Cindy sat down at the bar in a daze. She came in this morning the same as she had every day for a month, and as of an hour ago, the massive stack of overdue filing was done. As she'd always done at any job she worked, Cindy went to her boss and asked what else they wanted done. She'd gotten used to the somewhat stunned expressions those bosses leveled at her whenever she finished a task in a fraction of the time they expected. Makarov wasn't any different in that respect. He met her request for more work with the same wide-eyed expression her last boss had worn, but he didn't assign another task. No, he told her to go pick a job off the board now that she'd gained a basic understanding and control of her magic.

She'd protested, but Makarov wouldn't hear it. She'd earned half wages throughout the month she'd worked as the guild's admin, with the other half going to pay back her debt. It'd provided enough for her to purchase the necessities she needed, having come to this world with only her purse and the clothes on her back, but it didn't seem like near enough to cover the medical expenses and food tab she'd accrued her first couple of days in Earthland. Yet, Makarov insisted her account was square. Eventually, Cindy had to conclude her understanding of the local currency was must be shakier than she thought.

Cindy had asked if her performance was lacking. After all, administration was a constant need for any organization, why else would he basically tell her to hit the bricks? That's when Makarov stunned her by saying there just wasn't enough work to keep her busy now that the backlog was squared away. He wanted her to stay on as the admin, but unless something changed, she would be able to handle the usual volume of filing and the like by coming in for a day or two a month.

It was only then she stopped to really compare an Earthland wizarding guild to a typical Terran office. Wizarding guilds didn't advertise or focus on building a customer base. Work comes to them based on their reputation, and the guild members pick their own assignments and handle most of their own paperwork. Makarov only needed help when he got caught up in red tape because one of his wizards went overboard on a mission, which while frequent, wasn't a constant thing. So, she acquiesced and went back out to the main hall.

The listings on the job board were confusing. She understood several of the requests, but her knowledge of Fiore was lacking. She had no clue how far away a lot of these places were, and she didn't understand much of the culture. It all made her head spin, so she sat down at the bar and ordered a cup of coffee to sip on while she mulled over her decision.

"What's the matter?" Mira asked when she set the cup in front of Cindy a minute later.

"Master Makarov wants me to take a job off the board," Cindy answered. "Looking at the requests made me realize exactly how clueless I am about Fiore and Earthland as a whole."

"You feel lost."

Cindy nodded.

"You could always team up with someone," Mira suggested.

"I don't want to hold anyone back though." Cindy frowned and wrapped her hands around the comforting warmth of her mug. "I have the strength of the average wizard of seven," she groused, "and even less control. Master only gave me clearance to stop wearing the lacrima three days ago! Exactly what could I bring that'd be of use to a team?" She laughed without humor. "Unless there's a request for organizing something or other, anyway."

"Shut up," Mira snapped.

Cindy looked up, surprised to hear such a sharp tone from the normally bubbly girl. Mira frowned at her with her fists perched on her hips.

"Is finding everything you can wrong with yourself a hobby of yours, or does everyone back in Terra do it?" She stared at Cindy. When she didn't get an answer, Mira sighed. "Just stop it. Master wouldn't have told you to take a job if he didn't believe you could handle it. Don't throw his faith in you back in his face!"

Chewing on her bottom lip, Cindy looked down into her cup like it could provide answers. She didn't know what to make of the guild members' irritation with self-deprecation. Back home it was almost expected, or people saw you as arrogant. Or was that just her family? Lee and his folks seemed to fall somewhere in the middle, just frowning at her for it without actually scolding her as Natsu and Mira had a time or two. Well, with the exception of Lee when she'd get down on her herself now and again for missing a deadline or hitting a snag with her seemingly endless struggle with her weight since having Riley. She made a mental note to keep her opinions about herself to herself from now on.

"Maybe I should take a couple of days and hit the library," she mumbled. "Study up on Fiore."

