A/N: I know it's been awhile. I appreciate your patience with my slow updates! I struggled with this chapter a lot, but hopefully that doesn't show! Please Enjoy.

Chapter 6: Superimposed

In Usagi's mind, the best thing about summer break was getting to sleep in every morning. Even Mamoru didn't give her any grief about it over the school holiday. But on this particular morning, Usagi couldn't sleep in. She wasn't comfortable no matter which way she turned. And there were birds flitting about on the tree outside her window, chirping noisily. On one of her precious days off. Before seven in the fucking morning. Even Mamoru was still in bed! She wanted to throw rocks at the nest forming in the branches hanging over her window.

Having no rocks on hand, the teenager stumbled her way to the bathroom, only to discover the door locked, her brother inside.

"Ugh! Hurry up, Shingo!" she growled through the door.

Several seconds passed. And then more time, still without a sound from the other side of the wooden barricade. Her blood boiled in agitation. He didn't even acknowledge her presence!

She kicked the door. Hard.

She hadn't expected her foot to go through it. The white surface had caved in completely, revealing the splintered wood underneath. But the damage did almost nothing to cool her temper.

"Kami-sama, Usagi-baka!" Shingo cursed, his voice echoing off the tiled walls. "What the hell? You scared the crap out of me!"

"Well good!" she snapped back. "That means you should be finished! So, get out!" She punctuated her words with another blow to the door.

"Usagi!" Her mother screeched, her voice cracking as she hurried up the stairs. "What on this earth has gotten into you?"

Usagi froze. Only in that moment did she become aware of the unbridled rage pumping through her veins. With no discernable reason for it. Mamoru appeared to still be in bed, though he was definitely awake.

What is going on?

Not now, Usako.

The turbulent emotions didn't fade, but he offered no explanation.

"I don't know what overcame me!" Usagi apologized, hanging her head low. "I'm so sorry, mama!"

Ikuko crouched down to examine the damage. "Is your foot okay?" she asked.

"It's fine."

Shingo came out at that moment looking beyond steamed.

"I'm so sorry, Shingo-kun," Usagi brushed passed him without another word and closed the door on both her mother and brother. She turned the faucet on and splashed cold water on her face, hoping to shock the rage out of her system.

It didn't help.

She did her business and whipped back to her room. Her mother followed on her heels, her arms crossed disapprovingly.

Usagi dressed in a hurry, not worried about her maternal audience.

"Where are you going, Usagi?" her mother asked.

"Out!"

Her mother stared at her, her blue eyes flat with impatience. "You need to adjust your attitude this morning, young lady, or you are not going anywhere."

Usagi released a heavy sigh and prayed for self control. "I'm sorry, mama! I don't know what's come over me today. But in this moment, I'm really wound up. I need to leave before I break something else. I need to go outside, breathe some air, and maybe go for a run. I'm really sorry about the door. I will help fix it or save allowance to pay for it. I promise."

Maybe you can pay for it.

"I want you home in time for dinner."

Usagi nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She tore down the stairs, threw on her shoes, and ran out the door.

This is not healthy. Tell me what is wrong.

Walls of equations and three dimensional graphs flooded her mind's eye, made all the worse by the fact that she understood half of it.

She literally growled in response, getting a strange look from passersby. She glared back until they looked away.

Haven't we established that we have no privacy? Please tell me why I feel this way!

It was his argument! The exact same one he had used on her like a week ago. It should've worked. But he continued seething in his bed, shooting only indefinable anger and almost decipherable math at her.

Part of her wanted to go straight to Mamoru's fancy apartment and beat the truth out of him, but the arcade was closer. Maybe she could collect some intel.

This is none of your business.

It is my business if it's making me feel this way!

She stepped into the arcade and made a beeline for Motoki. Thank god he was working today.

"What is up with Mamoru today?" she asked without preamble. Her skin was crawling like an angry ant colony had been set loose on her body. "He's raging!" She rubbed her hands up and down her arms soothingly, trying to keep from screaming her rage to the world. How did he deal with this at all?

Motoki glanced up at a calendar.

"Did you run into him? He's in no shape to be around people today. He usually stays home."

