Once upon a time, there was a mouse. Though small, this mouse had a very large heart. If someone so much as mentioned a chill, the mouse would give the very clothes from its back. In its generosity, the mouse gave and gave until it had nothing left to give. Those around the mouse would praise the mouse's kindness, though none came to its aid when the mouse was the one in need.

Fakir rested his forehead against the curve of his wrists. The past week had been trying to say the least. An indeterminable, terror-filled amount of time before they reached the clinic, Ahiru had passed out from blood loss. The nurse on duty must've been new, as the sight of the two seemed to scare of the wits out of him when Fakir came hurtling through the doors. Ultimately, some doctors extricated her from his hold and took her back to another area while another nurse pulled him aside to ascertain if any of the blood was his. Everything in those first twenty-four hours became a blur, but he knew at some point Charon showed up with a clean change of clothes, and he wasn't completely sure, but he thought he already had his fingers bandaged and had changed before he spoke with the police. He didn't fully remember what bullshit lie he told them, but he knew the academy put a curfew in place, and no students were allowed to go off main campus alone.

Ahiru ended up in surgery for multiple hours—though it felt like a lifetime to Fakir. It was only Charon's tears of relief when the doctor said she had been stabilized that stopped Fakir from shedding his own. Despite the nurses' insistence that the two men go home and rest since Ahiru would likely be out for a while longer, both vehemently refused and stayed by her side.

She looked unnaturally small and pale in the sterile white sheets. Fakir was thankful for Charon's presence, as he had the mind to listen as the doctor explained Ahiru's status and the various precautions they needed to take to make sure infections didn't occur—Fakir, on the other hand, could barely focus on anything but the rhythmic rise and fall of Ahiru's chest.

Later, when Fakir was more composed, Charon explained what the doctor had told him—that though parts of Ahiru's small intestine had been damaged, the rest of her vital organs had been left unscathed. Fakir was thankful the damage was minimal, but he couldn't help but wish he knew which one of the bastards had stabbed her so he could return the favor.

A few times Ahiru's eyes would flutter open, only to stare emptily past him. The nurses assured him it was likely due to the high dose of pain medication she was on, but it made him uneasy. It wasn't until the third day that she was awake to the point of cognizance. He was thankful the medical staff kept the police away until a few days later, when she ultimately told them she didn't remember enough to be of much help. Fakir, himself, was reluctant to push her on the topic of what had happened lest someone overhear. He resigned himself to waiting until she was released.

Even once she was awake and able to communicate, she was obviously still out of it. In a strained voice, she recounted to him and Charon the strange dreams her meds induced. None of them followed a cohesive storyline, nor had any logic, though she seemed convinced that they were very important. One day she beckoned Fakir closer and, warily eyeing the nurse that was looking at her charts, conspiratorially informed him Drosselmeyer must be writing another story because all of the medical staff were deer. The nurse chuckled and informed Fakir they'd be lowering her dosage soon.

"Fakir?"

He lifted his head up at the sound of Ahiru's voice. Since they lowered the dosage of her pain medication, she had become more coherent. "Hm?"

"You don't have to watch over me all the time, ya know. You can go home and sleep in your bed. It's not like I'm going anywhere."

Fakir frowned and rolled his eyes, "Oh no, not after the crap you pulled."

Ahiru pursed her lips and slightly adjusted her body so she was facing him more, wincing and hissing in pain as her stitches pulled at her skin.

"Careful!" He reprimanded her. "Don't move too much, or you'll make it worse, idiot."

"I know, I know," Ahiru dismissed him, huffing both in annoyance at his babying and that her body wasn't capable of moving the way she was used to.

Resting his head back on his wrists, he watched her warily. "The doctor said that if everything looks good today, you can go home tomorrow."

"Finally! It's so… white here." She scrunched her nose in displeasure.

"I just… I don't know wha—"

"Uhm… er… ex-excuse me…?" A soft, uncertain voice came from the doorway, where a man was partially hidden behind a giant bouquet of flowers in a large glass vase. Fakir squinted slightly as he tried to recognize him.

"Uhh… I don't… You probably don't know me, but, uhm…" The man awkwardly shifted the vase in his arms, and Fakir got the impression that he was trying to obscure himself behind the flowers. "I wanted to… apologize… for-for what we did."

In an instant Fakir was up on his feet. "You've got a lot of nerve coming here. Yo—"

"Fakir." Ahiru's stern voice gave him pause. "Let him talk."

Fakir narrowed his eyes threateningly before diverting his gaze to Ahiru's side. The bookman before them exhaled uneasily.

Ahiru beckoned him forth, "I can't really move, so you'll have to come here."

"And don't even think about trying anything!" Fakir ignored the look Ahiru shot him.

Apprehensively, the man stepped forward, holding the glass vase before him. "I, uh, got you some flowers, because… well… I don't know…"

Ahiru smiled, "They're lovely. You can put them on the stand here." Careful of her injury, she gestured to the stand next to her.

"The, uh, florist said these flowers represent sorrow, or something… I'm not really… familiar with that sort of, uhm… stuff…" He faded off as he set the vase down where she indicated.

Ahiru hummed appreciatively as she admired the flowers before her. They really were quite beautiful. A delicate arrangement of purples, blues, and whites with sprigs of green masterfully placed amongst them.

"I really am sorry." The man scratched the back of his head and Ahiru turned her attention to him. He was surprisingly young for a bookman—most of the ones she had seen were rather old.

"I know." Ahiru smiled softly and reached out to gently grasp his hand. "None of you wanted to be there… I could tell."

The man stared heavily at the flowers he brought as his eyes grew glassy. When she gave a soft, reassuring squeeze, his resolve broke, and tears began spilling over his eyelids as he knelt by her bedside.

"I'm so, so sorry!" he choked out, "What we did… it was… it was reprehensible. I'm just so glad you're okay."

Fakir bit back a scathing retort and resisted the urge to beat the man bloody. Had Ahiru not been there, he wasn't so sure he would have been able to stop himself.

Ahiru shushed the man softly. "That's enough now, I forgive you."

He shook his head, "I don't deserve your forgiveness. None of us do. Not after everything we've done." He sighed and wiped at his face in vain. "You're too kind. I wanted to let you know we've disbanded, and you'll never hear from us again. Most of us are leaving the area, actually."

"Good," she smiled at him, "I'm glad you can all move on now."

The man nodded and stood back up. "Thank you. You'll never know how much it means to us. How much it means to me." Wiping at his eyes one last time, he gave her a mournful smile. "I've taken up enough of your time. May your recovery be speedy." And as suddenly as he came in, he left.

Fakir frowned. "You didn't have to hear him out, you know."

Ahiru sighed. "Life's short. Besides, it's sorta my role as Princess Tutu to help people, right?"

His frown deepened. He wasn't used to her casually throwing Princess Tutu into the conversation. "Don't think we're not talking about that when you get home."

She made a face at him. "Fine. But would you get me some water? I'm out." She motioned with her head toward the empty cup by her side.

"Alright." Fakir picked up the cup. "But call for a nurse if another one of those bastards comes. I don't want you talking to them by yourself."

"Yeah, yeah. And the sooner you get my water the sooner you'll be back." Ahiru waved him off with a hand.

She watched him leave before turning her head toward the bouquet of flowers. 'So pretty…' she thought emptily. A moment passed before, wincing through the pain, she plucked a sturdy stem from its place. Spinning it in her fingers, she examined the robust white tulip's petals. Slowly, she wrapped her fingers around the flower's head, gradually tightening her grip until her arm shook with the effort. Finally, she dropped the destroyed tulip to the ground, frowning at it in disgust.

The gem hanging from her neck glittered dark gray.


"Careful now!" Charon fussed over Ahiru as he helped her get situated on the couch.

"I've got it, I've got it." Ahiru insisted as she eased herself down. Having finally been released was a great relief to her. While the medical staff had been kind to her, she wanted to get back on with her life. In particularly frustrating moments, she half wanted to scream she was going to die in a few months anyway, so let it be. Though, even she had to admit, the pain was enough of a deterrent to keep her from acting up too much.

Charon sighed warily as he set her vase of flowers on the coffee table. "Who could do this is beyond me. Promise you won't go anywhere at night without me or Fakir anymore, okay?"

Ahiru half chuckled. "I don't think I'm going much of anywhere too soon." She looked a tad abashed when Charon gave her a disapproving look. "Okay, I promise."

