Author's Notes: I'll have you know that this is all my husband's fault. I
was
just an innocent by-stander, really! <adjusts crooked halo> ^_~

In episode 83 (or 84, I can't remember), Demando kidnaps Usagi while she is
under the guise of Sailor Moon but in the next sequence she is shown passed
out and wearing a (beautiful!) gown. Well... Peter happened to be in the
room while I was watching those scenes (and trying NOT to drool over
Demando). Being the man he is, he tapped me on the shoulder and asked, "How
do you think he got her into that?" Of course, I told him he was a pervert
^_^;, but the idea started growing in my mind....

And this is it.

See! It's all HIS fault!

<insane giggling> Or not.

Anyway, the story should be taken as CANON and a filler for that episode.
My way of explaining Usa's hasty costume change. ^_~

Legal Disclaimer:
Roses are red,
Lawsuits make me blue,
Naoko owns all,
For God's sake, don't sue!

Personal Disclaimer: Twisted. ^_^


WANTED: FEEDBACK
If found, please email:
mallorys-girl@cinci.rr.com

that's

mallorys-girl@cinci.rr.com

Without further ado...

------------------------------------------------
Hate Me 1/1
by Meredith Bronwen Mallory
mallorys-girl@cinci.rr.com
------------------------------------------------

 "In a little while, you are going to hate me."
 Usagi drew air into her lungs for what felt like the first time and made a
soft, hissing noise of pain as she expelled. Someone had stopped her body
for some time, and then flipped a switch that sent everything back into
motion. Her body ached in dull resentment, perhaps from being left unused
for so long, or perhaps from the jolt which had reawakened it. She heard
the words that were spoken, her brain processed them and looked over then
in confusion, but she did not yet have the strength to open her eyes. Eager
to soak up sensation after (minutes, years? a century, a millennium?) of
being unused, her body became her eyes instead. The surface upon which she
lay was soft, the air around her cool. The sound of her own breathing faded
into the background enough that she could hear someone else's sigh, and
then a deep echoing silence. Someone- perhaps the same someone who had
sighed- with gentle fingertips was stroking her hand in a way that felt
like reverence.

 Darkness hovered above her, contradictingly warm and cool- like a baby's
bath. When had she stopped? Why had she stopped? She felt like a child,
then, with her memories a blank, white, distant horizon before her.   Had
she not been so very tired, had her body not demanded she lay absolutely
still and focus on the faint, irregular fluttering of her own heart, Usagi
would have bolted up in panic. For she could not remember. There was no
clear event preceeding her sleep, the recent past was an indistinct blur of
color. Someone had... had... painted *over* them. She knew her name, could
recite her address and phone number, but the *events* in her life were
scattered about.
 She could not bring herself to try and organize them.

 She didn't even realize she had opened her eyes until her mind registered
the wide expanse of marble hanging high above her. Unable to resist, her
eyes ran quickly away from the ceiling and up her pale left arm to the hand
held in the grasp of someone else.
 "How do you feel?"  his voice was liquid silver, running down her spine
and hanging there loosely- like a languid embrace. His eyes were a very
deep imperial purple that lightened to a burning violet the moment he felt
her gaze upon him. Her hand lay softly in one of his much larger ones, and
he held it as one might hold an injured bird. He asked again, a lock of
white hair falling over his eyes as he leaned forward in concern.
 "How do you feel?" Usagi found her voice with surprising ease in the face
of the stranger's (could he be a stranger? he seemed familiar...)
overwhelming tenderness.
 "I'm so tired...," she spoke barely above the whisper he had used, for
Usagi was someone who gave back the good things she received. It would have
been impossible not to be kind to this man.

 He sighed and looked apologetic for a moment, while Usagi merely studied
his face. She imagined that, had he been a few years younger, he might have
blushed slightly under her gaze- and then *she* felt like blushing. As it
was, he merely met her wide blue eyes with his own violet ones and looked
inordinately pleased.
 "Do you want to sit up?" Yes, this man was all kindness. She nodded
slowly, color rising to her cheeks when he reached behind her and lifted
her up a little so that her back rested against the pillows. Usagi frowned,
just slightly.
 Was she sick? Was that why she felt so tired?
 What had happened then? Had she fainted, or fallen and hit her head?
 This was no hospital... but perhaps she was at home instead. This wasn't
the home she remembered, though.

