The Darkness began to spread, reaching out tendrils like oil moving over the surface of water. Then--from the darkness stepped a lone figure, dressed in a tattered gown. The darker patch of night surveyed the damage, scowling; she would rebuild, as always. But she needed energy; that was the one thing always denied to her. Grimly, she turned, and the darkness lifted slightly revealing a sprawling plain, covered with billions of glittering crystals. Slowly, the dark figure stooped and scooped up a fist-sized crystal at random from the ankle deep piles and drifts. "The lives in trapped in these should do nicely." Idly, as though she were merely looking at some interesting piece of art work, she raised the crystal in her hand...and crushed it in her fist...

* * * * * * * *

Zoë stared into the mirror that hung on one of the walls of her room, frowning, peering at her reflection in the bright, silver-coated glass, her hands resting on the carved wooden frame to either side of the reflection. Slowly, she leaned back, raising her hands and beginning to undo her long braid, letting the long golden hair fall freely over her shoulders. The emerald eyes didn't even blink as she continued to stare at her reflection a moment more. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, she took the cloth covered rubber band that had held the base of the braid she had just worn, and gathered all of her gleaming hair into one long tail, gathered at the nape of her neck.

It was still not quite right.

Frowning, Zoë reached out blindly to the dresser to one side, rummaging without looking in the top drawer, and pulling out a pair of scissors that were wrapped in a partially finished bit of embroidery. She tugged her hair free once more, then brushed the long golden lengths forward over her face, parting them down the center, then brushing forward an even layer into her face once more. With her eyes still fixed on the mirror, she carefully raised her hand and cut the separated strands of her hair, giving herself a set of bangs. She fussed over their placement a moment, then set the scissors back down, smiling at herself in the mirror, emerald eyes gleaming brightly. With a frown, she pulled a curl before each ear, then took a step back to admire her new look.

Zoë blinked, then clapped a hand to her newly shorn hair, her eyes widening in shock. She stared down at the long clippings lying limply on the floor around her feet, then fell to her knees, burying her face in her hands and sobbing brokenly.

* * * * * * * *

"Oh that’s an original one," grumbled another female voice, while Jared and Nathan both turned towards the voices shock and surprise openly on their faces.

"Mars, I really--"

Jared and Nathan looked at each other in startled confusion; a group of five young girls were fanned out before them, several yards away, all of them dressed in odd sailor outfits. The ridiculous outfits varied in colors, and had impractically short skirts for the chill weather, not to mention the short sleeves, and Jared rather doubted those gloves did much to keep the cold out. "What are you lot supposed to be; some sort of odd Japanese gang?" Jared asked after a moment of stunned silence.

"Can it, NegaCreep," snapped the girl with the red skirt, and the long dark hair. Jared could swear that they all looked familiar.

"Please--ladies, I--don't know who you--think we are, but--" Nathan grimaced in pain, leaning over, swaying, Jared shooting out an automatic hand to help his friend, but not taking his eyes off the girls, his whole body tense.

One of the girls, in blue with short, dark hair, pulled up what looked like a pink one of those digital organizers, a pale blue visor appearing over her eyes as she appeared to tap at the pink thing. "Guys--that one, the one with red hair, is seriously hurt; if he doesn't get some help soon--"

"Great, Mercury, so what do we do now? Help them or fight them?" groused a tall girl in green and pink, her long brown hair in a tail.

"It doesn't change anything, just makes it easier," said the one in red again. "They're NegaTrash, and--"

"What are you talking about," Jared asked, more than a bit exasperated, keeping a supportive hand on Nathan's side. Then the warm body leaning against his arm vanished, and he heard a soft thud behind him. Quickly, he turned to see Nathan sprawled, half-off the bench behind him, face pale, a bit of blood dripping onto the pavement from gashes on his face and running off his fingers. Biting his lip, Jared turned his back on the girls to see to his fallen friend.

