Author's Notes:  Here to prove that a fanfic can indeed be produced
without anything resembling a sane thought pattern, is Dark Ferret, the
shady character of fanfic writing and obnoxiousness.  Mordy, if you're out
there, thank you for your constant prodding (more or less [less]).
Sailormoon belongs to people much more talented <snicker>, attractive, and
wealthy than myself.  None of these are grievances until I think about them,
so let's move on before I do.

Rated R for language and PG for violence.

        "The only thing to stand between today and yesterday is a bad
haircut
 and a missing cigar." -- LA



                        Life: Eclipse

                        By: Dark Ferret

        I look down into the darkness.  If my mood had been something
resembling what it should have been, I would have swallowed, my head cocking
forward comically, as I do on purpose, but--well.

        The darkness seems like an artwork that some obscure god had created
in envy of another.  When looked upon at first glance, it looks to be the
most beautiful thing that exists on this Earth.  When looked upon again and
again, it seems like someone left a lot to be done to finish it.  As if, in
 their haste to be invited to the dinner parties of the gods, they left it
unfinished, only a representation of their greed to be popular.  Indeed, it
 induced greed in me, my greed for it to envelop me into nothingness, and to
 end my life as I had lived it: without care.

        Footsteps can be heard from behind me.  As they get louder, I toy
with the idea of turning around, but figure there is no point, because I
know who it is.  As the footsteps stop, she merely stands behind me, off
to the right hand side.

        My fist clenches without my telling it to.  If I had actually cared,
I might have unclenched it, turned around, and greeted her, but I simply
don't feel in the mood, so I don't.

        The melting sky of blood has finally turned black.  With a footstep,
I might be able to add blood again to my surroundings.  There would be no
point in it, but there was no point in marriage, either, and Usagi had
already pushed that on me, so I might as well go on pursuing pointless
things.

        Nevermind.  I look down at the stone my foot stands on, covers, and
notice the mediocrity of it's construction.  I might be able to smash it,
if I felt in the mood.

        I don't.

        Below, the sound of the girls laughing permeates through the windows
 and wafts up to the roof.  Usagi (Chiba!) and myself had invited them over
 for dinner.  Well, truth be told, Usagi invited them over and I had
assented.
  I don't really remember, but that's what she told me.

        "Mamoru."

        I jump and face the girl--woman--young woman on the roof with me.
It wasn't who I thought it was.  I could already tell from the timbre of
the voice who it was, now, but either I felt a need to visually confirm her
presence, or it was merely a reflex to turn around a and check.  It had
actually been a while since I had succumbed to reflexes, so I felt some
resentment at the person who had caused me to break my record.  The fact
that
the record was pointless never once hindered my thoughts.  After all, most
of
the records in the record books were pointless, anyway--longest without
sleep,
shortest woman, biggest brain.

        But I remembered, with some pride at doing so, that Makoto was
standing
 right in front of me.

        She was actually my height now.  In years past, I towered over her
as
much as anyone else (well, almost as much as anyone else, by fifteen instead
of twenty-five millimeters), but now she was gaining on me.  Seeing as I had
had a four year growth advantage, that might make sense if I really wanted
to
think about it, which I didn't.  Either way, I was only about five
millimeters
taller as of now, and that almost frightened me.  It gave me the impression
thatshe could actually hurt me if the mood struck her, now.  It also made
her
taller than three-fourth's the population, and that was some consolation,
seeing as most men don't like to be shorter than their partners.

        "Makoto."

        Her eyes, if she had been anyone else, would have been bashful, if
they had met mine at all.  Instead, they burn like hot coals, anger in them
overflowing like water in a deep green fountain.

        If I was in the mood to feel anything, I might have felt angry.  I
wasn't.

        "Look--"

        I held up a finger to interrupt her.  "Relax.  Calm down."

        Makoto looks at me, the anger in her eyes, if it is possible,
growing
until it drowns out everything else on her face.  And even the glittering
emerald that rests on her chest is dwarfed beside her behemoth anger.  Her
anger doesn't hold my interest.  I don't really care what she feels right
now.

        I look down.  Her shoes are high heels (which I notice is becoming
increasingly characteristic over these past few years)--I could push her
off without much effort.

        After a moment, I realize that they aren't.  I shake my head to
clear the
intoxication-like haze from my eyes.  That was a rather odd experience.

        Makoto swallows, searching for the correct words to convey her
feelings.
At least, I think that's why she's stalling.

        "I don't know how you got to live here.  You used to live in a nice
section of Tokyo, where the only reason a police car would go by is if
someone
stole from the rich people.  Look at you now.  You don't even feel anything
anymore."  She pauses before deciding to bring it up.  "You've lost so much
of
your emotion, you don't even call Usagi-chan 'Usako' anymore.  It's always
Usagi, not even Usa.  We all notice.  Me, maybe, least of all, so it says
something about the length of this bullshit's going on and perhaps your
attitude
that the rest of them have let it get to this point without deciding to do
something about it.  Well, I'm not going to wait for Usagi to take care of
it
herself anymore.  She won't, because she worships you too much.  I, however,
don't give a rat's ass for you or your welfare.  Just Usagi's."

        Her voice is cool, cold, and threatening.  It would send me a step
 back if I was in to mood for moving.  I wasn't.

