A/N: This is a prompt request from Dragon, "I'll never let you go!", and...this is gonna be a multi. Not too long, I anticipate less than five or six chapters, but if I feel like it...I may expand a little. Forgive the shortness of this first chapter, but exposition must occur! The next chapter (out in a few days) will be sufficiently long enough to make up.

Without further ado...

Erik awoke just as the first rays of the sun peeked through the horizon.

The nine year old knew he had an hour still to rest before the guards would come and wake them up with their loud bells, but because he could hear them beginning to rouse-hundreds of angry, dark souls twisting and churning and making him ill-he had no choice but to rise with them. That was another thing.

He could hear their souls.

Erik didn't know why it had happened, he just knew that one day he woke up and was able to hear his everything. He had been terrified. It had hurt so bad, hearing the onslaught of everybody's pain and their sick, rotting souls, but if he made a complaint then the guards would beat him, so he kept quiet.

"Mornin', Cu," he whispered, peering down his ragged yellow-white shirt to smile at the tiny purple snake that rested comfortably against his bony ribs. She flicked her tongue out in greeting, and Erik sighed when he realized that not even today could he hear her soul. It was odd, but all he could get was a general emotion. It was alright, however. She provided a sort of white noise that kept the vast waves of hurt at bay.

"It's'apposed ta be...Wenneday today, I think," he nodded as he rose silently and stretched. He bit his lip as the movement pulled at the barely scabbed over whip marks on his back. It wouldn't do to wake up the others. "Supply collection."

Erik knew today was important because he was the medic of his cell block, and that meant that every second Wednesday, he was to go pick up a small packet of medical supplies to treat his cell mate's. It was the only time he ever got to see other children from the Tower, and he was excited to meet Jellal again.

As he tiptoed over to the small square in the wall meant to provide ventilation, he felt something...humming in the back of his head. Figuring it was the soul of a new slave, he shrugged it off and stared out the hole and into the early morning sky. Little red and orange wisps cut through the black sky, pushing at the pretty stars and bouncing beautifully off the rocking water. He sighed in contentment, inhaling the fresh night air. He frowned when the humming got just a little louder, and abandoned his sightseeing to focus on it.

He knew immediately it wasn't a slave. The soul was humming happily, a beautiful sound that made his heart flutter. He hadn't heard anything so pretty in his life, never heard something so pure. It was a wondrous break from the dread and death in the Tower-this was the opposite; confident and full of life and hope. He glanced down at Cubellios, who stared up at him questioningly. He caught something akin to curiousity coming off her, so he said, "I hear somethin', Cu! It's a new soul! Not a slave kid! It's real pretty...lemme try singin' it!"

After glancing around to ascertain that everybody was still asleep, he began to hum. It wasn't like the soul in his head. He had a feeling nothing could ever properly copy it, nothing could come close to capturing the purity, but he tried anyway. His little friend seemed to enjoy it immensely, swaying her head to the beat.

"What're you singin'?" Macbeth mumbled from nearby. Erik tiptoed over, avoiding tripping on Sorano's curled up body, and crouched by his best friend. "I hear a new soul in my head. It sounds real pretty. Ain't a slave kid."

"Then how're you hearin' it?" Macbeth was awake now, sitting up carefully. The small light in the room allowed Erik to see the bags under his eyes, and he winced sympathetically. "I dunno. Don't care, though, I like it."

"You try talkin' to it? Maybe the person can hear ya," the pale boy suggested. Erik furrowed his brows and tilted his head down in concentration. How was he supposed to do this? Start talking aloud? In his head, maybe? Because it was a soul, perhaps he needed to go ahead and use his to try to talk, but how would that work...?

"Hey!" the guards yelled. "Up and at 'em! We don't got no time to waste, you shitty fucks! Up! Move! And you, little bitch, time to go get the medical supplies, get moving!"

Erik winced, making sure to pat his shirt as he rose. He felt Cubelios respond and wrap her small body around his chest as tightly as possible to avoid falling and exposing herself to their guards. Who knew the punishment he would receive if they found out. Waving Macbeth goodbye discretely, he scurried over to the cell doors and exited quickly.

