Chapter 7: Nothing
"Laxus!" Freed shook the massive shoulder as he crouched over him.
He only remembered to turn off the water when it sprayed him in the face. In the sudden silence, he rolled Laxus onto his back and with a dripping hand touched the Dragon Slayer's face.
Laxus's eyelids didn't even flutter. He didn't look unconscious: he looked dead.
"No, no, no…"
Filling the air with sound and words, Freed felt Laxus's chest and identified a heartbeat. But Laxus's pulse was slow and his skin icy.
More jostling and calling Laxus's name didn't wake him. Adrenaline threatened to tip Freed into panic. He jumped into action.
Laxus was a big person, but Freed could still normally lift his weight, so he was confused when his muscles shook, distantly frustrated by the pain as he picked his boyfriend up.
Then something excruciating tore in his bicep. His arm gave out.
Freed yelled but did not let go.
Leaving puddles in their wake, he forced his screaming arm to do his bidding until he laid Laxus on the futon. He put a hand to his bicep, felt it throb, felt stickiness—and made the executive decision to ignore it. There was no time to manage his wounds, with Laxus sick or hurt or…
His lips were grey.
Freed pulled the comforter over him and shakily drew runes to heat the room up. Panic was beating inside Freed's head. Laxus didn't twitch, eyes not moving behind his closed lids.
Freed tried a few more things to rouse the lightning mage, but he already knew this was beyond his abilities.
He didn't bother to dry off as he threw clothes on, though he cursed his wet hair, for once hating its length. When he strapped on his sword, he realized how badly he was trembling and forced himself to breathe deep. His aching arm didn't stop shaking even when he squeezed it hard.
He had to check his protective runes on this place; add a few things. More restrictions to the wards keeping people out. Runes to keep Laxus warm and breathing.
He ran back to Laxus's side.
"I'll be right back," he whispered, squeezing Laxus's cold hand far too tight. "Stay alive. Please, Laxus. Just give me five minutes. Please."
He kissed Laxus on the lips and took him in one more time before sprinting for the door. He had to run, or else he'd never get away.
Leaving felt like betraying him.
Slamming the door, Freed couldn't stop two tears escaping. As his throat tightened, he pushed his emotions down; he didn't have time to feel things. Later. He would deal later.
The problem with buildings guarded by runes—Laxus's flat, the Fairy Tail guildhall—was that nobody could teleport within fifty meters.
Laxus lived on the third floor: the stairs seemed to take forever.
Freed burst onto the crowded walk as people dodged out of his path. He drew his sword with his good arm before reaching the edge of the fifty meters; a woman ahead of him screamed.
Skidding around her, he wrote as he exited the safe zone and magic blew him away.
Traveling this way was fast, almost instantaneous, but not fast enough for Freed. As soon as his body materialized in the street, he was running again, Fairy Tail dead ahead.
Mirajane jerked as the doors crashed inward. Freed exploded into the hall like his lover's lightning and immediately had everyone's attention.
His wet clothes were plastered to him, his coat absent, and his hair dripping and disheveled. Jaws dropped. Mira didn't think anyone had seen him this out of countenance.
Freed didn't register the sudden quiet.
"Ever! Bicks!" he shouted, searching the hall and darting toward where the two sat frozen. His movements were too focused, too jerky. When he twisted to get around a table, Mira saw one of his sleeves was painted crimson from elbow to shoulder.
Dishes shattered at her feet.
Freed skidded up to his teammates and nearly toppled into Bickslow.
"What happened?" Bickslow grabbed Freed by his uninjured arm.
"Go to the flat," Freed gasped, "and don't let anyone near."
"Where is he?" Bickslow asked, raising his visor.
He…Laxus?Mira was halfway to them, trying to decipher their words.
"You won't be able to enter," Freed rushed on. "Nobody can get inside without me."
"Freed, what happened?" Evergreen demanded.
"Go!" he yelled. "Set a guard. I'll be there in two minutes. Just go!"
Jerking her head in a nod, Ever soared into the air with Bickslow right behind her, the two shooting out the doors.
"Freed," Mira began.
He whirled, nearly knocking her over. His fear was palpable.
"Where's Master?" he asked.
"He's right…" she turned.
"…here." Makarov wheeled up to them, people parting for him.
Glancing around, Freed realized he was the focal point of Fairy Tail and blinked in shock. When he sliced his fingers through the air, runes encompassed the three of them in silence.
"Master, Laxus is…is… He's…"
Panting, Freed pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked nauseated. Cold hit Mira's gut: she'd never seen Freed trying to clamp down panic this intense. Never.
