Title: Ashes, Ashes

Summary: She never thought she'd see the day he fell.

She wants to be burned.

Just one more time, she wants to feel the searing touch of his fingertips over her skin; she wants him to carry her back home, to soothe her with the fiery warmth of his body as she lies in his arms, for her wounds and bruises to be licked away by hot flames. She's never craved his heat this badly.

But she's never been this cold, either.

She can't tell if she's buried yet or not. It's no longer a simple dusting of powder, but snowflakes are falling heavily, thick and wet. Noises would be stifled by a white she once viewed as beautiful, but right now, no one dares to speak.

It's been hours, and shock still remains thick in the air.

No one can really believe it.

Especially her.

She doesn't want to believe it. She wants this to be a lie, but the truth has been given since sundown to settle in, and her chest may as well have been ripped open by the claws of an enemy, her heart torn out, pierced, mutilated, because it feels as though her purpose for living has been stripped away. What's become of the one who got her where she is today? Dread at having to face the truth is what makes it so painful, and right now, she's not doing that. She can't; she won't.

He's still alive.

Her fingers are stiff. So is his scarf, but she forces herself to tighten her grip on the end of it, her legs shifting as she brings them closer up to her chest. The snow around her crunches at the movement.

She's not a dragon slayer, but she can smell what's there despite the snow masking it. Crimson patches have been long since covered up, but the coppery tang of blood lingers in the air. And it's strong, thick, more suffocating than the freezing gusts of wind that throw up her tangled, snow-dusted hair.

She's strangely content in her spot there on the ground. Her eyes refuse to open, glued shut with unshed tears. If she looks now, she'll see his face. She wants to – oh, she really wants to peek through a half-open eye, but only if she can see his bright gaze looking back, hair falling into his face and eyebrows knitted together playfully.

She doesn't want to see the bloodstains on his skin.

Something warm brushes against her shoulder, far different from the numbing cold of the snow that she thought had for sure covered her up by now. Her first thought is that it's him, and she opens one eye, the tears that are no longer confined running down her face and onto the blanket of snow below. She's met with darkness, but still, despite the grey clouds above, the snow reflects what little moonlight is shining down, and she squeezes her eyes shut again to block out the brief glimpse she caught of his peaceful but wounded face.

Those scratches, they should be healing. Those bruises, they should be fading. That dirt, it should've been washed away by now.

She jerks away from the touch to her shoulder, and the hand is drawn back. Something about that small gesture causes what's left of her heart to twist in agony.

She's so alone, so hurt, that she won't even let a friend reach out to her for comfort.

"Lucy, we need to go…"

"No," she responds quickly to the spirit crouching at her side, and the palm of his hand comes in contact with her shoulder again. He's warm, as always, and before, she would shy away from his flirtatious touch, but she can't bring herself to even care now.

"You're going to get sick," he insists, and she shakes her head to refuse his words. "It's too cold out here for you…"

She shakes her head again, her eyes shut tight to keep herself locked in her fantasy – anything, anything but reality. Her body curls up, achingly numb hands clinging to the end of his scarf, wanting the heat that it always seemed to emit, now dwindling beneath the freezing snow. "Natsu will keep me warm."

There's a sigh from somewhere nearby. Footsteps signal the armored fairy's leave; the crunching of the snow and fading sniffles suggests Wendy and Carla left with her.

It's because they can't bear to see Lucy so torn up. They've accepted the truth of the situation, and they've felt the stinging pain that settled in upon realizing that they won't see him bouncing around the guild with childish energy again. It's hard enough to accept death. It's harder to watch their close friend suffer through denial.

His hand caresses her shoulder soothingly. "Let's go."

A soft murmur passes through her lips, voice weak and cracking. "Loke, gate closed…"

"That's not going to work. I'm here on my own." His arm circles around her shoulders, and he tries to coax her into sitting up, but she squirms against him, hands locked on the end of Natsu's scarf, refusing to let herself be moved away from the dragon slayer.

"L-Loke, no," she mumbles with a plea, the scarf slipping from her fingers. "No!" Her eyes shoot open in horror when he scoops her into his arms, and despite the icy chill that had settled in her limbs, she kicks her legs, flails her arms, something, anything to make him stop, to make him put her down.

She's trapped in his grasp, but she fights. She tries. She wants free. Twisting to look back at the dragon slayer on the ground, she reaches towards him with one arm. Why are her tears so cold right now? She wants them to be warm. Warm like him.

But he's lying there with a dusting of snow over his battered body, peaceful all the same.

"Loke, put me down! Close the Gate of the Lion! G…Gate closed! L-Let me go!"

"Lucy…" She's never heard him so pained before. He clutches her to his chest, wanting to soothe her but knowing there's nothing he can do. "Calm down…"

"H-Happy," she chokes, her fist clenching around the sleeve of his suit. The only one she knows who can understand her pain, who can undoubtedly feel it just as intense as she, if not worse. Oh, yes, definitely worse. Her free hand gropes at the air in Natsu's direction, knowing that the little exceed is over there somewhere. "I-I want Happy."

"Aye…" The voice is faint, bordering on a sob, and she looks around frantically before seeing the exceeding halfheartedly floating towards her and Loke. His mood is clearly shot down; he doesn't want to leave, either, expression downcast, but he doesn't protest anymore than Lucy already had. Her arms open, and she lets him land against her chest, taking him into a hug.

Loke pauses for a moment to adjust them in his arms, letting Lucy lean against his chest. With a glance over his shoulder, he nods at the last remaining mage kneeling next to Natsu with his head bowed.

Nuzzling into Happy's fur, Lucy tries to block everything out. She doesn't want Loke to be holding her. She wants to be lying next to Natsu. With Happy. Laughing. That's it. Surely that isn't too much to ask? No, it's not, because it'll happen again. She'll wake up. This'll be over.

But she hears Gray mumbling something to Natsu through the tears he's been trying to hide, for the first time, she wails, she cries, she sobs, and she doesn't think she'll ever be able to stop.

"Well, damn it, Fire Breath. You've gone and gotten yourself killed. This means I won, huh?"

Thanks for reading!

(:Mizune