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Fallon was more excited than a diabetic in a chocolate factory, than a six-year-old at a Hannah Montana concert, than a gay man at the final Bette Midler show in Vegas, than a valence electron hovering in a ring by itself, than a cat catching sight of itself in a mirror -- basically, she was super ******** excited.

After surviving Barren Pines, the cinnamon-haired teen had made it her mission to track down the survivors. One of those survivors, the very girl who was on her way over, had more or less stumbled back into Fallon's life. Audrey and Fallon had not known each other at BP. Fallon only had fleeting memories of the pretty girl with electric blue hair, but in the wake of their mutual survival, the two girls had forged a tentative friendship. And today, they were taking a big step toward trust.

Fallon was letting Audrey enter the inner sanctum.

Fallon's bedroom was not just the place that she lived. It was an extension of herself. The things in it were nerve endings that lived outside her body, and when fiddled with, she felt each pull as surely as someone was poking her in the forehead. If anything, Fallon was moving a little ahead of schedule in her friendship with Audrey, but there was a good reason -- a damn good reason.

MAKEOVER.

Fallon loved makeovers almost as much as she loved cooking. If a friend would let her, she would style their hair for hours on end. Her dream in life would be to correct the appearances of others, which is to say: to make them look more like her. Fallon had a very particular sense of style, and anything that was not her style was not good style. Crisp, clean lines with muted colors? Yes please!

Audrey had all but thrown herself to the wolves. Negaverse Captain or not, she was about to be manhandled, tugged, pulled, and prissed up until she couldn't be made over no more! The room was already set for it: Fallon's bed was pushed to the far wall, her desk cleared of everything but makeup, jewelry, and hair supplies, her chair covered in a white cloth and positioned in front of a wall-mounted mirror. She'd been jittering about the room for an hour waiting for Audrey, and when the knock finally came, Fallon all but ripped the door from its hinges.

"Audrey!" she exclaimed, clasping her hands together. "I hope you're excited. I'm very excited." Fallon turned to walk back into her room, but froze and jutted one hand toward something by her door. "Please take off your shoes and put them in the cubby." Then she clapped her hands together in two quick beats. "This is going to be so fun! Sorry -- but I am so excited." And she was. She was, she was, she was -- and Fallon was unable to contain her enthusiasm. It was probably the happiest she had been in weeks, actually...

Intense? If only Audrey saw her room during the holidays when Fallon allocated part of her room to presents, the other to baked goods, and spent all of her time spritzing "fresh pine breeze" in air. There was also that recycling-themed dinner she threw last year. Fallon made six bowls using only toothpicks, glue, and careful planning. Talk about intricate. This setup was almost plain and thrown-together by comparison.

Fallon laughed. "I like makeovers." She paused. "I love makeovers." And then she placed two hands on Audrey's back and steered her over to the chair.

The bow was missing from Audrey's hair (which Fallon thought was a good thing), but she wasn't much for the prisoner stockings, even if the long sweater was nice. The flats? Meh. Fallon had learned to accept that not everyone in the world felt the same fervor for heels as she did, but she had every intention of forcing Audrey into a pair anyway.

Fallon herself was dressed a little more casually than she usually was. Instead of her nearly ever-present dress, she wore a pair of dark skinny jeans, a pale purple cardigan, and a cream blouse with a scalloped neckline. Her Star of David necklace was tucked away in a draw, but her earrings bore the silver charms instead. Casual-Fallon still looked like she might be on her way to work at a art loft in Soho, or out on a date. It was something about the crispness of the clothing, how they laid precisely on top of each other, how they appeared never-been-worn. Her cinnamon hair was swept up into a simple high ponytail.

"First," Fallon began, adjusting the chair so that Audrey could see herself in the mirror better, "we get rid of everything you have already done. We need a clean slate!" Fallon leaned over Audrey's shoulder and squinted at their reflection in the mirror. "Take off your makeup... wait, are you wearing makeup?" Unsure, she gripped the makeup removal cloth in her hand, tentatively holding it out. She was probably rushing Audrey, but Fallon had been dreaming of this moment ever since they'd first discussed it.