"Good," Charon nodded. "I'm going to start working on dinner. The doctor said you can start eating solids, but not to overdo it, so it looks like it's going to be soup for a while."

Ahiru sighed. That was a nasty side effect of getting stabbed in the side—now she had to be extra careful with what she ate lest she agitate her healing intestines. It was only a couple days ago that they started letting her eat at all, though at the time she was only allowed liquids. "At least I know it'll be good soup here." She peered up at Charon with large puppy eyes. "Can I have just a little bread?"

"The doctor said nothing too high in fiber."

"Please?"

Charon shook his head with a laugh. "Alright, I suppose I can make a simple bread with white flour. Absolutely no rye bread, okay?"

Ahiru nodded enthusiastically and gingerly settled further into the cushions. "Okie dokie!"

Fakir rolled his eyes as Charon passed him. She had him wrapped around her little finger—and the major injury was only making him more susceptible. "Ahiru…"

"Yes?" She turned her wide, innocent blue eyes towards him.

"You shouldn't manipulate Charon into bending the doctor's orders. How is he going to feel if you get worse?"

Ahiru screwed up her face petulantly, "I'm not going to get worse if I have a little bread. Besides, he's making white bread. The doctor said I could have white bread without any nuts or seeds—which are the good parts by the way, but I guess I can manage."

"You're going to have to."

"I just want to taste real food. You've been able to eat this whole time; have some sympathy!"

He smiled teasingly as he moved the bouquet aside and sat down on the coffee table in front of her. "You'll have plenty of time to eat real food."

She averted her eyes. "Right."

"Let's focus on you healing, first. Besides, it might not take as long as you think. The doctors said you were actually recovering pretty quickly for your type of injury."

Lightly touching the bandages over her stitches, Ahiru screwed up her lips. "Doesn't feel like it."

Fakir frowned and glanced toward the kitchen. Charon was focused on chopping vegetables and preparing the soup he had been planning for Ahiru's return and was not likely to overhear anything he said. Regardless, he spoke in a hushed tone.

"What were you thinking?"

Ahiru made a face. So they were doing this now. Reciprocating his volume, she responded, "I already told you. If I didn't do something then, it would've been a matter of time before they went after you and Charon."

"I get that, I do. But why did you put up that barrier? I could've protected you—I could've—"

"Fakir," she laid her hand atop his, "you had nothing to defend yourself with, let alone me. I didn't want you getting hurt."

"Don't you think I wouldn't want that for you, either?" Fakir narrowed his eyes at her, trying to keep his temper even.

She pulled her hand back and folded it over her other hand in her lap. A moment passed before she responded. "I may have been a little… reckless, but… I mean, whatever Drosselmeyer is doing… I doubt that's the way he'd want his story to end, so… I may have… trusted that nothing too bad would happen. I know it's not exactly what you want to hear, but…"

Fakir closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "So you'd trust him before you'd trust me?"

Ahiru groaned. "That's what you got out of it? That I trust Drosselmeyer more than you? I took a calculated risk to make sure you didn't get hurt. I might be a little worse for wear, but I'm okay. I'm alive. I'll heal. There's no telling what could've happened if you had gotten involved."

"I might've been able to stop you from getting stabbed!"

"Fakir. I literally have magic powers, but I still got stabbed. I really don't think there would've been any stopping it and if you had gotten hurt—!" the thought made her choke on her emotion a little bit. She was already a ticking time bomb soon to die, but Fakir… If Fakir had gotten hurt…

The gravity of what she was going to put him through weighed even more heavily upon her shoulders.

"Hey, that's not fair," Fakir chided and gently cupped her chin, "I'm supposed to be worrying about you right now."

Ahiru's cheeks flared bright red at his touch and it was only the pain in her side that stopped her from flailing away from him in a gawky mess. She settled for ducking her head down in attempt to hide her blush. She was going to need to keep him away from her chin if she was going to keep her head on straight, apparently.

"Thanks, but you don't need to worry about me, I'm doing fine…" she made a face before quickly adding a qualifying, "well, now, anyway."

Fakir sighed. "Just don't do anything like that again. I don't know if I…" he faded off, seemingly lost in thought.

Ahiru peeked up at him through her bangs.

He lightly slapped his hands down against the table he sat on. "Well. Just don't do it again."

Ahiru's heart wrenched at the flicker of emotion in his eyes. She couldn't quite identify it—fear? Worry? Pain? Maybe a combination of all of the above and then some. She did know she was the cause of it and would continue to be the cause of it. And she felt utterly wretched.

"Fakir, would you mind helping me for a moment?" Charon called from the kitchen, drawing the pair's attention. "I want to make sure this meat is nice and tenderized before I throw it in the soup pot."

"Yeah, alright." Fakir called back before glancing back to Ahiru. "We'll talk later. Try not to aggravate your stitches, okay?"

Ahiru pouted as she watched Fakir get up and head to the kitchen. Easy for him to say, if he got bored he could go do something else. Frowning, she busied herself with pushing her cuticles back with her nails. She wondered idly what Fakir would do once she was gone for good.

Would he forgive her?


Ahiru flared her nostrils in frustration as she tugged at the knot she created in her yarn. "I thought it was just supposed to pull out!" she quietly cursed as she continued yanking at the string and looked at the book Charon had gotten her. He said he didn't want her to get too bored being essentially bedridden, so he had picked up some yarn and a book so she could learn how to crochet. The hooks, apparently, had been Charon's mother's originally.

Her frustration faded as she remembered how excited Charon had been to give her his thoughtful gift. In fact, he went above and beyond to make sure her first evening home from the hospital was special. The soup was absolutely delicious. He only used white flour for the bread so it would be low in fiber and she could eat a lot more of it. Once it was ready, the three of them ate dinner together in the living room so she wouldn't have to move or eat alone. And afterward he was all barely contained grins as he brought out a basket full of colorful yarn.

The last thing Ahiru wanted was to come off as not appreciating his gift. And, certainly, she was excited to learn something new, especially something that allowed her to create. But she was never very good at learning… well, in general, much less from a book. She bit her lip as she tried to follow the instructive illustrations on how to make a slip knot, only to tie another knot in her yarn. The very first thing you're supposed to learn in crochet, and she could not manage to get it right.

A low chuckle from across the room drew her attention away from the vexing instructions before her. Fakir was leaning his elbows on back of the couch across from her, quietly laughing as she struggled to get the knot right.

"What's so funny?" Ahiru puckered her lips in annoyance, already knowing what his answer would be.

"You."

"Oh, ha ha. So hilarious."

"Charon was a little optimistic thinking you'd be able to pick up on something by learning from a book."

Ahiru frowned. "I'm doing just fine, thank you."

"I may not know much about crochet, but I do know what your frustrated face looks like."

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Whatever."

Fakir stood up fully and walked around the couch before carefully sitting on the couch beside her. "Here," he gently took the book from her, "let me see." His eyes quickly skimmed the words before glancing at the illustrations. They then flicked to her piece of yarn with multiple knots in it. "Okay, show me what you're doing."

Ahiru sulkily glared up at him before making yet another attempt at the slip knot—stealing sneaky peeks at the illustrations from the corner of her eye.

"Ah, that's it." Fakir said as she pulled the string taught, resulting in another tight knot. "You're pulling the wrong part through the loop. Look," he took the string from her and showed her how to make the stitch. "if you fold the loop over like this and pull this part through…" he handed it back to her and gestured for her to continue.

Ahiru carefully pulled on the part that Fakir had indicated, glee filling her eyes as a small loop formed before her eyes. "Oh! I did it!"

"Now pull on the end part, here." Fakir pointed.

She nodded and with a soft tug, the knot came swiftly undone. A smile broke across her face and she looked up at him. "And it comes out!"

With a few mishaps, Ahiru repeated making the knot multiple times before she was able to consistently make a proper slip knot. She scrunched up her nose with a big smile and turned to Fakir. "Okay, fine, I admit I was having some trouble before."

"Obviously."

Sticking her tongue out at him again, Ahiru didn't say anything but instead took the book from him. "Alright, now help me learn the chain stitch." She handed him one of the hooks Charon gave her before picking the one she had been using back up. She raised her eyebrows expectantly and grinned up at him.

Fakir stared down at the tiny hook in his hand and looked at the comparatively thick yarn Ahiru held. "I'm… not sure this is the right size?"

"Huh? No way. They're not the same?" She glanced between the hooks in the basket as well as the ones they each held.

