A.N:  I wrote this a while ago. It's manga based.  MK and Jay-chan like it... I'm still deciding...
Dedicated to: MK, who I wrote this for, and Usagi, who inspired me. ;)

Disclaimer:  Happy Birthday Usagi-chan!  UmÉ I don't own you.  But I own this story. :P


Call to You  
By Antigone

Ever notice how, when you want something (for example, the phone to ring) that's just 
when it doesn't happen?  Or it does and then you regret it forever.  I think my life works like this.  
Heck, how many times did I just pray and pray to turn out to be a superhero like Sailor V?
Usagi no baka. 
	My life.  
I laugh a little, nervously, high-pitched.  I hope I don't regret this.
	My hands are shaking so much I can't even bite my nails.  I really hate this, being 
nervous for something like this.   Sure, I've been very frightened before, and stressed.  But this 
strange sort of jumping in my stomach which reminds me of joy so strong it resembles dread, is 
something pretty new.  A lot of new feelings have invaded my poor soul, lately, my life is changing 
in such radical ways, and I'm still stumbling along, trying to catch up. 
	The phone just sits there.  My family is out for the day, Luna is doing some "research" 
and by her tone of voice I think she wants me to help.
	A neighbor's dog barks and I jump out of my chair and land on the floor, hyperventilating.  
I doubt I would have been any help to Luna in this state.
	Our kitchen phone is really starting me make me angry.  Snarling, I pick it up and shake 
it, "Ring!"  I command, my eyes are probably scarily blood-shot but I don't care.
	I pace around the kitchen, half wondering what sort of food we had and half wondering 
why the hell I did what I just did about an hour ago.

~
	He gave me his phone number.
	He gave me his phone number for *emergencies.*
	He gave me his phone number so I could contact him before a battle, or with information 
about the enemy or the princess.
	Not so I could obsess over it, folding and re-folding the paper.  Not so I could run my 
fingers over the creases he made when he slipped it into my hand.  Not so I could trace my pinkie 
over the crooked '3', or the way he crossed his '7' with a line.  
I think I love this man.
	That is sooooo not good. 
	The paper gets lifted to my lips.
	As Sailormoon, he told me, I may need his help before danger strikes.  Or I may just 
need to contact him for reasons involving the mission.  
	You know I always used to picture getting the phone number of a handsome guy in 
entirely different circumstances?

~~
	It was after my parents left with Shingo for the day that the beige household appliance on 
our wall became the center of my universe. The buttons call to me, the cord begs to be wound 
around my fingers.
	'Call him...' The paper burns in my hand.
	"What will I say?"  I murmur to the cold plastic telephone, touching the pads of my fingers 
to the handle carefully.  "That I just wanted to hear his voice? That I needed someone to listen 
and understand meÉ and for some reason I kept thinking of him?"
	He called me Usako.  Took me in when I passed out in the cold city streets.  Protected 
me, danced with me... and I'm pretty sure he even kissed me... once...
	It could have been a dream.
	He confided in me, told me the truth, that he really was Tuxedo Kamen, and he knew I 
was Sailormoon.
	Twisting my hands together, my eyes drift ahead, not seeing, remembering how my heart 
jumped when he leaned one warm hand on my shoulder... stood so close to me...
	Yikes, I'm dialing... one number after another, the tones resounding in my ear as I press 
the receiver closer, my knuckles turning white.  The metallic jingles in my ear inform me that a 
telephone is ringing throughout his apartment downtown.  A chill races down my back and I glare 
at the wall.  Another ring... another.... 
	I got his answering machine.

	Rejection.

	Or it seemed that way.
	Let down, I leaned against the wall and let his warm voice inform the caller that he wasn't 
home.  Or busy. 
	'Or screening... because he realized he gave his home number to a silly little schoolgirl 
and he's hoping she doesn't use it to *bother* himÑ'
	I want to hang up, I'll do it, I'll slam down the...
	*beeeep*
	I don't know what I am saying until I hear my voice echo in my ear.  "MÑmoshi moshi, 
Tsukino desu. GÑgomen, I didn't mean toÑthat isÑthere's really no emergency I'm just..." My 
voice cracked.  All of a sudden everything surged up in me and I realized: I'm scared.  God help 
me I am so, so scared.  I'm frightened that I won't live up to my responsibility  as Sailormoon.  I'm 
terrified of my dreams, my dark memories hidden away that seem to come to surface when I least 
expect it.  I'm afraid of being alone.  I'm scared to die.
	I'm scared to live without you, Mamo-chan.  Please... 
	"...I'm just...  I need... please call me."
I give out my phone number, twisting the cord so tightly in my hands my fingers turn cold.  
I feel cold all over.  
	"Call me...  Mamo-chan, onegai."
	I don't want to hang up.
	But I do.  
Before I spill my entire soul onto an unfeeling cassette tape.
~~
	And the phone hasn't ringed  since.  Slow morning.  Weekend. 
	Where is he?  I stare at my hands, why are they damp?  I'm crying, I think. 
	Turning back to look at the phone, that I want to shake it, or rip it from the wall. I wonder if 
I should try calling again?
	I was wrong.  He probably heard the message and deleted it without a second thought.  
After all, I had said there was no crisis, right?  What does he care about me being scared, alone... 
what does he care...
	Care...
	"Please ring."  I whisper, burying my head in my hands.  "Please."
	Of course it doesn't.  Another minute ticks by.

