Author's Note: What began as a head cannon one-shot, and then a follow-up chapter, has now become a full-fledged story. Enjoy.

Fairy Tail is the property of Hiro Mashima.

Chapter 1

Sometimes, Bixlow just needed to get away from the chaos of the guild. He found the peace he craved when he took his solitary walks. It was only in the cool damp rain of these black woods that he could hear himself think. His babies followed behind him like little ducklings, silent and solemn, but he didn't mind having them around.

The guild didn't wait for him when it had to move. It couldn't. There was no time to waste when the authorities were on Fairy Tail's trail. So when Bixlow returned and peered into the clearing, he wasn't surprised to find only the smoky haze of the guild's teleportation mechanism and the grass trampled by Erza Knightwalker's scattered forces. In fact, he was rather pleased. The guild would find him eventually—Fried had long ago become so frustrated with Bixlow's disappearances that he'd written a tracking rune into his visor. This was an opportunity for more tranquility. His only real concern was avoiding Knightwalker's troops and greedy bounty hunters, but they were easier to dodge when he was alone, anyway. No brawls, no booze, no claustrophobic crush of hot bodies or whining chatter. Just the gentle patter of rain in a blue cave, a rabbit smoking on a spit, and the comforting whir of his babies flying around him.

Bixlow suddenly worried about his exposure in the clearing, and noticed the rain was getting harder, so he set off in search of shelter. He remained especially vigilant since the shivering leaves in the rain masked any other noises. Bixlow was confident of his ability to fight Knightwalker's first responders, but there was no telling who else he might run into. No need for recklessness. Evergreen was probably already fretting over his absence, urging Fried to track him and make sure he was safe. Bixlow often found her clucking maternity exhausting, but he could appreciate her concern.

Movement. Behind a branch, to his left. Bixow stiffened. Was this it? Was this the moment Knightwalker took him into custody, tortured him for information? Was this the bounty hunter who would finally finish him off, cut away the tattoo over his heart to get their reward?

There was a faint white glow behind the wet wood, a weak little soul flush to the ground. Bixlow crept forward, his babies poised to attack. It could be a trap.

It was a body. Prostrate around the branch, stained from head to toe in sticky black mud. Anyone else would have thought her dead, but Bixlow saw the life warming her chilly bones. He looked around suspiciously, but he could only see the glitter of rain. She was alone.

He stooped over the branch and took her into his arms. The mud was reluctant to let her go, and gave a deep sucking groan in protest. Bixlow scanned the perimeter once more before he headed down the incline, hugging the muddy girl to his chest.

The creek was flooded from the storms and gushing clear cold water. Bixlow set the girl down on the bank and pondered her. She didn't seem threatening. A shapely brown silhouette, delicate features smeared by the mud. He dragged her ankle-deep into the creek, carefully watching her face while he washed away the dirt from between her toes, her feet, her ankles, calves, behind her knees. Her skin was like pale milk under the lumpy film, pure and perfect. He paused when he got to the warm swell of her thighs. He didn't want her to think he was trying to take advantage of her if she woke up. He slid his hands under her armpits and hoisted her into the water, letting the current sweep most of the mud away. Once everything from her shoulders down was relatively clean, he lifted her onto the bank again and took off his shirt. He dipped it into the creek and wrung it out, then brought it close to her chin and gently wiped the dark grit away. The cloth revealed a cute nose, high forehead, pale cheeks flushed from the cold friction of the bath. Bixlow lingered around her generous mouth, drawn to its sloping frown. His thumb unwittingly pulled her lip aside and parted her teeth to check the small red tongue. Her breath stung on his palm.

He cleansed her hair with the shirt, bleaching the color out of its short silver strands. After he finished she laid on the mossy green bank like a frozen fallen angel, still splattered with the earthly soil. Bixlow stared hard at her fluttering eyelids, willing them to open. He knew her eyes would be blue, like the sky he always yearned to see.