Fakir exhaled heavily. "Maybe I should skim through this first chapter you seemed to have skipped…"

Ahiru giggled sheepishly as Fakir flipped through the pages. Together, they spent the better part of their evening teasing each other as they tried to learn the basics of the fiber art. For the first time since she was stabbed, the pain in her side wasn't on the forefront of her mind—and it only reared its head when she laughed a little too hard. Which, she decided, though painful, wasn't the worst way to be reminded.

Long after the sun sunk below the horizon and the sky was dotted with bright stars, the two finally agreed it was probably time for them to go to bed.

"Do you think you can make it up the stairs by yourself?" Fakir asked as he carefully helped her stand up from the couch.

"Yeah, I think so! The stitches are in my side, not my legs, right?" She gripped Fakir's upper arms as she steadied herself and adjusted her balance. With a little help from Fakir, she was able to make her way to the stairs just fine.

She hissed as she lifted her leg to take the first stair, quickly giving up and letting it back down.

"You alright?" Fakir asked, firmly holding her upright by her arm.

Squeezing her eyes shut, trying to ignore the pain, Ahiru nodded and forced out a labored "Uh-huh." Trying to focus on her breathing, she tried lifting the foot opposite her wound, instead. Though it was less painful than before, the strain was almost enough to draw tears to her eyes.

Fakir stopped her. "Okay, that's enough. Just say it hurts if it hurts, idiot."

"Fine. It hurts." Ahiru glared down at the stairs. Why did everything have to be so hard? Barely even days ago she skipped up and down these stairs on a regular basis, now she couldn't go up one stair—even with help.

"Alright, I'll just have to carry you." Fakir bent over slightly and gently pressed his arm against the back of her legs, urging her to lean back into him.

She looked like she wanted to protest, but soon gave in and let him scoop her up, mindful of her stitches. Noticing her wince slightly as he adjusted, he quickly fixed his hold on her.

"Is that okay?"

Ahiru nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine." She groused. An annoyed scowl stretched her lips downwards. She hated having to be so dependent on others. With a light scoff, she leaned her head against Fakir's shoulder.

'I can hear his heartbeat…' She thought mildly, her face softening. It was a pleasant rhythmic sound—and, though she wasn't certain, she'd swear it was increasing in pace. She closed her eyes and smiled. As much as she liked her independence, she found she didn't mind being carried by Fakir—actually, she kind of liked it.

Using his leg to nudge Ahiru's bedroom door further open, he carried her over to her bed and set her down. She was surprised to see his face was a red as hers felt. Averting his eyes, Fakir rubbed the back of his neck as he stood back up straight.

"If the stairs bother you that much, it's probably better for you to stay up here for a few days. I can bring your meals up to you."

Ahiru wanted to object, but she knew it was probably for the best. At least up here she could have as much privacy as she wanted. And she had easy access to the bathroom. She nodded in agreement.

"Alright, that's that then." Fakir turned around and disappeared out her door.

Ahiru scrunched her nose up at the door in disappointment. "Gees, couldn't even say goodnight…? Jerk." She sighed and carefully pushed herself up from the bed and hobbled over to her dresser. She was going to sleep in proper night clothes tonight if it killed her.

A soft creak from the floorboards drew her attention to her doorway where Fakir was walking in with the basket full of yarn Charon had given her.

"Thought you might want this since you'll be stuck up here for a while." He lifted the basket slightly to indicate that's what he was talking about before setting it next to her bed.

She smiled softly and thanked him. "Yeah, probably."

"Do you need any help?" Fakir asked as he walked over to her.

Ahiru looked between the nightgown in her hands and Fakir a few times before shaking her head. "No. I'm good."

"Just be careful, alright you moron?" He playfully flicked the stubborn hairs that stuck straight up from her bangs.

She swatted his hand away, hissing when the sudden movement pulled at her stitches.

"What did I just say?"

Glaring up at him Ahiru retorted, "That was your fault."

"My fault? You're the one who threw your arm at me all haphazardly, completely ignoring my advice to be careful."

"Because you-you were all—" she gestured with her arms, mindful of her injury, "—all up in my space!"

Fakir smirked and rolled his eyes. "Alright, fine. I guess we're both at fault."

Ahiru's mouth fell open indignantly. "Both?! Oh! Oh! Both !"

He laughed and lightly pressed his forehead against hers, effectively shutting her up. Closing his eyes, he savored the quiet moment before speaking again. "I'm so glad you're home. And safe."

A soft blush colored her cheeks as she peeked up at him through her bangs. His eyes were still closed, and he looked… serene. She stared a moment, letting her blue eyes inspect the minute details of his face, before she closed her eyes as well.

They stood like that for a moment, though to Ahiru it felt like an eternity. A quiet, happy eternity where nothing else existed but them. Finally, she broke the silence. "I'm sorry I made you worry."

"Promise you won't do it again."

The words were on the tip of her tongue. She wanted to ease all of his worries and promise she'd never do anything to hurt him again because she didn't want to hurt him again, but she knew the promise would be empty. She let herself be quiet a moment longer before she pulled away from him.

"I don't think I can promise that. Isn't that part of being—" she stopped herself before she said in a relationship, knowing the words had certain connotations she shouldn't just throw out there all of a sudden, and he had expressed hurt at constantly being reminded that they were just friends. She hesitated before starting again. "I mean, when you care about someone… that's what you do, right? You tend to worry about them. Even when you don't need to." She bit her lip. Noting his crestfallen expression, she added, "I worry about you all the time."

He gave her a brief smile before patting her shoulder. "I guess I should let you go to bed. Goodnight."

"G'night." She frowned as she watched him leave, shutting the door quietly behind him. He didn't seem to like her answer, but he seemed to accept it, so at least there was that.

She sighed as she started the now-difficult and painful task of taking off and putting on clothes. Once in her nightgown, she turned off the light and eased under the covers in her bed. She grinned as she cautiously situated herself and settled in. Her bed at the hospital hadn't been horrible, but there was no beating her own bed for comfort. The night might not have ended on the happiest note, but overall she had had a wonderful day. She was finally home from the hospital. She got to eat Charon's food. Charon gave her a lovely present. She spent the evening laughing and joking with Fakir. And Fakir carried her up the stairs and to her bed where she was finally going to get a good night's rest.

A blush spread across her cheeks as she remembered how soft and careful his grip had been. How warm his skin was, even through his clothes. 'He smells so nice…' She thought dreamily before floating off into a deep sleep.


Languidly running her fingers along the piping on her window seat cushion, Ahiru watched the fragments of rainbow dance across her bedroom floor. The slight impact from letting her head fall back against the window caused the prism on the Christmas present Fakir had given her all those months ago spin a bit, making the refracted light move in slow and bewitching patterns. Slowly their dance came to an end and Ahiru sighed wistfully as she looked at the ground below her window. Unfortunately, her sunflower had reached the end of its life while she was in the hospital, but it looked like a few more seeds had taken root and had reached an impressive height already.

The past week or so since she came back from the hospital seemed to drag on. Slowly the pain from her stitches was starting to subside, and in the upcoming week she was supposed to head back to the hospital to have them removed. Despite feeling a bit stir crazy, the memory of the pain of trying to go up the stairs mixed with the occasional tinges she still felt were enough to keep her from attempting to go down the stairs.

Fakir and Charon took turns keeping her company when they could. Charon would tell her how well the tomatoes were doing and bring her cookbooks filled with colorful pictures. Sometimes he'd bring her light sandwiches—made with white bread of course, because flavor was apparently illegal when you get stabbed in the side—and fresh fruit for lunch. Usually, though, it was Fakir who ate with her. He'd bring up her meal on the little bed tray that Charon made her, and he'd sit on the floor and tell her about his day as they ate.

After he'd take their dishes down, he always came back up and spent the rest of the evening with her. They'd chat about nothing and everything. Conversations would blur together as they laughed and formed inside jokes. On some nights, he'd read to her from fairytale books he brought from the library, something they used to do often when she was a duck. Other nights, they spent their evening similarly to how they spent her first night back from the hospital—teasing each other as Fakir helped her figure out new crochet stitches. Ahiru treasured this time with him. Being stuck on one floor with little else to do but flip through the cookbooks Charon brought her and practice crocheting, she got lonely quick—even with Charon and Fakir's visits.