Sailor Venus frowned, shaking her head as she watched Jared carefully tug Nathan's limp form off the bench and to rest against his shoulder, hands pressing the bloodied scarf to the wound on the unconscious fiddler's brow once again. "I don't know, Mars; I mean--they certainly don't act like they're from the Negaverse. I don't think one of them would care what happened to the other; at least they didn't the last time we fought them, according to you, except for Zoisite and Malachite."

"Um..." said Mars, her face troubled as she stared at the two men.

"I think that is quite enough," said a flat voice, unidentifiable as either male or female. Before any of them could react, a blast of pure force flung them all several feet away, slamming them none too gently into the ground. Rei was the first to recover, scrambling to her feet and spinning to face the direction of the attack--just in time to see a rippling blue wall of energy come crashing into her. "Past time for young girls to be in their beds."

Then, Rei knew nothing more but blackness.

* * * * * * * *

Jared looked up as he heard the girls all cry out in unison, curling protectively over his fallen friend, just in time to see Bridgette appear from the dark path through the trees, apparently taking a walk, her hands shoved into the folds of her favorite cloak. There was no sign of any of the girls, and he spared a moment to wonder about them, but quickly shoved thoughts of them away, waving frantically. "Bri! Bri! Nate's hurt!"

Bridgette appeared to jump a bit in surprise, her lovely face, a pale patch in the semi-dark, swinging towards him. Then she ran towards Jared, her cloak and hair streaming out behind her in the wake of her passing. She reached Jared's side, quickly kneeling and checking Nathan's eyes and pulse, the pulling out her handkerchief and tying it around a bloody patch on his right arm to stay the bleeding under the fabric without chilling the bleeding man by taking his coat off.

Jared took one more look around the park, looking for the girls, then turned his attention back to his mentor as she directed him to pick Nathan up and follow her home.

* * * * * * * *

"Serena! Serena!!!" Someone was shaking her. The voice was familiar, but--

"Go--'way. M' head hurts..." Serena groaned, flopping over and burying her face under the pillow.

"Serena! Wake up!"

"Serena, wake up, or I'll bite you!"

Serena groaned, and started to actually listen a little at that point. The first voice penetrated first. It was Molly's voice, taught with worry. Abruptly, Serena's memory came flooding back. The park; they had been facing the Negaverse generals--those musicians. She sat up quickly, eyes snapping open--and immediately wished she hadn't moved at all.

Her head pounded in time with her racing heartbeat. Groaning, she pressed a hand to her aching head, peering at her worried friend through pain-silted eyes. Molly sat back on her heels on the foot of Serena's bed, hands fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, her blue-green eyes dark with worry. "Molly? What--how did I get here?"

Molly shook her head, looking about, a more than a little frightened. "I don't know. I--stayed here with Luna, like you told me to. There was a flash of light and--you were laying there in your bed, and I couldn't wake you."

"No change there," muttered Luna under her breath.

Serena looked around her room, not really hearing the cat, though Molly managed a weak giggle. The blond girl clutched her forehead, half-moaning, "The communicator--the others--" She groaned again as she moved, her head thumping, making her feel a bit dizzy as she fished the communicator from the night stand-and realized she was in her night clothes again, and not her Sailor fuku. Wincing in pain, she punched in the code. "Ami! Rei! Mina! Lita! Artemis; anyone!"

Rei's face appeared, a hand clutching the side of her head. "What hit us?"

The picture flickered to Mina who had an ice pack tied to her head with a scarf. "I don't know--but it hurts."

"Did everyone wind up in bed; in your night clothes?" asked Ami, her blue eyes glazed with pain, a bottle of aspirin evident behind her.

"Yeah," said Lita. "And with the mother of all headaches."

"Who was that? What happened?" Rei asked, almost frantically, her voice rising in pitch.

All the girls groaned in pain as the voice stabbed at their sore heads. Luna sighed, jumping up to peer down at the communicator. "No one is in any shape to do anything at the moment." She grimaced, pacing. "We'll just have to wait until the morning and see what is going on."

