Disclaimer: As usual, I have nothing to do with the characters involved in this story, I just enjoy extending storylines to my own twisted yuri ends. Any similarity to persons living or dead is definitely coincidental. This story will also be posted on my blog Panic Epilogue: The Angel's last gift

Chapter 1

Yawning, I snatch my first cup of thick steaming coffee from the machine, down it in one and make a face. Usually I hate coffee, especially black; I'm more of a half cream half sugar kind of girl. But since the new chief librarian transferred in, he's been making all the clerking staff work late. Not that I have anything to come back to, you understand, but a girl's got to have the time to herself in the evenings.

I quickly glance at my watch and make a start for the door, just as the call comes from upstairs.

"You're off to work awfully early today, ojou-sama," Nadeshiko, our one and only maid daintily trots down the spiral stairs towards me and I mutter a silent expletive under my breath.

"Yes, well I thought that I would arrive early before the boss and get some work done this morning so I wouldn't have to arrive home so late tonight," I replied, slipping on my shoes a little quicker than usual.

"Very well, ojou-sama, but be aware that goshujin-sama is expected back early this evening, and he will expect you to be there to welcome him home. His business trip to the UK was quite trying, I believe"

"I remember, Nadeshiko. Don't worry, I won't be late, I'll be back long before he gets home."

I slide back the door and find an angel on my front step. Her long, light brown hair tumbled down to her hips in five neat plaits bound in powder blue ribbons. Her legs, longer and slenderer than I remembered, peeked bashfully out from under a matching blue sundress. Our eyes met.

My Angel.

"Hikari-chan…"

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I woke up in a daze this morning, rolling over and almost tumbling headfirst out of the bed and onto the threadbare carpet. As I opened my eyes, I realised that Amane had already left this morning for lectures, and that the usual breakfast lay on the small kitchen table, happily nestling in clingfilm.

I stretched a good morning to stiff muscles as I slipped on my dressing gown and padded slowly over to inspect it. As usual, the fish was far too salty. As usual, the miso was thin and tasteless. I sighed, picked at the fish for a while, sieved the edible bits out of the soup and dumped the remainder unceremoniously in the swing bin. Amane's tomboyinshness extended to her cooking, and it was past my ability to refuse her an opportunity to cook for her. Unfortunately, no amount of cooking for Amane in the evenings could avoid the inevitable love-wife breakfast. It wasn't that I didn't appreciate the thought, it's just that I wish that she didn't have rocks for tastebuds.

Still hungry, I padded back over to the dresser and carefully pulled out the clothes that I had spent hours choosing last night after Amane had gone to sleep. The sundress that Yaya had given me as a graduation gift was now a touch too small and displayed more than its fair share of leg and cleavage, but I could think of nothing else more suitable. The straw hat with the matching blue band. My Etoile ribbon cut carefully into five for tying into neat minute bows.

A post-it note had been stuck to the entry for today in my diary. The address wasn't far, just in the next town, but for some reason, a little tremor passed through me as I peeled the note free. 'I am just going to apologise to her, nothing more,' I thought to myself, 'Just apologise and then we can go back to being the good friends we were before.'

Suddenly, I find myself outside her door, but as my hand raises to knock, my mind goes blank and all the carefully thought out things-to-say tumble out of conscious reach. What if she doesn't forgive me? What if she's all but forgotten me? But then the door opens and I see her. She's dressed formally in a severe grey business suit and white blouse. Her hair is still as long as it used to be, but now it hangs in a graceful ponytail all the way to her waist. As the wind blows stray wisps of hair across her face, our eyes meet and I know for certain that I have always loved her.

End part 1