Tearing her eyes away from the scattered rainbows on her floor, Ahiru looked down at the multicolored chocolate and cream scarf in her lap. The tension was uneven and the size fluctuated wildly throughout, but it was her very first creation, and she was very nearly finished. It might not be the prettiest thing in the world, and it may be true that it was only made with double stitches—well, forgiving the few accidental single or triple stitches, of course—but she dearly hoped Charon would like it. Her fingers were starting to hurt from trying to force her hook through the stitches she accidentally made much too tight, and she debated whether or not she should rummage through her yarn basket to try and find a smaller hook.

"Ahiru?"

Ahiru yelped in surprise at Charon's voice coming from the hallway and hastily stuffed the scarf behind her.

"W-What?!"

Charon poked his head around her open door, concern written across his features. "Are you okay?"

Ahiru laughed uneasily, "Heh, yeah, sorry. You surprised me, that's all. Is it already lunch time?"

"Actually," he made a face Ahiru couldn't quite identify, "I was making sandwiches when your uh… your friend, the pianist? He wanted to see you."

"Autor?" Ahiru blinked. It had been a while since Autor had sought out her company.

"I told him it probably wouldn't happen since you're not feeling well, but…" Charon vaguely gestured with his hands.

Frowning, Ahiru stared at the floor. Maybe it was time for her to try and go down the stairs? She was becoming more fluid in her movement. Autor may be annoying at times, but she did enjoy spending time with him sometimes—and, honestly, she was desperate to socialize with someone outside of the house. Not that she didn't love Fakir and Charon, but with a variety of people can bring a variety of topics and news.

"No, it's alright," she said finally. "I think I can try the stairs again."

Concern spread across Charon's face. "Are you sure?"

Ahiru nodded and stood up. "Yeah, I think I can do it."

"Well, I'll be right in front of you every step of the way down, okay?"

Ahiru accepted Charon's hand as he offered her support and led her to the stairway. "Thanks, Charon. You don't have to help me though, you know."

He brushed her off. "Ooh, just let an old man worry, would you? Now tell me if it gets to be too much, got it?"

Trying her best to hide her trepidation, Ahiru swallowed and focused on her breathing as she carefully lowered her foot to the next stair. One hand tightly wrapped around the railing while the other gripped Charon's arm. She exhaled slightly as her foot found the worn wood of the stair. It hurt a bit, but it was manageable.

It took longer than she would've liked, but Ahiru successfully reached the ground floor with Charon's help. "See? I told you I had this." Ahiru beamed up at Charon as she thanked him for his assistance.

"Ahiru!" Autor stood up from his seat at the dining table as the two entered the kitchen. "I'm glad to see you're okay." He moved out from in front of his chair and indicated with his hand for her to sit. "Sit, sit! Please, you shouldn't be standing."

"Oh, uhm, yeah. Okay." She nodded and let Autor help her sit down in the chair he had been occupying moments ago.

Charon passed by the two and discreetly placed a platter of sandwiches on the table, gesturing for them to help themselves before taking one for himself and heading back to the smithy.

Ahiru watched as Charon left before turning her attention back to Autor, who was now seated in the chair across from her. Beside him was a vase of yellow and white daffodils, which he pushed toward her.

"I got these for you once I found out… You look much better than I had imagined. I had heard that a stabbing had happened, but I had no idea that you were involved—please trust I would have visited sooner had I known! God, are you okay?"

Ahiru smiled warmly at him. "Yeah, I'm okay. Thank you." She gently ran her thumb along the slight ridges in the vase as she inspected the cheerful blooms.

He shot her a skeptical look.

"I mean, I've been better, but… Well, I'm here, right? That has to count for something."

"I just don't understand how this could happen—Goldkrone has always been so quiet, and I don't even know if I've heard of anyone getting so much as mugged before."

Briefly, Ahiru considered telling Autor about the bookmen. He had known them, hadn't he? Or maybe of them? She wasn't sure how much Autor knew or remembered since the end of the story. Deciding against it, she patted his arm reassuringly. "I don't think it'll happen again—at least, not with my attacker. So you don't need to worry."

Autor shook his head. "Oh, Ahiru, I hope you never lose your innocence."

She gave him a puzzled look. "What do you mean?"

"Surely even you realize that you're being naïve. You remembered nothing about your attacker, you have no idea if they'll attack again. Goodness, if I were Fakir, I'd—"

Sighing, Ahiru pulled her arm back and rested her face in the palm of her hand.

"I… I apologize. This isn't an appropriate topic." He took his glasses off and rubbed at them with a soft white cloth he kept in his pocket. "Forgive me. I am glad you're okay and nothing worse happened to you."

"Thanks."

"Is your recovery going smoothly?"

Absentmindedly Ahiru confirmed that it was before she seemed to become more alert. "Say, Autor, how did you find out about my injury?"

"Fakir actually told me."

"Fakir?" She wasn't surprised, but she wasn't not surprised. Fakir and Autor were sorta… friends? Well, maybe not friends, but close acquaintances? She wondered if it was difficult for Fakir to fully relate to Autor when the Drosselmeyer enthusiast didn't remember most of the experiences they had been through together.

"Yes. I ran into him at the library. He said I should come see you."

Okay, that did surprise her a little bit. "Oh."

Autor glanced around briefly before seeming to think better of it. "It's a shame there isn't a piano here, I would've loved to play something for you."

Ahiru's eyes lit up at the mention of music. "That'd be nice… I've mostly been reading and crocheting."

"I don't suppose you're able to go out? The academy still lets me use the practice rooms in exchange for occasionally tutoring. I could play you something."

She bit her lip, unsure if she should go anywhere. Despite the pain of her injury subsiding to some degree, it was definitely still there. But, the temptation to go outside and be somewhere other than her bedroom and hear lovely music was too great.

Seeming to recall something, Autor added, "There's a practice room on the ground floor we can go to, so you won't have to go up any stairs."

"Is it okay if we walk slowly?"

Autor smiled reassuringly. "Of course."

She deliberated for only a moment longer before she nodded. "Yeah, I think I'd like to hear you play."

Kindly offering her his arm, Autor helped Ahiru out of her seat and walked her to the door where she paused to slip on some sandals before jotting a quick note to Charon and setting out for the academy.


"Ahiru!" Charon poked his head out the doorway to the kitchen upon hearing the front door opening.

"Oh, Charon! Did you get my note?" Ahiru greeted as she carefully kicked her sandals off.

He sighed in relief. "Yes. Doesn't mean I didn't worry about you, though."

"Autor was with me the whole time, so I was okay. No need to worry."

"Didn't we already talk about letting this old man worry? It's practically in the job description of being old."

"Fine. As long as you promise not to stress yourself out."

Charon groaned in mock exasperation. "I guess I'll have to try."

She giggled. "Good." Approaching him, she lifted her nose slightly to smell the air. "Mm, whatcha making? It smells delicious!"

"Nothing super fancy," Charon answered as they both entered the kitchen. "Fakir is helping me make currywurst and fries."

"Ooh!" Ahiru grinned as she looked over at Fakir, who was stirring a pot of homemade curry ketchup. "Hey Fakir!"

He gave her a distracted greeting as he continued stirring.

"Why don't you sit down? Dinner's almost ready and it's been a while since we've eaten at the table."

"Mmkay." She grinned as Charon helped her sit down and they made light conversation about her day out. As Charon promised, dinner was ready shortly and the trio were eating together for the first time in a while. Though Ahiru appreciated the effort Charon and Fakir went through to make sure she was able to eat in her room, she decided nothing beat eating together at the table as a family. Beaming through the whole meal, Ahiru savored not just the delicious spiced sausage, but the jovial conversation and ambiance they shared.

She would miss this a great deal.

Once everyone had finished their meals, Ahiru stayed seated as the two men washed the dishes together and the elder of the pair told them about the project he was working on in the smithy. Upon finishing the dishes, he dried his hands on a white dish cloth and bade the other two a goodnight.

Fakir listened as his father walked up the stairs before he finally turned away from the sink and toward her. "Did you enjoy your day out with Autor?"

"Yeah." She smiled and accepted his hand when he offered it to her, carefully pulling herself up. "I know I got plenty of fresh air and sunlight through my window, but it's very different actually going out in it."

"Hm." Fakir nodded absently as he led her to the stairs. Though he had been the one to suggest Autor visit Ahiru, he hadn't expected him to take her out. Part of him was bitter; he had been planning something of a day for her first time out since the hospital. He tried not to let it get to him—after all, they could still have their day. Plus, Ahiru was in great spirits.

"Fakir?" Ahiru looked up at him with a pensive expression.

"Yes?"