* * * * * * * *

Malcolm closed the door to Nathan's room behind him, leaving Jared sitting at the still unconscious man's side. He followed Bridgette's weary shuffle out into the hallway, grimacing and drawing his hand through his silver hair, peering at his mentor in concern. "Will he be all right, Bridgette?"

She looked back at him a moment, her dark eyes seeming to stare right through him, and awash with a hundred emotions, and none of them looked pleasant to experience. She smiled thinly, leaning with a tired sigh on the wall across from the door, crossing her arms over her chest and rubbing at her worry-lined brow. "I certainly hope so, Malcolm, considering I just--" she shook her head and groggily pushed open the door to her room and went in.

Malcolm followed her in, watching her flop into a chair with a muffled thud, the fire crackling cheerfully behind her. Her dark eyes peered into the flames as if seeking answers from the dancing blaze. Hesitantly, Malcolm stepped in as well, and closed the door. "Bri--what is going on with us all?" He flopped down in a chair by the door with an equally tired thud. "Jared is the only one who isn’t acting odd, and he looks like he's going to snap from the way the rest of us are acting." He saw Bridgette flinch, her hand reaching up to finger the locket in a familiar gesture of comfort that Malcolm had seen her use all of the time that he had spent with her. "I mean--Nate is--he's--"

"He'll be fine," Bridgette said. "You'll see; in the morning." She rested her head in her hand, elbow propped on the arm of the chair. "Just fine," she repeated, as if trying to convince herself.

"He doesn't look fine. Where are all those injuries coming from?" Malcolm snapped.

Bridgette flinched, and turned to regard him with wounded, deepest blue eyes, her fingers still tracing the patterns on her locket. "The mind is a funny thing; so are humans. Give him time; he--has to find a balance." The last words had the sound of a bitter rote to them, and Malcolm could only stare for a moment.

"What?"

Bridgette looked at Malcolm, her eyes tired, and she shook her head gently. Never had her face been so openly weary or sad looking. Malcolm had to stifle the urge to try to reach out a hand and try to wipe the bleak look off her face. "Malcolm--something else is troubling you; aside from Nate, I mean."

He sighed, leaning back, his eyes shifting to stare at the wooden-plank ceiling. "It's partially Zoë--and me. I--keep coming up with these names--faces. The dreams are getting too real, Bri. It's-they're not like my dreams any more, Bri; it's like they're memories-or things I've forgotten somehow, but I--"

Her eyes closed in pain for a moment, and then she shook her head once more, sighing. "Don't try to fight them, Mal." She stood, going to look out the window, rubbing her arms as if she were cold. He voice lowered as she moved to rest her forehead on the glass, her breath steaming the window before her. "It was bound to happen, I suppose." Shaking her head sadly, she spoke up again, "But it will only be worse if you fight it."

"Fight what?" Malcolm stood, angrily crossing to her and grabbing her shoulder in his slender hand. "Bri--you've never lied to me before, I don't think. You know something--what is happening to us? You always told me to think--to question things! Well, I'm questioning!"

Bridgette looked at him sadly over her shoulder. "That--that you must find out, Mal. Your mind is trying to tell you something; I cannot tell it to you, and you wouldn't believe me, anyway." She shrugged her shoulder free of his grip, turning back out the window. She placed her hand on the glass, tracing a circle in the steam her breath had left and then dividing it with the same cross as her medallion. "Do me one favor, Mal; no matter what happens to us all--"

Malcolm dropped his arm. "What?" he murmured after a moment.

"Remember--remember that I--"

Malcolm stared at her expectantly, but Bridgette said nothing more, merely leaned heavily on the windowsill, her head bowed. "Bridgette--why is it you--never even look at me twice?" he said finally.

