Author's Note: This story is written for the lovely Sanguine Fairy of tumblr. We were discussing the use of the present tense in writing fiction, and I was expressing my doubts about it. However, my natural inability to turn down a challenge overcame me, and I offered to write a story in the present tense, just because. Sanguine Fairy chose the characters. If you squint a little, you can see the LaxLu.

This is several months overdue, so I hope that everyone will forgive me for putting it ahead of other writing projects. In any event, I didn't exactly "choose" to put it ahead of other things, more like this story suddenly wanted to be written. The wand chose the wizard, as it were (sorry, JK).

This story is roughly two-thirds humour, one-third character essay, and one-half my need to write about physics and undergraduate studies. Don't bug me about the math. Math's just a state of mind anyway - trust me on this.

~ Impracticaldemon

Is It Fate, or Is It Physics?

The prof finally looks up and notices that they're five minutes overtime—again. As Lucy stuffs her laptop into her bag, she looks up at Levy, who grimaces expressively. The petite, blue-haired girl is already packed and waiting; she seems to vibrate in place.

"C'mon Luce! We've only got four minutes to make it to Physics for Morons!"

"O be still my beating heart," grumbles Lucy.

"Luuuuuccceeeeee…" Levy is already halfway out of the classroom, so Lucy picks up the pace and manages to reach the door just behind her plaintive friend.

Plaintive and lovelorn. Or rather, lovelorn and therefore plaintive. Despite Lucy's longer stride and more athletic frame, she has to hustle to keep up. Levy has a crush on the TA who handles most of the Physics 001 classes. She swears it's true love, but Lucy is dubious. Her friend is brilliant, studious, and aiming for a doctorate in library science. She's only in the second year of her Bachelor's right now, but nobody doubts she'll make it. Gajeel Redfox is some kind of engineering throwback—in Lucy's opinion. In this century, engineers are just geeks who drink more and party harder. They're more irritating than the straight science types when it comes to putting down the liberal arts students, but the swagger's pretty much for show. Gajeel feels like something out of the last century—or maybe the one before.

To be fair, it probably takes brains to complete a Masters in mech eng in under a year, but "Gaje"—pronounced like gauge, but Lucy doubts he can spell the real word—still looks and behaves like the fight pro he used to be. Levy says he did it to make enough money to go to university. Lucy figures it has more to do with a desire to hit people. Lucy's got a good reason for her opinion, and Levy knows it. Usually, Lucy is all for the misunderstood and downtrodden, but not this time.

They arrive at Physics for Morons—yeah, thanks for the name Mr. Redfox, sir—just as the door at the bottom of the Pit opens and their teacher swaggers in. Levy's annoyed because somebody has taken her favourite seats, but instead of sitting at the back like a normal person, she rushes down the shallow stairs and flings herself into the very front row. Nobody ever sits in the front row. Lucy groans, but follows Levy like the dorky best friend that she is. Their butts hit their seats just as they process the message their eyes and brains have been trying to send them: the teacher isn't Gajeel Redfox.

The mistake isn't so weird, Lucy decides after a second to study the new guy. Same big build and broad shoulders—bigger even, maybe—same arrogant walk and similar sneer. Okay, they don't actually look much alike, but you can tell that they're two of a kind. Probably. Despite herself, Lucy's intrigued. Blond hair, thick and a bit wild, on top of a rugged face with some kind of jagged scar around the right eye. He'd be great doing a cosplay of Marvel's Thor. Lucy has to fight not to giggle.

"Nice of you to be so enthusiastic, Ms. Heartfilia." The voice matches the looks, but smoother; too bad the guy's shaping up to be a jerk like his friend. "Redfox warned me that you were three quarters pit bull and one half golden retriever."

"What?!" Lucy is on her feet, glaring.

The Thor-wannabe crosses his—admittedly impressive—arms. And smirks. "He said that pretty much describes your math skills, too…"

"Uh… Luce?" That's Levy, sounding bewildered and embarrassed. Her friend's anxiety just annoys Lucy further.

"Who are you, and why are you here instead of dear old Gaje?" snaps whatever fraction is pit-bull.

"Metal-head's got business out of town and nobody wanted to teach you lot. So I stepped in out of the goodness of my heart. I'm Dr. Dreyar."

"Couldn't make it as a rapper so you tried engineering?" Lucy hears Levy choking beside her, but she's too angry to figure out if it's laughter or tears.

Dr. Dreyar smiles. Lucy can't tell what it looks like to students further back, but up close and personal it's a mix of amused and dangerous. She's not sure what the danger is, though. A guest lecturer can't really do anything to her. Probably.

