The smoke is blinding me, the air is too acrid for me to catch a single scent among it, and there are still screams from others filling my ears. Starved of the senses that I've begun to rely on I lurch through the murk, throwing my arms out blindly. I've always thought of higher beings being a puerile way of bringing hope to the desolate and jaded, but right now I'm praying to whoever gives a damn that I can catch her.

My arms collide with something and I take a minute to discern it from the wall that I've probably hit, judging from the fist-sized knot forming on my head. For a terrifying minute, I can't feel skin at all as I begin to drop, the memory of the floor being blown out flashing back to me. Then I hear her pained whisper, "Nat-su-" and my heart kicks into overdrive, pumping white-hot adrenaline through my body like Igneel's flames, lighting my internal fire. The energy boost surges through my still languorous mind and creates a blazing conflagration that can barely be contained by my skin; it itches at it scratches me internally, begging to be released. In other, simpler words... I'm fucking fired up.

I land on the first floor hard enough to jar my teeth. The smoke, having originated here, is even thicker, turning everything around me pitch-black. The heap that I've already inhaled has me wobbly and unsure on my own two feet. I'm in no fighting condition but I'm much too vindictive to let this pass, and besides, I have to get out of here with Lucy. I stumble and slam into something hard that I immediately deem a wall. I hit said wall three more times before finally managing away from it. "Natsu," Lucy says again.

"Don't worry, Lucy. I'll get us out."

I feel her hand against my chest and tense. It has the same charred texture as Wendy's. The memories rise like a tsunami of grief, threatening to pull me under so deep that I would have no hope of rising again. I focus on the here and now instead and manage to quell them, though the here and now is not much less terrifying; I'm stuck in the flaming and smoky dorm with Lucy, who's most likely burned to a crisp, and though I can guess that she will die I can do nothing about it. As always, the curse is there to squelch whatever minute bit of illumination that flares among the dark sheet that is my life. There is a very fine, very thin threat that separates me, the empathetic Natsu, from the scarier prospect, which would be doesn't-care-at-all Natsu. Though I do feel, it causes me more angst than happiness, and sometimes I wonder if it is worth it to have emotions and be human, a part of the hate and sorrow that spins the world.

"It's your fault for not taking up my offer," a voice says, seemingly emanating from the darkness around me. Though I am still hazy on the incident last night I recognize it immediately.

"It's you," I snarl. "That Mage that tried to buy me into a satanic 'solution' for my curse."

"Ah, Natsu, skipping the pleasantries as always."

"I'll skip the ass-whooping too if you fix this and leave now." I shift Lucy in my arms. "You can comply, or you can have me tear you limb-from-limb. I'm fine either way."

"But how, when you cannot even see me?"

"Oho, I'll find you. I can promise you that, you filthy rat."

"I doubt it. I am a master of the clandestine arts and you are Natsu Dragneel, a man without a single quiet bone in his body." His voice is at my shoulder now. "You cannot compare to me in the slightest."

I spin around but Lucy hampers my movement, making it slower, and my fist hits air. "She's a liability, isn't she?" he continues, this time a few feet to the east. "Why is it you are so fond of her that you would risk your life and hers?"

"I don't rightly know."

"What is it that you do know?"

"That you're a bastard that's pissing me off. Just clear this room out and show me the door before I show you the gates of Hell." His replying laughter makes me grind my teeth in anger.

"Really, if you would just accept my deal then you wouldn't have to spend your every day in fear. It really isn't that much of a price." Again, his voice is at my shoulder. I feel Lucy jerk; if he's touching her he's got something horrid coming from me.

"What is your price?" I do not want to know simply because I'm not interested but he seems exceptionally persistent, and it's becoming harder and harder to stand in the smoke-filled room. I've made it so far because my dragon lungs are acquainted to high concentrations of fire and smoke, but my body has its limitations. Any longer and I'll pass out, making me a prime target - and, worse, Lucy as well.

"Just your hate."

"My what?" I ask.

"All that negativity that you've been hoarding the past eighteen years. That's all."

"I don't know what kind of guileless bastard you take me for but I am not falling for that."

I blink and there it is; the Mage's red marks glowing out through the smoke like a beacon, a few feet away. I start towards it but find my feet responding erratically to my brain's commands. I'm not in a condition to give chase. "I can promise you that it is as I say. I'll take away your negativity and in exchange, the curse will be lifted. It's a sweet deal if you look at it, because I'm leaving your empathy and endearment. And-" Now his eyes are there, glinting in the dark. "If you don't agree, you can simply perish in here."

I don't want to. Though it is as he said, that he is simply taking my animosity, my instincts tell me that he's still playing me as a fool. But I do not have much of a say in the matter, because even if I can survive this, Lucy cannot. For all I know, she's already-

"No answer? Then I believe you are out of luck."