The walk to the supply collection was punctuated by sneers and pokes to his injured back with their staffs. He held strong through the hurt, focusing on the pretty song in his head. He wondered what this mystery person's life was like. It sounded like a she, and she sounded happy. Maybe a little upset, but it did nothing to lessen the beauty of the song. He winced as one jab reopened a whip mark on his back, and, to his surprise, felt her soul flutter with worry in response. Could she hear him, too? What did he sound like? He knew it would probably sound like the other soul in the Tower, and felt something akin to shame wash through him. A person with a soul as beautiful as hers shouldn't have had to hear something as putrid as his.

"You know the drill," one of the guards grunted as he shoved Erik into line. The boy scowled, but brightened when he saw a familiar mop of blue hair before him. "Jellal!"

"Erik," warm brown eyes lit up as he greeted his friend. "How are you? And Cu?"

"'m good. So's Cu, she's..." he glanced down his shirt. Jellal nodded in understanding and discretely patted her head over his shirt. "Hey, Cu."

"Jellal, yer never gonna believe this!" Erik whispered excitedly. "I can hear a soul in my head! Ain't a slave!"

"Have you tried talking to it?" Jellal asked. Erik pouted and shook his head. "I dunno how to. 'M tryin', though. She responded when they poked me. Got worried 'cause it hurt."

Maybe you could tell her about this place and get her to bust us out!

Erik knew there was a reason Jellal spoke to him mentally. It was considered treason to discuss escape or overthrowing the guards. The last person who had done so had been publicly beaten as an example, and Erik had watched in horror as he wasted away overnight. He had been outside his cell, in the middle hall, and he could do nothing but watch as he begged for help and died shortly after.

He knew what the cost was to speak aloud, so he merely shrugged.

"Cell block," a bland voice asked Jellal, who replied, "D."

A small cloth bag of supplies was thrust in his hands and a heavy hand grabbed him by his shoulder and wheeled him away. Jellal waved goodbye as Erik stepped up and said, "E," before he was asked. The lady nodded and tossed him a small bag, as well. Erik followed his guard meekly, focusing on the pretty soul to distract him from the cries for help.

The soul sang louder, if anything.

It was almost like she heard his cries for help and a distraction and responded.

Erik hated this part of his job.

Sorano kept a perfectly blank face despite the pain she felt as he carefully cleaned her newest whip mark. He could hear her soul screaming in misery as he dabbed at the cut, but his friend was too stubborn to break composure and cry. He liked that about her. She never gave the guards the satisfaction of seeing her cry. That was reserved for the late hours of the night, away from prying eyes.

"It ain't infected, I don't think," Erik said, wrapping a thin layer of the limited gauze around the wound. He had to make this last two weeks, after all. "It ain't gushing that...oozy stuff, so yer okay for now."

"Thank you, Erik," she replied primly, making her way to the skeleton structure of the wall to continue building it. He waved half-heartedly as she left, and turned to the next patient. He was an old man with kind eyes, and a dark bruise on his ribs. Clubs, then.

"You breathin' okay?" Erik asked. He had learned that not being able to breathe properly meant broken ribs, and the easier it was to breathe, the less severe the injury. The old man smiled gently. "Not broken. Fractured. You did good to ask, boy."

"How'd ya know ya fractured somethin'?" Erik pulled out a small bottle of salve to help with the pain. This was a little secret of his when he discovered Cubellios could produce a sort of painkiller poison. He had infused a tiny bit with his creams before his duty began while the guards weren't looking.

"Not the first time I've fractured a rib, boy. I am a Mage," the man declared proudly.

"Mage?" Erik hissed, glancing around furtively. "Old man, ya gotta be careful sayin' that 'round here. Guards don't take too kindly to ya folk," he punctuated this by smearing a small amount of the cream on the bruise. The man stiffened, and Erik heard the question in his soul. He hadn't been aware they provided painkillers here. The boy shook his head imperceptibly. The old man grinned, "You'd have made a fine doctor, boy."

Erik hummed as the man hobbled away, turning to the next kid. His mind was away as he tended to the gushing head wound, focused on the pretty song in his head.

Reckon I'd've made a doctor, lady? I dunno. Sounds kinda expensive. My family ain't rich, ya see. Think that's why they left me here? The soul hummed, sadness evident in its tune. He frowned. He didn't like the way the song became darker with pain. She didn't know what it was like, he realized. She just felt sorry that he was in pain.