"Yeah, no kidding!" she snapped. "So, what's got him all worked up?"

"It's his birthday."

Usagi stared at her friend like he was speaking another language. His birthday?

"Why would his birthday make him so upset?"

If this was a predictable event, some warning would have been nice!

"That's not really my story to tell," Motoki told her gently.

Usagi sighed impatiently.

Why does your birthday upset you so much?

He tried to block her out with more equations, but there had been a flash between a differential equation that modeled a pendulum and a three dimensional trace of a theoretical fourth dimensional object. Kami-sama, she had better be able to forget all this dry bullshit math once Ami figured out how to separate them. Otherwise she would kill him.

A flash of a memory.

Of sitting in the back of a car as it swerved over the edge of a cliff.

"Oh… Gotta run, Motoki-oniisan! Thanks!"

She stopped by a florist shop and bought some roses. She kept as tight-lipped as possible during every interaction. She couldn't even smile at the employees – not when she felt like this. Kami-sama, no wonder he kept a tight lid on expressing anything. She could kill someone feeling like this. Even innocent little mommy birds who were trying to build a nest for their eggs.

She made it to his door in record time.

Go away.

No chance in hell. Come out here right now!

He didn't move. He remained in bed with the lights out and the curtains pulled closed.

She banged the bottom of her fists against the wall between them.

Mamoru!

She had half a mind to transform and break the door down.

Her mind flashed to his doormat. She flipped it over and pulled out an extra key that was hidden in a secret pocket sewn into the bottom of the mat.

She snorted. He really was prepared for anything. The dork.

I can hear you.

Good!

She walked into Mamoru's apartment like she lived there. After taking off her shoes, she deposited the flowers on his kitchen table and marched straight into the bedroom. She flipped on the bedroom light, and he cringed at the sudden brightness.

"Go away! I don't want you here," he growled as menacingly as a lion.

You've never encountered a lion.

Not the point.

"But you do," she countered softly, but just as firmly. She tore through his drawers and closet unerringly as if she had organized the wardrobe herself, pulling out briefs, a pair of pressed dress slacks from their hanger, and a button up white dress shirt.

"Don't tell me what I feel."

"Then stop feeling it in my head!" she snapped.

He glared at her, his dark cobalt eyes as sharp and foreboding as mountain peaks on the horizon.

"No one wants to feel like this alone," she offered gently as she laid the clothing ensemble at the foot of his bed.

You don't deserve this.

You can't hide from me.

She eased down onto the mattress beside him. She turned his face to hers. She stroked the side of his face with one hand, trying to offer the comfort of her presence. His face remained impassive, his eyes were hard, and his jaw locked shut.

I'm glad you're here.

I know.

"You're going to get up and you're going to get dressed right now," she ordered, her voice hard. She did not smile. Her normal patience and understanding were nowhere to be found, trapped as she was in his self-loathing and grief. "Five minutes."

He didn't need to imagine what she would do if he failed to comply.

She stood up swiftly and made her way to his kitchen. She immediately set to the task of making coffee, acting on Mamoru auto-pilot.

She poured him a cup and added a spoonful of sugar. Just as it was ready, she held it out for him as he entered the room. She waited patiently for him to drink it. The second he had drained the last of the cup, she tossed him his car keys.

I don't want to go.

But you need to.

He followed her sullenly out the door and down to the garage.

He drove to their destination.

No words were exchanged since she had told him to get dressed.

Upon their arrival he turned off the car and froze in his seat.

She squeezed his hand briefly, pulled up the flowers from the backseat, and exited the vehicle, stepping into the quiet summer late morning. The sky was picturesque. And she just waited, leaning against the vehicle.

He eventually followed her out. She adjusted his cufflinks and brushed imaginary lint off his shoulders like an overattentive mother before offering him her hand.

He clutched it like a lifeline and she led him through row upon row of family monuments scattered across the Buddhist Temple grounds.

She led him to the family gravesite, laying the flowers down with such care, wishing she had had a bit more time to find some incense. He fell to his knees in front of the family tomb. He hadn't been able to bring himself to actually visit it since he had left the orphanage.

She kneeled down in front of him and cupped the side of his face in one hand.

