(Work in-progress. Please feel free to critique and review as I go. Thanks for reading!)
The horse nickered softly as the bounty hunter drew back on his reins, turning the mare slowly to circle around a spatter of blood his eyes had expertly spotted on a cactus leaf below him. The horse tossed her head and gnawed on the bit as her nostrils flared, showing obvious displeasure of the scent they were tailing. The bounty hunter took a moment to lean forward and pat the side of the mare's neck reassuringly before he raised his gaze to the sky and removed the dusty and weathered cowboy hat off of his head to eye the position of the sun. The merciless orb had started its descent towards the west; he had a few hours to make some ground before needing to break camp. The blood on the cactus leaf was dry, though less than a day old, he judged from his vast experience of hunting down thieves, criminals and other dregs of society. Replacing his hat on his head he clicked between his teeth and urged the mare forward as his eyes continued their meticulous scan along the ground and desert scrub, finding a hint of his prey's trail every so often and keeping him on the hunt.
Crimson hues narrowed to slits as they watched the mounted hunter until he disappeared over the horizon. Then, and only then, did the man breathe a deep breath as he moved to get up from his prone position beneath a pile of cactuses and tumbleweeds. He sucked in a breath as a sharp pain stabbed through his right side, reminding him of the festering gunshot wound he suffered. Moving a bit more gingerly, he stood on aching legs and took a mental note of the direction the hunter had disappeared in. West. He scanned the vast landscape around him, squinting his eyes as his vision blurred. Fuck, this doesn't look good he grumbled inwardly. North, he'd head north he decided warily then willed his legs to start moving, his heavy boots kicking up dust and dirt every couple steps. What he wouldn't give to have his trusty steed, Lilly, to carry his sorry ass to the next town. Woefully, he wondered if his plan to throw the hunter off of his trail would ultimately be his undoing. It was hot, damn hot, and he was sure he had blood poisoning at this point. The wound smelled to high heaven and he was certain there was a maggot or two crawling under his shirt. He didn't dare look, fearful of moving the material that may have helped to form a clot to stop the bleeding. The man tried to lick his lips to have some relief from the blazing sun, but it didn't help, only succeeding in reminding him how dry and cracked they were. Sighing, he trudged on, thinking of his horse and wondering if they'd ever see each other again.
"Bye, Ms. McGarden!" the scrappy 6 year old boy called over his shoulder as he ran out the school house door. Levy McGarden smiled after him, watching his lanky form disappear in the evening sunlight. She took a few moments to tidy up her tiny classroom before she picked up her books, tucking them under an arm and then snatched up her bonnet, placing it atop her mass of curly blue hair as she made her way out of the small school house and past the white picket fence that lined its humble perimeter. She beamed as she headed towards a large oak tree nestled a top a small hill that crested a few hundred yards from the school house. Its raised position provided the perfect vantage point to watch the sunset and it also received a nice breeze most days. As she walked she mused about how happy she was in her life. She'd ventured out west to escape the drab and boring life of a city banker's daughter to pursue her love of books and teaching. While her father had adamantly tried to dissuade her from traveling to such a dangerous and "uncivilized" part of the country, she had passionately argued that she felt compelled to help the settlers and their children the only way she knew how. Knowledge was power and she needed to empower the next generation. She'd disembarked the train at a small town named Prairie Rose and had immediately set about asking whether the town currently had a schoolmarm. To her delight, there wasn't, and she was awed at the communities support to have her stay and start teaching. The towns people came together to refashion an old storage shed to serve as the new school house and they even built desks and chairs by hand to fill her classroom with, granted it could only fit a hand full of students. It was a humble institution, but it was hers. Her easy-going nature and love for her students quickly earned her a soft spot in the hearts of the homesteaders she'd settled in with. Prairie Rose was now her home.
