I do not own anything. Credits to Hiro Mashima and Laramie Briscoe.


Their Last Hope

9

Irene

I wake up feeling some small hands tugging my eye cover. I squint my eyes as I push the eye cover to rest on my hair. 'Til sleepy, I can see the blurry figure of my daughter, gazing at me determinedly.

"Mommy! Wakey wakey!" Erza cups my cheeks. I blink a few times to adjust my vision.

"Oh, hello." I warmly smile as I look at my daughter in her purple matching pajamas with little anchors design. If this is the first thing I see in the morning, I'm sure I'll be in a good mood for the day. "Good morning, honey." I smile as I stare on her face for a longer time.

Good lord, she really looks like me. I maybe selfish but yes - all me. None of her asshole of a father. And I thank all the gods for that. Honestly, I think maybe one of the reasons I could easily cope without my ex-husband, because I don't see any traces of him in Erza. I caress her cheek lovingly. Oh, my baby – that I will give my life for. She smiles sheepishly and started jumping on the bed.

"Mommy, wake up! Wake up! We're going to the park with Acky today!" She said excitedly.

Right, we promised to bring her there today. And I didn't know she's really serious with the "Acky" nickname. I don't know what to feel, I'm happy that she's being lively since the start of this companion program, but at the same time, she might get heartbroken after this. I must remind her that Acnologia won't be with us forever. Erza is a smart kid, and she can take anyone from face value.

"You're really that excited, huh?" I asked groggily.

"Yes! Come on, mom." She stops jumping and reaches for my arm to raise me up. I catch her to cuddle, and she struggles while giggling.

"Lets just sleep some more." I said pretending to be asleep.

"No, mommy! We have to get ready!" She still happily struggles. I open my eyes to stare at her again.

"You are excited to spend time with him, and not with me anymore?" I pout, and she peppers me with kisses, I can't help but smile.

"I love spending time with mommy too." She says while giggling and I pepper her with kisses as well. Then something hit me.

"Honey, why aren't you wearing your glasses?" She didn't answer me, and I know she's hiding something from me.

"Does your boo eye hurt?" I inspected trying to push away her bangs.

Erza was a premature when I gave birth to her. Because of this, she developed Retinopathy of prematurity (ROP) on her right eye, a potentially blinding eye disorder that primarily affects premature infants. Her ROP worsens very rapidly, to the point that she needed surgery. Because my ex-husband is well-off, we were able to treat it immediately. But I remember how much I blame myself seeing my baby in pain, she's too young for that, if only my labor was on time. But resulting from that, Erza has developed amblyopia, or "lazy eye", and that's how she got to wear correction lenses. And we've been calling her right eye as the boo eye, and whenever she has to put liquid drops, she fuzzes, and I have to convince her they're unicorn tears that turns her boo eye to a magical eye.

She shakes her head. "No, I just left them at my bedside table." But I still have a feeling she's not telling something to me. "How about you, Mommy?" Are your eyes, boo eyes too? We have to get you some unicorn tears too." She reaches her hands to touch my eyes. She must have noticed I keep rubbing them.

"They hurt a little." I admit, and she moves to give each eye a kiss.

"Are they magical eyes now?"

"Yes, sweetie. They are magical eyes now."

Even though, I hate her father. I don't regret our relationship because he gave me such a loving daughter. And I realize that it's his loss for pushing her away, because she's the best daughter that any parent can have.


Acnologia

Early isn't something I strive to be for anything. It was never ingrained into me as a teenager, not even be on time for an appointment. It's a skill I learned once I'd already gotten in trouble and realized no one gave a shit if I were taught right from wrong as a child. The ones who taught me the concept of not making others wait on me was my first parole officer, the public defender who gave me the time of day, and the bosses who were willing to give me a shot, even when they probably shouldn't have.

So for me to be here today, on a Saturday, fifteen minutes early for my meeting with Erza, is a feat in and of itself. It's cool this morning, the hot grip of summer is finally loosening, and I can see the trees around the local park are starting to turn. It's not quite cold enough to see your breath in the morning, but it was enough for me to put my jacket and a beanie on.

Luckily, I was early enough to score a table that's been set up, not too far from the festivities. I try not to look too deeply into why I've grabbed two coffees and an orange juice. Hell, I don't even know if the girl drinks orange juice, but something about the pair of them make me want to try. And trying isn't something I've done in a very long time. I'm people watching, and it strikes me when I notice I'm looking at the moms and dads with kids. How do they treat their kids?

My eyes hide behind the aviators I prefer to wear, allowing me watch without anyone being suspicious. Before Erza and Irene, I never would have been interested in any of the people I'm watching now. Instead, I see with greater clarity than ever before.

To my left is a cute little family, the dad's doing his best to help the mom who appears to be about to lose her shit. Their son has spilled food all down the front of his shirt, and the mom wears another baby on her chest in some sort of strappy carrier. The dad is doing his best to clean the boy up, telling him it's okay that he's spilled stuff on him and they'll still have a good time, while the mom is trying to calm the baby down. It makes me wonder how I'd handle the situation. I hope like hell it's like this dude.