She screwed up her mouth in thought before she spoke again. "Do you… do you think I could try going up myself?" She shot the stairs in front of them a sideways glance.

He frowned. She went down the stairs for the first time in a while with Charon's help, was it really a good idea for her to go up them by herself? "Are you sure that's something you should try?"

"Mmm… maybe not," she admitted, "but, if I don't try, how am I going to get better? I don't want to have to depend on you and Charon forever."

Fakir reluctantly let go of her arm. "Alright. I'll be right behind you."

Ahiru smiled up at him. "Thanks." She turned back toward the stairs and steeled her nerves. Going down the stairs was an entirely different beast than going up the stairs, but she had a taste of her previous independence and she would have to master this if she were to do it again. 'Okay, first step,' Ahiru mentally pumped herself up. 'Here we go.'

Fakir followed behind Ahiru silently, going up one stair each time she did. It was a long process, and he could tell by how slow she was going it was a struggle for her, but not once did she seek his assistance. He wasn't surprised, she always was stubborn and wanted to do things by herself. Her tenacity was inspiring, if not a little intimidating and, most often, insurmountably frustrating.

When Ahiru reached the top stair, she turned to him with a triumphant grin on her face. "Ha hah! I knew I could do it!" Her blue eyes glimmered victoriously.

Her eyes were so bright and clear, and Fakir could get lost in them for hours. Standing a stair above him, he couldn't help but notice their faces were tantalizingly oh-so-close. He could just lean forward, just a little bit, and—

He quickly turned his head away, hoping she wouldn't notice the bright red staining his cheeks. "Of course you could."

"Come on," she stepped out of his way so he could go up the last step before gently tugging on his hand, "I want your opinion on something."

He followed her quietly, staring at their joined hands. How did he get here? Lately it seemed like his brain was filled with thoughts of her. Regardless of what he was doing—working in the smithy, reading, or working on his writing—he could rarely focus on what was in front of him. Frequently in the smithy he'd catch that knowing gleam in Charon's eye, and he knew Charon knew exactly what was on his mind. It was infuriating, and yet he couldn't stop. He'd spend the evenings with her, and even the slightest brush of their hands was enough to make him hyperaware of her—almost like he was touch starved. One evening she slung her legs in his lap and he felt like his head would implode from the contact. When he let himself lightly rub his thumb in a small, lazy circle on her shin he couldn't even tell if she had noticed.

Fakir felt utterly lost. Ever since the Fire Festival when he very nearly kissed her again—and with her permission this time!—he had no idea where he stood in Ahiru's esteem. He knew she cared about him, he knew she considered him an important person, he knew she didn't know how she felt about him… and yet. She didn't shy away from physical contact with him—be it resting her head on his shoulder, holding his hand, or resting her legs in his lap. Even touching foreheads didn't appear to be out of the question. Perhaps Fakir could admit that he was being more forward than he normally would be to test the waters, but… the Fire Festival. The hazy look in her eyes had been intoxicating and haunted him in his dreams. To think she had looked at him like that made his heart burn with hope.

Despite all of this, though, she treated him no different than she had before. Not even the slightest indication that she had any romantic feelings toward him fell from her lips. Even in Fakir's daring moments, when he brought his face close to hers, not once did it seem like the memory of their kiss, or their almost kiss, flitted across her mind. Sure, she blushed, but Fakir was fairly certain any normal person would blush at such a proximity. He felt like he would lose his mind. Every hope, every doubt, every touch.

It was too much.

"Well, what do you think?" Ahiru asked, holding the brown and white scarf she had been working on the past few days. How long he had been standing there in her room, he wasn't sure.

'I think you're amazing.' Fakir pushed the thought from his mind. "About what?"

She frowned up at him and shook the scarf for emphasis. "This! Do you think Charon will like it?" She looked down at the scarf and fiddled with some of the excess stitches. "I wanted to make him something as a thank you for his kind gift, but I'm not very good at this yet, and it's not even at all and what if—"

He flicked her forehead, silencing her. "Charon will love it. He's always valued the sentiment over the execution."

She smiled and Fakir had to avert his eyes. "Yeah?"

"You worry too much. Do you really think Charon wouldn't like something you made him?"

A small smile curled her lips as she examined the scarf with a softer face. "You're right." With a sigh she put it down in her basket and turned back to him. "I'll finish it tomorrow. First, I want to tell you about my day!" She eased herself down on her bed before energetically patting the spot next to her.

Fakir rolled his eyes teasingly before giving in to her mimed demands. The moment his body touched the bed, Ahiru launched into an animated story of her time with Autor, going into excruciating detail about every little thing. He'd almost be jealous, if not for the fact she was snuggled up to him, excitedly telling him about her afternoon.

And like that, once again, Fakir was reminded about his dilemma.

Surely, with moments like these being so common, even after he had bared his heart and soul to her, surely she felt something, right? Ahiru wouldn't be so cruel as to continue this sort of behavior toward him if she didn't have some inkling of romantic feelings for him. Then again, the Ahiru he knew and loved could be incredibly dense to the point of hurting others without intending to. He was pretty sure she still had no idea Autor had been courting feelings for her—maybe he still was. Hell, she apparently had no idea how head-over-heels in love Fakir had been and still was with her, and he was fairly certain he had been pretty damn obvious about it. But, she knew now. He told her. Even someone as dense as she was would be more reserved if she truly had no feelings for him… unless… Was it possible she believed this is how two friends interacted with each other?

If he didn't know how truly oblivious Ahiru was, he'd think she was trying to torture him. Part of him wanted to just ask her if she had thought through her feelings yet. What was the etiquette on that? Was he supposed to wait a certain amount of time first? It had been roughly two or three months since he'd confessed, was that enough time? Was it even okay for him to bring it up again in the first place? Maybe he was supposed to wait until she brought it up… But, what if she thought maybe he got over her? Was he still sending signals that he was interested? Should he even be letting himself continue to pine after her even though she sort of rejected him?

Fakir's life had been so much easier before Ahiru came into it.

He glanced down at her and added another 'hm' at the appropriate time as she continued recounting her afternoon. Her eyes were glowing with happiness and she gesticulated wildly—though she favored her injured side, he noted with some resentment—her whole body emanated a calming energy.

He knew he'd sooner die than go back to the way he was before she came crashing into his world. She changed him; she encouraged him. She made him want to be better. He'd do anything to keep that smile on her face.

Ahiru leaned back, letting her head fall on his shoulder as she continued describing the songs Autor played for her. Fakir half wondered if she could read his mind, and if she could was this a sign she returned his feelings, or her torturing him? He forced the thought from his mind; he was becoming as airheaded as she was.

Fakir hummed again to indicate he was listening and leaned his head atop hers. The mystery of her feelings would continue to haunt him, for now he just wanted to relish the moment.


Ahiru ran her fingers over the dark, puckered skin where her stitches used to be. The doctor told her it looked much better and healed much faster than she predicted it would, but Ahiru wasn't convinced. She rotated her body back and forth as she stared at in the mirror. The skin was shiny and looked almost like it was bubbling out. Gently poking it, she frowned. It still hurt a bit, but her mobility had greatly increased in the past week. She had hoped this meant she could start eating whole grains and seedy breads, but the doctor said she'd have to wait another week before she could start eating fibrous foods again.

Fakir, who had taken her to her appointment, managed to cheer her up by surprising her with lunch at a nearby restaurant she'd never been to before. Sure, she had to stay to low-fiber menu items, but the new experience was enough to lift her spirits. He even got her a two-scoop ice cream cone.

Her face flushed as she remembered how he wiped some stray ice cream from her nose. A series of giggles escaped her as she curled up into herself—which promptly ended in her squawking in pain and collapsing to the ground in a manner that allowed her to ease the strain on her injury.

"Bad move, bad move," she cursed under her breath as she stared up at the ceiling. As the pain subsided, her mind wandered back to Fakir's warm smile as he teased her. The color returned to her cheeks as she pressed her hands to her face and wiggled in delight. He was so…. handsome! And gentle! Oh, but he was only that gentle with her! She squealed as she repeatedly replayed the memory of his soft touch as he brushed his finger against her nose, the warmth of his skin replacing the cold of the ice cream.

"You're so cute, Ahiru." She imagined him saying. "You have ice cream on your cheek, too." And then he'd lean forward and kiss her cheek!

"Ahhh! It's too much! He'd never do that!" She giggled as her blush grew in intensity.