Mira made a noise of agreement, and Cindy could practically feel the aura around the younger woman shift from angry back to content. Cindy sipped her coffee. She watched the steam twist and curl over the cup as her mind wandered. If she was back home, it'd be mid-October by now. She'd be preparing for NerdCon and working double time to get ready for the holiday rush.

It seemed like forever since she'd written or made anything. Maybe that was part of the reason she felt wound too tight. She found one of her crochet hooks and a stray tapestry needle buried at the bottom of her purse when she finally got around to cleaning it out the other day. If she could find some decent yarn, a bit of stitch therapy would be welcome, and traveling would be the perfect time to indulge. The thought loosened the knot in her gut a bit.

"Oh no."

Cindy looked up to find Mirajane frowning in the direction of the job board. "What's wrong?"

"Loke's looking at the Akane request," she answered.

"And that's bad because?"

"The last time he took a job in a resort town, he broke the wrong heart and got us banned," Mira grumbled. "And that one's a two week job."

"Is he really that much of a Don Juan?" Cindy had seen the boy around, usually with a girl or three fawning over him. He was on the pretty side and seemed to speak almost entirely in corny pick-up lines. She found it rather hilarious and more than a little sad for the girls' sakes. It was so easy to be pulled in by sweet words and a handsome face at that age.

Mira gave her a confused look and shrugged. "Probably, if that's someone who courts a lot of women." She looked back to the board and groaned.

Cindy glanced that way to see the kid in question pulling a request from the board.

"Oh!" Mira grabbed Cindy's wrist in excitement. A broad smile lit up her expression. "You should go with him," she whispered. The teen bounced on the balls of her feet. "He can show you the ropes, and you can keep him out of trouble!"

"You want me to babysit him?" Cindy didn't know whether to laugh or growl.

"Oh please," Mira begged. "It's a simple security job protecting an exhibit, and Akane's the best beach town in this region. We can't get banned from it too!" The barmaid released Cindy's arm and quieted as Loke walked up to them.

"I'm going to take this job, Mira," he said, holding out the flyer.

"The one at Akane resort?" she asked as if she didn't know.

Cindy leaned over and made a show of looking at the flyer as Loke nodded. "Oh, come on!" she fussed. "I was just talking to Mira about taking that one too."

Loke's brow furrowed as he looked over at her. "Really?"

Mira nodded while taking down the contact information from the back of the flyer. "I was telling her what a perfect first job it'd make for her." Cindy was impressed with the amount of pouting she managed to convey with her voice without resorting to poking her bottom lip out.

"First job?"

"Well, first wizarding job, yes," Cindy agreed with a nod. "The one I have here at the hall just became an extremely part-time thing."

Loke considered her from behind his ever present shades and slid onto one of the stools. Cindy frowned down into her mug and heaved a sigh.

"I guess it's back to square one."

"Or we could team up," Loke suggested.

Cindy bit the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning. "You'd want to team up?"

Loke shrugged. "Traveling solo gets boring. I've been kicking around the idea of finding a partner for several weeks now."

Cindy tilted her head to the side and tried to look like she was mulling it over for a minute. She smiled and nodded. "Okay. It's worth a shot, and I could use the experience and money."

"Here you go," Mira said and handed the flyer back to Loke.

He thanked her before turning his attention back to Cindy. "Meet up at the train station about seven in the morning?"

Cindy agreed. Loke left with a wave, and Cindy turned back to Mira.

"You owe me," she said.

"I know just how to pay you back." She giggled at Cindy's raised eyebrow. "The flyer said they wanted the security to blend in with the guests," she explained. "I know what you've earned so far can't cover the kind of clothes you'll need for that, so I'll help you get ready for your trip."


Loke was surprised to find Cynthia sitting on a bench outside the train station when he arrived just before seven the next morning. She looked horrible. Her ever present bun was a mess, and the sweater she wore looked like it was made for Elfman, swallowing even the large woman's frame whole. Her eyes were hidden behind dark glasses, and she clutched a large travel mug like a lifeline.

