Thank you to my perfect beautiful beta reader irritable-vowel-types, and my 'talking all things UsaMamo when I'm in a fic mood' friend Floraone and everyone who sends reviews that keep me motivated!

Prequel - this takes place before everything else, although some of these things were referenced in flashbacks etc.

Don't know what to say since the twist of fate

When it all broke down and

the story of us

Looks a lot like a tragedy now

-Taylor Swift, Story of Us

Usagi's knees pressed into the hard, wooden floor of Rei's shrine as she sat with her legs tucked beneath her, back straight, feeling quite oddly like she was on trial. Or in detention. Or somehow in trouble with an authority figure, which was a feeling she was decidedly used to. Didn't mean she had to like it.

Mamoru probably wasn't used to it though, Usagi reflected, stealing a glance at the man seated next to her. His head was bowed slightly, ebony hair falling into his face, hiding it from her. His long legs had folded themselves effortlessly to match Usagi's formal way of sitting.

"So," Rei said, her voice firm but not unkind or scolding - to Usagi's relief. "Now that we know the truth about those dream warnings you both have had…"

"What do we do now?" Minako's soft soprano voice was so gentle that it made Usagi's throat ache with the tears she refused to shed. Honestly, she was surprised she still even had any tears left; her eyes and skin seemed to be permanently salt-burned.

"I think it's important not to take these dreams lightly," Luna said from where she sat next to Artemis, the two cats radiating authority despite being the smallest beings in the room.

"I'm far from taking it lightly," Mamoru snapped, startling all those present by breaking the silence he'd sat in since they had all arrived.

"Clearly," Artemis conceded.

Usagi bristled at the unspoken implication that she was not taking it seriously enough, and she tugged on her skirt in agitation.

"Well, what should we do about it?" Ami asked, thoughtfully.

"What do you mean 'do about it'?" Usagi spoke up, wishing her voice had a little less whine to it, but unable to stop it. "There's nothing to do. We go about our lives keeping our eyes open for me being swallowed up by a canyon on my wedding day." She only noticed Mamoru's almost-invisible flinch at her words because she was hyper focused on every move he made.

"I'm not sure that's wise," Luna said. "Considering your history in the Silver Millennium."

"What do you mean?" Usagi argued, shifting her numb legs beneath her. "That was-"

"We were speaking before you got here," Rei interrupted, and Usagi sent a betrayed look their way.

Makoto awkwardly shrugged. "You were twenty minutes late…" the brunette mumbled, a guilty blush staining her cheeks.

"And what did you decide about me without me even being here?" Usagi wasn't being fair and she knew it, but it didn't stop her. Little did she know, that feeling would soon be her new normal.

Their voices all blended together with the roaring in her ears - good, solid, logical reasons why it'd just be easier, better, safer if she and Mamoru stayed broken up. If she just continued to live without the love of her life.

"You hadn't even gotten along until you found out about Endymion and Serenity," Ami pointed out. "And perhaps it is better not to force something just because it worked in a past life?"

"It's true," Luna said, thoughtfully. "You two never did even like each other."

"That's a lie!" Usagi wanted to shout. "Maybe I didn't know it, maybe I didn't realize but I've been in love with him since the arcade, since Tuxedo Kamen first saved me in the jewellery store, since seeing him with Rei made me want to claw her eyes out and I didn't know why, since him disappearing made me want to cut off my own hair in grief -" But the words stuck in her throat with Mamoru's slow nod.

By the time Mamoru and the cats left, Usagi's legs were fully numb and she felt maybe her heart was too.

"At least now you know you didn't cause the break up," Minako said kindly, leaning forward to squeeze Usagi's arm. "I know you spent so long suffering about what you did wrong, when it was nothing you could've done."

"It just wasn't meant to be," Rei said, softly.

Minako shifted closer and added, "And you can meet someone else someday, someone more suited to you." Ouch. That one hurt.

"It's true, he wasn't good for you," Makoto added, her strong arm encircling Usagi's shoulders with a warm squeeze. "You deserve better."

Dimly, she wondered what 'better' could possibly mean. The girls surrounded her with love and pep talks and forced cheer and talks of a fresh start. As if her feelings for Mamoru were just childish fantasy, easily put aside. The dreams of a flighty teenager, hopeless romantic, to have some reborn prince destined to be her cool college boyfriend. Disappointing, but not life-ending. Usagi wondered if she really, really tried, maybe eventually they'd be right.

Esmaraude must've been trying to exhaust them. It was just two days ago that Ami had been targeted by that self-esteem sucking bug-haired jerk at the cram school, and usually they had more of a break than this.

The senshi were on their way, and, despite Tuxedo Kamen's usual perfectly timed rose interrupting a blast directed at her, Sailor Moon still stumbled and took a side-swipe hit on her leg before aiming the sceptre and screaming her attack with all the frustration and anguish she'd been feeling since the goddamn Starlight Tower.

