A/N: This is a companion piece to "If You'll Be My Star," which was mainly in Rini/Chibiusa's perspective. You can read them in any order, no matter.

A/N: Like the other one, lyrics are from "Boats and Birds" by Gregory and the Hawk. Also contains some spoilers, as it spans the entire season of Sailor Moon Super S.

If You'll Be My Boat

If you be my boat, I'll be your sea,

The depth of pure blue just to probe curiosity

Ebbing and flowing and pushed by a breeze

I live to make you free

.

.

She came to him at night, in her world of sweetest dreams.

You called me here? It was a whisper, the whisper of a little girl yearning to be a woman—oh, he had not expected this.

Little one, he called to her, and she looked on him with those bright, wide, hopeful eyes.

.

.

He was a moth to her flame.

So small, so young, yet infinitely rich in imagination—she built entire worlds with her mind, with her heart. He found himself wandering along the halls of her soul, peering into little pockets of friendships and memories, places she loved, people she treasured, a certain Time Keeper who decorated her earliest childhood memories, and the more recent, dark-haired girl who giggled over card games in a mansion. He found rest in her world, where no creeping ugliness or dark guilt resided. No, she was pure, a pure soul—her single ambition being to become like her mother.

Ah, yes, that Queen Serenity of the Thirtieth Century—the long-haired goddess who had survived countless battles, wars, face-offs with Evil, and won. The legendary figure whose stories became the folklore for the future, the stuff of dreams for many children down the line. The Small Lady idolized her, adored her, imitated her—she was already so much of the young, brave girl that Serenity had been. And he knew that she would bring even greater prosperity and longer-lasting peace to her kingdom.

Even simpler, though, than her desire to emulate Serenity—he peered into that little girl's heart and found a blushing bride.

Yes, blushing, pink, rosey: these were the words that he shuffled in his mind in relation to her. Like a little flower herself, with big cotton-candy hair and a pretty mouth. Small Lady was a pink little twinge of a thing, with whole worlds in her eyes.

He wanted to reach out and say, Take me into your world.

.

.

Helios was a solitary being, by nature. He was cross-cultural, he had no hometown, no nest to fly back to. A nomad, a wanderer. Though he had existed for thousands of years, he felt his intransience, his impermanence, for he was all wings and no roots. But he did not know he was lonely until he suddenly wasn't.

Rini had come as a streak of light in the night. He was not used to being so arrested by a single Dreamer, one person above the millions whose dreams he guarded. He knew individual people intimately; they trusted his molten eyes and soft looks, but did not believe in his actual existence.

But Little One, she knew.

She believed wholeheartedly that he was real, the moment she saw him. And the relief, oh, how tangible it had been: his shoulders slacked a little bit, as a traveler does before a doorstep. Oh, and those bewildered eyes, and the way her little mouth dropped open a little bit, and the way her hand was outstretched toward him—she was not merely waiting for him, she actively sought him, she chased him, with her limitless love.

And he was struck, thinking, Never let me go.

.

.

She wrapped her arms around him, touched her face to his. It was a familiar gesture, reserved for dearest friends. As if she was saying to him, Hello, dear. I missed you.

And he believed her, saw her guileless eyes, and felt himself safe. He wanted to comb through her soft, baby-down hair with his human fingers, but he could not. Intense frustration colored his sight, that he had to come to this beautiful, delightful, laughing child, not as a human being, but as the Pegasus. He wondered, does she know? Does she know that I am a man? That I want desperately to hold her the way she can reach out and hold me?

She could not know. The being that stood at the edge of the lake did not even faintly resemble a man; he did not trust his eyes to convey to her the soul inside.

Then she looked at him for a second, and combed her fingers through his mane. She just reached out simply, silently, with a tiny smile working her pink lips, and touched first his strong ivory neck, then finally the strands of impossibly soft, cloudlike hair. He felt her rub thick tufts of it between her fingers, feeling its texture the way lovers caress each other's bodies. Something inside Helios shifted then, some misgiving he must still have clung to about her finally lifted, and he moved into the circle of her arms and rubbed his cheek against hers.

