Disclaimer: I don't own Chrono Crusade or t.A.T.u.

Author's Note: I love t.A.T.u's songs, not only for their awesome beat and great vocals, but because most of their lyrics remind me of Chrono and Rosette's relationship.

So. . . yeah. Hence this "song-quoted" fic off of their new CD, Dangerous and Moving. You can download this song off of for a mere eighty-eight cents, and it's REALLY worth it. XD (Personally, I suggest you buy the whole CD! ;))

Well, that's it! Please enjoy. XD

(PS. I did cut out the last refrain of the chorus. I'm sure you'll all know it by that point. (sweatdrop))

(PSS. I know I need to update my chapter fics. I already feel guilty enough for not having the time, so please don't remind me—I do remember. Thankies!)

Warnings: Vague lime. . . and related stuff.

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All That Matters

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She loved his hands.

It was an odd statement, she supposed—after all, it wasn't like she hated the rest of him. How could she? His cute face, his welcoming eyes, his soft laugh, his kind gaze, his understanding personality. . . . To be honest, Rosette loved everything about Chrono, from his silky violet locks to his loafer-covered toes. However, his hands held a special place in her heart. They were so. . . very him. Small, warm, worn. . . covered in little bruises and calluses. Their color was unique, too: slightly darker than hers, like he'd been out in the sun too long—or too close to a fire.

'Hellfire.'

Still, no matter what they looked or felt like, they were always gentle with her. Every caress, every slight brush was gingerly applied, sometimes to the point of her own frustration. Once in a while she wished he'd let loose, maybe hit her when she deserved it.

But. . . if he did that. . .

. . . the others. . .

There were eyes everywhere, after all. Always glued upon them, always awake and aware. Overly protective, fierce. . . haunting. Hunting.

Yes, even if the slug was just a friendly one— like the boys at the orphanage used to exchange— if the Order's members were to notice. . . both Rosette and Chrono knew what their superiors would make it mean:

'Goodbye.'

In one way or another.

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"They

Say

They don't

Trust

You

Me

We

Us."

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By contrast, Chrono hated his hands. He hated their very existence, as it meant that he, too, existed. He hated their darker color, for it reminded him of all the dark blood he'd spilt; all the blood he'd never be able to rinse away. He hated how much smaller they were than his Contractor's— it made him feel like he was an inadequate source of protection. But most of all, he hated that he was unable to use them to do anything.

Too many people had suffered because of him. . . Rosette was one of them. One of the many people battered and beaten by the mere fact that he lived; one of the many that would die because of it.

Like Magdalene. . . a martyr for love.

Oh, he loved Rosette. More then he was allowed, more then he should, more then he wanted. More then the Order— God— decreed acceptable. . . They glared when he passed in the halls, hissed nasty things behind his back. Sure, Azmaria, Claire, Mary, and Anna tried to cheer him up—convince him that the Council was just full of pills— but he knew deep inside that they, too, loathed him.

He'll take Rosette away from us!

He could hear the shadows hidden in the black corners of their hearts. . .


Isn't he tired of killing yet?

Hear their truest, most virulent thoughts. . .


How many more women will he leech from after this contract?

Hear how they really felt.

And though it hurt, he couldn't blame them for their feelings. Everyone felt like that in some way, no matter how large or small. Even the Elder, even Remington. . . their worry for Rosette surpassed their tolerance—perhaps even "acceptance"— of him.

But that was okay.

Because Rosette—despite all of the reasons, religious and personal, that she shouldn't— loved him too. More then she was allowed, more then she should, more then she wanted. More then the Order— God— decreed acceptable.

She was told by the furious Head of Council that she'd go to hell for her disgusting sins.

To this, she grinned, then replied in an oddly sweet voice: "At least I won't be going alone."

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"So we'll

Fall

If we

Must

'Cause it's you

Me

And it's all about—"

X

Rosette was punished for her brazen insolence.

Chrono was punished for his unwanted nature.

But by then, the two had realized something rather important:

Who cares?

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"It's all about us!

All about us

It's all about

All about us!

All about us

And that's the thing that they can't touch!

'Cause you know, oh, oh. . .

It's all about us!

All about us

It's all about

All about us!

All about us

We'll run away if we must!

'Cause you know, oh, oh—!"