"You need to let this out," she encouraged gently. "You need to talk, or cry, or something."

"What is there to say?" he croaked. He looked past her to the white family marking, unable to meet her compassionate gaze. Normally, he would have dismissed such advice, but with her reasoning spiraling through the back of his head, it was harder to ignore.

"You feel their death is your fault," she prompted.

The dark sky stormed. The car lost traction on the wet road, tore though the railing, and right over the cliff's edge.

For a moment, he felt weightless.

"We were out for my birthday," he whispered, his hands falling to his sides.

In the present day, the sky was blue - as clear as a glass of water. Birds chirped distantly in a nearby tree.

"You feel guilty for other reasons."

"That I can't remember more than snippets of them."

She let the tears he wanted to shed – the grief he had bottled up for so long – stream freely from her own eyes.

"God, don't cry, Usako," his fingers were on her cheeks.

"I'm not crying," she told him, her voice hoarse. "You are."

She could speak through his lips, he could control her hands. And apparently, he could cry through her form. He had forgotten how to do it himself.

She opened herself to him, and he was quickly in her arms as he was in her head. Her grip around him tightened as if she could protect him from the emotional storm upon him. She felt the dam break, and his second wave of grief hit her like a tsunami. She physically stumbled a bit, but she didn't fall. Soon, Mamoru was actually crying from his own eyes.

Crying for his loss, yes. But also crying for himself, for the life he never had and for the life he couldn't remember.

How do I ever say thank you?

Introduce me.

Introduce you?

To your parents.

Don't be ridiculous. They are gone. They can't hear us.

If they're gone, what does it matter?

I feel silly.

Good.

"This is Tsukino Usagi," he began with a humorous lilt to his voice, his fingers threading through her own as he pulled her forward to the name carving. "She is responsible for single handedly turning everything in my life completely upside down."

"Hey!" she objected with a poke into his side, but she was laughing. And he was smiling.

"She may also be the best thing in my life," he whispered, brushing a kiss against the back of her hand that he had never relinquished.

You are, too.

What?

The best thing in my life.

…

School had started up again, and Mamoru was grateful to be back into a routine. The only downside was he and Usagi didn't get to spend nearly as much time together. The headaches had returned with a vengeance. And apart from that, he missed her.

Aww! I miss you too.

He walked passed a conbini.

Kami-sama, what I wouldn't give for a mochi roll cake right now.

It was the third conbini on his route to the library. Pre Usagi mind-meld, he had never really noticed them before. Sure, he knew they were there, and had visited when in need of a quick bite between errands or a midnight study snack, but now… now the convenience stores called to him the way a light attracted a gnat.

Had he ever even tried a mochi roll before? He couldn't remember ever having one.

But man, he really wanted one now.

Whether he had or not didn't matter. He could recall the fluffy light cake giving way to the sweetest and smoothest of cream as teeth sliced through the sweet confection. But he was going to resist. It's not like eating one would soothe the craving anyway, since it was Usagi's.

He felt a surge of disappointment so strong it startled him.

What's wrong?

Usagi's teacher had returned their history exams. She had earned a sixty-five.

Are you disappointed in me?

Never.

So that means, I'm disappointed in me.

You've done far worse before.

Yeah... I guess I'm not used to it anymore. Though I suppose my latest trend of academic achievement is not really real anyway.

Mamoru didn't know what to offer in comfort. He couldn't lie and say she would've done just as well this semester without him. They both knew that wasn't the case. He wanted to say it didn't matter. That Usagi had other gifts to offer the world. But she knew he would have been horrified if he had received that score himself.

He just didn't feel like enough. He was never going to be enough.

Or maybe, she didn't feel like enough.

Frustration buzzed along his skin as he stepped through the automatic sliding doors in front of him without thought.

I don't understand. I thought you didn't care about school.

I don't really? But I guess it's still nice to do well. To be told you're capable instead of useless. To have people believe that you have some value to contribute rather than to be thought of as ditzy, unreliable, and a total screw up.

What are you talking about? You're amazing!

You're biased.

I know you better than anyone at this point.

Mamoru navigated the aisles unerringly towards his desired purchase. Third shelf from the ground, right next to the sakusaku pandas.

