Title: From Across The Room
Part 10: Fallout
Rating: PG-13
Author: Alsepang
E-mail: alsepang@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: You know it, I know it. I own BSSM not.

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TWO DAYS LATER

     I saw him from across the room.

     He was alone, leaning against the wall, 
his raven-black hair falling into his eyes. 
The white shirt he wore was a little crumpled
and open at the collar, but he was as beautiful
as ever. He looked much thinner than I remembered 
and even from all the way across, I could see the
slight hollows in his cheeks and the soft smudges
under his eyes, which made my heart ache. His 
gorgeous dark blue eyes, deep as the night sky, 
were bent with strange intensity on mine.  

     "Who is that hot, *hot* guy who's staring at
you?" broke in Molly's breathless voice. "Oh, he 
is so *fine*! He is, like, the sexiest guy I have 
ever seen! Do you know him? Where did you meet him?
What's his name?"
    
     I hunched my shoulders, setting my jaw grimly,
and stared down at the table, wishing *very* hard 
for the world to disappear. Alternatively, I would
not mind being swallowed up by the floor. Please,
don't let him know I wrote it, don't let him find
out that it was my diary...

     Lita sat up straight, her eyes gleaming with 
interest. "Wait-- is he-- you know-- *him*?" She
darted a bright glance at me.
    
     I abruptly started gathering my books, lips 
pressed close together, and forebore to say anything.

     Yesterday, just one day after my diary had been 
published for public view, I had returned from classes 
late in the afternoon to find a huge bouquet of a dozen 
roses, the deep wine-coloured petals glowing next to a 
parcel. Molly had been bowled over by the sight and was 
hovering about impatiently, waiting for me to return.

      "Oh, Sere, that is so romantic!" she kept saying. 

      I had lifted the card with shaking fingers and 
seen the name of the sender. 

      Him. 

      The parcel proved to contain a gift-wrapped 
package from him as well. I hadn't opened it. I sent 
it back to the return address so conveniently written 
on the packaging.  I couldn't bear to throw the flowers 
away, but I could and did give them away. As for the card, 
I had kept it. It had his writing, his cologne-- it was 
him. I had silently wished that he had meant every word he
had written, but how could he? He didn't know me at all.

      I stood up abruptly, holding back the tears by 
sheer force of will. What was he doing here? How had 
he managed to come here? Couldn't he leave me alone? 
Wasn't it enough that I'd been so totally and thoroughly
humiliated by that oh-so-bright idea of Mina's to send in
my diary entries? 

      "It *IS* him!" 

      Mina had struck yet again. Her clarion tones alerted
most of the people around and they turned their heads curiously,
their attention switched from their plates to our table. 

      "Oops," squeaked my blabbermouthed soon-to-be ex-best 
friend, ducking behind Amy and nearly upsetting Raye's tray
in the process.

      "I know him," announced another voice, probably that 
of the freshman gossip queen. "He's Darien. You know, that 
totally hunky guy who couldn't be snagged by any girl at 
all. He's from the university in the next town.  I heard 
that he topped all his classes right from freshman year. 
You're the first to make him take an interest, Sere, you 
lucky, lucky--"

     Unable to hold back, I snorted a disbelieving laugh,
nearly releasing a sob, and interrupted her coldly. "You 
need more reliable sources." I took an almost murderous
delight in the look she had on her face.

      Raye laid a hand on my arm. "You should give him a
chance," she said thoughtfully (and *quietly*), looking up
at me. "He came all the way here just to look for you."

      I said nothing, but shook off her hand and 
picked up my books. "I'll see you guys later." I 
turned to leave-- and found myself face to face 
with him.

     He was-- so-- beautiful. Turbulent dark 
blue eyes met mine and begged me to stop. I 
did so, drawing a sharp, painful breath as I 
hugged my books protectively to my chest, 
waiting for the blow to fall. 

     He opened his mouth and let fall the 
classic line. "We need to talk...please?" 
He laid a hand on my arm and I felt its 
warmth spread swiftly.

    With an effort, I pulled away, trying not 
to do so sharply, but as inconspicuously and 
politely as possible.

    "Serena--" His voice was soft and his eyes
were wounded.

    I clenched my fists, nails digging into my 
palms as I spoke in a cool, flat tone-- or as 
cool and flat as I could manage. "May I help 
you?"