Cynthia must have noticed his approach because she stood and pulled the straps of three bags of varying size onto her left shoulder, wincing a bit as she did. Her greeting was quiet and weary sounding. Loke returned it and pulled open the station door for them to enter. He led the way to the ticket counter, and they ordered.

Loke frowned as he heard Cynthia stumble over her words. She garbled Akane's name twice before she managed to say it properly, and there was a slight slur to her speech. He'd just thought she must not be a morning person upon seeing her disheveled state this morning, but now he was growing concerned. Taking advantage of his proximity to the woman, he sniffed. She smelled of coffee with an undercurrent of lemongrass, eucalyptus, and a few other herbs he couldn't discern, not booze, but still.

Tickets in hand, they stepped away from the counter and made their way to the proper platform to wait for their boarding call.

"Are you hungover?" he asked, keeping his voice low, once they were away from the counter.

"Nope," she answered without so much as looking his way. Her shoulders were stiff, and her voice sounded pinched.

Loke couldn't tell if her reaction was the result of anger or pain. "I've just never heard you stutter or mangle words before, and then there's the shades."

Cynthia sighed, and her cheeks reddened. "It's called aphasia," she said. "It happens every now and then, and it'll pass." She hitched the bags higher on her shoulder as they reached their terminal. "I've already taken medication to try and knock it out."

"You sure you're up to going?" Loke asked. Whatever aphasia was, he'd never heard of it before. She spoke about it like it was something common though, and apparently there was medication for it. Still, she seemed exhausted and in pain.

"I've dealt with this kind of thing since before you were born," Cynthia grumbled. "I should be fine in a couple of hours, if I can sleep on the train."

Loke almost laughed. Humans always assumed he was a teenager because that's the form he'd taken for Karen and subsequently gotten stuck in when he was exiled. Most of the time, it was funny, like now. Cynthia thought she was so much older than he, when it was really the other way around. Even Makarov was a child in his eyes. All humans were with their fleeting lives. Knowing where those kinds of thoughts would lead, Loke threw himself back into the conversation.

"We didn't get a sleeper car."

"It won't matter," Cynthia scoffed. "Once a migraine sets in, there's not much that'll keep you from sleeping."

"I thought you said it was aphasia." Loke scowled as he noticed the woman grow a shade or two paler. He'd heard about migraines. They were debilitating headaches some humans were prone to suffering.

"Aphasia is the name of the symptom you noticed earlier," she explained. "It's a difficulty recalling or saying words, and it's one of the warning signs I get when a migraine is coming."

"One?"

Cynthia finished off the large cup of coffee she'd been nursing all this time before letting out a frustrated groan. "Yes, one," she said. A whistle sounded as their train huffed up to the terminal, billowing steam. Cynthia winced and shuddered. "My migraines tend to sit in or around Brocha's area," she explained pointing to a spot on the right side of her head, "so I get all sorts of language problems sometimes starting days before the pain sets in."

She pointed to her shades. "Then there's sensitivity to light, sound, and smells," she continued. "Sometimes I'll see bright spots, twinkle lights, or shadows. Sometimes I lose the ability to make my eyes focus." She shrugged. "I've heard about others losing the ability to use their limbs or remember things they ought to know, but I've never had that happen."

Passengers began disembarking from the train, and they stepped aside out of their way.

"This has been happening for years?" Loke was appalled. He'd heard about the pain migraines were supposed to inflict, but he couldn't imagine some of the things she'd described. How was she functioning if all that was going on right now?

"Since I was...thirteen?" She didn't sound very sure, but she nodded to herself. "So about twenty-two years now, give or take." Cynthia turned to look at him, and she must have seen his unease in his expression because she gave him a reassuring smile. "I used to get them several days a week until I learned my triggers," she said like that made things better. "I avoid the ones I can, so I don't get anywhere near as many anymore."

