Disclaimer: I do not own Sailor Moon or any of it's affiliated characters. Anyone you don't recognize is mine.

Author's Note: Just a little idea I had at 2:28 a.m. No flames, only constructive criticism.

'Ring around the rosy'

Serena tossed her head from side to side as she slept fitfully.

'Pocket full of posies'

Six little girls dancing in a circle chanting a song.

'Ashes, ashes'

The circle coming apart, their hands separating.

'We all fall down'

The girls falling to the ground and jumping up, giggling happily. All except one.

"We're just standing there, watching her. She's bleeding and we're not doing a thing to help her." Serena lay on a couch in her therapist's office, staring at a painting of the seashore that hung on the wall. "None of us are doing a thing to help her." Dr. Amy Anderson leaned back in her chair.

"Serena, what you're describing sounds like repressed memories. Did you have any childhood friends who died in an accident?" Serena thought for moment.

"No. None that I can remember." She sat up and turned to look at Amy. "I don't remember a lot about my childhood, but I think I would remember something like this." Amy was watching her intently.

"When you have a traumatic experience, it's not uncommon for the mind to block it out this way. Why don't you call your parents? They're back from Europe, aren't they?" Serena shook her head.

"No, they wanted to be in Paris for the spring season," she replied bitterly.

A buzzer sounded and Amy looked up from her notes. "That's all the time we have. I'll see you Friday?" Serena nodded and stood up stretching slightly, the movement bringing her shirt up to reveal her waistline and a small puckered scar.

"Where did you get that scar?" Amy asked. "It looks like a burn." Serena glanced away, embarrassed. "I don't remember." She walked by Andrea, Amy's secretary.

"Check or cash?" she asked coldly. Serena sighed. "Check." When she was done paying she walked to the small bakery on the corner and ordered her usual, a blueberry muffin and an iced mocha with extra whipped crème.

"Rough day?" The owner a small, wrinkled woman asked. "You would not believe," she replied, giving her some cash. "I didn't get any sleep last night." Irma, the owner nodded. "Well, don't stay up too late tonight, then." She handed Serena her change and her bag and watched her walk away with a small smile on her face.

"Oh, don't worry," she said softly. "Soon it will all be over."