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Crystal Academy was a dream. It was structured, orderly, and clean. It kept its students to a strict schedule and set of rules. And it was full of girls. Fallon could not have been happier. It was almost worth surviving the bizarre organ ring and her old school, Barren Pines. After waking up to her parents lingering with panicked expressions over her bed, Fallon got the impression that whatever happened at Barren Pines had been a pretty big deal, even if most people seemed to have forgotten the bit about the school, focusing only on the organ snatching situation.

Best of all, Crystal Academy had very, very nice kitchens. All of the appliances were top of the line, and since many of the girls had personal chefs or ordered in for most meals, Fallon was given a considerable amount of space in its polished walls. The only thing she missed was having her own bedroom -- that, and her friends. Fallon had touched base with some of the closer people when she woke up after Barren Pines. She knew Andeon was okay. She knew Pierrette was okay. But there were other faces who she cared about who remained a mystery.

One of those was Imogen Farrago.

Moving to the kitchen that day, Fallon had her little cart of supplies ready to make a pie for Melinda, the Crystal girl she met before she attended the school. That all stopped when she walked into the kitchen and saw a ghost. "Imogen?" she asked, voice more of a whisper. And just like that, Fallon was moving. She left her cart behind and darted to the auburn-haired girl, throwing her arms around her in a relieved hug. "You're alive!" she said, releasing the girl so that she could stare her in the face, just to check.

Though she and Imogen had not been close, Fallon considered the girl a friend, and truth be told, it was a joyous surprised to see any of her old classmates alive -- especially one that she liked. A beat later, Fallon sniffed the air, peeking behind Imogen to the counter.

"Are you making cookies?" A pause. "Imogen, I can make your cookies!"

Fallon was absolutely fine with affection, as long as she was the one giving it or the person had permission. Close enough friends were welcome to hug, pat, and otherwise prod Fallon in general, especially female friends (and Andeon). Overly friendly strangers? Not so much. Hugging Imogen convinced Fallon that she wasn't dreaming this. Imo had survived too! A girlish giddiness very appropriate for her fifteen years of life flooded through Fallon, mouth turned upward in a smile. At Barren Pines, things had started out happy, then got tense, and then... Fallon couldn't remember that part. Just being out of that school made Fallon feel so much better, like she could actually be a carefree teenager again.

"You saw a list? Do you remember it? I... there are others I wondered about too." Keeping her close proximity, Fallon released her grip on Imogen and began to count off people on her fingertips. "Is Serenade okay?" Fallon asked first, cheeks tinging slightly. "What about Dagmar? Abeline? Grayson? And Kimmie? Oh, and Laney?" Fallon knew she was speaking too quickly, asking for too much, but she had to know. Until this point, the young teenager had been a little afraid to ask. She hadn't been out of the hospital for that long, only long enough to check on Andeon. She heard through the grapevine that Pierrette was alive at Meadowview. Otherwise, Fallon had really just focused on getting herself under control again and learning how to go on with life.

After a moment, she added, "What about Leonette?" Fallon pictured her friend then, how they had their Friday night puzzles. The first Friday Fallon spent in Crystal Academy, she absent-mindedly prepared her entire room for Puzzle Night without realizing what she was doing. When she did, she broke down in tears. It was a kneejerk thing for her to do, but doing it only made her miss Leonette more. Fallon's cellphone was lost in the scuffle, and Andeon's number was the only one she had memorized. Until this point, Fallon assumed that everyone else had died. It was almost easier to do that, to believe that all her friends were lost so that she could be overjoyed (like now) to learn that they had lived too.

As for the cookies, Fallon fully intended to help, whether Imogen wanted help or not.

It was easy to smile and laugh about Barren Pines now. It helped to cover up all the hurt and pain and loss. They were alive, right? They had to keep on living, even if the others couldn't. Fallon was grateful for her survival. To die so young... it would not have been right at all. She had so much more to do! Her restaurant, for example, that she dreamed of opening one day. It was a dream she clung to, fantasizing of how she would take the havoc of a normal kitchen and make it run like a choreographed ballet.

Those pleasant thoughts slipped away as Imogen began to recall who had lived. Most names were familiar (Barren Pines wasn't terribly large), and Fallon's heart swelled to hear some of the names. Serenade was here at Crystal Academy? That was wonderful! How had she missed her? So many of those Fallon considered friends were safe. But Fallon did not hear every name she wanted to. Leonette was not on that list. A wave of sadness swept across Fallon's soft features. "Oh," she said, eyes flickering down. "It's good to hear so many of us made it out." Lingering on the sadness would not make it go away, and it certainly wouldn't bring Leonette back. "Yes, if you could, I would like a copy of the paper," she added, forcing a smile back to her face. Fallon wanted to see it for herself, to check and recheck for Leonette's name until the loss sunk in. It hurt, but her pain could wait. Fallon needed to focus on happiness.

Turning toward the counter, Fallon crossed to the cookie supplies. She lifted the box of mix into the air like it was a dead rat. "You're using a mix?" she asked. She might as well of said, You're eating a baby?

Fallon pressed a painted nail against her lips. "Yes, we can certainly salvage this, even if it is a challenge," she said, flipping the box over to read the ingredients. Despite her shock at using a mix, it was evident that the prospect of having to figure out how to salvage it and make it better was very exciting to Fallon. A project! Without waiting for permission, the teen chef-to-be pulled open the cardboard flap of the box, sliding out the brown paper packet of mix. It had a weird stale smell, probably from the packaging.

