A/N: Here it is, guys! My submission for the Princess Tutu LJ comm gift exchange. This is a gift for neko_no_hanashi, who really likes Fakir and Ahiru, so of course I just had to do my own spin on post-series Fakiru. Hope everyone enjoys it!

Disclaimer: Princess Tutu is the property of Ikuko Itoh and ADV Films. I make no money from the writing of this story.

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Once upon a time, a story ended.

It had been seven years since the end of the story.

At the end of the story, those who had been trapped inside were released to live their own lives.

Seven years since the four of them had returned to their true selves.

The prince, whose heart had been shattered, was made whole once again...

Mytho, his heart returned, had retired to rule his kingdom, as he was meant to do.

...the princess, whose heart had been tainted, found the love she had sought...

Rue was with him, as his princess, as it had always been meant to be.

...and the duck, who had become a girl to save the prince, returned to her original form.

Ahiru was a duck once more, as she always had been meant to be.

The story was finished, the threads of fate neatly come together.

Their role in the story was finished. It was only natural that she--that they become what they should have been all along, no longer subject to Drosselmeyer's will.

Yet of those who had broken free of the story, there was one who was not content.

Perhaps it was selfish of him not to be satisfied with the way things were. He loved her, after all, no matter what form she took.

This was the one who had ended the story, who along the story's path had fallen in love with the duck.

But damn it--he wanted to speak to her. Wanted to see her.

And so the one who had ended the story, set out to write a new one...

- - -

He had not left his cottage for three days. Once the idea came to his mind, he did not dare to abandon his pen, lest his inspiration leave again. He slept very little those three days, no more than a few hours at a time, and only when his exhaustion made it impossible for him to write. Food he often forgot entirely, and oddly enough it was Autor who finally came to ply him with bread and tea, insisting that a half-starved story spinner was of no use to anyone. Aside from that, his days and nights were devoted to writing, until he penned the last word and set his quill down at last. Then, heedless of his drained body and the blisters covering his aching hand, he draped an extra shirt over his arm and ran out to the lake.

It was late twilight by then, the sky lit in shades of dusky pink and violet. His timing was almost perfect. Dark came quickly in autumn, and in a quarter hour it would be dark enough to allow the moon to shine. Fakir was glad, suddenly, for neglecting himself to write these past few days; a half-hour later, and he would have had to wait until tomorrow to see if it had worked. And Fakir didn't think he could wait that long. After seven years and countless false starts, he'd waited long enough.

By the time he made it to the lake, dark was falling. Ahiru was paddling in worried circles on the surface near the shore. As soon as she caught sight of him, she waddled out to meet him, quacking in a way that was almost understandable--Where have you been? You look horrible. You haven't been sleeping, have you? Strange how, after seven years of listening to her almost daily, Fakir seemed to have learned to understand duck.

He made a decent attempt to look chastised, but ultimately failed in hiding his expectant grin. "Calm down, will you? I promise I'll explain everything in a moment."

Ahiru tilted her head at him, blinking her huge blue eyes. "Quack?"

"Just wait." Fakir settled down on the grass by the bank, fixing his eyes on the duck in front of him. The anticipation was nearly driving him mad. A moment more and then he'd know... a moment more...

It happened almost quietly, when it did. A ray of moonlight, a silent shower of white sparks, and then there was a human where the duck had been. For a moment Fakir could only stare, speechless, at what was definitely not the Ahiru he remembered. Physically there was little trace of the awkward girl Ahiru had been when he last saw her as a human; her body was statuesque and graceful, her eyes glittering with reflected moonlight, long red waves cascading over her shoulders and down her back. She had grown over the last seven years, for certain; and yet the light in her eyes, the faint blush dusting her cheeks were so unmistakably Ahiru that he could hardly mistake her for anyone else...

It was a marked improvement, in his opinion.

Ahiru was the first to speak, as usual--apparently some things didn't change. "You said it couldn't be done. You said you'd tried every way you could think of..."

"And I did. This isn't it." He looked away, ashamed, as he remembered for the first time that in seven years of trying, this was the best he could do for her. "It only lasts as long as the moon is out. You'll be a duck again before sunrise. I'm sorry, Ahiru, I should have done better..."

Abruptly his head was turned toward her, her hand on his cheek as she stooped in front of him, and his face reddened as he realized just how close she was. "Don't be sorry. This is wonderful."

He blinked. "What?"

"Fakir, I'm a duck. I've been a duck for years now." Ahiru pulled the shirt he had brought with him over her head, fumbling with it awkwardly for a moment before slipping it on. "And that's what I am, and I've accepted that. I've accepted it... but I've missed talking to you. I've missed dancing with you. I've missed being human. Even if it's not what I am, I was human too long not to miss being that way."

She reached out to clasp his hands in hers. "What you've done... you've given me the best of both worlds, Fakir. I can't ask for more than that."

Fakir laughed shortly, shaking his head. "You're too nice, you know that? I failed, Ahiru. Just slightly less than the last ten times I failed."

"You've made me happy and you call that a failure?" Ahiru rose to her feet, tugging him up with her. "I'm beginning to wonder if you really like me, Fakir..."

A slow smile crept over Fakir's face as he moved his hands to her waist, gently spinning her in an awkward, rusty, but somehow completely genuine pirouette. "I meant what I said, moron. I love you for who you are, not what you are. In whatever form you take, I still love you."

"And I love you for everything you've done for me." Ahiru leaned back against his chest, bringing her hand up to brush his cheek. "Now, let's dance. I've waited much too long for this."

Fakir turned his head, catching her fingers with his lips. "Me too."

- - -

Once upon a time, a story ended. At the end, the roles of the characters in the story concluded, and they returned to being their true selves. But there was one who found that she missed who she had been within the pages of the story, and above all the man who had loved her while they were in the story together.

But the man was a writer as well, and for seven years he struggled to write a story that would make the one he loved happy. For seven years he tried, and for seven years he failed, for even his power could not alter what was. Finally, on the night of a beautiful full moon, he hit upon a compromise. One that would allow the woman he loved to return to her former shape, while maintaining her true self.

And the writer and the duck lived happily ever after.