scared ten years off of me the way you were screaming and 
choking like that. I swear, if you ever do that to me again...God! 
You're like ice." A glass was in his hand in an instant. Tipping her 
head back, he held the cup to her mouth. "Take a drink. Are you okay?" 
he asked again. Her eyes were glassy, and shocked. Fear was like a 
blade in his side. "Do you need a hospital?"
	"No." She said, surprised when her voice came out even. Drinking 
down the rest of the water, grateful for it, she placed it on the 
nightstand beside the picture taken a week before of her and her 
friends. It was a dream. It was...just a dream? A nightmare he said. Oh 
God, she could have cried. It was much, much too tempting to cry. "I'm 
okay. I'm okay." She gave into temptation.
	He was alive. They were alive.
	"It's okay," he whispered to her. Endearments passed from his 
lips through her ears as he kissed her cries away. "Maybe a sleepover 
wasn't such a good idea if my room gives you the scares." He tried, 
lightly teasing.
	But she couldn't speak, the words were too great. Usagi let him 
pull her closer, stroking her hair calmly and whispering to her 
nonsense until he knew she would fall asleep again, safely tucked in 
his arms. His lips brushed her ear, his breath fluttering against it.
	"It was just a dream."
	He wouldn't ask about it now, she knew, because he knew she'd 
tell him in the morning. And she would, and would bask in the knowledge 
that none of it was truth. For there she was, lying in his arms, 
staring at the photograph of her and her family, of love, safely 
protected. Mamoru, her one, her only, was not dead, and would not let 
harm touch her in any form or way.
	It was just a dream.
	And her dream was just her phobia.

	*** ***
	The End.