Grabbing a clear bowl, Fallon placed it on the counter and then crossed to the sink to wash her hands. "Aggie? Oh, could I go with you when you take them? I would like to say hello to her." And see her. Fallon had a hard time believing her friends had survived without having physical contact with them. At least now she would have a list of individuals for her to seek out.

When Imogen crossed to the coffee maker, Fallon felt so much warmth tingling in her chest that she thought her knees might actually buckle. Did Imogen feel it too? This was normalcy, this was home. This was exactly what Fallon needed to remember the lightness of youth. Her struggle with OCD oftentimes forced her to be an adult in ways that she did not want to be. At an early age, Fallon learned about self-restraint and control while most kids her age were covered in mud and poking snakes with sticks. She never really let herself feel completely at ease because she was terrified with what might happen. When things started to spin too out of control, Fallon's head went fuzzy and she turned violent. It was an ugly, hideous side of herself, and one that she fought to control and hide. Standing in the kitchen with Imogen, Fallon forgot about all of that and allowed herself to feel deliriously happy.

"Could you make me a latte? Soy milk, if possible." It was a pretty big vote of confidence that Fallon was willing to let Imogen make her coffee. Truth be told, the teenager only did so because Imogen was one person who knew more about coffee than Fallon. Fallon knew food. She could defer to Imogen for her hot beverage experience.

Drying her hands on a towel, Fallon tore open the packet of mix and dumped it into the bowl. She opened another drawer and found a sifter and another bowl. Little by little, she poured the mix through the sifter, removing the chunkier masses of mix. "I'm pretty free. Could you just text me 24 hours before we're supposed to see Aggie? I'll give you my new cell number." Fallon didn't take time to explain how important scheduling was to her. Imogen would know that.

After the mix was sifted, Fallon crossed back to her discarded cart of supplies, detaching the bag and setting it on the counter. It was full of various things, but Fallon pulled out a series of unmarked containers of spices. She opened a few, sniffed, and then began sprinkling bits into the bowl of mix. "You got a scholarship? Congratulations," she said, shooting a smile at Imogen. Fallon was not a particularly gifted student academically across the boards, but she was good enough to make the cut for Crystal Academy. The rest was made up for by her parents' money.

Fallon nodded along with Imogen, mentally logging the cookie date with Imogen and Aggie on her to-do list. Her hands were fast at work with the dough, doing the dance that she so loved. She was relieved Imogen hadn't bought the ready-to-bake cookies. It gave her more room to make improvements. Crossing to the fridge, she grabbed two eggs and then took them back to the counter. She cracked and poured them so quickly that not a drop of goo hit the counter.

When Imogen brought the coffee, Fallon smiled. "Thanks," she said, noting the perfect pale brown color staring back at her from the bottom of the mug. It smelled great, but Fallon wanted to get the cookies in the oven. She was almost there. Some vigorous whisking, a pinch of this and that, and Fallon was spooning equal sized globs of cookie dough on to two greased cookie sheets. The oven dinged to signal it had preheated, and like a dancer executing her denouement, Fallon slid the cookie sheets inside and then crossed back to the counter.

Rinsing her hands, Fallon grabbed the bowl with leftover cookie dough in it and her mug and pulled up a stool next to Imogen, sipping lightly at the edge of her cup. "This is great, thanks," she said, swallowing down another mouthful. "There's some left over cookie dough, if you'd like it." A spoon was already in the bowl, and Fallon nudged it toward Imogen. She'd already tasted the dough and didn't want any, but she was happy to see it go to good use. "It's really nice to cook with friends again. It reminds me of," she laughed, "normalcy. Or at least some kind of normalcy. How have you been since... since what happened?" She sipped at the latte again, flickering her gaze up to Imogen's and smiling.

Dragging a painted nail over the rim of her cup, Fallon watched Imogen much more intently than usual. It was the fact that she was there. She was alive. Fallon still hadn't gotten over it. Just ten minutes ago, she learned that Imogen was alive, and already they were back to business as usual. Would it always be this easy? There were days when Fallon woke up sweating, running from the dreams that chased her at night. It didn't happen every night, but it happened enough for Fallon to call it a side effect of whatever had happened to her back at Barren Pines. Did Imogen have them too? Part of Fallon wanted to ask, but she didn't. It would bring up too much darkness, a darkness that Fallon continued to run from.

"It can be like old times. I will cook for us whenever you like," Fallon mused, nodding her head as she bent to take another sip. The coffee was warm, and it only added to the comfort rattling in Fallon's veins. She had missed Imogen so much, much more than she even thought. The girls ate together practically every day at Barren Pines, and over time, Fallon had gotten used to Imogen's presence, even if they didn't always hang out one on one. Maybe now they had that chance.

Setting her mug down on the table nearby, Fallon picked a few pieces of lint from the skirt of her uniform, folding her hands in her lap. Destiny City had changed, certainly, for Fallon. She had lived there until she was 7, and then spent all her time up until the day she came to Barren Pines in France. The whole magical fighter thing had gone largely ignored by the brunette teen. Or at least it had before the night she met Sailor Virgo. "I met one of them. Well, one of two of those. A girl dressed like some kind of Greek goddess... she called herself Sailor Virgo, and she saved me from this weird black... oozy... thing." After the words left her mouth, Fallon worried Imogen might think she was insane. "I'm not crazy," she added, as if to prove it. "This happened just a few days ago. I've been fixing up my room, and I was buying some new boxes for my organization. It all happened very fast." She left out the part abut the weird feeling, and instead, Fallon watched Imogen for any sign of "oh god get this crazy person away from me."