"It still sounds like you ought to go home," Loke said. The crowd was beginning to thin as the last passengers disembarked. "From what you've described, I don't know you're functioning."

"I...," Cynthia trailed off as her brow furrowed. She tried to start her sentence a couple more times before huffing in irritation. "Thank you for your concern," she said. The expression she wore made it plain that wasn't exactly what she'd wanted to say, and Loke wondered what word she'd been unable to remember. "I don't get them all every time," she continued. "And I have warning sometimes, like this morning. If I can take my medicine and get a big dose of caffeine before the pain sets in, they don't get as bad." She shook the travel mug she still held before tossing the disposable container in one of the large garbage cans.

"So that's why you had the coffee." Loke grinned. "I just thought you weren't a morning person."

Cynthia laughed as the conductor gave their boarding call. Loke motioned for her to lead the way. They climbed onto the train and found a seat. Cynthia tossed the two smaller of her bags onto the bench before stowing the largest one in the overhead compartment. She slid into the seat, and Loke took his turn wedging his luggage above their heads. When he sat down, he noticed she'd pulled the shade down.

"I don't mind mornings," she said. Cynthia removed her shades, hanging them on the collar of her sweater by one of the ear pieces. She picked up the smallest of her bags and pulled out a small, brown jar with a white lid. "I prefer afternoons, but I've never been averse to mornings."

Loke watched as she opened the jar and dipped her finger in to retrieve a tiny dollop of some kind of cream. The sharp smell of lemongrass mixed with eucalyptus and other herbs assailed his nose, and he couldn't help the way it made him twitch. Cynthia covered the jar with its lid as she worked the cream into the back of her neck. She must have noticed his reaction because her expression turned sheepish.

"It's a pain reliever," she explained. "It smells, but it works."

"Where'd you get it?"

"I made it." She opened the little jar again, taking another minuscule dollop before screwing the lid tight once again. She rubbed the cream onto her right temple before spreading it down and behind her ear and up to her hairline. "I didn't like how the others burned or left you sticky, so I figured out how to make my own."

Watching her expression ease, Loke could see she was telling the truth. Her shoulders relaxed a bit, and her brow smoothed. Was this the medicine she'd spoken about earlier? It was faded, but she'd smelled of it at the ticket counter.

Cynthia tucked the jar back into the smallest bag before closing it and setting it aside. She shifted and slipped her hand into her pocket. When she pulled her hand back out, she was holding her train ticket. She held it out to him.

"I'm going to try and fall asleep while the cream's taking the edge off," she said. "Could you give the conductor my ticket if he comes by while I'm out?"

Loke nodded his agreement and took her ticket. Cynthia thanked him and shifted to make herself more comfortable. She turned sideways on the bench opposite him and brought her legs up, tucking herself into the corner where bench met the outer wall of the train. Her bags were squashed between her hips and the wall, supporting her lower back. She leaned her head against the back of the bench and closed her eyes.

He didn't know whether to be flattered by the trust she seemed to place in him or appalled at her stupidity, letting herself fall asleep in such a public place.


Cynthia slept the first four hours of their trip. Loke had debated about waking her up when they came to their first stop, so she could purchase lunch. The point turned out to be moot. Apparently a light sleeper, she woke as soon as the train began slowing. Loke watched her stretch and wondered if she'd really slept through the conductor's visit to collect tickets or not. The thought she had played opossum irked him, but seeing how much the rest seemed to have helped her, he decided it didn't matter.

They bought bagged lunches off the woman who came around to the windows. Loke caught sight of several small pictures within her wallet when Cynthia dug through it for her money. He asked about them as they ate.

Cynthia retrieved her wallet and showed him the images tucked inside after they finished the meal.

"They're old pictures," she said. Her eyes were downcast and carried a sad glint in them. "We got out of the habit of printing them off, so most of these are six or seven years out-of-date." She sounded disgusted with herself as she flipped through the little booklet.

