Yeah, yeah. I thought I owed you folks a happier story after my last one. FakirxAhiru, since that's the coolest couple ever. This is a songfic based on Hawthorne Heights' song 'Pens and Needles'. It's an awesome song, in case you cared. Oh. And I hate to beg. But. Last story, I only got two reviews, and it made me sad. I love reviewsssss…Please.

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On the other side of the glass, snow fell steadily. These weren't the drifting, beautiful white flakes of stories, but tiny stinging shards that bit into exposed skin. It didn't help that the snow came with wind, a fierce, chilling, and utterly invisible force. Fakir was more than grateful for the firm house around him.

Turning from the window with a faint sigh, he found himself once more watching the little duck in the corner, tucked away comfortably in her basket, fast asleep. Ahiru, long since made a duck, continued to stay with him. He wouldn't say he wasn't grateful for her companionship, but seeing her as a duck inevitably made him long for the days when she could smile and laugh as a human. Despite how close she was, he still missed her, missed the girl she once was.

I miss you most on winter mornings
As we drift we slip through evenings

It had been at least a year since Drosselmeyer's defeat. He wasn't quite sure of the date, but it was a decent estimate. The time seemed to slip through his fingers, every day merging into the next and the last. Every day, he would tell himself that tomorrow he would start to write something for her. But he never did. Procrastination – one of life's many cruel traps.


We drive into the cold and dark with fingers crossed

I follow your lies to avoid from getting lost

So much of this had been bad luck, or so he liked to think. The two of them had plunged into the battle haphazardly, neither knowing what they would find, and for their naivety had ended up like this. Separated forever, within arm's reach. How incredibly ironic. Now, all he could do was hold onto to his lies, his 'I will write her story', all his falsities that seemed so comforting in their regularity.


And all I had was the memory of what was
So let's pretend it never mattered to us

Together, in some silent agreement, they refused to speak of what had happened, as if in denying it, it could be forgotten, and the ache of what was lost could disappear. Memories were useless, so the both of them tried their hardest to discard memory, to live as nothing but a boy and his unorthodox pet.

Yeah, right. As if Fakir could ever forget that girl, or ever want to. She was one memory he held close.


I hope this message finds you well
I never thought I'd live to tell

What's a dream and what is real, the way I really feel

If there was one thing Fakir wasn't, it was stupid. He knew perfectly well what he thought of Ahiru. That didn't mean he couldn't deny it, of course. But every day, it got harder to deny. As he missed her more and more, his awareness strengthened to painful degrees.


Just to survive we do what we can
We read the maps and signs

And we make the plans
By our design

The ending of the story was something none of them could have predicted, not even the great Droselmeyer. For all their deliberation and plans, by the end it all hung on her. Not the story, not the prince, not the raven. The foolish little duck who couldn't seem to do anything right. What a strange, utterly unpredictable twist of fate.

I write it down to get me by
The worst time in my life

Yawning, the failed knight moved away from the window, walking quietly across the floor. Collapsing in the chair in front of his desk, he lifted his quill, a duck's feather. No, it wasn't a coincidence. With a shadow of a smile on his face, he began to write, idly chronicling all that had happened in that single night and after. Every smile they had shared, every time she had gotten herself locked outside in the cold, even the time when they had gone plunging into the pond they thought was frozen solid.

Who needed tomorrow, when today was as good as any?

And all I had was the memory of what was
So lets pretend it never mattered to us

As he got more comfortable, the words came faster, and his thoughts and feelings wound their way into the story that had started out as just the events. Somewhere in that mass of black ink, it had changed from a record of the past to his desires for the future, and he was damned if you could find out where. But it was too late to go back now. This story was going to stay, whatever regrettable information went into it. He hated the look in Ahiru's eyes when she found out he had burned or torn up another story.

I hope this message finds you well
I never thought I'd live to tell
What's a dream and what is real, the way I really feel

In a way, he was rather glad he had managed to write these things down. Seeing them in written words made them definite. He could always doubt the ramblings of his mind, but once they were written down, they were made real. His rare smile returned, and he continued to scribble away, his pen beating an unsteady rap against the desk every time he moved to the next word.So let's pretend this is the ending
To the message I've been sending

With a flourish rather unbecoming of the stoic boy, he finished, laying his quill down once more and sighing. Finished, and without the help of 'tomorrow'. Biting his lower lip, he turned around, his deep green eyes once more moving to the basket that was the residence of his companion, afraid of what he would see there.

And all I had was the memory of what was
So lets pretend it never mattered to us

Two wide blue eyes stared up at him, and he vaguely wondered how long she had been awake and watching him. For a moment, his heart dropped to his stomach as the seconds ticked by, the duck and the boy sitting in silence watching each other, one confused, one desperately hopeful.

Then it started.

For the first time in over a year, a golden light surrounded the little duck's body, shining through the room, so bright that Fakir was forced to squint and turn away. But he didn't need to be watching to know what was happening. As the light filtered away, his eyes were drawn back to the basket. Somehow, a rather uncharacteristic grin had found its way onto his face.

It had worked.

I hope this message finds you well
I never thought I'd live to tell
What's a dream and what is real, the way I really feel

The one he loved was back.