"Laxus is unconscious," Freed choked out.
"How?" Makarov asked.
"I…I don't know. Shit! I don't know." Freed sounded sick. "He collapsed. Cold all over. I think his magic was weaker too. I don't know what happened. Pulse is slowing down. I th-think he…"
Freed stopped.
Mira took his arm, carefully trying to move the sleeve to see how badly he was hurt, but Freed jerked out of her grasp.
"Freed—" she said.
"I'm fine."
"Laxus…dying?" Makarov whispered.
Mira slammed her hands over her mouth. Freed went utterly blank.
"No. He's alive."
"Take me to him," Makarov ordered. "Mirajane, send Porlyusica as fast as you can."
She nodded as Freed erased his barrier with a wave, turning toward the door.
"Um," Wendy coughed as she squeezed through the crowd. "Can I help?"
"Please." The gratitude in Makarov's voice—the guildmaster was scared.
"I'll still get Porlyusica," Mira said. Freed's shoulders got a little less tense, and Makarov nodded. She turned to the crowd now very much in the way. "Oi! Move!"
The runes opened before him and Freed let the two mages into the flat. He darted to the bedroom, letting Wendy wheel Master the last stretch.
Laxus looked greyer than when Freed left.
Crouching at his side, he put a hand to his beloved's cheek. Icy. And Laxus wasn't shivering.
The cold, ghostly pain in Freed's arm flowed up into his chest. He couldn't remember feeling fear like this. Not for a long time.
A shuddering intake of breath made Freed jolt. Gasping, Makarov rolled in, eyes fixed on Laxus. So many emotions swirled across his face.
Wendy's nose scrunched as she entered. "Oh."
The smells.
"Shitfuck," Freed muttered.
She looked at him, then merely walked to the futon and held a hand over Laxus. She wouldn't make it awkward. Small blessings.
Wendy's palm glowed for only a few moments before she said, "He's not hurt or sick, but he's empty of magic."
"No ethernanos at all?" Makarov asked vacantly.
"None." Wendy bit her lip. "He's not absorbing any from the air, either."
Her eyes went sharp and she whirled around a second before Freed heard the commotion. It sounded like Bickslow.
"...can't just waltz in."
"Let me the fuck in," said a much louder voice. "I didn't come here to stand in a hallway with shitty people."
"It's not that I won't let you," Bickslow said. "You physically can't. Freed sealed the place."
"Then he can unseal it."
"That's what I was saying! If you would be patient!"
A knock resounded as Freed touched the runes on the door and opened it.
"Freed, it's—! Oh, hey." A hassled Bickslow grimaced at him.
Porlyusica pushed Freed out of her way by force of grumpiness as she stomped inside, muttering, "Fucking people. Holy gods, what the fuck has he been doing in here? Smells like he fucked a dozen people sideways."
Freed went a mortified shade of red.
Behind him, Bickslow said, "I'll keep guarding shit," and pulled the door shut.
"Where is the idiot?" she growled, marching to the bedroom and letting Freed follow.
In his fragile state, her misanthropic anger didn't compute. Dazed, Freed returned to his place at Laxus's side as Porlyusica knelt beside Makarov. Freed ran his fingers through Laxus's hair with shaking fingers.
"Holy shit," Porlyusica breathed. She looked up at Freed. "What did this to him?"
"I don't know. No triggers…" Freed jerked, suddenly sick. "His father. We visited his father yesterday."
Porlyusica's growl was so low and angry, it made the hair rise on the back of his neck. Makarov spat in disgust.
Wendy frowned. "In prison?"
"Yes." Freed swallowed. His throat wasn't working. "He tried to attack us."
Exclamations followed as he rose and rifled through his coat in the closet.
"How could he?" Makarov demanded. "They can't use magic in there."
"Ivan threw a handful of these at us."
Freed tossed the lifeless shikigami with its single rune onto Laxus's comforter.
"Don't, baka!" Porlyusica shouted, snatching the doll up. "Don't let it touch him."
"It's impotent. I wrote enough runes around it to keep it inert for a century."
She grunted but didn't berate him further. When Makarov held out a hand, she passed it over while Freed resettled at his beloved's side. He wasn't moving from this spot unless someone killed him.
"What does this rune mean?" Makarov asked.
"I don't recognize it." Freed rubbed a hand over his face. "I intended to look it up and find out."
"Do that. But not right now," Makarov added. "First we need to hear what we can do for him."
He looked expectantly at Porlyusica. Deep consideration kept her quiet for a long minute.