Bixlow felt it before she regained consciousness, saw the light in her body flare before that blue blinked in and out of existence. She looked around until her gaze rested on his still form sitting beside her. She pulled herself onto her elbows, a bit bewildered, wiping the water from her skin and hair. Bixlow probably should have moved them someplace dry, but he was too shocked to think. She blinked at him again, squinting through the mist and the rush of the creek that had suddenly become so much louder, a roaring in Bixlow's ears.

"Bix…low?" she said slowly, uncertainly.

Just as slowly and uncertainly, he nodded.

"What…where are we? What are you doing here?" she sat up all the way, running a hand through her dirty damp hair, causing it to stick up in all directions. Bixlow wanted to smooth it down again, to finish rinsing it out with his shirt, to watch beautiful white ringlets curl in the heat of a fire and reflect the orange glow of the flame. He didn't want to talk to her at all. He just wanted to wipe the confusion from that ghost face and fly around in her blue sky eyes.

Instead, his voice projected from the babies, causing her to jump. "We're in the woods, waiting on the guild to find us. Fried's got a tracking rune on my visor, remember? I went off on one of my walks and they had to jet without me," he explained through their childish murmurs.

"Jet? Tracking rune? What are you talking about?"

Bixlow ignored her. He couldn't resist reaching out and stopping her dirt-clumped hand from once more tugging at her hair. The hand was small, but warm and solid in his own. Slippery under the mud. "Are you real?" he asked though the babies. "You're supposed to be dead."

Lisanna reeled, her blue eyes wide. She snatched her hand away. "I don't know you all that well, but that wouldn't be a funny joke even if I did!" she snapped.

Bixlow winced. No one knew him all that well, it was true, but before Lisanna had disappeared those years ago, he'd thought they had a certain comradery. She understood his need for solitude better than most, often had quiet niches waiting for him when he returned from a walk, a watery ale waiting on a corner table. The way she looked at him now, she could have been addressing a complete stranger.

"Talk to me," she demanded. "Where are Mira and Elfman?"

"Sorry," the babies cooed for him. "They'll be back soon. I told you, the guild had to flee. Knightwalker's forces must have gotten too close." He stood up and offered her a hand. "Come with me, we'll find shelter. We're too exposed out here, and it's wet."

Lisanna returned nothing but a blank stare. "What is a Knightwalker? And what do you mean, the guild had to flee? You're talking gibberish."

Bixlow's hand fell to his side. "You're not really Lisanna, are you?"

"Of course, I'm Lisanna!" the girl pulled herself out of the mud and placed her hands on her hips, giving him an angry scowl. "How do I know you're really Bixlow? You haven't said a word, and you don't exactly have a reputation for being quiet. You could be anyone in a visor, couldn't you? I hardly see you—I hardly know who you are!"

The girl was becoming hysterical. She finally sensed that something was wrong. Bixlow put his hands on her shaking shoulders to calm her down, stooped close to her sobbing face. Carefully he stepped beside her and put an arm around her shoulders, guiding her away from the loud scream of the creek. She stumbled along with him, her feet getting stuck in the soft mud.

"I don't know what you remember," the babies explained along the way. "But we're part of the dark guild Fairy Tail. We're the last guild in Edolas. Erza Knightwalker is looking for us because Edolas is running out of magic…"

Lisanna listened silently as Bixlow told her what she needed to know, everything he could think of. They found a small hollow away from the creek, dry enough and big enough to make a tiny ember. Lisanna stared at it while he rambled on. Bixlow hadn't ever said so much, but for once he was worried about what the silence might bring. The rain had stopped by the time he ran out of things to say. It was getting dark. The light from the coals was a risk, but Bixlow knew Lisanna needed it.

Tears glinted from her cheek. She wiped them away with the back of her hand. "I'm not from Edolas, Bixlow," Lisanna croaked. "I'm from a country called Fiore. It's not anything like what you're telling me, but the people all have the same name. You're saying…you're saying I'm dead here? The Lisanna from Edolas is dead?"

"Yes," Bixlow confirmed. "Knightwalker arrested her. The government was working on a way to extract magic, and they used her as an experiment. From what I know, she was killed in the process, but we never saw a body. Mirajane and Elfman have always held hope that you—that she—is alive."