Bridgette jumped, then stared at Malcolm, her back pressed to the window, her hair smearing away her sign. "Mal, I--it wouldn't be right. I'm too old, and you're--"

"Do you think I care about that?" Malcolm half-yelled. "Damn you! You were the one who always said love cared little for age, or race, or--" He fought back tears, his fists clenched, his whole body trembling as he fought to keep his emotions under control.

"It's not right, Ma'," she repeated softly. "You were--meant for another." Bridgette stared at her feet, not looking into his angry silver eyes any longer.

"What--Zoë? Part of these dreams?" Malcolm snapped angrily. "Did it ever occur to you that I don't want to remember whatever my--my mind is trying to tell me?" Angrily, he strode out of the room, jerking the door open, then slamming it closed.

Bridgette watched the door for a moment, then turned and stared out of the window at the front gate. "Oh dear, Yen--this isn't going well at all..." She crossed back to the chair and sat heavily, a tear tracing down her cheek. "Just the way she would have wanted."

* * * * * * * *

Zoë slipped into Nathan's room, stepping softly, rubbing sleep from her eyes as she stared down at the fiddler's sleeping form. After a moment, Nathan stirred groggily, his eyes flickering open, staring at the ceiling in seeming confusion, as his hand probed carefully at his shoulder. Zoë was startled to see, when his fingers pushed aside the fabric of his shirt, that the bandages were gone, and the skin was smooth and whole again, as though his blood didn't stain the set of sheets in the trash to one side of the bed. "Nathan?" she queried softly.

His eyes snapped to look at her, face twisting in sleepy confusion. His eyes were glazed with a semi-dazed look, then hardened into something between distrust and hate. "What do you want, Zoisite?" He demanded in a low voice, an almost-sneer on his handsome features.

"Zoisi--" Zoë shook her head a moment, her face twisting through a hundred emotions, and then her face twisted into a sneer, crossing her arms imperiously over her chest and looking down her nose at the prone man. "You weak fool, Nephlite." She snorted, tossing her head. "I thought I had killed you last time, with those thorns. Ah well; I will enjoy it even more the second time."

"You don't even have a fraction of the strength you need," Nathan/Nephlite said with a glower--then paused, hearing an odd flavor to his words. Shaking his head, he pushed himself up, glaring at Zoë evenly as he swung his legs out of bed, not taking his eyes off of his enemy for a single moment.

"You--" Zoë snarled, raising her hands. Abruptly, she shook her head, and her emerald eyes returned to normal, from the gleaming cruel orbs. "Nathan!" she gasped, face white in.

"Who--" the auburn-haired man stopped his words; he remembered. Another life--a life as a musician. Frowning, he stared at Zoë. "Leave me, Zoë. Go." He grimaced, tangling his fingers in the mussed hair at his brow. "Please, Zoë...I...I need to be alone."

Her face paled, more, and she backed away from him slowly, edging for the door. "Nate?" she half pleaded.

He grimaced. "Go, Zoë. Please! I--need to be alone a moment. I need to think."

The girl fled the room, her new tail of golden hair nearly getting caught in the door she closed it so quickly behind her. The auburn-haired man stood, staring into the mirror at himself, his blue-eyes troubled. Nathan touched his mended shoulder with wondering fingers. "Amazing. How did this happen? I remember--it is like two different lives at once--" he stared, then glanced out the window of his room as a police car drove by. Frowning, he glanced around the room, at the fiddle, resting on the dresser, and sighed. "I must tie up the loose ends first; start again. I have much to do. And this time, I will not make the same mistakes I did." A swirl of crimson energy formed around him, and he was gone, leaving Jared sleeping peacefully, undisturbed by the whole thing.

* * * * * * * *

"They weren't at the school again today," Ami said, as Rei joined the other five girls walking down the street. "Miss Harruda said something about Nathan still being sick."

"I hope--" Molly glanced guiltily at the others, then continued, "I mean I know you say he's still a bad person, but I--he didn't seem bad to me. He--wasn't before--really!"