An ice cream date that ended with a kiss on the cheek? How romantic! She swooned at the thought, her thoughts running wild with daydreams of lingering touches and whispered confessions.

"Fakir, I… I lo—"

"Shh, I know. We'll be together forever—Drosselmeyer be damned."

Drosselmeyer.

She frowned. She ruined her own fantasy by bringing that cursed dead man into it.

Ahiru could never confess to Fakir because she'd turn into a speck of light and vanish. Worse, she made a deal with Drosselmeyer and she only had so much time left before she was going to die—you know, forever. Even if she could confess her feelings to him, it would be cruel of her.

Carefully pushing herself up, Ahiru turned her focus back to her scar. The contrast of the dark scar tissue was glaring against the pale skin of her stomach.

"It's not so bad…" she mumbled as she smoothed her shirt back over it. 'Not in the grand scheme of things, anyway.'

She had better things to do than ogle her scar. She made the choice to face the bookmen knowing full well it was dangerous. Turning her leg, she gave the thin scar on her ankle a once over. She knew they were armed and looking to kill her. In the end, she didn't regret her choice. Whatever ends Drosselmeyer aimed to serve with these 'fragments' or whatever, she would have to be satisfied she was helping people. No matter how she died, Ahiru was determined to leave the world a better place than when she came into it. Even if she died tragically, she would fight to the bitter end to make sure Drosselmeyer didn't win.

And, in the meantime, she would let herself revel in her recently discovered feelings for Fakir. She was still young, she deserved to let her last few months be normal.

A broad grin replaced the determined frown on her face as she imagined Fakir kissing her ankle and telling her her scars only made her cuter. "They enhance your beauty," he'd say. "They're proof of how brave you are." Fanning herself with both hands, she shook her head wildly. "My Warrior Princess." Okay, he most definitely wouldn't say that one, but it was her fantasy and she'd imagine what she wanted to.

A soft knock from the door followed by a quizzical "Ahiru? What're you doing?" wrenched Ahiru from her daydreams.

"Fakir?!" She screeched, losing her balance in her mortification.

"Hey, be careful!"

She winced as she toppled to the ground. "Ouch."

Fakir was kneeling in front of her in less than a second. "Are you hurt?"

"Just my pride," she mumbled. She was certain her face would never lose its blazing red hue now. Fakir couldn't read minds, right? Running through her memories, she desperately tried to remember if she said anything out loud. Why did she leave her door open?

He sighed. "You just got your stitches removed, idiot. You've got to be more careful."

"Yeah, I know. You just surprised me," she groused.

Brushing some stray bangs out of her eyes, he lightly patted her cheek. Oh, good, she was concerned she'd reached maximum redness, but no, apparently not.

Ahiru stared at him wide eyed, stuck somewhere between utterly embarrassed and absolutely smitten. His expression was so soft, and his eyes were a lovely cool green. She adored his eyes. The various shades of green scattered amongst the crypts, ridges, and furrows of his irises made her feel like she was being drawn into the heart of a deep, magical forest.

Just when she was hoping she could stare into his eyes forever, he stood and offered her his hand. She stared dumbly at it for a second before accepting it.

"I know we ate out earlier, but Charon wanted to eat out to celebrate your stitches getting removed. Do you think you're up for it?"

"Yeah."

"Alright, well, we'll be waiting downstairs."

A tiny frown marring her features, Ahiru watched as Fakir left the room. What if… what if Fakir didn't love her anymore? After being rejected, it was only natural that someone would move on, right? She had no right to desire his affections, not when she was going to die, but a twisting pain bloomed in her chest at the thought of his feelings for her fading. Shaking her head, she pushed the thoughts from her mind. He was so tender, so gentle with her; even his name calling had the lilt of fondness. Fakir wouldn't treat just anyone that way.

With a renewed confidence, Ahiru checked her appearance in the mirror to make sure she looked presentable before grabbing the scarf she finally finished. She'd never been to a restaurant with both Fakir and Charon, and she was excited for the new experience. And the occasion was perfect for giving Charon the thank you gift she had poured over—now complete with tasseled ends! Folding the scarf and tucking it behind her back with one arm, Ahiru headed downstairs.

In the back of her mind, the nagging thought lingered, 'What if I'm reading too much into his actions? What if I'm imagining it?'


Fakir mindlessly tapped his finger on the stained wood of his writing desk. With everything that had happened with Ahiru, the date had completely snuck up on him. Honestly, he was lucky it didn't fly past him without his notice. Knowing Charon, he wouldn't have said anything. Frowning, Fakir desperately racked his brain for a gift idea. Normally he'd give himself a couple weeks to figure out what to get his adopted father for his birthday, but now he only had today.

With a groan, Fakir let his head fall to his desk. He hated trying to come up with gift ideas for Charon. The man seemed wholly focused on giving to others, and Fakir couldn't think of a single time Charon had asked for something. Naturally Fakir wanted to get him a thoughtful gift that reflected his appreciation for all that Charon had done for him, but it felt nearly impossible.

Last year Fakir replaced some of Charon's more worn peen hammers, but it seemed disingenuous to replace some of his tools twice in a row. Just buying him his favorite baumkuchen wouldn't cut it…

His eyes widened in sudden realization. "Aw, crap." He never told Ahiru when Charon's birthday was. Knowing her, she'd be livid to find out Fakir left her out of the loop.

Perhaps he should feel a little bad that he couldn't even focus on Charon's birthday without his thoughts wandering to Ahiru, but based on Charon's teasing and knowing glances, he figured he wouldn't be offended. Maybe the added perspective would help him come up with something. Before he even realized what he was doing, he found himself at her bedroom door.

She was lounging on her bed, he legs propped up on top of her headboard. Her tongue poked cutely out of her mouth in concentration as she stared at the book she was holding above her head.

"Ahiru?" He asked as he knocked lightly on her doorjamb.

"Eh?!" She squawked in surprise and dropped the book she was holding on her face. "Yeowch!"

Fakir sighed, partially out of fondness. "Be careful, idiot."

Removing the book from her face, she revealed an annoyed frown. "Maybe you should stop sneaking up on me!"

"I'd hardly call knocking on your open door sneaking."

She rolled her eyes and propped herself up on her elbow. "Whaddaya want?"

Despite knowing Charon was at the smithy, Fakir took the precaution of shutting her door behind him after he entered. "About Charon…"

Ahiru squinted quizzically. "What about him? Is he okay?"

"He's fine. I wanted to talk to you about his birthday."

"Birthday?" She pushed herself up into a sitting position, indicating he had her full attention.

Sitting down next to her, Fakir sheepishly scratched at the back of his neck. "Yeah, I sort of forgot about it. And, I know I should've told you sooner, but it's… tomorrow."

She cocked her head to the side, a confused frown twisting her lips. "His birthday's tomorrow?"

He didn't know how he expected her to act, but this was not it. "Yeah."

"When's your birthday?"

Now it was his turn to look confused. Why did it matter when his birthday was? And had he really never told her? "It's in November…"

"Oh…" Ahiru puckered her lips and looked down at her hands. Were birthdays important? Wasn't it just the day you grew another year older? She remembered Pique and Lilie talking about theirs and their plans for big parties and the presents their parents had gotten them. Unfortunately, Ahiru didn't get to experience a birthday up close during her previous stint as a human.

Finally, she pounded a fist into the palm of her other hand. "Okay, so what do we do?"

Feeling more at ease with this pace, Fakir turned toward her. "Charon doesn't really like anything big or fancy. Usually I just make dinner, buy a cake, and spend the evening with him—and get him a present, of course."

Ahiru nodded, a serious expression on her face. "Right, right."

He had to admit, he kind of expected more assistance from her here. "I normally start preparing in advanced, but like I said… I forgot until today."

Continuing to nod, she pursed her lips thoughtfully. A moment passed before she responded. "So we need to go get him presents and plan dinner, then?"

"Yeah…?"

"Alright, well, let's go then!" She stood suddenly, her movement much improved in the last three or so weeks when she nearly cried in pain from trying to go up the stairs. She looked back at Fakir who still sitting on the bed. "Well?"

"Right." He stood and followed her downstairs and out the door to the shopping district, where they wandered from store to store.

"What do you normally get Charon for his birthday?" Ahiru asked as she rolled the thick fabric of a shirt between her fingers. She wasn't sure what she was doing or what to get him, but she did know she wished she had held on to that scarf she made him for another week.

Fakir shrugged. "I don't know, he's hard to buy for to be honest."