 "Thank you..." she paused, looking at the man intently.
 "Demando," he supplied, very quiet, very careful. It didn't feel akward at
all. She reached for his hand.
 "What happened?" she asked, feeling panic once more rise within her. She
could only lay against the pillows, though, and look at Demando in
question. Instinctively, she knew he held the answers. He opened his mouth-
once, twice- to say something, then sighed, rested his chin in hands and
simply *looked* at her. Usagi swallowed hard, feeling just slightly uneasy.
Demando had instantly earned her trust, and she could not imagine him
wishing her any harm at all. But that *look* in his eyes was so different
from anything...

 She shifted her gaze downward and for the first time realized she was
still wearing her school uniform.
 Still wearing it from *what*...?
 Maybe the accident happened at school, she considered, her mind racing to
use this piece of information to prevent further panic. In the cool air of
the bedchamber (it couldn't be called anything else- it was too ornate),
the brief short-sleeve shirt left her chilled. Unconciously, she pushed the
sheets down to her knees and saw the shorter spring skirt was was wearing.
That meant it had been spring when she stopped.
 But what day, what month, what season, what year was it NOW?
 She wasn't really lost- no one who loved life or knew themselves as
completely as Usagi did could ever really be lost- but it was terrifying
all the same. She grasped Demando's hand as if it was an anchor and glanced
back up at him. His gaze had not moved from her face during her distracted
considerations.
 "What happened?" she asked again. Demando's answer was unexpected, though
she had heard him say some variation on it before.
 "You're going to hate me soon." He looked away but for a moment before
locking eyes with her once more. He couldn't seem to look away- or he
merely didn't want to. For a moment he seemed to read something behind her
eyes.
 "Why...?" Usagi asked, moving towards him as much as her exhausted body
would allow. Though they were only a few centimeters closer at best, it
seemed to do something to him. Demando reached out one pale hand and cupped
her cheek.
 "Because," he said in all seriousness, looking her straight in the eye.
Fearlessness- Usagi's mind whispered. "I am not a very nice man."

 Now Usagi out right frowned in confusion, but opened her mouth to defend
her (new? old?) friend, even it was only from himself. She never could wrap
her mind around the fact that there were people in the world with any
*truely* bad qualities.
 "I'm sorry," Demando said, and for a moment it hung in the air-
weightless. Usagi shivered, though from the chill or from his words she
couldn't be sure. Her companion seized on this discomfort. "Are you cold?"
he asked. For a man who had just said such a terrible thing about himself,
Demando was certainly kind.
 Or maybe he's just kind to YOU, Usagi, some corner of her mind whispered.
Maybe he only wants to make sure YOU are warm and happy and comfortable.

 "Yes, actually," Usagi blushed again, watching carefully as Demando
removed a gown from the drawer of a white marble dresser. It could only be
called a gown, yes. Usagi knew- without knowing, without thinking- that she
had never worn anything so beautiful in this life. (This life? What do you
MEAN *this* life?) Out of the corner of her eye she saw a pair of gosmer
wings, pink and dainty, leaning up against the dresser. She couldn't
imagine why they were there. Surely the dress was enough.
 Maybe I'm dying, she thought, and I need them to fly to heaven.
 Died and gone to heaven, was common phrase. A ridiculous notion, right?
 Right?