She stared at her hands and Serena hugged her tightly. Serena's eyes softened a bit. "Oh, Molly, I--"

Molly shook her head, then stopped, peering into the afternoon light. "Look--there's Jared now," she said, pointing towards the river.

They all turned and looked to see the young, blonde man sitting under a tree staring at the river, his face troubled. A silver flask rested by his hand, and he didn't look around at anyone who passed by him, his only movements, other than breathing were to pick up the flask and take long, careful pulls. His eyes were deeply shadowed, and his face was bleak, the pale-blue eyes reddened from lack of sleep. A brisk wind ruffled his hair and blew his coat open, but he didn't seem to notice the cold. Glancing at the others, Serena walked over to where he sat. "Um--Jared? Hi? You--ah--okay?"

Jared didn't respond for a moment, not seeming to hear, then he slowly turned his head, a forced smile on his face. "Making an idiot of myself, sitting here drinking, aren't I?"

"What's--umm--what's the problem?"

Jared stared at the girls for a moment, then sighed, shrugging and sealing his flask, shoving it into an interior pocket of his leather bomber jacket. "I dunno, totally. It's the others, I guess. They're all acting weird. Nate got worse last night--we got jumped in the park. The attackers vanished, so I could have been imagining it 'cause I was worried for Nate, but--" He shook his head, picking up a leaf and peering at it as if it were something he had never seen before. He sighed deeply, leaning back against the trees, his sight turned inward, though his eyes peered at the river again. "Zoë’s creeping around the house either being a total bitch and calling me--Jade or something--the --the next minute, she's standing there looking like a deer in headlights. Malcolm's gotten damn moody, and he and Zoë keep avoiding each other like the plague." Jared shook his head. "Then Bridgette's gone and become so quiet...I've never seen her like that--not even when we got caught in Belfast--during that damned riot." Jared ran both his hands through his hair. "And Nathan, when he's awake, keep's muttering about things--saying the weirdest stuff." He stopped, abruptly, and stared at the girls. He laughed suddenly, but it sounded more desperate than anything. "Here I am telling a bunch of junior high girls all my family problems."

"Hey--I've heard of stranger things," said Mina cheerfully.

"Yes! Sometimes it's best to talk to a stranger to get their opinions," Ami added.

Jared sighed. "I suppose you must think I'm completely nuts by now." He stood--and swayed slightly, catching himself on the tree. "Woah. Stuff's a bit stronger than I remember." He shook his head and smiled thinly at them. "Thank you for listening--or whatever. I think I'm going to find some coffee; if I CAN in this country; it's hard enough to find the stuff back home." He paused, an ironic grin on his face, "And if I can walk that damn far." Shoving his hands into his pockets, he slowly and carefully walked off.

"I don't think he knows," Lita said after a moment, once Jared's back had vanished into the crowd on the sidewalk.

* * * * * * * *

Nathan looked around, the placed the thick envelop into the mailbox at Molly's mother's store and slipped away again. That was one loose end tied up. Glancing up at the bright afternoon sky, he stopped, watching the dot of some high-flying bird flying over head. Two sets of memories clashed. The more recent set of memories told him the kind of bird--a seagull. **Incredible! But I must find out how this happened. For that--I will need my crystal; I tied up most of my power in that.** He slipped further into the shadows as a tired--looking red-haired woman approached the front of Molly's place, toting a suitcase.

Quietly, Nathan waited as she took out the mail, glanced through it briefly, then unlocked the store and went in. He glanced around again, then relaxed, thinking. **If I feel odd--and I have only just regained my memories, then the others must also be in the same condition; so Zoë would probably not know where my crystal is.** He frowned. **Jared seems to have no clue to his other self; maybe he's the lucky one.** He sighed, then turned to leave, raising his hands--then stopped. **So who is Bridgette?**

* * * * * * * *

Bridgette walked slowly through the park, her hands wrapped in the folds of her cloak, her thoughts turned inwards. Nothing was going right any longer; not that she could have expected the few years of peace that there had been to last much longer. The brief Utopia she had had was gone again, and it was back to the same pain as always.

