"Hey, dude, wanna bet I can kick it?"

"Stupid, you can't kick a cat. They always move out of the way right before your foot gets there. It's some kind of magic cat radar."

"No, moron, that's pigeons, and that's 'cuz they can FLY. Watch, it won't even know I'm coming... hey, where'd it go?"

"It ran down that alley while you were babbling, genius."

"Oh, yeah? Well, at least I'm smarter than that damned cat - there's no way out of that alley. 'Cept through ME."

"Oh, I'm so impressed. Not."

"Here, kitty, kitty, kitty..."

"MIAOW!"

Shaye was depressed. Not, she amended to herself, a full blown sit-in-your-room-and-stare-at-the-walls depressed. She refused to give in to such a self-defeating attitude. But all the same, she was not in the best of moods. She had meant to study. Really, she had. But it was so difficult to maintain focus on subjects she hated while surrounded by all the distractions of her new life. Leaving home and moving in with Terry had been a statement about forging her own destiny and escaping the restrictions that had bound her for more than eighteen years. So why should she have to take horrible midterms in subjects she didn't care about?

The blonde adjusted her nearly-empty bag and continued walking with a sigh. It didn't help that she'd missed several classes, first for emotional reasons and then because of pneumonia. She hadn't been a star pupil to start with; those absences made it almost impossible to catch up. Almost. She couldn't help but think that if she were Terry, she would have managed to come out on top. But she wasn't.

I don't know that I've failed, she tried to cheer herself as she shuffled along the sidewalk. I won't see the grades until after Spring Break. It's always possible that I've passed. Everyone always thinks they've done terribly, and most of them are wrong. And at least my tests are over. Some people won't be done until late tomorrow.

And since Terry was one of those, she would be unlikely to notice Shaye's glum expression. Unfortunate as far as gathering sympathy went, but it saved having to make painful explanations.

Just then, something caught Shaye's attention. A quiet sound, but one that sounded just as miserable as she felt, like a child's crying. Someone else was in pain. The need to help overrode her own troubles, and the blonde ventured between two old buildings in search of the noise. There, in the shadows of the alley, lay a cat. Shaye had heard that black cats were bad luck, and this one had apparently set out to prove it. Its fur was coated with enough dust to make it appear silver-tipped. Scraggly, too-thin, and well past its prime. More curiously, there was a patch of grey tape stuck to its forehead, and its tail was mostly bald, as if it had been shaved. It wasn't moving. Dead? Maybe it had been a mother, and it was the sound of the abandoned kittens squalling that had brought her here. The cat was clearly female, now that she thought to check. But there weren't many places to hide in this little alleyway, and there didn't seem to be any kittens about.

Shaye stared at the cat until she could make out her skinny chest rising and falling. Alive. The position she was sprawled in didn't look comfortable for a nap. That pitiful whimpering must have been the last thing she had strength for before passing out. Shaye bit her lip. There was no blood visible around the cat, but that didn't mean she wasn't injured, maybe dying. And it generally wasn't safe to move badly injured things or people. If this were a person, she could call an ambulance, but who did you call to save a cat? The closest phone she had was at the apartment, anyway. She had thought the long walk might do her spirits some good, but now the poor cat could expire here, cold and alone, while she was hiking home.

It was a stray. Flea-ridden. Maybe diseased. Touching it would be incredibly stupid.

It was hurt, and miserable, and needed help, and there was no one else.

Shaye unslung her bag, laying it on the ground to serve as a primitive cushion. Good thing there weren't any heavy books in it now, just papers and exam booklets. With the resolution to wash her hands thoroughly later, she gently moved the cat onto the bag, then lifted it with both hands, trying to keep it level. And so, with her furry burden, she continued home.

Fuel. Body need fuel.

Terry kept her purpose firmly in mind and managed to prevent herself from slaughtering the slow idiots blocking her from her goal. It was generally amusing, in retrospect, to talk about how little sleep one got during exam periods. Camping out in labs, working for twelve hours at a stretch, accidentally eating your pencils instead of your junk food; everybody had their own war stories. That didn't make it fun while it was going on. Right now Terry had a serious case of the munchies. All she needed was a six-pack of Dr Pepper, a tube of peanuts, and some red meat. And maybe some Ben&Jerry's Chocolate Brownie Fudge. That would sustain her for at least a few hours.