        "I don't know how this started.  Frankly, I don't care.  What I do
know is that I never liked you from the beginning, and I will never feel
anything for you besides scorn.  Ever.  What I also know is that this...
habit of yours is killing Usagi-chan, inside, and, starting about a week
ago, out."

        "Do you think I care what you think of me?" I ask, voice defiant.
 It was the only thing I had heard and comprehended.

        "I think that you, at least, _should_ care what Usagi thinks of you,
 and destiny doesn't mean _shit_ against the present."

        I breathe, enjoying the air.  It's such a nice night outside.
Except
 for maybe the sirens down below, screaming the police's presence.  I think
 about Makoto's statement about the police's presence in our old home.  That
 might be true, but it's almost like an insult.  I feel insulted.  That
isn't
 nice.  A lot of things aren't nice.  I might fix it if I were in the mood
for
 doing that.  I wasn't.  I do feel slightly angry, though.  I decide to make
Makoto feel angry, too.

        I smile lazily.  "Did I ever tell you that you curse too much?"

        "I--"  She stops herself.

        "And that you're a whore?"

        Her eyes narrow as she springs toward me and grabs my collar as she
presses herself up against me and puts her lips to my ear.  "Look, you
bastard,
I'm not up here for my own good.  I'm up here for yours, the future's, and
Usagi's.  But Usagi's good be damned if you don't drop this nonchalance of
yours,
'cause I swear to whatever god above or below that if you don't shut up and
grow up, you'll be flying off this fucking building."

        I grab her shoulder so as to not fall off, and whimper, despite
myself, "Okay, okay.  Let me back on the roof."

        She glares at me, her face startlingly close to mine as she moves
her head back.  She remains there for a few moments, breathing deeply.
Her breath smells of after dinner mints, her hair of lilac.  My focus
turns again to those hatred filled green eyes, and I whimper again.
"Makoto-
san--sama--onegai..."

        The emotion in her eyes turn to disgust as she steps back and
flings me down to the rooftop, getting dirt on my tuxedo.  I might have
to sell it soon--I don't have many left.

        I jump up, and, merely on a whim, decide to throw a punch at her.
She moves, but not enough.  I get her shoulder.  She grabs my arm, which
is still there, because I saw no need to bring it back after scoring the
blow, and turns her back to me as she leans into it and heaves me over
her shoulder.  She than goes down to her knees and grabs my neck.

        "If you were in normal condition, that might have been hard.
But you're haggard, thin, and pathetic.  You're not eating, you're not
sleeping, and you're not only hurting yourself, you're hurting Usagi.
That's all I care about."

        "Fuck--"

        Before I can finish the "you", she pushes down on my neck and
lowers her face closer to mine, her chest expanding rapidly with
excitement rather than from the effort.

        "Promise me, Chiba Mamoru," she snarls, her eyes frightening.
"Promise me that you'll stop the drugs, get your job back, and take
care of Usagi again."

        I look up at her defiantly.  She pushes harder.  "It'll be
Haruka-san up here next time!" she warns, her voice louder, still
filled with hatred, but not loud enough for Usagi to hear below in
the apartment.

        I try to swallow, but it won't go through the tube.  It's
beginning to hurt.  A lot.  I still look up at her.

        She spits on me.

        I still can't breathe.

        We both wait in silence.  She has the check, she's merely
waiting for the checkmate.

        I try frantically to force some air down my throat.  The
mouthful that I get down feels like carbon dioxide.  My head starts
to feel like a cantelope lobbed at the pavement.  I can hear, feel,
and imagine the blood pumping througout my head.  My throat feels
like it itches as bad as a bite from the worlds largest mosquito, and
I cough.  Makoto glares down at me, still excited from rage, loathing,
and holding me down.  I begin to sound like a dog growling with every
breath I force into my lungs, and my eyes widen as big as baseballs.
I squirm, and she pushes down harder, and I attempt to scream, but no
noise gets through.  I begin to gray out, and tears begin to run down
the sides of my face.

Finally, eyes popping, I nod.  As she lets go, I sit up and gulp in the
relatively fresh air greedily.  She looks down at me with scorn and
loathing.  After I can stand up, still panting, the air making wet noises
as it goes through my throat, I wipe the spit off my eyelids and cheek
and glare at her.

        "You promised," she growls in reminder.

        I am amazed to find something venerable in those hating eyes.
If I violate that promise, I violate her.

        She nods, as if to herself, as she goes down the stairs into
the apartment, the door closing noisily behind her.  I can hear Minako's
voice inquiring what Makoto was doing up on the roof, and Makoto's
voice shakily insisting that it was nothing.

        I take a joint out of my pocket and smile as I light up.  As I
take in the drug, I laugh to myself.  "How can pleasing myself hurt Usagi?
Like that bitch Makoto knows anything anyway."


Questions?  Comments?  Suggestions? (Especially on the ending!) E-mail
me at <camgem@jaguNET.com>.  Oh, and no flames from Mamoru lovers, because,
frankly, I don't care.

P.S.:  Dark Ferret is a proud member of MADNESS.  Join the MADNESS!

Greg Mareski
CAMGEM Bouviers
email: camgem@jagunet.com
website: http://www.jagunet.com/~camgem/