I did warn you about plotholes.

"I thought I'd imagined you."

The smile that met Trowa's matter-of-fact statement was bright, and there was no denying that the young woman standing on his doorstep was the same person who had confronted him in the train station not so many years earlier, despite the look of weariness in her eyes.

"Well, I'm terribly sorry to disappoint, but you're as real as I am."

The strange turn of phrase bringing a small smile to his lips, Trowa pulled the door open wider, a tilt of his head as an invitation.

He didn't trust her, it was too early for that, but he did know that if she knew where he lived, there were better ways to hurt him than to walk up to the door and knock. It did help that she was still smaller than him by nearly a head, though he knew better than to underestimate her simply because of that.

And, if nothing else, he wanted to know more about this girl who knew him, whose words had helped him through the war; had helped him understand what it was he needed to do.

You are strong.

It had been exactly what he needed to hear.

"I don't mean to intrude," she hesitated after the first step, her smile fading slightly as she scans the room with wary eyes. "But I had hoped you wouldn't mind."

The look in her eyes was familiar; the look of one who had been hurt one too many times before, and yet still had the strength to hope and dream that maybe this time will be better. The same look that was in Cathy's eyes when he walked away from her to rejoin the fight he couldn't remember.

It had torn him to walk away then, and now he knew that he couldn't do it again. Not to this delicate waif of a woman with old eyes and the air of a child.

And so he smiled at her. "My name is Trowa."

"Trowa. . ." She rolled the name around in her mouth for a moment, as though testing it out, before nodding and smiling. "It fits you."

"Thank you."

"Why?" She looked so surprised, staring at him as though he'd said something remarkably stupid. "I mean, you can if you want to, but I didn't make it fit – you have to do that yourself. Otherwise it chafes and itches, and then you have to change it, and that's never fun. Names aren't like shoes, you know?" She shared with an air of confidence. "You can't just pull them on and off and expect them to keep fitting."

The sheer mix of logic and nonsense had Trowa chuckling as he led her into the room, closing the door behind them.

He might not trust her fully yet, but she hadn't given him any reason to distrust her. And he wasn't about to let her vanish again.

Hiiro had once told him that "the only way to live a good life is to act on your emotions."

So he would-

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I don't know your name."

"Oh, of course. I'm Luna. Luna Lovegood."

-and his emotions were telling him that she would fit into his makeshift family perfectly.

FIN.