~~
	It was a little later another noise snaps me out of my reverie.  It wasn't the phone ringing, 
unfortunately.  I guess my family came home a little early, I don't want them to see me like this.  
Quickly, I prepare to run upstairs the second I open the door for them because I don't want to 
answer any questions.
	Call me slow, but it didn't occur to me to after I was pulling the door open, 'Wait a minute, 
why would my parents ring the doorbell?'
	Because it wasn't my parents.  It was Mamoru,  feathered black hair falling in his face, 
blue eyes looking at me with concern.
Taking a quick step back, I cover my mouth with my hands.
	I want to cover my face, too.  I didn't expect him to see me like this, face flushed and 
eyes puffy, pale and shaking with fear.
	But I also didn't expect he would take me into his arms.
~~
	I think it surprises him that I look so miserable, and he quickly takes two steps forward 
and catches me as if he was afraid I would fall.  
I let him pull me close, he is warm even though the spring air outside is cool, and the 
scent that clings to him reminds me of his apartment and the other few, blurred times that I 
huddled in his arms.
	Funny, it seems it happened more times than I can remember just now.
	"Usako, daijobu?"  He asked.  His voice is gentle but there is an edge in it that I can't 
place... dizzily I wonder what could make his usually calm tones so ragged at the edges.  
	"HÑhai," I whisper into his jacket.  My arms are crossed around me, I'm pulling into 
myself and he loosens his hold on me.
	"I got your message," he starts.
	"Sorry," I murmur, looking at the ground, "I didn't mean to bother you... it's just... 
sometimes..."  I stop when I feel heat brush against my cheeks.
	His fingertips are warm on my face as he brushes away my tears, he leans down so we 
are face to face.  I notice his breath is quick and almost imperceptibly uneven, I wonder why, it 
couldn't have been such a long walk here...
	Which reminds me, "How did you know where I lived?"  I ask, realizing also that we were 
still on my front steps.  I hope the neighbors don't talk to Papa.
	"It's called a phonebook, Odango atama, pretty popular invention."
	"But all I gave you was my number..."
	"Which I could match to the correct 'Tsukino' in the Tokyo white pages.  It really wasn't 
that hard," he voice is breathy now, lighter, and he winks at me with that teasing smirk I love to 
hate.
	I stick out my tongue at him in response.
	His eyes focus, and gain in an intensity I couldn't place.
I really wish my heart wasn't beating loud enough for the deaf old lady down the street to 
hear. 
	"I can't let you in the house," I admit, "no one's home and...  Papa's strict..." I trail off.
I hate being fair-skinned, because I know I am blushing horribly.  
	He sits down on the steps, and I follow suit, tripping a little so Mamoru grabs my hand 
before I fall.
	"It's ok, we can stay out here.  Are you cold?"
	I'm not but I can't think of any other way to explain my shivering.  "Won't you be cold, 
though?"  I  argue as he removes his suede bomber.  I guess he didn't hear me, because the next 
thing I know he is slowly slipping the jacket over my shoulders, letting his hands run down the 
side, adjusting it so it fits me better.  His head is bent for a moment almost to mine, his eyes 
seem glassy for just a second, and his breath is almost too warm as it brushes against my neck.
	Once the jacket is on, though, he returns to his side of the steps.
	"Thanks."  I say, and smile. 
	He nods, seems a little shaken by something.
	"Are you ok now?" he asks me, I know he is asking about my phone call. 
	I look at my hands.  "I get...scared... sometimes.  I try to be strong, I really do," oh, no, 
don't let me cry, please god, "but sometimes I just think of what is out there," my voice is 
cracking, "memories I have that don't seem real, god help me I'm afraid of my own dreams,"
I'm crying.  Sobbing openly into my hands, my tears are hot and my hands are cold.
	His hand is on my shoulder again, like before in the apartment and, like before, every 
nerve in body jumps and responds.  "I understand."  He says simply.
	I look up at him, my eyes looking into his, and for a second I can *see* him, his soul, his 
feelings and everything he shut off to the rest of the world.
	"Can I...  may I...  cry, please..."  
	His only answer is to pull me closer, I let myself fall limp, my head on his shoulder.  
	And I cry.  Weep into his arms for everything I've lost, everything he's lost, every pain any 
innocent person I defend has ever felt, every time I feel I have failed, every time he feels he could 
have been better, and for the story he told me of the loneliness he felt. 
	I cry for both of us, because he never did.  I cry for everyone who doesn't know how 
close to death they come every day.
	And Mamoru holds me.  His fingers brush back damp strands of my hair, wipe tears from 
my eyes, and every so often pull his jacket tighter around me.  He rubs my back, pulls me closer, 
rocks me back and forth.  
	After a while my sobs fade to sniffles and I just sit there quietly, hiccuping and every so 
often gasping for air like a child.
	When did he get so close to me...?  My tears have soaked through the thin fabric of his 
shirt. 
	"Are you ok now?" he whispers, I can feel his heartbeat, and for some reason... it is 
suddenly beating very quickly in my ear.
	I nod, "My parents will be home soon," my voice is strained, watery.  "I think you should 
go."
	He nods but makes no move to stand up.  "Are you going to be ok?"
	Nodding again, I even offer him a shaky smile.  "Yeah, I think that was just what I 
needed."
	To cry, and to have someone to stay with me.  I don't explain because he understands. 
	He still holds my hand when he stands up, looks down at me and tells me I can return the 
jacket to him tomorrow.
	"Thank you," I say.  He knows I don't just mean the jacket.
	He lets his hand slide from mine as he walks down the steps, and toward home.  
	"Mamo-chan?"  I call out, nervously.
	"Hai?"  He turns, titles his head at me.
	"Do you think, if I ever need someone to... could you..  I mean, would you mind..  I..."
	A smile I've never seen him give to anybody else settles across his features.  
	"Why do you think I gave you my number, Usako?"
~~