I spin around wildly but cannot see him, cannot perceive a body. As angry as I am, I cannot hit what I cannot see. But that doesn't mean I can't guess. I take a deep breath, recoiling when I remember that I'm inhaling smoke and not air, and release as much fire as possible. It comes out a mottled black instead of its usual red and orange, being fueled by smoke instead of oxygen, but it does manage to clear the air for a moment. I realize we're in a lobby, furniture and desk alight, and the door being blocked by a large piece of fallen concrete. I hear pounding from outside; Mages are trying to help but the concrete is too heavy, and I can guess that the outside has the same low level of visibility. Then I look down and gasp. My mind has a hard time staying in the present because Lucy's very charred body is too much like Wendy's. I adjust my arm to press my hand against her blackened chest.

No movement.

I fall on my knees, her body slipping from my hands. Shit. Shit. "It's sad, isn't it?" This time I do see the Mage, his sandals coming into view as he crouches before Lucy. I clench my fist but can do little in retaliation; the fire used up the last of my energy, and though I did expel the greater majority of smoke from my body, I also used quite a bit of magic, and I am still inhaling smoke. It starts to return, darkening my vision terribly until I can hardly make out Lucy's figure. "If only you didn't have the curse..." he muses.

"Lucy," I whisper. My limbs are too deadened for me to reach for her. "Shit. It's my fault. It's my fault for getting attached to you. I shouldn't have come here at all. It's my fault."

"You know," the Mage says, "grief counts as negativity."

I clench my fists tightly at my sides. I don't deserve it; I don't deserve to not feel the sadness of taking another life. Yet...

"Ice Make: Bazooka!"

A boom! sounds just outside the door. The building, already on its last leg, trembles and crumbles further from the impact. Instinctively, I reach out for Lucy, but a piece of something - plaster or furniture, I can't tell - lands on my back, knocking me to the ground. In any other situation, the ground would be nearly devoid of smoke, but on the contrary, it's even thicker down here. I choke and gag, holding my throat. If there was light, then my vision would be spotty. I hear the Mage's disgruntled sigh.

"Who-" My throat burns with every sound. "Who-are you-?"

Another sigh. "If you do wish to remove your curse, then you can find me in Kardia Cathedral at exactly midnight. And in this world, I've adopted the name Mystgun."

I don't know if it's his Sleep Magic, or just my consciousness fading, but the next time I blink, he's completely gone. I hear "Ice Make: Bazooka!" outside once more before the next impact, and the concrete shatters as the doors fly off their hinges. The smoke swirls out in a rush, followed by a blast of headache-inducing sunlight, and I can just barely discern Gray from the chaos, holding a cannon forged of bluish ice. So maybe the Prick has some skill, I think peevishly with a small smile. "Where's the fire?" My voice comes out hoarse and unsteady; I really don't have much life left in me.

"Looks like you're the fire," Gray replies, the surprising amount of worry on his face dissolving into his characteristically smug smile. He kicks away the fallen debris and, with a small amount of effort, lifts me onto his back. I would protest belligerently but it's becoming a monumental effort to simply keep my eyes open. "Good thing you're alive." His voice softens a bit. "Everyone was scared that you wouldn't make it."

"Really?" I can barely hear my voice. A few seconds later I can't tell up from down or left from right. I close my eyes, still trying to figure out that damn Mystgun.

"Natsu," she said. "What happened to you?"

I looked down at my blood-sullied hands, slowly clenching them into little fists. "Acnologia," I whispered, and Porlyusica caught the gist of what happened. She opened her door wider and I half-walked, half-limped inside, my bare feet leaving dark red footprints on the paved ground. I sat on the bed and she quickly came over, checking my arms and legs for injuries. They were fine with maybe two or three fractured bones; the real injury was in my mind, my heart.

"I can make something to fix your bones quickly." She turned away, heading to her desk, creating a brew of various odd-smelling herbs. I buried my face in my arm, ignoring the pain. I wanted to cry, I wanted to cry and have all the grief and anger leave my body, but even then, I would've been nothing but a hollow shell. I had to feel, otherwise I would've been the equivalent of Acnologia, an unfeeling creature roaming the Earth with nothing less than mindless intent. I am not a killer, I tried to tell myself. But Acnologia's curse had come to pass moments after, it burning my father in his (my) flames. Because he loved me, because he tried to protect me, he was killed. It was my fault.

I knew that Porlyusica was telling me something but her voice was only a thin buzz in my ears. Then her spindly fingers grasped my chin and forced my head up, tipping a wooden jar of something thick and viscous down my throat. I choked on its slimy texture, having to swallow several times to get it all down. Immediately, the pain in my bones dulls to a slight throb. "How does that feel?" she asked.

"Better. Thank you, Porlyusica."

She looked at me pitifully. "I'm sorry, Natsu."

"For what?" I murmured, pressing my palms down hard on my thighs.

"That my medicine cannot heal the heart."

I curled my fingers in until my nails broke the skin of my palms, fresh blood dribbling down my legs. "He's gone because of me. It's because he was trying to protect me that Igneel became weak, opened himself up to Acnologia. It was my fault. I should have died in his stead."