Levy took a deep breath as she reached the top of the hill and turned her back to the tree, adjusting her skirts as she knelt down and leaned against the thick oak trunk. She set her pile of books aside and picked up the leather bound tome of her current favorite "On the Origin of Species" by Charles Darwin. He father had procured a copy of the highly sought after publication and had bestowed it to her the last few days before her journey. She opened the book to her current place mark and found herself quickly engrossed in the literature, losing track of time and space.
Don't stop….don't stop…. The words repeated ceaselessly in his mind. The sunlight was waning; he'd need to find some place to hunker down soon. Thankfully, his eyes had spied plumes of smoke in the distance a while ago and he'd lowered his head, focusing on moving his legs towards the possible homestead in the distance. Now as he raised his eyes and blinked past his blurred vision he saw before him a hill with a tree cresting its small summit. He faltered mid step as he furrowed his brow, seeing what appeared to be an apparition sitting at the base of the tree in the fading light. The man blinked several more times, trying to clear his vision without success. The visage remained, seated steadfast against the base of the massive tree, seemingly oblivious to his closing proximity. He grunted to himself, trying to muster what strength he had left and started to move around to the back of the tree, out of the periphery of the person stationed atop the hill. As he neared he saw more clearly the folds of fabric that peeked around either side of the tree. It could be nothing else but a dress and he caught a sweet scent on the breeze as he shifted downwind of the woman. Instinctively, his hand reached to the small of his back where he kept his hunting knife. He needed help, and he was going to get it the only way he knew.
Levy shivered involuntarily, the jolt breaking her from her trance as she raised her hazel hues to see the last beams of sunlight disappear behind the horizon. Oh, boulderdash…she fumed mentally and started searching around for her bookmark. She finally laid eyes on it to her side and reached for it, not at all expecting the hand that shot out from outside her peripheral to seize her wrist in a cruel grip, twisting it around to her back. Before she could muster a scream she was yanked to her side away from the tree base and a large rough and calloused hand reached from behind her to clamp over her mouth, stifling the measly squeak of surprise that escaped her lips.
"Scream and I will not hesitate to break your tiny neck like a twig", the gravelly voice rumbled behind her. "Fight me and you'll get a blade between your ribs, shrimp, do you understand?"
Levy managed to nod quickly, her head spinning from shock and her racing pulse. Before she had another moment to assess her situation she found herself roughly pulled back against a hard wall; a man's chest she realized, before that rough deep voice made another demand.
"Stand up." Levy obeyed, managing to stand on shaky legs as she felt more weight press against her back from behind. Was the man leaning on her? The pressure continued steadily until she felt the man roll off to the side, smashing onto the ground with a heavy thud. Confusion, shock, surprise raced through her as she turned to look at the man who not even seconds before was threatening her life. He lay there in an unceremonious heap, butt in the air and cheek pressed to the dirt, his dust and sweat stained face contorted in…pain? Levy fought the urge to run, standing over him in the growing dark as her eyes swept over him, quickly assessing. She didn't see the knife he was threatening her with. Had he fallen on it and stabbed himself? No, he smelled of rotting flesh and infection. An old wound then, she surmised. He was weak, possibly on the verge of death. She decided then that she had nothing to fear from this man. He was certainly not in a state to carry out the horrible acts he had threatened her with. It was a ruse, and he probably used the last of his strength to make it as convincing as he could. He clearly needed help and he probably had planned to force her hand into it. Typical of the rough-handed scoundrel type, she thought to herself. She knelt down next to him then as he groaned pitifully. In the growing dark she managed to spy a dark stain covering the right side of his back. Gingerly, she pinched the bottom edge of the duster coat he wore and lifted it. The man groaned again, a bit louder this time, as if protesting her investigation. She dropped his coat and sighed inwardly. Her giving nature was fighting with her more cautious side. She didn't know this man, whether he was truly dangerous or not, but he needed help. Her lips set in a firm determined line.