He startled when he realized that her response meant she could hear him.

Forcing himself to look as passive as possible as he bandaged a punctured palm, he focused on that soul. Maybe her end of the connection was like his, where he only got a general gist of her emotions. The connection was steadily getting stronger, he knew, because he could now pinpoint an exact emotion. Was there anything he could do to speed up the process...?

If it involved souls, then perhaps he could try to latch onto hers with his. How would he go about that? Maybe if he imagined his soul as a sort of chain, he could find her half of the chain and join them together like links? It was a longshot, but his best bet.

"Hey!" came a yell. "Hurry up and stop dawdling! You ain't got all day, bitch!"

Erik scowled minutely but did as he was told, moving faster. He kept his gaze focused on the heavily crusted blood on the next lady's shoulder, and slowly drifted out of reality to his mind.

He imagined his soul as a chain. It wasn't very long, nor was it pristine. Rather rusty, actually. Corroded, if anything, as if dipped in acid at some point. He manipulated it forward, pretending it was a snake. His soul responded in the like, swaying shakily forward. He followed the song in his head, forcing the chain to find the source. His lip drew up in a snarl when he found nothing.

What good was this make believe? He could only imagine his soul as a chain, it wasn't as if it actually was one. Maybe he would just have to leave this up to time. The connection seemed to be slowly forged, but...he needed it sooner. He was so curious, so desperate to connect to the outside world, he was ready to sacrifice what little he had to connect to her, whoever she was.

Truth be told, he was lonely.

Sure, he had his little band of five friends, but they could hardly talk during the day, and as night dawned they were all too exhausted to talk each other to bed, so Erik was left alone to bear the burden of the pain of a thousand souls with nobody to keep him sane. This girl, whoever she was, would help him stay sane. She would be his one friend outside of Cubellios who was a secret. He wanted to know more about this beautiful soul. He wanted to know why she had connected to him of all people, why she would corrupt that song with his discordant wails.

He felt something click in his head and he froze.

Her chain was neat and shiny. The links were tight, and there was not a hint of rust. It was polished and shone brightly, much like her soul. He felt his mouth pop open as he saw his rusty chain link with hers tightly, locking in place.

He had done it. He had linked their souls.

"Hey!" a guard roared furiously, advancing with a heavy club in hand. "I fucking told you to stop dawdling!"

The last think Erik was aware of before the club hit him over the head was Macbeth's terrified red eyes staring straight at him.

Erik came to with a massive headache and a worried purple snake in his vision.

"Cu," he breathed. "What time is it?"

Cubellios bobbed her head eight times. Eight o'clock, then. He tried to rise up, only to whimper in discomfort as his head swirled terribly. Opting to lie down, where the steady ground would calm the ache, he prodded his forehead. He felt his hair matted with sticky blood, half-dry, and figured he had a brain bruise. There was a fancy word for it, he remembered one of the doctor's here saying, that sounded something like collision.

"Cu," his eyes widened excitedly. "I made a link! I made a link!"

The snake emanated confusion, so he elaborated, "The pretty song from this mornin' came from a soul, right? The not slave one?"

Cubellios nodded.

"So I made us link our souls! I think this means we can talk in our heads properly!" Erik exclaimed. He immediately hushed up, glancing around. In his excitement, he had forgotten about the room he was in. His stomach roiled as he caught sight of familiar, smooth grey walls.

Isolation.

He would be here three days, at least.

"Well," he gave Cubellios an uneasy smile. "At least we can use the time to try an' talk to her."

He squeezed his eyes shut, ignoring the way his head throbbed as a result, and focused on that link. He could hear her soul singing just as loudly as before, but he was to surprised to hear how worried and fast-paced it was. Had she heard him before he had been rendered unconscious?

"H-hello?" He whispered aloud. When he didn't get a reply, or indication that he had been heard, he decided to try and...think-speak it to her.

Hello? Anybody there? I can hear you!

"Oh! I hear you, too!"

Erik felt his heart stutter and mouth run dry.

She had finally spoken, and he swore it was the sweetest sound in the world.

A/N: Well, that happened.

Fun fact, this was supposed to be a pre-established CoLu watching Titanic with Lucy tearfully quoting Rose, but then I was like "angst is fun".

It's really not. For you, anyway.

-Touko