Lisanna hugged her knees to her chest. "You're so different from the Bixlow in Fiore. He's a real jerk. Super loud and obnoxious, always does this smile where he sticks his tongue out. He's part of the Raijinshuu—do you have that? They don't like the rest of us very much."

"Yes, I'm part of the Raijinshuu, but we get along just fine with the rest of the guild," Bixlow said. "Laxus is rather weak, so it's up to us to protect him. He's a good person. Sometimes all the noise gets to me though, and I like to go on walks."

"Yeah, you don't really say much, do you?" Lisanna laughed.

Bixlow looked at her for a long time. Then he hesitantly opened his mouth.

Lisanna gasped, horrified. Bixlow's tongue was gone, a scarred swollen stub at the front of his throat. His jaw snapped shut quickly and he looked away, ashamed. He never knew how to explain. "I don't talk because I can't talk," the babies muttered for him. "At least not with my own voice."

"What happened? Knightwalker again?"

"No. Bounty hunters. They get their reward whether mages are alive or dead, but if dead they have to provide proof. The best way to do that is to bring the guild insignia."

"Oh my…your tattoo," Lisanna realized. "Your tattoo in Fiore is on your tongue."

Bixlow nodded. "They ambushed me when I was on a walk, knocked me unconscious. Thought they'd taken me out. I woke up when it was over. I probably would have died if Fried hadn't done the rune on my visor." He lifted the hem of his shirt to reveal his chest, and the new tattoo placed over his heart. "I'm not going through that again," he declared. "If they catch me, they really will have to kill me."

"That's horrible," Lisanna cried. "Bixlow, I'm so sorry."

"It's comforting to know there's a version of me out there who is putting his tongue to good use," Bixlow responded with a wry, close-lipped smile. He pressed his hand to the side of her hair, smoothing it down. It didn't curl in the ringlets he imagined, but the girl still glowed with a vitality that outshone the fire. "We'll get you home, Lisanna. I swear it."

Just then, there was a wicked flash of violet light and a cracking, clanking sound. Bixlow's fingers brushed past her wet cheek. "It's Fairy Tail," he said warily. He stood up and emerged from the hollow just as Evergreen burst from the doors of the guild.

"Bixlow!" she exclaimed, clutching the relief to her chest. "Thank goodness we found you!"

"Yes, a second longer and he may have been lost to us forever and ever," Fried drawled, throwing himself against the frame, arms crossed over his chest. "Really, Bixlow, this is just getting ridiculous. Do you know how much magic we waste looking for—?"

Fried stopped and his eyes focused behind Bixlow. He turned and saw that Lisanna had also crept out from the hollow, amazed as she took in the weird characters in front of her. Fried flicked his eyes to Bixlow, and then back to Lisanna. Evergreen's face had gone ghostly pale.

"Is that…?"

"Did you find him?" The floating beautiful silhouette of Mirajane materialized behind them, tugging anxiously at her long white locks. Her blue eyes settled on Bixlow, and then zoomed right past him to the stone-still statue of her sister. The devastation that crossed her face was painful to behold. She crumpled to the ground like a wilted flower, never taking her eyes off of Lisanna. Her eyes filled with tears, her lips came up in the most heartbreaking smile Bixlow had ever seen. Though her fingers reached out, it was her voice that pulled the mysterious imposter closer to her.

"Lisanna…"

The girl looked at Bixlow, and he saw in her eyes an unwillingness to break Mirajane's heart, a refusal to kill her hope, to plunge her back into the suspended darkness of mourning. He knew what she would do next, and a part of him welcomed it, because he, too, had missed watching her white head bob among the masses like the North Star. He missed the watery ale waiting for him in those lonely, quiet corners. It was selfish of him to want her to stay, but he was a selfish man. All he could do was enable her decision. So he nodded.

Lisanna's eyes filled with tears. She looked back to Mirajane, her new sister, and walked toward her with her arms spread open wide. Renouncing her home, renouncing her life. Forgetting herself and emerging from the water, anew.