Levy glanced towards her small homestead in the distance. The man easily outweighed her by a hundred pounds. There was no way she could carry him. The easy thing to do would be to run to town and ask some men to help her, but she didn't want to deal with the questions that would certainly follow, nor did she want to endanger this man further, not knowing how he came to be in his current state. Against her better judgment she reached a finger out and poked him roughly, mustering all the inner strength she could.
"You need to get up, mister. You're too big for me to carry to the house." The man groaned again, as if in understanding, but he made no effort to move.
"But, if you're willing to fight, I think I can help you. You've made it this far from wherever you came, don't give up now."
Levy watched as his face contorted then relaxed before his eyes opened, fixing her with a pair of stunning red hues that made her breath catch in her chest. They stared at each other for a prolonged moment until Levy finally broke the gaze and reached for his hand, sucking in a breath at how hot his skin felt under her fingers.
"What is your name?" She asked as she inched slightly closer, preparing herself for what was sure to be an arduous trek back to her home.
"Gaj…." The man paused as if in thought then closed his eyes, his face becoming an unreadable mask. "Black Steel".
His hesitation wasn't lost on Levy. He was hiding his true name.
"Let's go then, Mister Steel."
It was well after dark before Levy finally reached the steps that led up to her front door. The Black Steel man's weight had become increasingly heavy on her shoulder and she knew he didn't have much left in him. She didn't have much left in herself either. Her arms and legs quivered with fatigue and her stomach lurched in her belly from the suffocating smell emanating from his body. He smelled like death. She'd learned that unforgettable smell while volunteering at the towns' physician's office during her free time when school was not in session. Thankfully, she'd also learned a thing or two about treating wounds and healing the sick. Carefully, she guided him up the steps and managed to hold him steady as she opened her door. Lucky, her home wasn't bigger than the two rooms that it was. She moved inside the darkened abode, expertly maneuvering around obstacles in the pitch black to her bed where she lowered him as gingerly as she could. The wood of her modest bed creaked under his weight. She huffed a triumphant sigh, but didn't dawdle long before she lit the lamp beside her bed then began shuffling around in her drawers for dressings and what little herbs and medicines she had to help.
Levy set some water to boil on her wood stove and moved back to the bed, hesitating as she mentally prepared herself. She needed to undress him. She felt her cheeks flush at that thought as her eyes swept over the man currently dwarfing her little bed. He lay sprawled on his stomach, his cheek pressed against her pillow. His lips were parted slightly, his breathing slow and even. His eyes were closed behind the strands of charcoal hair that had fallen over his face. He had quite a mane of hair she mused to herself, following the length of it as it spilled over his shoulders and back. There was the heavy duster coat she needed to contend with, then after that she could just cut through whatever lighter shirt he wore beneath. Hopefully he was unconscious. She really wasn't looking forward to the idea of having to wrestle with this man, nor at the thought of having to use her coveted supply of chloroform to knock him out.
Holding her breath, she reached out and poked him roughly on the shoulder. No response, not even a grunt. Nodding to herself she stepped forward then and started the painstaking task of removing his duster coat. Once she got that off, carefully peeling it away from the area of his festering wound, she tossed it aside and reached for her clothing sheers, slowly cutting the thin cotton shirt off of him and leaving a circle of the fabric around his wound. It had indeed mixed with his blood and fluid and helped to aid in clotting the tattered flesh there. She'd seen many of these kinds of wounds before. He had been shot. Reflexively, she sucked in her breath. She had her work cut out for her. She couldn't help but marvel at his form as it was revealed to her. He had strong muscular arms and a taught corded back that tapered into a slender waist. If she nursed him back to health he would be a formidable man indeed. She wouldn't stand a chance. She shook her head absently at that thought. She'd deal with that when the time came…if it came. His skin burned beneath her fingers and sweat beaded on his flesh. He'd probably been battling a fever for a few days at least. The smell of his wound definitely suggested infection and if it had spread to his blood, there was little indeed that she could do aside from keep him comfortable until his body succumbed and he passed.