"On that happy note, let's get on with it." Other than an inevitable cough or two, the class is silent as the big smart-screens at the front of the room flicker to life. "I'm Dr. Laxus Dreyar." A few quick taps and the name is displayed on the left-most screen. "I'm not an engineer like Gaje Redfox, I'm a theoretical physicist. We worked together a bit while I was finishing up my PhD last year. I happened to be visiting Magnolia, so I agreed to teach today's class. It will be more interesting than what you're used to—although that's setting the bar low."

Levy slips a note to Lucy, who unfolds it mechanically. Dr. Dreyar is aggravating, and condescending, but he's got a flair for speaking. And—whoa! He's suddenly right next to her.

"You can read Ms. McGarden's note in a moment, Ms. Heartfilia. Please see me after class. I'd like to have a word with you before you go."

Lucy stares up at him, but he's already back at the keyboard, and a moment later there's writing and an image of some kind of giant, sparking ball of light up on the right-hand screen. The funny thing is…

"Okay, so instead of trying to teach you math—which I hear isn't possible—I'm going to just talk physics. It isn't easy to talk physics without math, but I'm up for a challenge. Do any of you know what this is? It's rare, but it's not space aliens. Probably."

Lucy's still clutching Levy's unread note, but she feels her empty hand rise into the air. When Dr. Dreyar nods to her, she clears her throat and says, "That's ball lightning."

"Exactly right, Miss Granger—take ten points for Gryffindor."

There's a ripple of laughter, but also surprise. Lucy shrugs. There's no big mystery—she's been working on an article about weather phenomena for one of her journalism classes. With most of her mind distracted by the workings of coincidence, her mouth makes a break for it.

"Thank you, Professor Snape."

At least Levy is definitely giggling this time, and there's more general merriment. Dr. Dreyar is giving a good impression of a person smiling good-naturedly. Lucy thinks the smile isn't making it to his eyes, but he isn't angry, either, just watchful.

"Can you tell the class what causes ball lightning, Ms. Heartfilia?"

"No, sir," Lucy says promptly, her eyes steady on Dr. Dreyar's. Are they hazel, or grey, or what? Then she blinks and adds, "The conditions for ball lightning still aren't well-understood. There are a couple of theories now, though. There's been recent work done on the subject."

To Lucy's relief, Dr. Dreyar skips the snide humour this time and just nods. She relaxes, and finds herself thinking that he actually looks pretty good this way—face serious, eyes intent, arrogance muted by genuine interest.

"So, we're going to be talking about lightning—and light—today. Some of you have probably covered similar material in the past, but my aim is to get you really comfortable with the basics. Yes, knowing all the complicated math would help, but the fundamentals can be grasped even by the most"—his eyes slide briefly to Lucy—"mathematically-challenged."

He brings up an image of the visible spectrum—a fancy name for the rainbow—and the lecture goes on from there. After a while, a student with limited eyesight grows frustrated with the visual nature of the presentation. With minimal fuss and unexpected patience, Dr. Dreyar adjusts the student's computer feed so that he's getting full text descriptions of the images.

"It's not perfect," he tells the young man. "Then again, neither is trying to explain any of this visually. Truth is, you especially would be better off with the mathematical descriptions."

"I'm not great with math," admits the student. "But I'm a decent musician, and all this stuff on light reminds me of musical tones."

"Of course it does. Light and sound are all pretty much the same in physics. Of course, theoretical physicists tend to forget the physical world altogether if we're not careful. In principle, pretty much anything can and does end up as something else. That's entropy for you. Dust to dust, and ashes to ashes—except you don't end up with as many ashes as you started with, because some of the ashes have mysteriously turned into gas and energy."

"Makes physics sound like magic, sir."

"No, we leave magic to the chemists. Not sure they ever got past the alchemy stage, to be honest."

"But can lead really be turned into gold?"

"Sure—although we're getting off topic." Dr. Dreyar speaks without difficulty over the murmuring class. "Lead into gold isn't the problem. The problem is that it costs more to convert lead to gold than it costs to buy gold. Plus, humans have a weird fixation on science not being 'natural'—I mean, seriously? Gold is gold by any physical reckoning whether you make it in a lab or dig it out of the ground, but try telling people that. And then too—don't you find it a little strange that humans value gold so highly in the first place? I mean, it's good for fillings, but you can't eat it. … Well, yes, of course it can be traded for food, but only if your trade partner also values gold, you know? Ah—studying economics are you? And they say that physicists don't live in the real world…"

Lucy watches Dr. Laxus Dreyar draw the class in and spin them around. He's brilliant—obviously—but he's also ridiculously charismatic. Even when he's less than kind, or overly arrogant, people clamour for his attention. Her fingers race across her keyboard. She's not taking notes on the lecture—she's taking notes on the prof. At least, she is until Levy distracts her by waving a piece of paper in front of Lucy's screen.

