An MK Song-fic Challenge from Antigone! ^^'Alone'
Antigone recomended I write a song fic for this, about Mamo-chan. ^^ 
Happy Holidays Antig!  This is dedicated to her, and you can read her
fics here:
http://antigone.homestead.com

This is manga-based...because.
Disclaimer: Pink Cabbage is not Green as the Name may Suggest.


     Tuxedo Kamen leapt silently off the lampost and disapeared into
the shadows not to far away.  Another night, another battle, another
haiku.  'Things never change around here,' he noted.  Or maybe it was
that in order for circumstance to change, *he* needed to change first. 
Whatever it was, he was blind to it.  Not that it mattered.  Nothing
mattered to Mamoru except the next battle, the next piece to the
puzzle, the next clue as to who he was.    Slipping back into the
familiar pace of being Mamoru again, he walked away from the battle and
didn't look back.  They were fine, nothing was different.    It seemed
that all his days blended into one now, monotonously over lapping each
other.  He was always surprised when it came to Friday, sure it had
only been Monday the day before.
     His appartment was dark when he made it back, the clock on the
wall ticking back and forth evenly, the curtains on the balcony
whispering inward slightly, trying to reach his bed.  The answering
machine was dark, no one had called while he was out, not that they
ever did.  Who would call Chiba Mamoru at this time in the night?
     Sighing quietly, he shrugged off his jacket and let it fall onto a
hook on the coat hook before slipping off his shoes and falling down
onto the bed.  The less he slept the more he knew, but it took a tole
all the same.  I hear the ticking of the clock
I'm lying here the room's pitch darkI wonder where you are tonight, 
no answer on the telephone.
     Every night for the past seventeen years he had loved to sleep,
loved to escape his life and fall into his dreams.  Every night that
is, until recently, when the youma attacks began.  They were huge,
greusome creatures that came out from the other world at night, preying
on innocent civilians and stealing their energy.  Sent out by someone,
but he only knew them as 'the enemy', from his dreams.  The dreams had
changed when the attacks came.  Instead of dreaming of his princess as
he usually did, he re-lived horrible battles, betrayals and killings
over and over and over until every detail was ingrained in his memory,
like a movie that never seemed to end.
     There was compensation though, compensation in the form of a small
girl, about fifteen or so with long blonde hair and big blue eyes...
and he screwed it up.  And the night goes by so very slow
I hope that it won't end, though:

Alone.

     Tsukino Usagi, 8th Grade.  These words were also ingrained on his
memory, but more pleasantly.  He had memorized the feel of the silk
beneath his hands, knew every loop and jump and pause in the stitching
of those words, and even exactly how many roses had been stitched along
each side.  The small scrap of fabric lay beneath his pillow, his hand
clutching it each night and every morning, something to keep the reall
world from fading from view.  She was like an anchor, keeping him from
slipping permanently into shadow, even if she didn't know it.  
     Some nights when the city was quiet and the air was warm, he would
slip out of bed, change in an instant and tuck the fabric inside his
jacket pocket before leaping out into the night, over the rooftops to a
house not to far from here in the Juuban District.  
     At least for some small moment in those nights, he could watch
her, and dream a little, that he wasn't really as alone as the dreams
said he was.

'Till now I always got by on my own
I never really cared until I met you.
And now, it chills me to bone
How do I get you alone?
How do I get you alone?

     But these half meetings were soon wearing thin, weren't enough to
hold him back in reality.  He needed something real and tangible, more
than a thread of memory, a day dream or a simple glance back after
another battle.  He needed more than small arguments on the street to
compensate for his pain.  He needed something real, or more real, as
the case may be.
     The seconds ticked by like hours, and the ceiling above him
refused to change.  He had been horrible to her.  Dark, cold, demanding
and cruel.  They may have never been alone together at all, but each
meeting, each argument on the street closed them off from the world for
a small period of time, and each time, he hurt her.
You don't know how long I have wantedTo touch your lips and hold you tight
Oh, darlingYou don't know how long I have waited.
And I was gonna tell you tonight.
     He preteneded not to see it of course, the way her eyes got a
little bit paler, how the tears gathered at the edges and her skin
faded a bit.  How her knees shook slightly, her feet faced a little
more towards each other, and her hands hid behind her back.
     Just one glance at that small face earlier today had almost had
him.  He had almost reached out a hand to grab hers before she could
leave.  He had almost given into the deep dark secret parts of him that
told him to pause, make her stay, appologize for past meetings, for his
foolishness.  He had almost told her today, what was really going on
inside his head.
     But what scared him the most, was that he had *wanted* to tellher.
But the secret is still my own.And my love for you is unknown:Alone.
     It had been years, centuries since he could remember *wanting*
something.  He could barely remember wanting to remember, once, only
once, in the orphanage.  But then he had seen what the memories of
their parents did to the other children around him, and he had told
himself that remembering would only make him weak, like them.  Frail,
and small, and breakable with a single word.  
     So he had closed his eyes earlier today, pushed his fingers
through his hair, and forcefully made himself turn, and walk away from
her.  He stilll had his pride, he was still strong, and no one knew. 
He was still alone.Till now I always got by my own.
I never really care until I met you.And now, it chills me to bone.

How do I get you alone?
How do I get you alone?

     But now the seeds of doubt were inplanted in his mind, deep within
him, gnawing at his soul.  Small parts of him spoke up in the darkness
of the night, whispering questions.  'How do you know that you wouldn't
be stronger with her than without?  How can you be so cold?  What is so
wrong with giving into her?'
     He was growing weaker each day he spent without her.  The pain was
hurting him more than it should be allowed to, and his blood ran cold.
     He realized now, in the darkness of his room, in the cold night,
that he needed her.  Needed her more than he had ever needed anything
else in his life, ever before.
     And it scared the living hell out of him.
How do I get you alone?
Alone.
Alone.
 
    For now, he could do nothing but ache for her voice, her comfort
or humor, anything that would draw him out of the shadows, where he had
quietly receded, waiting for the pain to overtake him.

Alone....


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