But to get that food without wasting precious time leaving campus, she had to make it to the student store. And to reach the student store, she had to wade through these morons. Didn't they have midterms? Why were they manning the tables now?

Since the building in which the store was located was a central social point that most students would visit every other day or so, the walkway leading up to it was ground-zero for the onslaught of advertisers, campaigners, and anyone else wanting to force themselves into the attention spans of Young America.

"Have a drink and a chance to win ten thousand dollars!" one hawker crowed, waving a chartreuse soda can.

"Stop sweatshop exploitation!"

"Preapproved credit cards!"

"Study abroad!"

"Great business opportunity!"

"Free condoms!" That last was from the Student Health booth, trying to pass out their version of a first aid kit to vacation-bound students. At another time Terry might have been tempted to point out to them how little use she had for their water balloons, but right now she just wanted to get her food and get back to work.

"Please accept this free gift." Now that was unusual. The little book was being pressed into her hand by an old man in a suit. Most organizations trying to push anything on a college campus wanted someone young and "with it" to connect with their target audience; he certainly didn't qualify. Terry didn't even look at the book, just shoved it into her pocket as she continued into the building.

Food. Need food. Need study. Everything else could wait.

The cat was still breathing, but that was the most Shaye could say for certain just yet. In order to unlock Terry's apartment, she'd had to set the cat and bag down, and then, rather than risk lifting it again, she'd pulled the bag carefully through the door. Now she squatted beside it in the entry hall, searching her soul.

Common sense said she probably wasn't doing the cat any good. Unconscious, it provided no way for her to judge its condition, and if it woke it might panic or attack her. Common sense said to put the cat in a box and get it to a vet. And if she'd had a car handy, maybe she would have listened to common sense. But there was something else at work.

Before, faced with an injured child, Shaye had laid her hands upon the wound and willed it to heal. To her vast disappointment, nothing much had happened. But the child had stopped crying. Maybe that wasn't nothing. Maybe she'd just given up too soon. She believed in God. She believed in miracles. She believed in herself - the self of her dreams, the magical princess of the Moon.

Cautious but not allowing herself to be fearful, she placed a pale hand on the dirty flank of the black cat, and closed her eyes to wait. She was aware, at first, only of the texture of grimy fur against her palm, the gentle motion of the ribcage in and out beneath it. In her stillness, other sensations came to her. The heartbeat, fast and steady. The warmth of the small body. The warmth of her own hand, growing. Then. quietly, the shadows of pain and fear. The soreness and exhaustion the cat was experiencing mirrored themselves in Shaye's hunched form. Soreness, bruising, hunger, but no serious injury. She was sure of that now. The cat would be fine. It had simply run out of energy, like a toy winding down.

Shaye opened her eyes to find green ones staring back at her.

"At last," the cat sighed.

"You're looking a bit worse for wear, you know."

"Mmm."

"Not that I've seen much of you around this semester."

"Mmm."

"You never used to be too busy for me."

This time, Terry spared her half a glare. "Except during exams." And then she turned back to the computer.

Kristin flipped her honey-colored ponytail and sighed dramatically. "Is it my fault you take all those classes?"

"Mmm."

Kristin was not Terry's ex-girlfriend, because they had never actually dated. Their relationship, from their meeting onwards, was a matter of accident. Kristin was a rich party girl, a cheerleader, a fraternity's Little Sister. She had been quite drunk that night at the bonfire when she mistook Terry for a handsome male friend and glomped onto her with a passionate, if sloppy, kiss. Worried for the staggering girl's safety, Terry had assisted her to a nearby bench and tried to work out her name and address while fending off additional advances. Some of Kristin's friends eventually showed up to escort her home, but not before getting the wrong idea about what had been going on between the two of them. Luckily, for all her other mental flaws, Kristin had an open mind and a sense of humor. Her reputation among the bigots was already shot, she figured, so why not flaunt it?

