Author's Note: Yet another thing I ended up writing at three in the morning. My writing always sucks at this hour. My apologies.

Anyway, this is supposed to be a dream sequence, if you're willing to accept that a person can fall asleep within a dream.

This pairing is, well, something that a friend of mine requested – Johnny the Homicidal Maniac and Sailor Moon. Please don't click that back button just yet. Click the review button instead and tell me how bad or ok it was. You have no idea how hard it was to try and think of a way to put these two together.

I own absolutely nothing.

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It was such an empty place.

The lack of furniture was not the only thing that made it empty. The air was still and cold, lacking life as it hung over the occupants of the house. The sense of emptiness seemed to wrap around her, as if there was nothing worth existing for. And it was familiar.

Each step forward echoed.

Everything echoed. Every time she breathed out, the sound seemed loud enough to wake the dead. As she moved through the house, she became very aware of her footfalls echoing on the empty walls, leaving a trail of sound behind her. She gulped, and the stale air sucked up the sound eagerly.

Why was she here?

The place was totally dark except where the moon was shining through the windows. The dark, gloomy atmosphere was only deepened by the moon, which disturbed her. Angled shadows were cast everywhere, haphazardly, and she could only stare as she kept walking. It seemed very important to her that she keep moving until she found him. Him, the man who lived in this gloom. Him, the man she'd dared to enter this pit of Hell for. Him, who lived alone in this empty, barren house.

Him, who was decidedly not Mamoru.

The thought was not repulsive even though it should have been. Instead of thinking this over, her thoughts were on what kind of a life he'd lived, who he was, what he was like. Anyone who lived here must not have had much happiness. She knew this without any real source of reason. Just as she knew the moonlight was here for a reason.

Finally, she found him.

He was skeletally thin, long legs pulled to his chest and equally long arms wrapped around himself. His hair was gone save two horn shaped patches towards the front. He looked like a statue, frozen in time. She would have bet his eyes were empty now, after being here. The moon was shining full blast through the window behind him, bathing half of him in light. His skin was pale.

Paler than it used to be.

He looked different than before. But when had she seen him previously? She didn't ask. He sat there, curled up as if he had been beaten, shoulders shaking occasionally with silent, gentle sobs. She stood in the doorway, unable to move for fear of doing more damage to his fragile mind. A gun lay a few feet away. His head moved slightly as he looked at it. Her breath caught in her throat. Dread seized her as, finally, he moved.

His hand was reaching for the gun, but his eyes were on the ground.

A cloud moved in front of the moon.

She tackled him. One hand entwined with his, knocking the gun away, the other found a resting place on his small, bony shoulder. He did not look startled, or irritated, or even sad. He looked empty. Oh, how she hated that emptiness.

Mother did, too, she recalled suddenly, she thought there was nothing else to him.

He met her eyes.

Chocolate brown emptily staring into deep blue. His black gloves unwillingly pressed against her white ones. His old, well worn black and purple striped shirt gingerly lay underneath her Senshi clothes. An emptiness they'd never known they had filled up at that moment.

The moon came out from behind its cloud.

He was nothing she wanted to be a part of. She was nothing he had ever wanted.

Yet the two lay there, unmoving, for what seemed an eternity. No words were exchanged, just looks of mixed contentment and unease. One of his horns of hair was brushing against her temple. The tension seemed to increase. The air was no longer empty. It was filled with their thoughts and feelings, the silence broken by two separate sets of breathing.

"Your name is Usagi, isn't it?" he muttered softly, as if it puzzled him how he knew this.

"Yes, Johnny," she replied, then blinked sheepishly. Where had that name come from?

"If you're some sort of guardian angel thing, then you're wasting your time here." He told her flatly, gently untangling their fingers.

"You're not a waste of time," she protested softly, "And I'm not an angel 'thing'."

"Then why the hell do you have wings?"

The brashness of this question made her pause. Pink tinged her cheeks and she found herself stuck for an answer. She shrugged.

The empty air nagged at her consciousness. Her head fell onto his chest. The cloud was in front of the moon again. What was that question again? Did it matter? Eh, Usagi had never been good at quizzes. Anybody at school could have told him that. She'd figure it out once she'd had some rest…

We never had moments like this back on the Moon. Maybe that was why it seemed so…

Empty.