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Who cared what the Council thought? The Order thought? The other sisters, Remington, Elder, Kate? It wasn't like they were part of their relationship. . . their rules couldn't dictate their emotions, nor could their dislike influence their love. Why should they bother taking to heart what a hoard of heartless people had to say? They didn't know; they didn't care; they didn't understand. Who what the Council thought? The Order thought? The other sisters, Remington, Elder, Kate? It wasn't like they were part of their relationship. . . their rules couldn't dictate their emotions, nor could their dislike influence their love. Why should they bother taking to heart what a hoard of heartless people had to say? They didn't know; they didn't care; they didn't understand.

And regardless of their harsh words, strong threats— at the end of the day Rosette and Chrono still had one another.

That was enough.

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It's all about us. . .

It's all about us. . .

It's all about us. . .

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So the two put up with the world's abuse by day; ignored the rumors, tuned out the reprimands, completed their jobs. They played pretend. . . make-believing a false cheerfulness with their hesitant friends. Chuckling, smiling, joking— brushing away the gloom that hung over their heads.

Day after day after day after day: humoring Sister Kate, flipping off the Head of Council, disregarding Remington's solemn warnings, laughing off the Elder's scowls.

It really wasn't as bad as they were sure it sounded. After all, day doesn't follow day— night follows day.

And at night. . .

At night, they were free.

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It's all about us. . .

In you I can trust. . .

It's all about us. . .

It's all about us!"

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Yes, Rosette could see them when she closed her eyes: those nighttime memories. Happy memories bathed in moonlight— hours upon hours of whispering, of giggling, of kisses, sweet and slow. Of watching the moonrise wrapped in his arms. She savored those periods of warmth; kept them forever close to her heart.

For they countered the coldness that soon followed the joy. The silence.

. . . Tonight's silence. The beautiful, saddening silence that always filled her room when she bandaged him; trying to heal the wounds— both verbal and physical—that their "friends" had thoughtlessly tittered that day.

He cried.

And she hated that— because the tears, as always, were not for himself.

They were for her.

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"If

They

Hurt

You

They

Hurt

Me

Too!

So

We'll

Rise

Up

Won't

Stop—!"

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But though she hated it, she allowed him to sob— to purge all the guilt and depression from his body— for as he had once told her when she was small: "It's easier to smile once you've cried."

As always, Chrono was right.

Therefore, Rosette waited patiently for the torrents to subside: pressing her lips against the salty streams, running her fingers through his hair. He griped her shirt, breathed in her scent, listened to the pocket watch. . . and, soon, calmed— remembering that he wasn't alone, that his Contractor loved him, and that everything would be okay.

"They'll come around eventually," the sister whispered, lying beside him on top of the ruffled covers; trailing soft kisses down his face. "But even if they don't. . ."

"I know," the devil breathed in return, lacing their fingers. ". . . I know."

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"And it's all about—

It's all about—!

It's all about us!

All about us

It's all about

All about us!

All about us

And that's the thing that they can't touch!

'Cause you know, oh, oh. . ."

X

Dusting affection and gentle caresses down each other's bodies, the two momentarily forgot about the broken taboos, the ignored rules, and the frowns they'd receive in the morning. Why should any of it matter, anyway?

For now, they were alive. For now, they were together. For now, they were happy.

That was all they ever wanted.

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"It's all about us!

All about us

It's all about

All about us!

All about us

We'll run away if we must!

'Cause you know, oh, oh—

It's all about us. . .

It's all about us. . .

It's all about us. . .

It's all about us. . .

In you I can trust. . .

It's all about us. . .

It's all about us!"

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Why couldn't the others understand that? It wasn't as if the pair chose to fall in love; just as they cannot control the wind, people cannot control their hearts. But for some reason, the exorcists' peers couldn't seem to grasp that—instead choosing to believe that their relationship was some sort of sick experiment, a bit of fun for the confused, stray 'lamb'.

So many people terrified by the unknown: how could a man like him and a girl like her love each other?

It's weird!

It's wrong!

It's sick!

It's dangerous!

It's unholy!

But it was how they felt.

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"They don't know. . .

They can't see. . .

Who we are—

Fear is the enemy.

Hold on tight—

Hold on to me. . .

'Cause tonight. . ."

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And as that wonderful, beautiful feeling intensified— their bodies becoming one underneath the star glow— they smiled.

"I love you."

That was all that mattered.

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"IT'S ALL ABOUT US."

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Lyrics Quoted from t.A.T.u's song "All About Us"