That was how Terry ended up escorting her newfound friend to any number of upper-class social events. Kristin got a kick out of turning heads and raising eyebrows - but to Terry's surprise, there had been less outrage than she'd feared. The wealthy were used to eccentricity. As for the truth of it, the two of them had never gotten beyond a bit of friendly kissing and touching, and neither had wanted anything more. Kristin was sweet but clueless, not the sort of person Terry would be serious about, and she hadn't really thought about her all semester, figuring their time was past. So why was the girl seated on the table next to her, swinging her legs in a rhythm that was vibrating all the monitors in the row?

"If you look up and talk to me, I'll be done and gone quicker," she wheedled.

Terry sighed, clicked the save button, and pulled her tired hands from the keyboard to her lap. "What do you want?"

"Wanna go to Disney World?"

"No."

Kristin pouted. "I was planning to go for Spring Break with Mike but he backed out on me and I don't want to go by myself. Please? You never have holiday plans. Come on. I'll pay for everything."

She would, too. "I can't. I'm busy."

"Doing what?"

Terry sighed. Well, there was no reason to hide it. "I have a girlfriend."

"Ooo!" Her eyes lit up. "Anyone I know?"

A guilty look around the lab, as if mobs were waiting to fall upon her words. "Shaye Badrian," she muttered.

"Never heard of her," Kristin proclaimed.

"She's a freshman."

"That would explain it," she nodded sagely. "I don't know any of them unless they're somebody important." Realising that sounded wrong, she continued, "Not that she isn't important to you, of course. But socially, I mean. Unless she's pledging?"

"No."

"Oh well." She shrugged. "Guess I'll have to ask someone else, then." And just like that, she hopped off the table and left. But that was Kristin. Bright and beautiful as a butterfly, and about as constant. Terry had work to do.

"Greetings at long last, Chantrea," the cat rasped. "If you don't mind, could I have something to eat?"

Shaye rocked, startled, back on her heels, falling from her crouched position to sit hard upon the floor. "What?"

"Despite current appearances, I still enjoy normal foods," the animal continued. "I'm sorry, Your Highness, I'm babbling. It's just been such a long search. I didn't expect to wake up and find that you had found me."

"Wait, wait, wait." Shaye pressed a hand to her forehead. "Are you talking?"

"What's wrong? Can't an old nurse help?"

The voice, though it issued impossibly from a cat, was hauntingly familiar. A voice from her dreams, calling her Chantrea... "Luna," Shaye hissed in recognition, then shook her head. "No. No way. A talking cat named Luna? I have been watching too much Sailor Moon."

"Who do you think gave Takeuchi-san the idea?" the cat tsked. "You shouldn't sit like that, dear, it's not ladylike and you'll get your dress all dirty."

Removing her hand, she stared at the bedraggled animal. "You expect me to believe that you're a magical talking cat from my past life in a dream universe and you came to earth and personally told this story to the creator of one of the most popular girl's cartoons in the world? You want me to believe that the whole story of Sailor Moon is about me?"

"It wasn't as easy as you make it sound," Luna huffed. "Imagine waking up and finding that you've been put into the body of a cat, and your charges could be anywhere across the globe. I've had to learn a dozen languages, and Japanese was not the hardest. I thought that publicizing the story might make some of you come forward. And so it must have, my dear, because you've heard it and here you are." She blinked. "Didn't you know it was about you? When I felt you calling out, a few nights ago, I thought you understood."

"I... I guess I did." I'm a princess. Really. Right now. "Does this mean I have to find the Silver Crystal and fight Queen Beryl and die and have a daughter in the future and everything?"

"My dear, a comic book artist cannot tell the future. I only told her about our past. The rest is her creation."

"Wow." Well, Shaye thought, here it is. Here's destiny. This is where it takes over. "So, what do we do now?" Just then, the good hostess in her remembered her guest's condition. "Never mind. You need food, and to see where I'm living, and a bath..."

"A bath?" Luna screeched, her fur lifting briefly. "Cats do not take baths!"

"Cat or no cat, you're filthy!"

When Terry staggered home that night to catch a few hours of sleep, she was greeted by Shaye holding a scraggly cat with a bald patch on its forehead and a half-shaved tail. "Hello," said the cat. Terry grunted a vague hello, walked to her bedroom, shut the door, and promptly collapsed onto the bed.

Shaye and Luna looked at each other. "I think we'll have to tell her in the morning."