Sailor Moon was so hyped up from the adrenaline and moon-derived super powers that she didn't even feel any pain until the Droid had vanished in a sparkling shower of Moon Princess Halation. She then noticed the tear in her skirt and the already-purpling scrape running from her knee to mid-thigh.

In a flash Tuxedo Kamen was by her side, pulling her close and leaping up to get her away from the already-gathering crowd. Sailor Moon didn't even try to not enjoy it, and the embrace ended all too soon as he sat her down gently on the soft grass in a much more isolated part of the park and knelt beside her.

It was so different now than it was at the start. They knew each other. They worked together - on the same team and for the same cause and with the same passion but this time she wasn't allowed to be attracted to him, for her heart to flutter whenever he appeared in battle with that heartstopping dramatic flair.

She shouldn't want to fall just so he could catch her and she could feel a moment of his warmth through the layers of dress shirt and jacket and gloves.

As Mamoru, he even sat in on some senshi meetings, always arriving on time when she'd stumble in late and flushed, furiously pushing stray hairs behind her ears, and he'd just look at her and look at her and not say a word except a polite hello and goodbye and if she was especially lucky he might smirk a bit at her antics even while Rei rolled her eyes and Luna called for order.

This time, he looked at her injury with a grimace, all of Tuxedo Kamen's pompous pretense dissolving into genuine concern and guilt. "I'm so sorry," he breathed, eyes shining through the mask as he touched her knee with one gloved hand, hissing through his teeth as she flinched.

The wound was superficial and already healing; as long as she didn't detransform for a while Usagi wouldn't even feel it once Sailor Moon disappeared in a flash of ribbons and light. It didn't matter, and she opened her mouth to say so, but Tuxedo Kamen was already pulling off his gloves and gently - oh-so-gently- pressing the flesh beside the cut, and her voice died in her throat.

His hat had fallen to the side and his hair was inches from her face, it looked so soft and she could smell his scent and his breath puffed air along her neck and his touch had gone from clinical to something else… Fingers softly brushing against her skin with an instinctive gentleness.

"Does this hurt much?" He looked up at her and they were so close, his nose almost touching hers. His fingers were still resting on her leg with a butterfly's touch, his eyes falling to her lips. Their breath mingled and her open lips were barely brushing his when she answered, hands curling around his jacket lapel and clutching the fabric tight.

"Of course this hurts," she breathed, and then all breath was gone and it was just his mouth - hot and wet and open against hers, bodies twisting to hold each other tighter, her arms winding around his waist, under his jacket, and his warm palm pressing hot against her leg, the other in her hair, and there was no breath and no excuses and no apologies and no thinking and a few long moments later with swollen lips and disheveled hair they sheepishly promised each other this wouldn't happen again.

And they continued to promise that again and again, every single time.

Four new senshi and two defeated enemies later…

Saori double-checked the address in her notebook before buzzing into Mamoru's apartment building. They'd been together for almost a month now but this was her first time going to his place - their dates were mostly dinners and some lectures at campus, and, once, a house party of some mutual friends. She'd called him when she noticed he was missing classes, and even though he brushed off her concern initially, she finally got out of him that he'd been feeling unwell lately.

Armed with homemade chicken soup, a thermos of honey cinnamon tea, and a package of throat lozenges, Saori was prepared to be the dutiful girlfriend and nurse him back to health - she hoped it'd make them closer, break through some of the walls that her cooly polite and distantly kind boyfriend cleary still had up.

When she reached the door, she was surprised to see it open even as she raised her hand to knock. She was greeted by a pair of beautiful purple eyes, looking at her as if she was ants at a picnic - expected, tolerated, but definitely not warmly welcomed.

"Hello," the girl said, in formal, polite language. "Please come in." She had porcelain skin, dark eyelashes and the shiniest black hair Saori had ever seen outside of television commercials.

"Thank you," Saori slipped out of her kitten heels and stepped into the genkan. "I don't think we've met, I'm-"

"I know who you are," the girl said. She eyed the bag in Saori's hand and a flash of condescension flitted across her face for a moment. "Mamoru's in bed," she gestured to the closed door next to the tiny kitchenette. "You can go in if you want; I think he's awake."

"Are you his sister?" Saori said, and was rewarded with a strange, almost incredulous look.

"Mamoru doesn't have a sister," a voice said from behind her, and she whirled to see a diminutive blonde girl exit the bathroom, holding a glass of water. She walked past Saori and sat heavily on the sofa, putting her head in her hands as if she had a headache, suddenly looking years older than the teenager Saori figured she was. Her hair fell in twin streamers across thin shoulders, knotted at the top in a strange, but oddly endearing, style.

Feeling strangely defensive, Saori made herself walk into Mamoru's bedroom as if she'd been there many times before, saying, "Hey there, it's me," before closing the door behind her.