She understood what he meant. Standing here, she couldn't think of a single thing Charon would love to get as a present. Were birthday presents supposed to be extra special? Fakir mentioned cake being involved, so she assumed buying him the same thing she got him for Christmas wasn't going to cut it.

"Maybe we should plan dinner first?" She tapped a finger to her chin. Charon had told her roasts were for special occasions, so it would make sense to make a roast, right? Now she wished she had paid more attention to him instead of fantasizing about Fakir the last time he made a roast. Thinking about it, the last day he had made a roast was the day she got stabbed. 'Never even got to taste it…' she thought forlornly.

"That's probably for the best," Fakir agreed.

"Okay, so… roast, then?"

Fakir raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Can you make roast?"

She made a face at him. "Maybe."

"… So no, then."

"Hey! I could figure it out! I think one of the cookbooks Charon brought me had roast recipes in it! With your help, I bet I could make an amazing roast!"

A roast was probably a good idea, actually. Charon had most of the spices for it at home, so they really only needed to buy the meat and vegetables. And it would hopefully distract from what Fakir could only assume was going to be a very slapdash gift.

"Okay. Roast it is."

Grinning triumphantly, Ahiru grabbed Fakir's hand and pulled him along to Charon's favorite butcher. After deciding on making schweinebraten, the two purchased the required cut before moving on to buy the necessary vegetables and a good dark beer. As they walked to the bakery that made Charon's favorite cake, Ahiru's eye caught the perfect gift.

Gleefully, Ahiru pressed her face up against the cookware store's window. "Fakir, look!" She pointed at a terracotta clay baker. "Charon told me about these a while ago! He said that his broke years ago and he really missed it!"

Before Fakir could respond, she darted into the store and began inspecting the various designs they had available. When Fakir caught up with her, she shoved one in his face.

"This one!" The outside of the clay baker was decorated in a classic roman style; motifs of anvils, hammers, and flames lined the lid and base. It definitely did look like something Charon would like. Of course she'd find something before he could.

It only took a moment for the shopkeep to ring them up, and, never ceasing to amaze him, Ahiru managed to charm him into giftwrapping the item for free. It wasn't long before they reached their original goal of the bakery. An animated conversation between the baker and Ahiru later, they not only had a cake, but candles and some decorations, too.

"Well, have you decided what you're going to get him yet?" Ahiru asked, hugging the gift she chose to her chest.

"No, not yet…"

Ahiru licked her teeth in thought. They'd been walking about the shopping district for a while now, and both of them had their arms full with materials for the birthday. She didn't want to seem impatient, but her arms were starting to get quite tired.

"What kinda gift are you thinking about?"

Fakir groaned, "I don't know. Something… something."

Some stray bangs fell into her eyes, and having no free arms to brush them aside, Ahiru opted for trying to blow them to the side. Focusing on her stubborn bangs that rose and fell right back where they started with every puff, Ahiru walked on. Finally giving up on this endeavor, she turned to Fakir. "Hey, can yo—" Except he wasn't there. "Wha? Where'd you…"

A couple blocks back, Fakir was standing in front of a window, staring intently at whatever was on the other side. Scurrying back to his side, Ahiru peeked past him at the window.

"A… dollhouse?"

Fakir shook his head. "No, they're—well—I mean technically—" He sighed.

Ahiru looked up at him expectantly, waiting for him to clarify.

"When I was little, Charon used to carve and build these miniature replicas of buildings around Goldkrone Town. I loved playing with them and he'd always make whatever building I asked him to. He even started teaching me how to whittle so I could help him. We stopped doing it as much after Mytho came to live with us."

"Do you think he still has them?" Ahiru asked, her eyes sparkling. A miniature Goldkrone Town sounded kind of cute.

Fakir shook his head. "He ended up giving them to a family with younger kids. They were struggling at the time, and Charon wanted to make sure the kids would have something to play with."

Ahiru smiled. She could definitely see Charon doing something like that. "That was sweet of him."

Fakir didn't respond and continued to stare at the wooden dollhouse.

A moment passed and Ahiru looked back at the dollhouse. It looked quite lovely and had some impressive details both carved and painted on it. She wondered if Charon's creations were as detailed. "Do you want to buy it for him?"

"No… I don't think he would want a premade one…" He paused before looking back at Ahiru. "I think I know what to get him."

"Yeah?" Her eyes were bright with excitement—partially to see what Fakir was going to get, partially at the promise that their excursion would soon come to an end.

Fakir nodded and jerked his head back toward the way he came. "Come on."

They were going further away from home? Ahiru pouted a bit before following after him—she could at least be thankful that he was carrying the majority of their wares. "So, whatcha gettin'?"

"Some materials."

"For building the miniatures?"

He nodded.

It was a bit of a walk to the wood crafting store, but Ahiru didn't complain. She was glad Fakir had found something that he was satisfied with—even if she was tired. Having never been to such a store, it was something of a marvel for her. It never once occurred to her that there were so many different types of wood. She set her bags down next to her as she looked through a shelf of burl slabs. The various colors, shapes, and patterns of each one were like pieces of art on their own.

It took Fakir the better part of an hour to pick out what he wanted. To Ahiru's disappointment, the resulting package was big enough she had to take some of the bags he was carrying. Regardless, the trip home wasn't as bad as she feared it would be. Some forgiving clouds gave them shade, and a light breeze cooled them down as they walked.

Having been convinced by the baker she spoke with earlier in the day, Ahiru insisted they hide the gifts and food so they could surprise Charon the next day. They ended up hiding most of them in her room, though the meat had to be discreetly tucked away where it would be kept fresh. During dinner, though she couldn't seem to keep herself from beaming with excitement tinged with mischief, Fakir was impressed at Ahiru's ability to keep the surprise hidden from Charon. The rest of the evening was spent studying a few different schweinebraten recipes.

Once Charon finally left for the smithy on the morning of his birthday, Ahiru immediately pounced into action.

"We need to start the roast now if it'll be done in time for dinner!" Ahiru announced, throwing open Fakir's bedroom door. "Help me carry everything down."

"Did Charon leave already?"

She nodded impatiently. "Why else would I be telling you? Now come on."

Fakir half chuckled. This was more in line with what he predicted she would behave like when it came to birthdays.

Making quick work of moving all the bags to the kitchen, the two began preparations. Despite how excited Ahiru was to give roasting a try again, she was a tad nervous. Considering it was for a special occasion, it wouldn't do for her to burn it again. At least she'd have Fakir's help this time.

Together they prepped the meat and spices before putting it in the oven and setting a timer.

"Okay, now time to decorate!"

Fakir sighed as he cleaned his hands. "I told you, Charon doesn't need that kind of thing. The baker was just trying to sell you stuff."

"Nonsense! She was right! It's a special day to celebrate Charon! We absolutely have to put up decorations." She slammed her fist into the open palm of her other hand resolutely. "Now go get the ladder."

He hid a smile as he fetched the ladder. Making a big fuss over things like this were not his style, but there was something refreshing about it. Both he and Charon usually just got a small gift and had dinner and that was that. It was rather nice to make a big commotion every once in a while. Hell, even Christmas last year—which was Charon's favorite holiday, and he always made sure to have a tree and holiday food—was more festive than normal. Her presence made their tiny house seem brighter. Fakir couldn't help but look forward to the future with her in their lives. It really felt like they were building a family together.

'Don't get ahead of yourself,' he mentally admonished himself. It was no use, though, he was too happy, too content.

Laughing, the two put up the streamers, ceiling ornaments, and banners. Between the occasional fallen decoration, a couple accidental rips, and intermittent basting, they were able to get all of the decorations up in just over a couple hours.

"It looks so cheerful! Maybe we should always have these up!" Ahiru grinned as she surveyed their handiwork.

Fakir eyed a few precariously taped streamers warily. "I think just on special occasions is fine. They'll get dusty and need cleaning."

Ahiru pouted, but knew he was right. "Oh, fine. Spoil sport." She busied herself with basting the roast and adding more beer to it, mumbling under her breath about killjoys.

Feelings of domesticity bloomed in Fakir's chest again, no matter how he tried to squash them down. This is what their lives could be forever. Laughter, joking arguments, celebrations.

She rejected him—sorta—and he really shouldn't be letting himself revel in such feelings, but he couldn't help it. Ahiru was a beam of light in a boring and dreary world. She was sweet, thoughtful, and bubbling with vivacity. She was brash, foolhardy, and loud. She was somehow simultaneously selfish and altruistic. She fought for her dreams and stood up for what was right. He was positively enthralled with her—for better or for worse.