 Carefully, Demando helped Usagi stand, though she found she actually felt
a little more energetic once she was up. The whole situation was so surreal
that it was hard to apply the normal codes of behavior. It was more like
each moment was a seperate event, and Demando led her by the hand to
examine each. She looked up at him sharply when she felt him undo the top
botton of her shirt, and started to gently remove his hands, but she soon
found it was a task nearly impossible on her own. What had happened to
drain her energy so completely? Whatever it was, when Demando reached to
help her again, she did not resist, and he removed her shirt with all the
detachment of a doctor. Or almost, for he glanced at her appreciatively
from the corner of his eye, so that Usagi was sure her entire body turned
pink with embarassment. He was respectful, though, as he helped her put the
gown on. Only once did his hand stray, only once did she need to bat it
away and give him a tiny reproachful glare. At first she had not been able
to imagine how the gown could be any warmer than her uniform, but once it
was settled against her form her chill disapated into a pleasant, lukewarm
haze. Resting her hand on Demando's shoulder and leaning against him only
slightly for support, she looked up into his eyes.
 "Why do you think you're such a bad man?" she asked. It was quiet, but the
question made him flinch so that Usagi felt it might as well have echoed
mercilessly against the high marble ceiling.
 "Because I am not kind," he said at length. He reached up to stroke one of
the long golden locks dangling from her odangos, still intact after what
she'd been through. (Been through what? Been through WHAT!?!) "It is hard
to remember, how to be kind," he went on, softly.
 "Why aren't you- kind, I mean?" Usagi asked. She felt her pain as though
it were her own. She was like that.
 "The life I lead does not permit me to be very kind, the place I come from
does not breed anything but bitter resentment." The pain in his eyes became
more intense, "Worst of all..." his voice took on the barest edge of
hysteria, "You will hate me soon, I know it!"

 With as much care she could manage considering how quickly she moved,
Usagi climbed atop the low bed so that she could stand eye-to-eye with
Demando. Imediately, her body screamed that she had moved much, much to
fast. She swayed a little, but managed to stay errect.
 "Now, listen here," Usagi said, wagging her finger, "I will NOT hate you,
so stop saying that. I've never hated anyone, and I can't hate you! You've
been so kind to me... and besides, I'm me, so I'd know more than anyone
about who I will or won't hate!" For a moment, Demando looked completely
floored. He simply stared at her, before- slowly- he began to chuckle just
a bit. Before Usagi could even think to be insulted, he embraced her,
lowering his head so it could rest in the crook of her shoulder. Of its own
accord, her hand lifted to stroke his hair.
 "If you say so, little spitfire," he murmured, in a way that made it sound
like he was praying, "If you say so."

 Now they were laying horizontally across the bed, so that their legs
dangled over the side. They were not touching, but the space between them
was so small that one more from either of them would have remidied that.
Facing each other, they lay on their sides, while Demando traced the curve
of Usagi's shoulder and studied her body cocooned within the dress.
 "You won't remember this, you know," he said, softly, very softly. Usagi
raised her wide blue eyes from where she had been pressed his hand against
her own.
 "Not a thing?"
 "Not a thing." Demando sighed, "I just... I've started a terrible thing,
I've done to you a terrible thing which is not yet complete, but I wanted
to be kind to you," he spoke quickly now, like a man afraid he would change
and not know it, "It's hard, after all this time it's even hard to be kind
to YOU." She shivered- he said 'you' as if he were addressing some higher
being.
 "Why wouldn't you want to be kind?" Usagi pleaded. She did not add that if
he knew what his problem was, then he could fix it. She did not add that
she believed in him because she thought that was already understood. For
the first time, she realized what it was that burned behind his eyes. Not
anger, not hate... just as strong as love, walking with it hand in hand but
only slightly more dangerous.
 Demando's eyes were very strange as he replied:
 "Do you like your weaknesses?" He looked like he wanted to die, and Usagi
felt very tired.
 "I want to remember this," she whispered.

 She gasped, and the gasp was smothered. This was because Demando had
seized her in an almost painful embrace and brought his mouth to his own.
He was careful, still, but it was a very tightly controlled careful. This
was part of the not-kindness, this harsh, aching embrace. This was the tip
of the iceberg. Now the white that lay over Usagi's memories seemed to
crack, but she kissed him back anyway. He drew her closer, which seemed
impossible, and cupped the back of her head, tilting her so that her neck
was bared. He kissed a long, hot line down her neck- paying special
attention to her pulse point, then began to push away the straps of the
gown. Usagi's hand came up instantly and captured his own, pulling it away.
His hand lay passive in her grasp, as if he didn't mind being distracted
because she was touching him. Slowly, she moved away, took his hand and
kissed it, held it to her breast then placed it on his side of the newly
errected barrier between them. The message was gentle, but firm, and
Demando nodded. He simply lay there looking at her.