"Huh—what?"

"You never read my note."

Lucy briefly considers just ignoring the interruption, but quickly comes to her senses. Levy is at least as stubborn as Lucy is. Better to get this over with. Then her eyes widen.

Pretty sure this is Chancellor Dreyar's grandson.

Oh. Oh wow. Oh crap—

Levy's hissing in her ear now.

"You know, the 'anonymous student' who almost wrecked the university when they refused to fund his project eight years ago? The story you've been going after? And you decided it was probably the grandson because of how it was handled, and—"

"Okay, got it."

One moment Lucy can't wait to talk to Dr. Dreyar after class—out of sheer curiosity, of course—the next she's contemplating a quick getaway.

"I guess that's what he wants to see me about, huh?"

Levy rolls her eyes. "You think? I mean, how come you didn't figure it out right away?"

"I… well we never knew his first name, did we? He was a minor."

"Yeah, but we found out that the subject was physics, and related to energy—they had a tough time covering up all the damage. Besides, how many Dreyars do you think there are?"

"Well, I… Look, I was thinking about how this guy kind of reminded me of the light of your life, okay? And don't say I'm weird, because I know they don't look alike or anything—"

"Lucy, cool it, I understand what you mean."

"Argh. I really wanted this story."

"So? All you have to do is talk to him—maybe he's okay with you digging up dirt about him." Levy snickers. "Then again, maybe not."

The class suddenly seems a little too silent. Both young women freeze and then slowly look up.

"This is a new one on me—students who race to the front of the class and then talk while I'm lecturing."

"I'm sorry, sir."

Beside Lucy, Levy nods vehemently. Much to their surprise, Dr. Dreyar skips the traditional round of sarcastic comments—were you bored? is the material too easy, perhaps?—and returns directly to his lecture. It's a good lecture, but one person eventually asks when they'll be getting to lightning bolts, and is disappointed to discover that lightning bolts aren't going to be covered after all.

"The lightning bolts were a lie," admits their temporary professor. He doesn't look in the least bit sorry, of course. "It's just that—in my experience—students find the destructive forces of nature much more interesting than things like raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens."

"You've got to be kidding me," Lucy mutters, her eyes flying up to examine Dr. Dreyar in patent disbelief.

"Not at all, Ms. Heartfilia."

Apparently he's got very sharp hearing on top of everything else. Lucy gives in to inclination and shakes her head, smirking.

"You look nothing like Julie Andrews, Dr. Dreyar."

Most of the class is now either laughing or googling Julie Andrews, but their lecturer ignores it all and produces a faint smile.

"True, but I know my audience. Both in general"—indicating the class as a whole—"and in particular"—touching the brim of an invisible hat to Lucy. "You're much more likely to see me in a good light if I quote old and rather saccharine movies, aren't you? Especially since it's unexpected. Besides, the point's still valid. Dewdrops on roses—and the way that they refract light—are all very well, but students do tend to prefer lightning. Strictly as lecture material, I mean."

He has the most fascinating face, thinks Lucy, as his expression shifts from slightly mocking to just plain mischievous. I don't know if it's the eyebrows, or the bone structure, or the cragginess—which is a weird word to use for a guy who may not even be into his thirties.

"Excuse me, Dr. Dreyar?" Lucy is brought back to earth by the very firm note in Levy' tone, which usually presages danger. Or embarrassment.

"Yes?"

"There are only ten minutes left in this class. Your explanation of the basic principles of light—with specific attention to the visible spectrum and no advanced mathematics—was quite well done." Her summary is masterful, and her praise just a shade more tepid than appropriate, notes Lucy, cheering inwardly. She sees a hint of respect—maybe—in Laxus Dreyar's light-coloured eyes.

"And?"

"Why not tell us about lightning bolts? That's your specialty, isn't it? Give us some idea of the energy involved, maybe, or what makes lightning so special?"

There's a slightly breathless silence, and Lucy realizes that he's not going to be able to resist Levy's appeal. Even more interesting, she sees that he knows he's about to give in, and that some part of him regrets this. She doesn't understand the shadow of resignation that briefly crosses his face, but neither does she write it off as imagination.

"Lightning is an amazing thing, really," he begins, speaking so softly that the students all go silent in an effort to hear him. "It's a living current—the perfect example that electricity really exists. No plugs, no wires, no carefully constructed generators… Just massive amounts of charge—usually negative charge—rushing at incredible speeds from one place to another. The effects are spectacular, and familiar to all of humanity. Lightning has imprinted itself so strongly on the human consciousness that it has been associated with the divine—with the most powerful of gods—throughout known human history."