Fallon's chin lowered, but she was quick enough to keep her mouth from gaping too. "No... makeup," she said, as if the words were actually no... SOUL? Fallon had noticed that Audrey never really wore it, but she had chalked that up to laziness -- not blatant disregard for the magic of makeup. "Audrey." She laid both hands on the blunette's shoulders and stared at her hard in the mirror. "That is insane. Makeup is the face-regulator. No matter what your complexion or pallor for the day, you can always equalize it with makeup. That way, you always look good, even if underneath it you haven't had a good night's sleep and a giant pimple staked its claim in the center of your forehead." God, she couldn't even imagine it!

Fallon never left the house in anything less than freshly-pressed clothes and a freshly-painted face. Even now, they were just hanging around her dorm, and she had on fake eyelashes and her hair was up in a french twist. Appearance meant a great deal to Fallon; it was the key to first impressions. How could Audrey blatantly ignore that? "I used to not wear makeup," she said, as if it might put the girl at ease in the face of her obvious shock. "But then when I was 12, my mother sat me down and taught me how to apply it all. The first time I tried eyeliner, I looked like a drunk raccoon." Fallon crossed around to the front of the chair and looked at Audrey head-on.

"If your mom never taught you to do it, then I can! It'll be the Fallon-version of The Talk." She leaned forward and clasped Audrey's hands. Almost like she was proposing marriage. "I can't promise any sex tips, but I can give you so many makeup tips that you won't be able to get it out of your head for days!" Fallon grinned ear to ear like this was the best possible thing in the world.

Then the smile dipped as her ears caught up with her mind. "Wait -- did you say Miss Johnson? Miss Johnson from... Barren Pines?" Fallon would not forget that name, or that face. Or the body, actually. Andeon and she had spent many nights regaling all the curves of her frame -- though Andeon used much more colorful language. Was Miss Johnson real? Had she survived? It wasn't a terribly uncommon last name. Perhaps this was all a coincidence...

Fallon picked up a hairbrush, fiddling with the bristles. She mimed as if she were removing stray pieces of hair from it, but Fallon knew she would find none. Cleaning out her brush was the first thing she did after combing out her hair, and she was very thorough. The thought of Miss Johnson brought up strange memories -- not bad, not good, just odd. She could remember the beautiful redheaded woman. She could remember a few choice dreams about her. She could remember Andeon telling her all about the school play. Fallon could even remember filling out her own application. But after that, there was only darkness.

Fallon slapped the hairbrush against the palm of her hand. "Miss Johnson... made it out?" How? When? At what point did Barren Pines stop being a school and start being part of an organ ring? Kneeling in front of Audrey was not comfortable (and there was a snarl in the blunette's hair that Fallon planned to work out any moment now), but she felt frozen in time. Barren Pines always served to make the bile rise in her throat, no matter how much time passed. "Was she part of the organ ring too? Did she end up in the hospital with the rest of us?" Would Miss Johnson have a different memory of the events than the surviving students? Maybe she could put together the pieces that Fallon herself was incapable of from memory loss?

At the very least, Miss Johnson was alive, and that made Fallon smile. The fact that she was married didn't add to that. "I didn't realize you knew Miss Johnson so well," Fallon said, dropping her eyes. Jealousy trickled into her tone.

Absentmindedly, she took Audrey's hand and glanced at her cuticles. "Fake nails destroy your enamel, you know. They're expensive to keep up with too." From her tone, Fallon didn't seem to think Audrey did know. She got to her feet, opened a drawer, and pulled out a small pink bottle of nail polish. "This is nail hardener." She passed it to Audrey. "If you start wearing this on your nails daily, they'll be back to their normal health in a few weeks."

A short sigh escaped her lips, and Fallon returned to her spot behind Audrey. Brush held in her hand, she began to slowly and carefully brush through the girl's curls. Even if the curl frayed, Fallon would be fixing it soon. She didn't ask permission.