To my right there's a couple with one kid, a cute as hell little girl who's carrying a stuffed cat. She's gripping her mom's hand while the dad is jawing about there being so many people around. He's already looked down at the girl, telling her they were staying for an hour and then they were leaving. The girl looked up at him, her bottom lip quivering, apparently face painting starts in an hour and a half and that's what she wanted to do. Dick of a dad gives no fucks. This guy is exactly who my dad was, and who I hope I never am.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I grab it, thankful for the distraction.

I: We're here, I saw your bike, so I know you're already here. Where are you?

I tell myself I don't give two shits she noticed my bike and actually knows it's my bike.

A: Where they've set the tables out. I'm the dude in the leather jacket.

How much of a dork can I be? I think she knows what I look like. Now I'm looking for them, watching the groups of people as they make their way over to where the events are being held. I'm about to stand up when I see Erza leading Irene by the hand. The smile that spreads across my face is genuine. She's not wearing her tutu today, but Erza looks as cute as she did the other day. She's wearing those red converse again, this time with jean overalls and a zip up hoodie over her shirt. Her scarlet locks are down and she's wearing a strawberry beanie. I wave, whistling loudly when they get close enough.

The two ladies come to a stop in front of me.

"Hey," Irene smiles, her eyes hidden by her own pair of sunglasses.

"Hey yourself."

"You beat us here today," Erza's little voice observes from where she stands in between us.

"So I did," I reach over and grab the orange juice. "And I brought you something. I was hoping you like it."

She takes it from my hands, before looking up at me, her nose scrunched, causing her glasses to sit higher on her face. "Does it have the stringy stuff in it?"

"Stringy stuff?" I'm at a loss and glance up to Irene for help.

"The pulp," she reaches down and grabs the bottle, inspecting it. "Looks like you're safe, honey. Let's shake it up. What do you say to Mr. Belserion?"

"Thank you," she responds automatically.

"And what did we say about calling me Acno last night?"

Irene huffs, obviously trying to instill some manners in her daughter, and maybe keep some distance between us, even though we spoke last night. "Fine, we'll call you Acno." "Mommy, can I still call him Acky?" Erza asked, and I noticed how Irene is suppressing a smile. "If that's okay with him, honey." I defeatedly sigh.

"It's okay," Though inwardly, I cringed in the nickname, it makes me a softy. I smiled as I see Erza's eyes lit up, and I hand Irene the second coffee. "My peace offering to you too, especially since you were up so late last night."

"How'd you know I like Iced Caramel Macchiato's?" She looks at me suspiciously.

"You only profess your love of it all over your Facebook page. I mean, I'd have to be dumb not to see it. Every status update you make, you're drinking one."

She laughs, her cheeks tinting pink. I like that I can make her blush. I especially like it's not that hard.

"Stalker." She giggled. "What can I say? I need my caffeine."

"Don't we all?" I turn my attention to Erza. "You done this shindig before, Sprite?"

"No," she shakes her head. "Dad told me he'd bring me to the last one, but he never did."

"Drink your orange juice, and then we'll go check it out." I don't wanna influence any way she thinks about her dad. That's not fair to me, or him, and since I don't know him yet, I feel like I should at least give him the benefit of the doubt.

"Mom," she turns to Irene. "Can you take me down the big slide? I know it's supposed to be my time with Acky, but you told me when we drove by last time you would."

"I'm hanging out with you all day, if that's okay with him," she pushes Erza's bangs away from her right eye.

Fuck yeah, I get the best of both worlds. "I have no problem with it at all. It'll be my pleasure to hang out with the two of you today."

Both of them beam smiles at me, and I wonder what in the fuck I did in another life to get this kind of chance. Three years ago I wouldn't have wanted it, but something tells me today's gonna be a good time.

"You wanna play a game?"

"Yes! Yes!" Erza jumps excitedly as she gazes in awe the row of carnival games. There's some of those balloons you shoot water into and milk bottles that you throw a ball at.

"I have pretty good aim." Not trying to brag, but I do. "Which do you think? Balloon or ball?"

Gradually throughout our walk, she's let go of her mom's hand and she's focused more on me, which is cool. It shows she's learning to trust me, even if it is only a little bit.

"Baseball," she chooses, pointing at the milk bottles.

"Pressure's on," Irene laughs as she stands behind her daughter. "Now you're gonna have to win her something and you'll probably have to spend eighty bucks to do it."

"Is that right?" I look over my shoulder at her as I walk up to the person taking the money for the game. "You don't think I have good aim?"

"Maybe once you did, but even though you look in shape, I'm not sure I believe you have what it takes to throw a pitch hard enough to knock those bottles down."

Fucking ouch. This woman is busting my balls. "You think so, huh?"

Irene smirks at me, and it hits me right in my gut. She carried her daughter and asked. "What do you think, cheesecake?"