Zoë shifted back and forth between terrified and cruel; Malcolm was avoiding her and everyone else; Jared had gone out that morning and no one had heard anything from him, though his pocket flask had gone with him. And Nathan--

Darien stopped in his tracks a few feet away, watching Bridgette intently as she walked by, oblivious to his presence and everything else but the path. He stared at her until she was out of sight, trying to figure out what had caught his attention about her, aside from her strange beauty and deep sadness. With a sigh, he shook his head and continued walking home.

* * * * * * * *

"Thanks for helping me carry my stuff home, Serena," Molly said, setting her sleeping bag down on the floor next to her suitcase, and glancing around the apartment.

"Sure!" Serena set the suitcase down and grinned at her, blue eyes sparkling. "Besides! Your mom said she had brought back chocolate from Belgium, right?"

Molly laughed. "Oh, Serena! Only you could think of food at a time like this." Giggling, she led the way to the kitchen where her mother was sorting through the mail. Molly ran over and hugged her mother warmly, then looked at a thick, legal-sized envelope her mother was frowning at. "What's that, Momma?"

"It's addressed to you," her mother said, "but it's dated almost two months ago."

Molly took the stuffed envelope, frowning at the neat penmanship on the outside, not recognizing it. There was no return address. "I guess it got lost in the mail," she said and used a knife to slit open the back.

Molly pulled out a bunch of papers, neatly folded and stapled to a larger piece of blue paper. Confused, Molly opened it and peered at the top page. "'I, Maxfield Stanton, being of sound mind--' " the papers dropped from Molly's numb fingers to the floor.

* * * * * * * *

...Hatred filled him for the five girls before him. The two cats were badly hurt clutched in the lap of their airhead leader. He smiled grimly, raising his hands. The Moon Brat, though, raised her wand--and his power went wrong somehow. Frantically, he tried to redirect the energy to...

Malcolm sat up in bed, soaked with sweat, even though the room was bitterly cold since he had neglected to light his fire. Groaning, he flopped back on the cushions and stared at the ceiling, tugging the blankets around himself and shivering in reaction.

"Damn..."

He had really messed up with Bridgette, and instead of apologizing, he hid from her. Sighing, he got out of the bed, grabbing his thick, terry-cloth robe and shuffled for the bathroom to take a shower. As he walked down the hall, he caught a glimpse of Zoë, peering at him through a crack in her door. He tried to smile at her, but her eyes widened and she shut the door quickly when she realized he saw her. **This is madness.** With a sigh, he pushed into the bathroom and closed the door.

* * * * * * * *

Nephlite frowned, looking around the ruined throne room with no little distaste, though part of him looked at the broken surroundings, with an artists eyes, noting the fallen splendor...as eerie as it had been, it had held a cold and terrifying beauty.

Everything was in ruins. Sighing, he sent his thoughts out--seeking. There. Frowning, he moved to a pile of rubble--and bits of more unpleasant things--and sifted through it, before his eyes caught a weak flicker and a gleam. A faint tingle ran through him, refreshing his tired body as he picked up his Star Crystal and looked at it.

**Strange for the Crystal to be just laying about like this in the rubble.** Even if they had eventually found the Imperium Silver Crystal, why would his crystal be laying here in the rubble, with the power it contained? Surely it would have intrigued someone more than that.

Abruptly, Nephlite stiffened, hearing a strange, grating noise followed by the sound of dust showering onto the floor. Gripping the Crystal firmly, it fitting familiarly into the shape of his hand, he turned to the sound, gathering his slowly recovering energy reserves--and stared.

A large chunk of stone slowly rose from the floor and settled back into place in the air above him, dust raining down as it rose. **Rebuilding! But who--and with what?** Frowning, Nephlite, concentrated. He frowned a little; the stars were fainter her in the Negaverse than he remembered, but still there, at least. "I call upon the power of the stars--" he murmured softly. "Show me what causes this--"

The air in front of him rippled, and he looked intently at the image that formed.

