AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is…well, something I wrote for Watanabe Emi(who is actually in this particular fic; it's pretty easy to find her anyway) but I simply couldn't resist expanding the plot. Hope you enjoyed Dann's random (and surely IC) appearance.

I warn you of the slightest bit of fluff…my futile first attempt at real fluff in this fandom. I swear I will never again attempt GUN×SWORD fluff…at least, while doing homework.

She banged the door shut and leaned against it, breathing hard. The tears came, swift and hot, dripping down her face, but she made no move to wipe them away. Glancing down at her hands, she could see that they were quivering ever so slightly.

A squeak from the corner of the room made her glance up, a few tears running all the way down her neck and blouse collar. The large tortoise napping away had stuck his head out of his crimson shell, gazing concernedly at his owner and cocking his head as though he knew something she didn't.

But really, what would he know? After all, he didn't have a lover to scream at, or say the most abhorrent words to, or to slam the stupid door on.

In a few strides, Wendy Garret crossed the living room and flung herself into the couch, crying into a cushion that she clutched so tightly that for a fleeting moment, she wondered if it would morph into a new shape if she held it long enough. She rolled over to face the front door and saw the tiny empty window, which was enough to make her shoulders shake with even more sobs. The young woman curled up, still holding onto the tasseled pillow as though it were her life, and stared at the door for a long, long while. Kameo whimpered again, but this time, she barely reacted.

Eventually, she sat up and reached out for the telephone, trying her best to pay no attention to the framed photograph beside it. As she dialed, she decided to focus on a black-haired woman in it, instead of the black-clad man who sat beside Wendy.

The phone rang once, and Wendy was greeted by a man's upbeat tone.



"Wendy? Hi!" he crowed excitedly, but even that wasn't enough to cheer her up. Plus, he wasn't even the one she was looking for.

"Hi," Wendy answered, not even disguising the disappointment in her voice. "Uh…is Yukiko there? I'd like to talk to her…"

There was a momentary pause on the other end. "Sorry, but she's not here right now. She went out with Franco. Is anything wrong?" This time, he wasn't as buoyant as before.

"Everything's fine, don't worry," she lied.

"Are you sure? You don't sound fine to me."

Joshua had a point. Plus, Wendy desperately needed someone to talk to – even if that someone wasn't a more experienced female…

"Wendy? Hey, are you still there?"

"I'm sorry," she said, sighing. "It's just…just that…I had a fight with Van, all right?"

Silence reigned once again on Joshua's end of the line. Somehow, she sort of expected it and his next answer.

"But ever since…ever since then…you two never fought! What happened? Why?"

"I…I don't know!" Wendy whined. It was as though time was going backward, and she was once again becoming the young girl she was when she first met Van, Joshua and the others. Before she knew it, she began talking. "I don't know what happened…at first everything was fine, and then…then I started yelling at him, and he was mad too…and I slammed the door in his face, just like that. Joshua, I don't know what to do! That's why I wanted to talk to Yukiko…"

"Wendy…but Wendy…"


When he spoke again, she could almost see his sheepish smile.

"Sorry…have you tried talking to him, saying sorry? Besides that…I really don't know either. I'm sorry again, Wendy. And I don't know when Yukiko and Franco will be back. Should I tell her you called?"

She sighed again. "No…that's all right. Thanks, Joshua."

"No problem. Hope you and Van…well, you know…"

"Me too. 'Bye."

"'Bye, Wendy, I'm really, really sorry…"

"It's okay."

She put down the phone, deliberately looking away from the photograph and curling up on the couch again.

The night was cooled by a passing breeze that lifted the curtains of an open bedroom window. A girl stood up from where she had been poring through her book; not only was it beginning to get chilly, she had heard something out there. It sounded quite like something falling and landing a considerable distance away…

Shoving her curtains aside for a better look and making a note to change those lurid, lacy pink things, she peered outside, and found herself staring at a white armor's waist.

It wasn't a bad-looking waist, not at all.

She slowly stared up, taking in the rest of the lanky armor that stood outside her window for some odd reason, clutching a large bouquet of red roses that were dramatically dwarfed in comparison to his hand. There was no doubt about it; if this armor were a human, he would be one hell of a good-looking one, with nice legs, abs, and a whole lot more. In fact, even if he wasn't human…

"You're not Wendy…are you?"

The armor's chest opened to reveal a shimmering blue cockpit, where a man half-knelt and clutched a sword that was rooted in the floor. He was built quite like the armor he piloted – tall and thin, but he wore black instead. Now, he too was rather handsome, but the girl's attention was too focused on the armor to hear him.

"Hey – are you listening?"

"Huh – oh, you mean Wendy Garret?"


The girl pointed. "She lives over there…"


The chest cavity closed up again, and the armor began to walk away towards the direction she had given them. With a wistful sigh, she leaned out her window and watched them as they went.

Damn, the armor also had a nice backside.

Especially when she gazed a bit lower.

As she undid the ribbons, her hair fell into waves past her shoulders. Wendy stared at her reflection, and it stared back with an equally glum expression as she thoughtfully ran a brush through her hair, disentangling several stubborn strands. But she heard something that made her pause – it sounded like thundering footsteps. And had something moved outside her window?

She couldn't be sure. Tossing her brush aside and donning a pale yellow bathrobe, she crossed her room and pushed the curtains, squinting through the glass and seeing a flash of white that contrasted with the dark of night.

Was that Dann of Thursday?

If it was, then there was no doubt that Van would be around as well. With trembling fingers, she undid the latch, threw open her window and let out a gasp.

Indeed, it was Dann of Thursday. There was no mistaking the white armor that half-knelt outside her house, offering her the biggest bunch of roses she had ever seen…and yet, they still looked so small in the armor's hand…

Wendy took the flowers and staggered; they were definitely much bigger and heavier than she thought. So intent was she in keeping her balance and making sure she didn't drop a single rose that she never noticed Dann change his position, straightening up so that his chest was level with her window. As she placed the bouquet on her bedside table – which thankfully accommodated every last petal – and returned to the window, the chest cavity had opened, Dann's hand underneath it.

Leaving his sword stuck inside the cockpit, Van stepped out and stood on his armor's hand, gazing at her.

"I'm sorry," was all he said.

"Cute" was the first word that popped into Wendy's head when she saw how he looked when he had apologized. He stepped forward and knelt down not unlike he did while inside Dann, so that his eyes, red with a hint of violet, were truly level with her emerald ones.

It had only been two words, but to her, they were enough.

It was a bit hard, considering that she had to lean out of her window, but she opened her arms and embraced him tightly, tears brimming anew in her eyes. Van was taken aback, and for a moment he didn't know what to do – or maybe that was just the wind blowing Wendy's hair into his face and almost whisking his hat away.

But a second later, he returned the embrace, feeling a few of her tears drip onto his shoulder and hearing her whisper her own apology.

"I'm sorry too, Van."