Like I said, biased.

Ask the girls.

If anything, the feelings of unworthiness grew in the pit of his stomach like a nest of writhing snakes. Brick walls rapidly formed in his mind's eye. She was trying to push him out.

What did I do wrong?

The mental walls instantly crumbled.

You're trying to make me feel better, which I appreciate, but it just feels like you don't believe me.

What do you mean?

That you don't believe that others see me as a screw up.

The girls do not see you as a screw up!

They don't trust me.

He paid for his snack at the register before stepping back onto the crowded sidewalk.

What are you talking about? You're their leader.

In name only. I am someone they protect.

Because they love you.

Yes, they love me, but they don't trust me. They second guess my decisions and dismiss my ideas. They trust in my raw power, but they don't trust me.

He didn't need her to explain. He had access to her memories. How many times had Rei specifically excluded Usagi from things just because they were what Usagi wanted to do, or suggested that the senshi of Mars should be the one in charge? How many times had Ami gotten exasperated when Usagi got distracted during a meeting or used the communicator for frivolous reasons? How many times had Minako taken a hit or not let Usagi participate in something because she might maybe possibly get hurt? Makoto was the only one Usagi felt was always in her corner.

Of course I believe you. I just also think it's more complicated than that.

Because he had also witnessed the raw faith they held in her when she wasn't looking.

He really needed to study. He had been heading to the library before his impromptu snack run, but he took a detour.

Have you ever talked about this with them?

No.

Maybe you should.

I'm not sure it would go over well.

I'll go with you.

She walked out of her school gates, and he was already there waiting for her. Her eyes landed on him. Her slumped shoulders perked up and a smile bloomed across her face. She walked to him with a new spring in her step, warmth spreading across their mental bond.

How'd you sneak up on me?

I wasn't trying to be stealthy. I think you were just distracted.

He handed her the mochi roll she had been craving all day.

"Oh my god!" She squealed as she took the sweet treat from him. "I've been wanting one of these all day!"

He chuckled. "Trust me; I know!"

She bit into it. "Kami-sama, I love you so much," she gushed through the mouthful of cream filled cake.

They both froze. She stopped mid chew and her swirling blue eyes locked his in place.

That's so lame.

Lame?

"It's okay; I understand what you meant," he was quick to intercede. "It's just an expression."

"An expression?!" she snapped back. "Are you kidding me? I wish I could take it back!"

"So, you don't love me?" he asked, his gut twisting itself into knots. He felt like they were on the edge of a precipice and one false step would send them both careening over.

"I think I do," she admitted softly.

"You do," he repeated. It wasn't quite a question, but his voice held no confidence.

"This is just such a lame way to say it the first time." Her eyes shyly glanced up at him.

I love you.

She loved him.

Do I even know what love is?

Do I even deserve to be loved?

Stop it!

Was that warm feeling every time those blue eyes strayed over their own love?

The headache exploded like dull knives forced through flesh. Ten times more painful than it had ever been at its worst. He clutched his head. Or was it hers? He could see the road and the school behind them. The ground and the sky at the same time. His ears rang with a piercingly high frequency as if a flash grenade had exploded at their feet. He felt like he was being smothered like bodies being pressed together in a crowded subway car. He couldn't breathe.

Is it a youma?

He pressed the panic button on his communicator.

Wait.

He didn't have a communicator.

Blackness overtook him.

…

Usagi and Mamoru woke up slowly, and simultaneously at the sound of low murmuring voices. They couldn't make out what was said. The words were too soft, but the voices were familiar, and they brought comfort. They tried to open their eyes, but the swimming overlapping images brought lancing pain, so they slammed them back shut again.

They peeked one eye open - one of Usagi's. Mamoru lay across from her, white gauze wrapped around his head with dozens of brightly colored wires coming out the top of his skull. It hurt to see him like that and yet, it was also fine.

It's not a bandage. It's just an imaging exam - probably an EEG.

They opened Mamoru's eyes and they blinked a few times, trying to adjust to the swimming double vision. Mamoru turned and confirmed Usagi was also hooked up to an EEG machine, only her wired leads were half buried in never ending strands of golden hair that was clumped up in sticky glue and wax.