I'm interested to see what she thinks. There's a lot riding on the answer, because I want this kid to be comfortable with me; I want her to see me as someone she can turn to if she ever needed it.

"I think he can do it," she says, her voice loud and clear.

"Hear that?" I taunt Irene. "I have her seal of approval. Stand back," I flex my arms out to my sides. "And let the king work."

Three throws later, and I'm letting Erza pick out the gaudiest stuffed animal known to man. I don't even say anything to Irene, I just grin. It's enough. And as we leave the game, Erza grabs my hand. When her palm meets mine, she also grabs a hold of something inside of me that almost aches. It's a protection I've never felt before, but this little girl and her mom, they have it.

Irene's eyes meet mine, and the look of wonder on her face has to rival the feeling I have. She clears her throat, smiles brightly and doesn't call any attention to it. "Let's go find that slide, cheesecake."

All I can do is shake my head and laugh.

"Is that what you want your mom to take you on?" I point to a big contraption, looking at Erza as we walk through the carnival.

"Yeah," she grabs Irene's hand. "C'mon Mom!"

"Here," she shoves her purse at me. "Hold this, we'll be right back."

I wonder how I got in this situation, how this got to be my life, because it's never been anything like this before. Hell, up until a few years ago, I didn't even have a place to call home. Watching the two of them climb the steps that lead to the top of the slide, I think how lucky Erza is to have a mom who's not afraid to do things with her. Mine had been afraid of so much, and in hindsight that's probably where my bad behavior came from. Instead of being scared of everything, the way she was, too nurturing, I turned rebellious.

As I watch them get ready to do their trip down the slide, I think about how Irene documents pictures of them doing things together. She just happens to profess it in her Facebook page. Besides the caramel macchiato, mother-daughter bonding time fills her timeline.

So besides that fact that's she's the type of mother whose hands on, she does not only preserves memories - she's making them. But I noticed her last Facebook update was almost two months ago. She must been really busy with work. Grabbing my cell phone, I quickly take pictures of the two of them as they bump along. Irene's laughing as Erza screams out her excitement and I can't help it, by the time they come to rest at the bottom of it, I'm smiling and laughing right along with them.

"That was so much fun!" Erza turns around in a circle, as she runs towards me.

Apparently she's made herself dizzy because she tilts a little to the left. "You good?" I ask as I set her straight.

"Yeah, but I'm hungry."

We ate like two hours ago, grabbing sausage biscuits to go with our coffee and orange juice. "You are?"

"She's a garbage disposal," Irene whispers to me. "I don't know where she puts it."

Turning to her daughter, she points at one of the food trucks. "You wanna get some dessert?"

"Yeah, cake" she nods, happy with the idea.

"They're her favorite," Irene whispers. "Given the chance, this child would eat cheesecake morning, noon, and night." It's a giveaway why she sometimes calls Erza as cheesecake as endearment.

I make sure and put a little mark in my book of things to know about Erza and Irene. I never know what might come in handy.

"Lemme see them." Irene asks, no, more like demands me something. We are now sitting on the picnic tables after we got our dessert. Erza is happily enjoying her souffle, and Irene ordered this large serving of churro with chocolate dip for sharing. She suggested, actually, forced me to try it, because "It's just too good, you are missing half of your life." So this how I ended sitting across them, and sharing this "delicacy" with her.

"What?" I muttered after I took a chug of soda.

"Our photos you took at the slide. Lemme see them."

"Oh, yea. Here you go, m'lady." I said sarcastically as I handed her my phone. She somehow got confused when I gave it to her. Well, I don't have anything to hide their anyways.

"Thank you, your Highness." She replied sarcastically, probably, teasing me with my "leave it to the king" earlier.

I gazed intently at her as the mama bear checks the photos I took, fawning on her daughter's cuteness.

"Lets take a selfie with Acky's phone, Mommy!" Erza said enthusiastically. Irene looks at me, asking for permission non-verbally.

"Yea, we're cool." I affirmed.

Erza then moved to sit on her mom's lap. And Irene positioned the front camera to frame the shot. They are both smiling happily, so I also give a small smile. Just a little, too little, no one would even notice.

"There you go." Irene handed my phone back.

I checked the photo, and we're like a family enjoying our time together. I feel a good ache in my heart. It feels good, but at the same time, it aches a little, because I know this is something I can't have. And I wished that this will be longer than 900 hours. I muttered "Thanks," before they notice my awkwardness.

Erza continued eating her souffle on her mother's lap as Irene wipes some cream on Erza's chin using a table napkin. Irene giggles as she warns her daughter to slow down.

Such a beautiful scene. And I feel that good ache again.


Author's Notes

A chapter as promised for every new reader review. :) Thank you, Brilliantly Reckless, and Guest.

BrilliantlyReckless: Hi, thanks for discovering this story exists, and giving it a chance. Yes, there have been too few Irene/Erza fanfics here. Hoping for more authors to write about them. Yes, I've read "I Know" too by ERJasandrea13 (Hello! If you're reading this!), and it's something I want to happen as well. :)

For old readers,
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