The first picture was of a young couple. The man had close cropped, dark hair and bright blue eyes. He had a pair of glasses sitting atop a thin, straight nose and a bright smile. The woman leaning against his back was clearly a younger version of Cynthia. She was years younger and much thinner, but her eyes and nose were the same.

"That's Lee and me right about the time we got engaged," she said. "And that was a couple of years later, at our wedding." She pointed to another picture of the same couple, this time dressed to the nines and surrounded by their wedding party.

Cynthia flipped the page, and Loke found himself looking at a pair of baby pictures. The infants looked similar, but he could tell they weren't the same child. "That's our eldest niece as a baby," she said, pointing to one. "And that's our eldest, Riley, as a baby." Her smile turned sad. "She's ten now." She cleared her throat and flipped the page again.

The first picture here showed a toddler. The little girl had big blue eyes and curly brown hair down to her shoulders. She clasped chubby hands and grinned in obvious joy, showing off six shining teeth in a gap toothed smile. Cindy pointed to the picture and said, "That's our youngest, Sarah, just before she turned two." She pointed to the last one, "And that's all of us out on the porch right after Riley's third birthday party."

That final image made Loke's heart clench. The Cynthia in the picture looked more like the one sitting across from him now. She was about the same size as she was now. Her hair was tied back in a tight bun as she normally wore it, and she bounced a chubby infant on her knee. A small girl in a bright pink dress sat beside them. The little girl squinted against the sun, and her wispy hair blew in the wind. The man Cynthia called Lee sat on the top step. You could tell he wasn't a big man in this picture. His shoulders were broad, but he didn't look particularly tall. His hair had started to thin, and there were a few laugh lines forming around his eyes. He rested one hand on Cynthia's shoulder, and he looked at the other three with an expression dripping with pride and love.

"Why aren't you with them?" Loke asked. Jealousy and the anger that came with it added a sharpness to his tone. He'd give anything to be reunited with his family, and here she was starting a new life away from hers by choice.

"I take it no one's told you how I came to Fairy Tail."

"Gray said there was an accident, and it made your magic unstable."

Cynthia scoffed and shook her head. "In a matter of speaking, but that's not the half of it." She closed her wallet and tucked it back into her purse. "It's a long story."

"We have another six hours at least before we reach Akane."

"Alright then." Cynthia sighed and reached for the mid-sized bag. "But I'm going to get to work on something as I tell it now that the migraine's faded."

Loke watched as she pulled a hook and the end of a ball of yarn from the bag. She knotted the yarn around the end of the hook and began looping the strand upon itself to make a chain. Cynthia launched into her story as she worked. Loke began to feel more and more like a heel as she went on, calmly relating how she came to be trapped in a world separate from her own as she began working in the opposite direction, stitching into the long chain she'd made.

"I'm sorry," he said when she finished her story.

Cynthia shrugged. "You didn't know." She reached the end of the row she was working on and turned her work before looking up at him. Her hands didn't stop as she asked, "So what made you decide to join the guild?"


Author's Note: The convention mentioned in this chapter is a real one. I happened to be resting up for it today, which is how I was able to get this chapter written, so I thought it'd be neat to slip its name in here. It's my last "full length" convention of the year, and I almost always end up with con crud, a convention hangover, or both afterwards. (Convention hangover is my term for the funk you can fall into after a convention's over plus the exhaustion of putting on an extrovert mask to deal with/hide social anxiety for several days.) Since I'm going to be working insane hours tonight through Sunday evening, I thought I'd go ahead and post this weekend's chapter. Whether or not I post next week will depend on how NerdCon, and its aftermath, goes and whether or not I hurt myself during load in and tear down again.

There are actual reasons I've made Cynthia something of a mix mash of venders I've met over the years that'll be explained to some degree in the next chapter with some of the other reasons popping up later in the story.