The thought of the man dying under her care made her brows furrow with determination. She silently hoped that if she did see him through this, it wouldn't end up being the death of her…by his hands. She snorted despite herself, oh the irony in that! She stood then from the wooden stool she had placed by the bed and moved to the woodstove. Armed with thick mittens she heaved the iron pot and moved it over by her stool and medical supplies. She dumped a generous amount of clean dressings into the steaming water and waited for them to saturate. After a moment she quickly scooped one out and laid it square over the wound, wincing as she prepared to fight the man if he protested, but he remained prone and still. Good, she thought. She could practice her ministrations in peace.
Levy worked tirelessly throughout the night, meticulously cleaning the open wound of puss, bullet fragments and debris, flushing it with clean sterile water before she covered the wound with an herbal poultice she learned to make from her time with the physician. She wrapped the poultice in place with a long trail of cotton fabric, struggling to push the material under the man's torso to wrap it properly. With the bandage secure, Levy finally leaned back, stretching the stiff muscles of her back and sitting straight to marvel at her work. She was pretty pleased with how the wound cleaned up. Now it was up to this Black Steel man's body to pull through. Levy took some cool water from a pail and continued to compress it to his brow the remainder of the night as he continued to battle a fever. Before long, sunlight began to pour in through her windows. Fatigue was beginning to settle in and Levy struggled to keep her eyes open. Thankfully, there would not be any classes held today. She was certain it would take the entire day of resting to recover from her long night.
Gajeel was certain he had died and he was in hell. His body ached and burned as if on fire. This was it, nothing less than what he deserved, he supposed. His mind willed his limbs to move, but nothing happened. He was surrounded by darkness as well; a suffocating pitch-black darkness. As he lay there brooding over his fate, the faint sound of a melody broke through his musings. Humming? He strained to listen through the darkness. As he focused on the song he felt a cool sensation washing over his body, temporarily relieving him of the fire that lashed at his skin. After a while the burning would return, only to be staved again by the cool sensation. As it continued, the burning would return less and less intense. The sharp pain in his side began to ease ever so slightly. Between the cool waves he would also be relieved as a cold sensation brushed over his lips and he found himself drinking the blessed chill liquid down, cooling him from the inside out.
Maybe this wasn't hell after all. Purgatory, perhaps? He certainly wouldn't be in heaven. Heaven had no place for a bastard like him. Suddenly through the dark in his mind the image of a blue haired woman in a white dress appeared, her hazel eyes met his with an intense gaze. An angel, he thought to himself. She was an angel. He wondered if this woman was the reason why the fire that was eating him alive had been slowly banked, washing him in her healing aura. Why such an angel would be helping him, he had no idea. The image became blurred as he slipped from consciousness once more.
A bloodcurdling roar rolled over the plains, causing surrounding birds to take flight, disappearing into the distance. The bounty hunter dug his heels into his mare in frustration and the mare reared with a whinny, landing back down and stomping her hooves as dust kicked up around them. "Dammit, Gajeel," the man growled as he eyed the dead horse on the ground. His damn bounty head had intentionally wounded his horse and slapped it on, leading him to follow its blood trail thinking it was Gajeel's from the gunshot wound he was sure he'd landed on the bastard. He was damn mad. Seething mad. Dead or Alive reward be damned, he was going to kill Gajeel when he caught up to him. His black eyes shot back in the direction he had come and he ground his teeth together at the setback he'd suffered. His pride wounded for having been bamboozled by a low life murderer, he turned his mare back east and spurred her into a gallop, cursing still under his breath.