Lucy sits and listens, torn between the need to take notes—about the speaker and his passionate eloquence—and the need to immerse herself in the moment. She longs for the ability to capture more than just the words, and it reminds her not to abandon her own dream of becoming the kind of writer who can do exactly that.

She has almost succumbed to the smooth, yet resonant voice, when she abruptly jolts fully alert: there are sparks forming around Dr. Dreyar's hands. They disappear almost as soon as she moves, and the lecture comes to an end. While everyone else is murmuring and blinking—as though coming out of a dark movie theater—Lucy and the big blond man lock gazes. His expression tells her nothing, and although his eyes hold some kind of emotion, she's not sure what it is. A few moments later, the class' more extroverted students come down to talk to and thank Dr. Dreyar, and Levy tugs emphatically on Lucy's sleeve.

"Yo! Earth to Lucy!"

"Hmm?"

"You're staring at Dr. Laxus 'The Wrecker' Dreyar like you've seen a ghost." Levy studies her friend more closely and then adds, "But a ghost you think you might want to get to know better."

"There's no actual proof—yet—that he's the one who damaged the school." Lucy's words sound hollow, even to her. Now that she's seen him, she thinks he's the perfect candidate.

"Okay, so moving right along… Have you completely fallen for this guy, or are you just pretending to be infatuated?"

"What? No!" Lucy groans when she sees Levy's face. "No! Levy—as if! For one thing—no, I refuse to even discuss this!"

Levy raises her eyebrows at Lucy's vehemence, and Lucy has to actively remind herself that Levy is almost certainly just poking fun at her. She takes a deep breath and tries again.

"Look, Levy… I haven't fallen for, nor am I infatuated with Dr. Laxus Dreyar. I do find him interesting, and just a little scary. I want to know why he wants to talk to me. Hopefully he'll be done soon—"

"Now is fine, Ms. Heartfilia."

Lucy and Levy both jump, almost banging their heads together. How does such a big man move so quietly? Levy sits down again right away, tactfully removing herself from the conversation.

"Oh—oh good." Lucy wills her heartbeat to calm down and tries to relax. "So, um, where do you want to talk? Here?"

"Here's fine. Besides, I don't have an office in the building yet." He smiles a bit wryly, then startles Lucy by adding: "Look, class is over, and I don't expect to be teaching you again anytime soon—or ever. So… feel free to call me Laxus."

"Um, okay, sure." Lucy's still wary, but she's less nervous.

"Anyway, there's nothing weird about why I wanted to talk to you," Laxus tells her. "I want to offer you a job."

"You—what?"

Laxus runs a hand through his hair and shrugs. "I need somebody to help me organize and maybe edit some rather sensitive notes of mine. Gramps said I should ask you. Good academic record, good writing and editing skills, loyal to friends…"

Lucy shakes her head at him. "But there's more to it, right? I mean, I'm a little distracted by the idea that Chancellor Dreyar even knows who I am, but there are an awful lot of people around this university who meet your requirements."

"Maybe. Gramps can be a pain in the ass, but he's got a really good nose for telling the good guys from the bad guys. Plus, if he says you have talent, then you have talent."

"I got too close to finding out what really happened eight years ago, didn't I?"

Laxus looks away, but keeps talking.

"Yeah, that's a big part of it. We'll have to talk about that. But no matter how you look at it—you're perfect for the job. And try to keep in mind that you can always say no. I'll be disappointed—even more so now that we've met—but if you refuse, then I'm not going to hound you."

"Seriously? I can just refuse, and get on with my courses. I don't have to worry about guys in black suits showing up to delete my memories, or anything like that?"

"You can just refuse. I'll give you my cell number so you can call or text me once you've decided."

"Can't you explain a bit more about what you need?"

This time there's a long silence before Laxus slowly shakes his head. Then he seems to reconsider.

"I'll think about it. Tell you what: let me take you out to dinner tonight, and we can talk about it."

Lucy shoots a harried look at Levy, who ignores her, and studiously turns a page in the book she's reading. Lucy sighs. She tries to get a covert look at Laxus, but he's expecting it, and his expression is a mix of challenge and amusement.

"Okay, let's do it," Lucy says at last. "I'm in." Then she laughs a little. "What I mean to say is: Thank you, Laxus, dinner sounds interesting. Let's trade contact info and go from there."

And that's how it all begins.

[END]

A/Note: Thank you for reading! As always, your feedback is appreciated, if only to say that something made you laugh. :) You can also point out that I shouldn't be writing about physics, having given it up after my own undergrad.