    He stood still for a moment, a strange 
look crossing his handsome face. I understood.
They were the same words I had used as a waitress,
the same words I had spoken to him before, a long
time ago in a forgotten place called the Crown 
Café. 

    He spoke, his voice still low, and held out
something-- the issue of the newspaper containing
the stupid short story competition that I was never
going to be able to live down. "The story-- Andrew 
showed me your story-- and your eyes-- now I know 
why they were so familiar-- but why didn't you tell
me-- Andrew said that you knew that I had been looking
for you--"

      My lips curved mirthlessly. "Andrew 
said that you were looking for a dream 
girl. I don't think you had me in mind." 

     He parted his lips and tried to say 
something, but he couldn't.

     I could feel the tears start to fill 
my eyes and I dug my fingers fiercely into 
my palms. I was *not* going to cry. Taking 
a deep, shaky breath, I tried again. "I'm 
sorry. I'm just not who you're looking for." 
My voice shook a little and a solitary drop 
of wetness trickled slowly down my cheek. 

     I felt his fingers on my face, gently 
brushing away the tear. His touch was warm, 
almost protective, and there was something 
achingly sweet about it. I wanted to catch 
his hand in mine and place it more securely 
against my cheek, but I pulled back instead, 
stepping out of reach. His eyes flashed with 
hurt.

    "I love you," he said suddenly, sounding 
desperate. "Serena, I know now-- I've never 
forgotten you, I've been looking for you--"

    I broke in, my voice harsh but quiet. 
"You never knew me. How can you forget what
you don't know? You love a  dream girl you've
tricked out with your  imagination, but I'm 
not the same girl. You say you love me-- why 
then did you never even speak to me in all the
time I worked at the café? You didn't want to 
make friends or try to get to know or understand
me in any way. I couldn't even fulfil your 
expectations in real life, don't you see?"

     He knew that I had spoken the truth and 
I could see him swallow hard and grow pale 
as my words struck home. 

    "You were already searching for that dream
girl of yours in the summer," I reminded him, 
my voice softer now, but cracking a little with
the torment of the memory. "I still remember 
them-- all the girls you went out with. You didn't 
reach for me at all. So you see, I was never that 
dream girl you were thinking of..." I hated myself
for the tremor that ran through my voice and revealed
my vulnerability.

    He was still silent, seemingly frozen. I had 
obviously given him something to think about.

    "You can't even talk to me," I finished 
sadly, tears blurring my vision as fast as I 
blinked them away. "You can't respond because
you know I'm right and because you've never 
spoken to me before, so you have no idea what
to say. You can't love someone you don't know, 
Darien." It was my turn to swallow. For the first 
time, I had let his name cross my lips. "How can
you love someone you don't know?"


(c) 2001 Copyright original storyline by 
Alsepang

AN: Did you notice? It's Serena's turn to weep a single tear!
    Yes, we have come a full circle...

Did you know?

Azabu is a district only for the very rich.

Really! I was watching this Japanese documentary
purely by accident and when they said 'Azabu', my
ears pricked up AT ONCE. Hey, I wasn't going to
miss a single chance to take a look at where Sailor 
Moon characters live.

Good grief, the place is *really* a home for
the wealthy! As the Japanese commentator observed,
'Azabu is only for the filthy rich'.

They showed a top-of-the-line fish market, where a *slice* 
of salmon cost 1500 yen...astronomical!!! Go use your 
foreign exchange rate and figure. *Alse works figures
out on paper, borrows a calculator to assist her, and then
faints at answer displayed* 

The regular customers of that top-of-the-line
fish market, which is really a small shop offering
home delivery (the delivery is done by the shop owner 
in a gorgeous Lexus-like car-- think something sleeker
than the Merc but almost as large) either lived in huge
mansions with nine bathrooms or drove Porsches. One 
Porsche-driving lady was the owner of a jewellery store 
and I thought, 'Osaka Naru's mother!' (Molly's mother, 
for dub watchers). 

I checked Azabu up on the Internet and nearly cried.
Goodness, the real estate prices!!! Rent for a 129 square
foot apartment is a million yen a month! (Actually,
1.25 million yen a month). Itai!!!

I also found this webpage which compares the places
in the anime to those in the manga to those in the
real Azabu.

www.os.xaxon.ne.jp/~rini/sailor/azabu/

It's quite amazing...makes it so much more real...