For 6 days Levy continued her routine with the stranger. She'd awake from her pile of blankets and pelts on the floor beside her bed and gently rinse the man's body of sweat that had accumulated over night. She'd carefully ladle some water to his lips and each time he drank the liquid reflexively. Then she'd dress and leave her home to go teach, hoping that he'd be okay in her absence. She was becoming more optimistic of his recovery with each passing day, pleased with how less his skin burned when she touched him. She had changed the poultice every day as well, assessing how well the wound was healing. With his improving state also came an increasing worry that hung over her like a rain cloud. He would be waking soon. Would he just wait until she was gone to slip out her front door? Would he ambush her when she returned to kill her and take her belongings? Would he wait for her to thank her before he disappeared from her life as quickly as he had arrived?
It was late afternoon on the sixth day. Class had let out early that day. Levy had decided to take the extra time and gather more water to replenish her stock from a nearby stream that skirted her small plot of land. Her cheeks puffed as she mounted the steps to her front door with her two heavy pails in tow. She set one down and opened her door, too busy maneuvering the pails inside to notice that her bed was empty. It wasn't until she had placed them before her wood stove and stood with a tired and satisfied huff that she noticed the void out of the corner of her eye. Her eyes shot to the empty space and she stood still, a wave of emotions coursing through her. The door clicked shut behind her and she jumped, turning with a whirl to see the tall dark man standing there bare chested, bare footed, sporting only his trousers and a terrifying scowl beneath hooded brows. His crimson orbs seemed to glow with a demonic light as he watched her.
Levy's heart leapt to her throat and she felt as if she were going to faint. She leaned back against her wood stove, then yelped as she jumped away from it, having singed her palm on its surface. Tears gathered in her eyes as fear raced up her spine. Holding her injured hand in her other she slowly began to back away from the Black Steel man, noticing all too late that she had robbed herself of an escape route. Her eyes widened as she watched him turn towards her and close the distance between them with a few large strides. Levy felt her calves crash against her bed frame and she felt all blood rush from her face as it settled in that she had nowhere to go. No way to escape the man that towered over her. He stopped in front of her, suffocating her with his intimidating aura. Levy squeezed her eyes closed and turned her head to the side, just hoping that he would end her life quickly.
Gajeel regarded her curiously as he watched her startle and panic, backing away from him as if he were the one that burned her. Realization set in as he took in her features. This was her…the angel that had healed him. He scowled despite himself, feeling a jolt of hurt at her reaction to him. Was he that much more scary awake than he was unconscious? He moved towards her then, cornering her like a caged bird. He saw a lone tear roll down her cheek as she turned her head away from him, her eyes closed tight in fear. He saw her body trembling, her hands clasped tight before her. He was so tired of this reaction. He'd seen it play over time and time again now. Taking a breath he took in her scent and he felt himself relax, her smell now synonymous with the feelings of soft, gentle….safe. Emotions he was not too familiar with anymore. Reflexively he reached out and seized her hands in one of his, keeping his other ready to act defensively if need be. He felt her jump and she whimpered softly as he gently pulled her hands apart, holding her injured one carefully as he inspected the burn she'd suffered.
Levy eased her eyes open, relaxing slightly as she realized that he wasn't going to hurt her…yet. She watched as he looked over her burned palm, then closed his fingers around her hand as he looked up to meet her gaze. Levy felt her knees grow weak beneath her and she faltered. But instead of falling backwards she felt a hand gently seize her elbow as she was steadied and pulled forward to rest against the strong, muscled, naked chest of the man before her. Levy felt her heart leap up into her throat and her cheeks burned from an intense blush. She felt a hand capture her chin then as she was made to look up into those intense red eyes again. They were softer now, almost reverent as they regarded her.
"Thank you," that hard, deep, gravelly voice rolled from his lips.
Well if she wasn't on the verge of swooning before, she most definitely was now. He must have sensed it because he tightened his hold on her elbow, his other hand dropped from her chin to circle around her waist, holding her steady against him.
"What is your name, angel?" His voice rumbled through his body, the vibrations coursing through her. She felt her eyes flutter as her vision began to close in like black curtains blocking out the light.
"Levy…" she breathed faintly.
"Levy…McGarden." She exhaled. That was the last thing she remembered before she succumbed to her faint.