It's going to take hours to clean that out. Maybe they needed a haircut.

No!

"What happened?" their voices asked in unison. "Did a youma get us?"

Mizuno Ami-chan stood to their left, but also to their right?

She's between us.

And she was. Usagi's genius friend was looking at the monitors connected to both their skulls and occasionally tapping something out on her handheld Mercury computer.

"There was no youma. You started to merge," the bluenette explained. "But I think your minds lashed out at one another in self defense, which sent you both into a brief coma. You're not stable anymore. Your brain wave patterns are oscillating between being two distinct wave patterns and then momentarily becoming a single superposition of the two."

That explained some things.

They clutched their heads in mirrored movement.

"Stop that!" Minako shouted.

They started, turning toward the anxious senshi leader.

"Stop what?" they asked.

"That!" Minako cried. "Doing and saying everything at once!"

"They can't help it," Ami interjected. "They don't have distinct brain waves at the moment."

"If you can't fix this, will they be stuck doing and saying the exact same thing all the time?" Makoto asked gently.

They turned back to Ami, as eager for that answer as Usagi's other protectors.

"I can't say for sure, but I don't think so," Ami explained, her eyes on her tablet screen. "I think it'll become one mind with two bodies. Once they're cognitively adjusted it would settle out I think. Their motor cortex just needs practice in singling out a single limb or body."

"But it doesn't matter," she interrupted herself looking up at them. "My simulations this morning were successful. I was just waiting for you both to wake up. So I could get your consent."

"Our consent?"

"To separate your consciousness."

The rhythmic smooth brain wave pattern shattered into chaos on the display above their beds.

I'm just a burden to you.

You deserve better than me.

Will you still even like me when we aren't mind-linked?

I've never been this close to anyone.

Can I even go back to before?

This was the best thing that ever happened to me.

"Do we have to, Ami-chan?" Usagi managed to ask through the tangled mental spirals.

Her friend smiled knowingly. "See, I just wasn't sure you'd want to. You've grown so close lately." Ami pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "No, I don't have to do it. But I need you to understand, if you choose to keep things the way they are it won't be like these last few weeks. You won't be two separate entities that can communicate telepathically. You will become one consciousness with two bodies. And I won't be able to reverse it later because there won't be two distinct signals anymore."

The whole room was silent as the girls held their breath, waiting to see what their choice would be.

What do you want to do?

"Can you give us a minute?" Mamoru requested.

"Certainly," Ami agreed. "I think we still have a day or two before the meld will be complete. So take your time."

The girls filed out, Ami the last one, slid the privacy door closed behind them.

Usagi carefully untangled the various leads and electrodes from the sides of her bed's railing and eased herself from her bed to her feet to his bed. She sat at the edge of the thin cot as he curled his torso around her. Their hands quickly found one another and threaded together.

It's essentially a lifetime commitment. Are you ready for that?

"I think it's probably better we separate," Mamoru said out loud. "It wouldn't be fair to ask for a lifetime commitment right now."

I think the life commitment is less scary than losing you.

What do you mean? You want to stay linked?

Tears welled in her eyes, but she shook her head no.

Ami said we wouldn't be ourselves anymore. No Usagi or Mamoru. We'd be some kind of UsaMamo mashup.

He smiled.

Is that a technical term?

Her eyebrows furrowed and her forehead wrinkled.

It is now.

I don't want to lose this. But I don't want to lose you as a whole wonderful unique person either.

You won't. I'll be with you.

It won't be the same.

Maybe it'll be better?

Nothing could be better than you.

Her free hand was cradling his face even as his twirled her golden hair between his fingers. He curled more into her as if trying to push them together.

But despite their closeness, she felt cold, and his face was pale. But she nodded anyway. It was the logical pragmatic choice. And it was the emotional self-sacrificing choice. There was no disagreement between them, even if it wasn't what either truly wanted.

They held hands as they rose from the bed to slide the door open.

"Ami-chan," they said in unison, "we're ready. We think you should separate our consciousnesses."

The grip between their interlaced fingers tightened.

…

A/N:

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Only one more chapter left! See you all next time!

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