 Usagi had been in an accident.
 In the universe's terms, in Destiny's terms, this was an accident. She lay
gazing at Demando, smiling with reassurance, for a long time before she
rolled over. Tired, Usagi closed her eyes, curling up into a little ball
that made Demando want to embrace her all over again. Instead he merely sat
up and watched her. She opened her eyes a little and smiled- because she
knew what he was thinking- and Demando had to grace to look caught. Her
eyes began to slip closed once more, for she was so very, very tired. But
just before she did so, she saw Demando lean forward, saw him mouth
something with a look on his face that said he meant to with all his heart,
but she never did hear what he said.

---

 Demando picked up Usagi's sleeping form and placed it back properly on the
bed, taking care to arrange the pillows, her hair and her dress. Then he
tucked her in, and turned away, trying to ignore her moan of pain as the
next wave of the jakokuzuishou's engery poured into her mind. It would
drain her already limited energy supply, it would make her sleep for hours,
but it would also steal from her the memory of this time. It didn't matter,
Demando told himself, for he knew. He knew that she could have loved him,
if he'd had timing or fate or destiny or karma on his side. Perhaps she
could have loved him more than she would her weakling husband, with that
reckless protectiveness that had made her scold him earlier. Demando smiled
a smile that no one would have ever expected to see on his face- the smile
you might see on the face of a love-sick boy, with a few alterations. The
smile died a quick death, because he knew he *had* wronged her, and he
*had* hurt her and she *would* hate him when she woke up, memories all
intact. The jakokuzuishou operated in slow cycles- it lifted the imediate
memories so as better to get at the internal energy supply. Not even
Demando could stop it so that it only stole the memories. If he had been
able to do that... No, the jakokuzuishou would put everything back where it
belonged.

 But it had been nice, oh-so ineffiably nice to be a recipient of his
Queen's kindness, if only for a little while.

 Demando walked from the room to make his exit, knowing he would return a
different character, another side of himself. Just as Usagi would be
different when he returned.

---

 So Usagi did awaken, and she did not remember.
 So Demando was different when he did turn, and he was not kind.
 Yes, Usagi was angry with him, and she had every right to be.
 Yes, Demando was angry (only slightly) with her, and he did not have the
right   to be.
 Usagi did not hate him- she feared him, and this was worse.

 But in the end, it didn't matter, because Tuxedo Kamen came and took her
 away.

---

 Long after Usagi had been rescued, long after he had deployed ships he
knew would fail to retrieve her, Demando sat on that familiar bed. His
violet eyes which had so easily become addicted to studying each and every
expression that crossed Usagi's face now stared off at some point which did
not exist.
 His heart hurt, his body ached and his eyes stung- all for reasons he knew
but refused to define.

 It had been unavoidable. He had known all along that Usagi's future
husband would come to rescue her. He had known all along that- after using
the jakokuzuishou to drain Usagi's energy- he would not be able to call
enough magic to stop his rival. He had known all along that Usagi would
hate him.

 Inevitable. A word of his childhood. His mother- murdered by a man who's
face everyone knew but no one would identify. Inevitable, they said.
Usagi's departure killed him just as deeply- if differently- than his
mother's death had so long ago. He could not be kind to a world that took
such things from him- such things like security, and the flowers of earth
and... Love.

 "You wait almost ten years, having found something you love and want so
desperately that you can't put it into words, right?" Demando said to the
empty room, to the empty bed, to his empty heart. "You work and you work
for this thing, yes? It changes you, but you love this thing.. this person
so much it doesn't matter. Then, you finally have this person by your side,
you're finally happy for just a little while. But it's so beautiful
that..." He put his head in his hands and drew a shuddering breath. "How
the hell are you supposed to go on with the rest of your life?"

 But really, he didn't have all that long to live anyway.