Then she had to stifle a gasp, because he looked awful. Pale, with a damp sweat along his brow, brilliant blue eyes dulled and pinched with pain. "Saori," he said, sitting up slightly on his elbows. "Hi."

"I brought soup," she said, taking a thermos out of the bag and placing it gently on the nightstand in one graceful movement. "And I made some cinnamon tea for your throat, why don't you have a sip now?" She poured it into the small cup and handed it to him.

He grimaced a thank you, raising the cup to his lips. Feeling oddly like she was overstepping her bounds, but stubbornly doing it anyway, Saori reached out and ran her fingers through his limp, damp hair. "Have you been to a doctor?" she said, concerned at the heat radiating from his skin. "Is it the flu? Do you need medicine? I can grab some…"

He shook his head, waved his hand a bit, putting the teacup down after taking one polite sip. "I know what it is. It's under control."

"But-"

"I'm being taken care of," he said softly.

"By those girls outside?" Saori said, "Who are they, anyway? Family?"

"In a way," his voice was soft. He laid back down and shut his eyes.

"Who is that blonde girl who was in here? What's her name?" Saori kept her voice light, but it irked her to realize she knew so little about the man she'd been over the moon to get a date with.

"She's the savior of the world," he murmured, clearly already dozing off. "The messiah." His breathing deepened and slowed and she guessed he'd fallen asleep.

Saori pressed her hand to this burning forehead and stayed in his room for a long time, just watching him sleep, and listening to the girls outside the door, moving around and murmuring to each other just out of earshot.

When Saori finally left, Usagi's shoulders dropped as if releasing pounds of tension. Even though she knew it wasn't fair, it didn't stop her from being blindingly angry at Saori, with her slim figure and graceful movements and perfect grades and impeccably tailored pencil skirts. The woman who had the gall to confess to someone else's star-crossed doomed love, and what's worse - dared to be likeable and similar enough to Mamoru that he seemed to honestly enjoy her company?

It was one thing sneaking around to catch glimpses of Saori near campus or at the cafe with Mamoru; it was quite another to confront her straight on, in Mamoru's apartment, walking in like she had been there so many times before, walking into his bedroom like it was a second home and looking at Usagi like she had no idea who she even was…

And she was just so angry and so tired and so over everything and Mamoru might be dying and …

"Usagi?" Rei's voice was uncharacteristically gentle, kind - which Usagi knew meant she must look all kinds of pathetic. "He's asked for you."

The room was warm, quiet and the door closed behind Usagi with a gentle click that made Mamoru open his eyes and turn toward her. For so many weeks she'd been so angry, so betrayed, so hurt and so, so mad at him but that all evaporated the second she saw how pale and sick he looked.

In three strides she was by his bed, and their hands slipped together effortlessly, interlacing fingers - hers cold against this feverish temperature. "I will protect this world," Usagi said, words tumbling from her mouth like they could cure him. "I will save you."

"I know," he said, softly. His gaze met her eyes with a strength and connection that took her breath away.

She left quickly before she did something stupid like kiss him.

Mamoru had recovered fully when Saori met him to break it off. There wasn't much to it: she was sad, he was sorry to have made her sad, she kissed him and he let her, and then she left.

"It's a shame you two didn't last," Motoki was saying, filling the mug of coffee in front of his friend. "I mean, Saori's a great girl and you two are so similar. What went wrong?"

Mamoru let the black coffee scald his tongue, considered Motoki for a moment. "I'm not sure," he finally answered.

"Well, you seem okay about it at least," Motoki said, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Okay 'bout what?" a familiar voice chirped at his shoulder. Clearly Minako Aino's Gossip Senses™ had been tingling.

And with that, the whole of Tokyo would know by sunset, Mamoru thought sardonically as Motoki filled Minako in. He rose to leave, meeting Usagi's eyes across the cafe - they always seemed to find each other's gaze. He smiled and nodded and she responded with a sulk that he refused to let himself find adorable.

They weren't supposed to end up kissing. But, of course they ended up kissing. Usagi was still angry, her fingers twisted into Mamoru's shirt, tugging him down at the same time she pushed herself up on her tip-toes, pressing her lips to his in an unyielding demand. His hands held her sides, palms against softness below her ribs, fingers curling around her back to press her hips closer to his.

He didn't even have the decency to be the one to break it off with that farce of a girlfriend, when Usagi had dumped every single one of her short-lived flings, because nothing worked without him. It wasn't fair.

She was pressed back against the cold concrete wall, his hands in her hair, his mouth hot and open and insistent on hers, and none of this was fair.

That night, alone in her room, Usagi dug her teeth into her pencil, staring blankly at a homework sheet while the radio announced the premiere of a single from a brand new pop group. Across Juuban, Mamoru carefully wrote his name on an application to Harvard.

It had never been fair.