Ah, and the way her tinkling little girl's laugh reached his ear—it delighted him. Oh, my Little One, he sighed.

.

.

The next time he saw her, he made sure she knew he was a man.

A kiss—no more than a quick peck really, but the awful slowness with which he moved toward her, straining not to frighten her, though she stood patiently by, her own eyes closed, long lashes falling against high cheekbones—and finally, yes.

Ah. Her lips, soft and closed, with his against them. Like rest and energy all at once, like a frenzied dance with nerves and yet love for the movement. And more—he felt it, the movement inside her. Though she was a separate being entirely, though he should not have been so attuned to her that he knew the tenors of her spirit—he felt her leap inside and turn over, rosey and warm. Pink. Her soul was pink.

.

.

He blamed himself because he should have known better. He should have protected her, kept his eye out for danger, especially in the Dead Moon Circus, but he saw his body, and the first thought that came to him was—Finally! Yes, I can be a man for her now! But it was only a trap, and he should have known it. He should have been able to avoid getting her captured, having her beautiful Dream Mirror ripped from the fabric of her being—he should have been spared the sight of her, writhing in pain until she was finally silent and empty.

Little One? Little One? He called, but she did not—could not answer.

No no no—that laughing, sweet, lithe, pure, perfect, pretty little girl? Reduced to that heap of brokenness on the floor? He could not bear it. He could not let it end that way. Though he was no Soldier, surely not so strong as Endymion or any of the Sailor Scouts, he would do what he knew he must do to secure her safety.

I would spit my soul out and serve it to you.

Helios dragged himself up from the bottom of the pain, from the pit where his inner strength resided, hollowed out his insides, where fear and rage and humiliation rested—he used it all and made his way toward her.

Rini, he called her name, and fell over her unconscious form, kissing her the way a man should kiss his beloved—

Wait for me, he begged. Wake up, come back, come home.

And there, miraculously, she came to life, flowered again in his arms, the pink little girl of his Dreams, the Dreamer who had wound her way inside of him, made herself irrevocably a part of him. Her eyes, like candy-jewels, opened and brightened below him, as if some light had come on inside of her. She was back. She was alive.

Oh, Little One, Little One after my heart. He promised himself, and her, that it would never happen again because he would never let it happen again because he could not let it happen again because he had almost lost her and he could not lose her because she was inside him and if she was lost some part of him would die, forever.

.

.

The world was safe again. The skies cleared. The clouds parted. The Dead Moon Circus crumbled. Dreams were pure again, wholesome and healthy. No one had to fear for his greatest treasure.

And Helios's greatest treasure was flushing and pink and nervous in front of her friends and family. And she had a death grip on his hand, and he could not help but smile at her desperation. He knew, better than even she could know. He was standing before the King and Queen he honored with his service, with his loyalty, and ultimately, with his sincere love. Alongside of them were the warriors of the future he trusted and admired. And though, naturally, Helios himself was unfamiliar with love matters, he knew what a young girl like Rini would want.

He kissed her hand. He presented himself before her, touched his lips to her small, fragile, pale hand, and he sent his heart out. He wanted her to know that yes, beneath her childishness and her innocence and her sheer, unpolluted Moon powers, she was still a lady. A lady love, like the stories of old that she still read by lamplight before bed.

A true bride.

When he stood, she tugged on him again, and he had to chuckle a little at her. Though she was a mature bride at heart, she still had the spring feelings of a girl in her first love.

Helios tore himself away, flew back into the Dream World. Out of the arms he loved the most, but it was for the best. Though he felt a little rising panic in the back of his throat, he knew it was only temporary.

.

.

Ah, and wonder: how natural it felt, to meet her again in that place, her dream, with the world like a watercolor painting and her racing to find him, chest panting, mouth open a little, hair trailing along after her, high color on her cheeks, and those eyes, delving straight for him, causing his chest to clench.

Hello, Little One, he said, and she smiled, the little pink child-Dreamer who had bewitched the Dream, and made herself the center of his own Dream.

A/N: SOO, wanna review? Eh, eh? You know you want to.