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Before someone knocked on her door (a most unpleasant surprise, though all surprises were, of course, unpleasant to the regimented girl), Fallon had been folding laundry. Her basket had four dividers in it so that she could separate everything by similar color and fold it one shade at a time. She was currently on the reds, purples, and yellows, her fingers fussing over a less-than-ideal crease in the arm of one t-shirt. She crossed to her ironing board positioned beneath a wide window and pressed out the imperfection over and over until the sleeve stood upright from the starch.

At first, she did not hear the knock, or perhaps simply did not register it, and returned to her bedside to continue folding. It was only when a second knock sounded through the wall that Fallon stopped what she was doing and went to face whoever was interrupting her routine. The door opened slowly, her face peeking into view in the small crack, before stopping suddenly.

Vanessa.

Vanessa was at her door, unannounced, with a gift in her hands.

Vanessa.

Of all her peculiar quasi-friendships, Fallon found her relationship with Vanessa to be the most confusing. She was not entirely sure that she even liked the girl, and yet, she felt drawn to protect her, to seek her out, to tolerate her as if by choice. Magenta eyes fell to the package and stayed there. "Vanessa. I was not expecting you," she said. A note of and this is unacceptable carried through, but it was 50/50 whether or not the short-haired girl would take note of it, less still that it would stop her from whatever her purpose was.

Fallon's mouth was held tensely, her jaw set in a hard line. She was staring at Vanessa so hard that it almost seemed painful. There was a reason that Vanessa didn't have her phone number. Fallon could only imagine the number of random text messages and phone calls she might receive on a daily basis. Still, in all her assumptions about the short-haired girl, Fallon never expected to see Vanessa come bearing gifts.

That tiny little hiccup turned something in her that had the door opening. "Come in," she said, "but take off your shoes and put them there." Fallon gestured to a tiny shoe rack just inside the door and then moved back inside, stopping beside her bed.

Her arms crossed over her chest. "Hanukkah was the first week of December," she said, furrowing her brow. It wasn't quite a rebuke, more of an appraisal of facts. It was as if saying the simple things out loud could ease the confusion rattling in the dark-haired girl's head. "You got me... a present?" she said, not taking the box immediately.

Apparently this interaction was going to be heavily dependent on Vanessa's actions.

Fallon dropped her eyes to the package dangling from Vanessa's fingertips. Her Hanukkah had been mostly quiet. The young teenager felt less and less connected to the human aspect of her sailor identity than she ever had before. When Ares first entered her body, they had been a partnership where the Fallon state was the norm. But the scales had tipped, something had changed. Ares was the default state now, and Fallon was the interloper. She could feel her psyche stretching and pulling all the time, whispering for her to focus on the Blood Moon Court, to ignore her schoolwork, to simply become an instrument of power, not some hoax of a student.

Seeing Vanessa here, like this, forced her to remember her old self, the girl who had befriended this pushy one so long ago. "I would hope not," she said at last, gingerly taking the package into her own hands. She ran a painted nail over the smooth paper. It seemed as if she was hesitant to open it at all. Her fingers danced over the edges, never opening, never bending, and then she placed it on the edge of her desk.

"Would you like something to drink? I have hot tea, water, pomegranate juice..." Magenta eyes flickered back to the package. "I could make some lemonade, if you'd like."

It had been a long time since Fallon had hung out with any of friends. She had seen Vanessa shortly after Corinna's death and had been out of sorts. It was a vulnerable view of her, one that she was a little uncomfortable to have divulged to Vanessa. "It has been a long time since I've seen you," she said suddenly. "It's so polite of you to get me a gift." More polite than I was to you. In Fallon's mind, this did not compute.

Perhaps that was why she was behaving so strangely.

Fallon set the package down on her desk without even giving it so much as a shake. She fussed her way across the room, straightening some pens here, adjusting the curtains there, until she made it to the tiny minifridge along the opposite wall. Squatting daintily, she reached for the pomegranate juice. A sudden vision of Vanessa attempting to balance the glass on her forehead ricocheted in her brain. Fallon picked up her jug of water instead and poured a glass before crossing back to the guest and the gift.

Both were unexpected.

Handing off the glass of water to Vanessa, Fallon took a seat on her bed, touching at the folded paper. "This was very considerate," she said again. The note of surprise in her voice was unmistakable.

With an audible intake of air, she began to slowly open the gift, painstakingly sliding her nail under each strip of tape so as not to put even the tiniest tear into the paper. It took ages -- though it felt like longer -- until the box was uncovered. Fallon stopped and then looked up at Vanessa.

"What is it?" she said, worry tinging the corners of her words. "Should I prepare myself for something?"

Fallon stopped unwrapping the gift to stare beams of heat at the spot where Vanessa’s fingers tapped. When the other girl didn’t get the message, she quipped, “Vanessa, that is not an instrument.” To her relief, she placed the glass down on the desk – on the desk without a coaster.

In that moment of distraction, Fallon did not see Vanessa reach for the gift. The piece of tape came free with a terrifying rip, tumbling from her hands and landing on the ground moment after Vanessa asked her to tear that sucker up. She stared at it for a moment, and then slowly crossed to her desk and put a coaster under Van’s glass of water. Two fingers pressed to her temple. She practiced her breathing. She counted down from ten and focused on the perfect arrangement of marbles on the shelf above her bed.

And then she turned back to her guest. “There is a correct way to open gifts,” she said, holding up one finger. “And that it does not involve tearing at it like a wild animal.” That day, Fallon seemed a touch snobbier than usual. She sighed, trying to remind herself that Vanessa had given her a gift.

Crossing to her bed, she took a seat, still touching her temple. Was there a compromise here? “Why don’t,” she began, whining in her words, “you just open it? All trash in that wastebasket there.” Fallon pointed to the trashcan by her desk, the charms on her bracelet jingling against each other.

Honestly, the sooner this was over, the better. Fallon had been particularly high strung as of late with all the stress in her life. She was finding it increasingly difficult to focus on anything that didn’t involve senshidom or the Blood Moon Court. Her own birthday was fast-approaching, and she had neglected to painstakingly plan her annual dinner party. This visit from Vanessa was simply forcing her to look at her civilian life – and it was a reminder that she did not want.

Fallon had about had her fill of Vanessa for the day. This was a girl that she had to take in doses, and this unexpected one had been a bit too big for her liking. She tried to maintain her composure, but it leaked through in every shift of her weight and sigh from her lips. Her manners told her to offer more hospitality to the short-haired girl. Her head demanded solitude.

It was Vanessa herself who eased the indecision in Fallon’s head. She could take care of herself now? What did that possibly mean?

“Vanessa,” Fallon murmured, exhaustion bearing into the edges of the words. “No, you can’t. You need to stay out of trouble before something bad happens.”

Which means no more Super Van, she finished in her head.

(( I'm going to go ahead and just summarize our ending since this is way out of date at this point! ))

When Vanessa pulled out her henshin pen, Fallon closed her eyes. A part of her was terrified to think that someone who believed chasing down youma was a good idea would now be responsible for delivering humanity from its opressors. Another part of her thought of that same girl with the crowbar and marveled at what kind of bravery she would possess in her powered form. In any case, Fallon could not let Vanessa run lose in the city. She would need training. She would need guidance.

She was need the Blood Moon Court.

Vanessa showed her pen -- and so did Fallon. She held it up and then henshin'd when Vanessa did. For two minutes, Sailor Ares and Sailor Vulcan stood facing each other in her Crystal Academy dorm room, and then the more experienced senshi pointed out the danger of what they were doing. They returned to being Vanessa and Fallon once more.

And yet, somehow, everything had changed.