* * * * * * * *

Jared closed the front door softly behind himself, the sighed, tossing his keys onto a table, heading for the stairs. He wearily trudged up the stairs, running his hand through his hair and grimacing at the bitter after-taste of the unsweetened coffee. He stopped, suddenly; Zoë stood in the hallway, blocking the path to his door.

She wore a thin frown and her eyes gleamed with a hint of cruelty as she peered at him. **She's at it again,** Jared thought, stopping in the hall to look at her intently, warily putting his back to the wall behind him. **Zoë never looked like that. What's she done to her hair, anyway? It suits her better, but--**

"You certainly don't act like you used to," she said finally, tossing her head arrogantly.

"I don't?" Jared said incredulously. "Zoë--I'm the only one in this house who isn't acting crazy lately."

"How amusing!" She giggled, the laugh grating. "You don't remember a thing, do you? Oh well."

"Remember what, Zoë?" Jared asked in exasperation. "I didn't start drinking until this morning so I--" Abruptly, he stumbled forward, eyes widening in surprise. Pain. Intense pain. Like a giant vice closing in from all sides. Jared choked, trying to speak, but pitched forward to the floor, Zoë catching him, her eyes loosing the cruel gleam as she gently lowered him to the floor. "Zo--" he choked, trying to breathe.

"Malcolm!!!" Zoë screamed. "Bridgette!!! Nathan!!! Anyone!!"

Jared gasped, but the vice was tightening. Darkness began to fringe his vision as Malcolm skidded out of the bathroom, his hair soaking wet, a robe tied hastily about his waist. "Zoë! What happened?" Malcolm asked urgently, kneeling on the floor and clutching at Jared's wrists.

A flash of light that pierced even the darkness that was taking over caught Jared's fading attention, and he saw Bridgette running up the stairs and flinging herself at his side as well. "I--I d--d--don't know what--what happened. Is--is he--" Zoë stammered, shaken.

Bridgette let out a paint-blistering oath. "Get him into his room. Now. Then leave us."

Fading, the last thing Jared saw was Malcolm and Zoë moving to pick him up.

* * * * * * * *

"He left you everything?" Rei asked, as Mina wordlessly passed Molly another tissue for the poor girl to dab at her eyes with. "The house, the car--everything?!"

Molly nodded miserably. "The--police say the will is valid. I--it just--" She broke into helpless sobbing once again, and Serena hugged her friend tightly.

Luna rubbed affectionately at the distraught girl's rib cage. "We must--"

Abruptly, everyone jumped, feeling a chill. There was a swirl of crimson energy, and Nathan Malley stood in the room.

There was something strange about him though; the proud way he held his head--the dark, gleaming crystal clutched in his hand. "Sailor Moon," he said flatly, looking at Serena. "There is great danger. Queen Beryl--"

"Hold it, NegaCreep," Rei snarled. "How in the--"

He turned angry eyes on Rei. "Do not waste time, Rei. The Negaverse is rebuilding itself."

"Aren't--um--you part of it?" Serena asked at Molly stared at him. "Umm--Neph--ah--"

"I am not exactly Nephlite any longer," he said evenly. "And I owe the Negaverse nothing." His voice softened and his eyes became a little more gentle as he looked at Molly, huddled in Serena's arms, her face white in shock. "After all, they would brand me traitor, any way." He leveled his stare. "I give you this one warning, Sailor Moon. For--the care you have shown to Molly." He glanced at the red-haired girl on the bed again, and his face twisted. "Molly-it--it is best you forget about me; keep your young man. It is too dangerous to be near me." Abruptly, he jumped, eyes raised to the ceiling--or beyond it. "Jared--" he whispered. There was another flare of crimson energy, and he was gone."

Molly buried her face in Serena's shoulder, sobbing helplessly while the Scouts could only stare at the place he had stood.