Shutting the oven door, Ahiru turned back to Fakir, "Do we put the cake out now or wait until after dinner?"

Fakir looked away, hoping she hadn't noticed he was staring. "I don't know. Does it really matter?"

Frowning, Ahiru rested her hands on her hips and stared at the table. A moment passed before, "I think we should put it out so Charon knows not to eat too much schweinebraten. But we'll eat it after."

"Sure."

After that, it became a game of entertaining themselves and keeping an eye on the roast. Ahiru found herself growing increasingly antsy with every passing minute. Though she didn't fully get this whole birthday business, the way the baker described it as a day to celebrate how thankful you are for another year with someone was something she could really get behind. She was incredibly thankful for Charon—had it not been for his kindness, she would be without a place to live. He spent time he didn't have to teaching her how to cook and garden, and she was really starting to feel like she knew what it was like to have a parent. If birthdays were about really going above and beyond one day a year to show someone how much you loved and appreciated them, then Ahiru decided birthdays were very important to her.

Sneaking a glance at Fakir as they played cards to occupy themselves, Ahiru bit her lip. She had until early December… she'd still be around for Fakir's birthday, then. She'd have to make this birthday very special for him. Maybe… maybe then he would know how much he meant to her—how much she loved him. Maybe, then, he would understand she'd gladly trade her entire life away all over again just so she could have this one year with him.

Maybe.

The sound of the door opening drew both of their attentions.

"This old body just ain't what it used to be," Charon sighed as he slipped off his shoes and stretched his back.

"Charon!" Ahiru jumped up and ran over to him. Throwing her arms around his middle, she hugged him tight. "Happy birthday!"

"Oh! Well, thank you, kiddo!" Charon laughed in surprise and returned her embrace, careful of her side.

Pulling back, Ahiru beamed up at him. "We made dinner! Com'on!"

Charon followed after Ahiru, Fakir close behind.

"Ta-da!" Ahiru threw her arms up to gesture at the decorations they hung up. "Happy birthday!"

Chuckling, Charon took in the colorful paper decorations hanging from the rafters and walls. "Well, well! I don't remember the last time I've seen decorations like these! And is that my favorite cake?"

"Yup! Now sit down! We've got to serve you your birthday dinner!" Ahiru pointed at the chair he normally sat in at dinner.

"Alright, alright!" He obeyed her instructions. "Whatever you made, it smells absolutely delicious."

"Fakir and I made schweinebraten!" Ahiru announced as Fakir took the roast out and started cutting slices out while she got down some plates.

Animated conversation prolonged their meal, though no one minded. Despite neither man being the best conversationalist, Ahiru easily enticed them with her bright laughter and energetic gesturing. And the roast, to Ahiru's delighted relief, tasted wonderful, so everyone was more than happy to savor its flavor. In the end, despite having the reminder that cake would come after dinner, all three of them ate too much to have cake right away.

"Well, you'll just have to open you presents first, then." Ahiru stated matter-of-factly. She eagerly placed her gift in front of him. "I got this one for you!"

"A clay baker!" Charon exclaimed joyously after opening it. "Have I got some recipes I can teach you with this thing!"

"You like it?" Ahiru leaned forward eagerly.

"I love it, thank you." Charon assured her, turning the terracotta dish in his hands. "Just wait until you try some crusty bread baked in this thing."

Ahiru's eyes lit up at the mention of bread. She just recently was given the okay to start easing fibrous foods back into her diet, and that meant she'd be having that bread very soon. "I can't wait!"

Fakir carefully slipped his present between the two, mindful not to knock into either of them.

"Oh my, what could this be? It's so big." Charon laughed as he tugged at the brown paper wrapping.

Fakir shrugged. He wasn't fully sure if Charon would like the gift, maybe he had just been humoring Fakir when he was younger. He wouldn't admit it, but it made him a bit nervous.

As he removed the paper and inspected the contents in the wooden chest, a broad grin spread over Charon's face. Turning to Fakir, he put his arms out. "Come here, son."

The two embraced and Charon clapped Fakir's back. "I didn't think you really remembered that old hobby of mine."

"I'm glad you like it." Fakir smiled, relieved.

Charon turned back to the chest and looked at the tools and blocks of wood. "I always wanted to make little replicas of the places you made in your stories, but things got busy with the smithy and you were growing up so quick…" The unspoken 'and you stopped writing' hung in the air.

Fakir tried to hide his embarrassment. He had no idea Charon ever had such desires. "Well, maybe my next story…"

Laughing, Charon placed the block of wood in his hand back in the chest. "You're going to have to give me some time, I'll have to get back into the swing of things." A teasing glint shone in Charon's eye that Fakir had become painfully familiar with. "Maybe someday I'll have some grandkids to make dollhouses for."

"Grandkids?" Ahiru cocked her head questioningly. She immediately regretted it, though, as her face colored when the image of her and Fakir's kids playing with an extravagant dollhouse as Charon proudly watched over them flashed through her mind. "Uhm, I'll grab some plates for the cake!" Ahiru announced as she quickly stood up from the table, hoping neither man noticed her bright red cheeks.

"Oh, Ahiru." Charon looked over at her as she collected the promised plates. "It occurs to me I don't know when your birthday is."

Ahiru set the plates down next to the cake. "That's 'cause I don't have one."

"You don't have one?" Charon asked, perplexed.

She shook her head. "Nope. Well… I guess I probably do, but I don't know it."

Fakir frowned. How did he not realize that until now? Yesterday she had asked him when his birthday was, and he found it strange she didn't know, but it didn't occur to him that he didn't know when hers was, either? Was that why she was acting strangely when he mentioned Charon's birthday?

"Well, that just won't do." Charon's voice shook Fakir out of his reverie. "We'll just have to decide on when to celebrate your birthday, then, won't we?"

Ahiru's mouth fell open slightly in surprise, her lips forming a small 'o'. "I can do that?"

"Why not?"

Slowly, her lips started curving upwards. "Yeah… why not? … but when?"

Charon tapped his chin thoughtfully in consideration. "Well, you read as a spring person to me—what do you think, Fakir?"

Fakir nodded dumbly. She did seem like a spring person to him—bringing life and beauty with her arrival—but he was too struck with the realization that he had missed something that seemed so important to even try and articulate any real comments.

Ahiru chewed on her lip. "Spring, huh…? I guess… yeah. I do like spring. How about… March?"

Charon nodded. "March sounds perfect!"

She grinned as the two of them discussed what day her birthday should be. Somehow, she felt more human knowing that she would have a day dedicated to herself. A day she could claim she was another year older.

In the moment, she forgot she would never see another March again.


Ahiru lightly rubbed her pendant with her thumb as she stared out her window. The sky was dark, and the stars twinkled happily above. She experienced a birthday and birthday party today for the first time—and she finally had a day to call her own birthday. She smiled.

Her bubble had already been burst earlier when she realized she wouldn't get to experience her own birthday, but it wouldn't hurt to imagine what it would be like, right? Charon would make a big meal with a bunch of different breads—none of them white—and he'd bake her a cake that was more frosting than cake with fresh fruit decorating the top. And Fakir… he'd write her a story—a beautiful love story. And… and he'd kiss her. So sweetly and softly.

She closed her eyes and tried to remember what it felt like when he kissed her all that time ago on the dock. His lips where chapped, she recalled, and hot. Taking her hand off the gem hanging from her neck, she gently touched her lips.

She wished she could admit her feelings. She wanted to be able to explore being in a relationship and having more than just that one kiss. She wanted to have a birthday. She wanted a future. Her face darkened as bitterness filled her chest.

Everyone else got a happy ending. Everyone else got to live their lives. She saved everyone—she sacrificed everything for everyone else.

Her pendant glimmered a dark gray. She didn't care.

She was furious.


A/N: Finished another one! Yay! We're in the single digits now when it comes to chapters remaining! How about that? Anyway, if you think for a second that Charon isn't going to make miniature toy lines for all of Fakir's stories and sell them to the local kids, you're wrong. One day, he's going to retire from being a blacksmith and just carve wooden toys for kids. Probably donate a bunch around holidays. Haha.

I purposely left everyone's actual birthdate ambiguous as it feels weird to me to give them definitive days when there's no canon for it. Sorry if anyone disagrees with the months I chose, hope it isn't too jarring!

Hope you liked it! And thank you for your continued support!