"Igneel is a fool, Natsu, of the mind but not of the heart. If he did sacrifice himself it's because he believed that your life outweighed his, that you are destined for more than he could accomplish." She smiled at me then. "He believed that out of all the humans he'd seen in a very long time, you were a kid worth saving."

"But for what?" I shouted, forgetting that she wasn't the source of my problems. The tears that have been welling inside me finally spilled, streaming freely down my cheeks, tinged pink by the blood that adorned them. "I'm just a brat! I'm a five-year-old brat, Porlyusica! I can't even make a decent flame without it sputtering out! He tried to teach me, tried to make me stronger, and for what? In the end, I'm little above the average child. I'm not worth a hundreds-year-old dragon's life, I'm hardly a human life. You know what I am?" I don't wait for her to respond. "A killer. I'm a fucking killer."

I threw myself down on the bed, pulling the sheet over my head to hide myself as I wailed, thrashing and heaving. The grief was finally escaping, the reality of the situation filling me in return: Igneel was gone. Igneel was gone and I, in his place, had the curse. I could no longer make a friend. I had to be alone, I had to, otherwise... Otherwise people would die like him. And I didn't want to take another life. I stayed there crying, no memory of how long I spent there, until finally my sobs regressed into dry heaves as I ran out of tears. But still, I was there under the cover of her bed, while my body felt as a carcass scraped clean of everything. I couldn't feel anything but the numbness. That was eternal.

I drag my hands over my face with a groan. The last time that I had such pain was when Igneel had me keep up with him flying full-speed for five miles, but this pain is double that. Breathing alone is a herculean effort; I can't begin to think of how painful movement would be. Cracking my eyes open, I see that I'm back in Fairy Tail's infirmary. I deduce that by the lingering scent of antiseptic and blood, along with the familiar walls and ceiling. I don't dare move my head for fear of the agony it will bring.

Suddenly the events that led to my incapacitated state return to me in a bolt. "Lucy!" I shout, sitting bolt-upright. Pain shoots down my spine and stabs into my limbs in response; I double over with a low moan, clenching my sides, trying to keep my insides from bursting free and dribbling to the ground. A person I hadn't noticed in the corner chuckles, "You should be resting, you know."

I turn my head painfully and examine the figure sitting in the corner. It's the redheaded Mage, though in lieu of her armor she wears a cotton blouse and blue pleated skirt. Her right arm, left hand, and entire left leg are bandaged, and she smells slightly of burn ointment. And, now that I think about it, so do I, which is ironic for a Fire Dragon Slayer. "What?" I'm blindsided by pain, too much to really hear her words.

"After the fire - the nature of which is still ambiguous to us - we managed to bring both of you out. You were in bad shape, with some third-degree burns and your lungs being affected by so much smoke. Then there's Lucy, who..."

Unwilling to hear her say it, I lurch from the bed, ignoring the flare of pain that it brings in my legs, and start marching to the door, only to stop at the second bed. For a minute, I believe I'm dreaming and slam my fist into my cheek. The salty taste of blood fills my mouth and I reach an epiphany: I'm not dreaming. What I see is really Lucy lying on the bed, chest rising and falling with steady breaths, her soft skin slightly pink but overall intact. I slap my hand to suppress the agitated giggle that's sure to rise from my throat. She's alive, she's alive, she's alive. I know the Mage is saying something but I can't hear, I can only hear that one thought over and over again. She is alive.

I'm awakened by the flat of a sword slamming into my temple. I hit the wall hard and land on my behind. I take a minute to reorient myself. "What the hell was that?"

"I was trying to get your attention." She Requips her blade away.

"Then shout or something!"

"I was."

I rub my face where she hit it. "Lucy- What?"

She shrugs. "It was strange. Despite the intense heat she only had a few minor burns, and those were in the shape of your hands."

Oh. Oh.

She extends a hand; I take it and rise unsteadily to my feet. "So she's really alright," I say. She nods in response. "Oh." More like no, because it is physically impossible for her to be alright. Alive. It's just like...

Holy shit.

"It's just like last time," I whisper.

"What?"

I shake my head, rubbing my shoulder. "Nothing. Nothing. I'm glad she's alright."

She looks at me quizzically. "Are you alright?"

I start to say yes, then another wave of pain hits me and I have to brace my hand against the wall to keep from falling on my face. "No, no I'm not. I'm going back to bed."

She helps me to walk back to the bed. As I lie down I look at the curtain separating me from Lucy. "I didn't get your name," I say.

"Erza Scarlet."

"Erza... Could you watch Lucy for me? Make sure that she's okay?"

She smiles and nods. "I'll make sure." Then she disappears behind the curtain and I let my eyes fall close once more, though my mind feels far too cluttered for me to sleep. But I'm somewhat comforted of the thought that, no matter how crazy it is, Lucy is alive. I can't be sure if I give the order or not, but suddenly my legs are moving again, standing me up and walking me over to her. I collapse on her bed this time, and even with my eyes still closed my hand finds hers, intertwining our fingers. Though I'm perpetually warm, I find solace in her body heat, and lying side-by-side I can find an equilibrium of emotions and fall into a dreamless sleep.