It was hard to think that Audrey had been spared the axe of Barren Pines that had sliced so cleanly through Fallon's parietal lobe. She tried not to be resentful, but it was difficult. Good thing she had the brush; she could just concentrate on that. Fallon worked slowly across Audrey's head, untangling snarls. Every so often, she reached for a tall bottle on her dresser and spritzed something that smelled clean and vaguely floral into her mane.

What could she say? Oh, gee, I'm so glad you were spared the horrors that I wasn't. Bet that visit to the parents was extra great -- got you out of a hospital stay! No, it would only make her jealousy more apparent, and Fallon had no desire to weaken herself before the blunette. They were friends, but Fallon's walls weren't down, not in the least. Audrey was in her room. That was the biggest step they'd taken.

Fallon twisted a lock of blue hair between her fingers until the curl sharpened and defined. "Who's Pasha?" she asked, a much safer question than the others that bounced around her skull.

The glow of makeover magic was still in the air, but Audrey's little guffaw had tarnished Fallon's good mood. The teenager had some serious emotional scars leftover from Barren Pines, and when prodded, they illuminated brightly, searing her vision. Thinking about it made her sad, and Dr. Price said positive thinking was the key to her happiness and security.

So Fallon tried to forget.

The smile returned to her lips, and she tried to picture the little rainbow-loving naive kid that Audrey considered a brother. To be honest, Fallon was surprised. Audrey didn't seem like the type to have patience with the immature. Maybe it helped her feel superior? Hm, or maybe she just didn't know Audrey as well as she thought.

"There are plenty of white-van sociopaths in Destiny City to scoop him up. And they aren't half as scary as the terrorists." Fallon laughed as if it were funny, which, of course, it really wasn't. People were dying and falling into comas all over the place. "You should invest in a tracking collar for Pavel -- er, Pasha."

Tracking collar wouldn't be a bad idea. Fallon was starting to contemplate buying LifeAlert for herself. She'd met more than one youma, and that was already too many. The brush caught on a particularly thick snarl and yanked Audrey's head back. "Oh! Sorry, sorry," Fallon said. She tried to massage the spot with two fingers. "You need a better conditioner. You've got these amazing curls, but you under-condition them. With the right product, you'd have some intense shine and softness." Was Fallon selling beauty products? It kind of sounded that way.

All of this gave Fallon some time to contemplate Audrey's question. Who did she have? Two months ago, she would have said Andeon, but Fallon could no longer make that claim. The realization was striking and painful: Fallon did not have a Pasha. Fallon did not have a best friend.

"Maribel," she said, quirking her head to the side. "She's back in France. We're so close, like sisters. I miss her." Fallon darted quickly back to Audrey's curls. She hoped to avoid any strict line of questioning.

Fallon laughed. More of a giggle, actually. She laughed and laughed and laughed and waited for Audrey to start laughing too. How couldn't she? That was pretty funny!

When Audrey didn't share her amusement, Fallon's mouth dropped open, and tiny thought bubble surfaced over her head to say: O. M. G. "Wait -- you're serious?" She laughed again, but it was mocking. "AUDREY. Audrey. You HAVE to condition your hair!" Fallon said it as though she were instructing the girl that it was also important to eat, sleep and breathe.

The brush picked up speed as Fallon raced through the rest of the job, spritzing conditioner where she needed it. "You have curly hair. It is especially important for you to do it. You need to water the grass if you want a green lawn." She shook her head. Plenty of boys ignored the magic of conditioner, but... Audrey? Fallon was genuinely shocked, and it read in every line of her face. She said so too: "My God, I can't believe you have not been conditioning! First order of business when you leave here: go get conditioner. Trust me, it will make your life so much easier. And if you ever wanted to straighten your hair again, it would be good to keep your hair enriched." Was that true? Meh, it was true to Fallon. That was all that mattered.

She couldn't stop grinning, as if this was the funniest thing she'd heard in her life. "Isn't there anyone who you want to think you look especially pretty? Are you dating?" God, if she was, Fallon would try even harder to teach her better maintenance tips. Audrey was a friend, and Fallon was happy to help her, especially if it meant more ~*~MAKEOVER~*~ time.