"It can't just be the doll," she said, looking up at Freed. "You said he just collapsed? Out of nowhere? There had to be something which set it off. What was he doing right beforehand?"
Freed winced. Shit.
"Um."
He glanced at Wendy, who colored and scuttled from the room. Thank the Goddess for socially adept people.
"He was…engaging in strenuous activity."
"You were having sex," Porlyusica filled in flatly.
Putting his free hand over his eyes, Freed took a steadying breath.
"Who was fucking whom?" Porlyusica asked. "And it is important. You'd be amazed how often losing virginity is a curse's catalyst."
Freed flushed so deeply the world inside his closed eyelids went scarlet. These weren't things he wanted to talk about in front of his boyfriend's grandfather. Ever.
"He…gave a blowjob," Freed finally managed. "His first time. Not mine."
Porlyusica hmphed thoughtfully. In the silence, Freed tried not to think what was going through Makarov's head. Freed tried not to think about his presence at all.
"He's got that lacrima," Porlyusica said. "There could be some spell on it—runes, I'd guess, since the doll has one on it. It might be activated by swallowing semen. A weird fucking activation, though not unheard of."
Freed finally managed to emerge from behind his hand.
"How can we find out about his lacrima?" he asked. If there were runes, he could fix it.
"Carve open his chest and take a look," Porlyusica said. Freed's whole body jerked. The words made his skin hurt. "We obviously can't do that, but if a spell is written on it, I can't know without seeing the actual surface of the crystal. If it's dark magic that was trapped inside the lacrima, it's used up now and we'll have to figure it out ourselves, because I feel absolutely no ethernanos in the vicinity of his body. None."
"What can we do right now?" Makarov asked.
"I'll concoct something to force ethernanos into him—through him, at least; that should keep him alive. You," she pointed at Freed, "keep him warm if you can. Meanwhile, we figure this out."
"Okay," Makarov and Freed said together.
She passed the shikigami to Freed.
"We still don't know why the hell that asshole stuck a cursed lacrima in his child."
Freed had a sudden memory of Ivan's disgusted face shouting, faggot!
He swallowed a thick, angry feeling. With Laxus, everything was always for the same reason. The reason Laxus was so angry when they were younger. The reason he attacked Fairy Tail. The reason he'd worked every day of his life to be one of the strongest mages alive. The reason he'd been terrified to admit his feelings to Freed. The reason he still struggled with affection in front of others.
"Justine." Porlyusica motioned at him. "Your arm."
Confused, Freed looked down.
A dark maroon stain.
He wobbled. Dizzy. He didn't know he lost so much blood. It pounded with pain, and he hadn't felt it.
Sighing at his slowness, she came over and shoved up his sleeve.
He'd reopened the wound where his arm had almost finished knitting together, the new flesh torn into the deep lines of the old gash. Drips slid down his arm onto her hand.
Freed took a shallow breath.
When her hand glowed, Freed wondered if she'd chide him for doing this to himself after weeks of her careful healing on the magical wounds. She stayed blessedly quiet.
"There," she said, pulling out a bandage and applying it tightly. "Keep it wrapped for now."
"Thanks."
When she and the guildmaster moved to go, Freed rose.
"We'll let ourselves out, Freed," Makarov said gently. "Stay with him."
"Rewrite your runes so I can come and go," Porlyusica grunted. "I'll be back in a few hours with that temporary solution."
Freed nodded and she evicted herself from the room like she was allergic. Makarov paused a moment longer.
In the silence between them, they both stared at Laxus's expressionless face before Freed turned to Makarov.
"Ivan hated p-people like me. He hated seeing—he didn't want Laxus to have this kind of relationship. I think that's why."
Makarov nodded.
Freed wondered how much the old man knew; how much he'd guessed; whether it angered him or saddened him or made him feel guilty. Freed would never blame Ivan's despicable actions on the guildmaster, but he laid a small piece of the fault on him for not seeing what his son was doing sooner and putting a stop to it. Laxus had been too young and too small to fight back. Nobody had fought for him. And now, despite all the strength he'd gained since then, he was dying.
Not dying, Freed thought frantically. He wouldn't let Laxus die.
"Let me know as soon as he wakes," Makarov said, his sigh as heavy as the earth.
"If he wakes," Porlyusica said from the doorway.
Freed hadn't heard her return, but the sadness in her eyes was far, far worse than her grouchiness. Her sadness broke him.
"Freed," Makarov murmured, "I'm glad he has you."
Makarov bowed to him before rolling out.
Kneeling beside his beloved, Freed put a hand over his mouth and broke down.
