Mom,
I miss you.
Since you've been gone, I've started to train a lot with Loke—I guess to keep myself busy. Two days ago, I even managed to call two spirits at once. To celebrate, Loke took me to the celestial realm. I had a lot of fun there. We ate a ridiculous amount of dessert and met a bunch of spirits I didn't even know existed. Loke said you used to spend time there, too. After that, I thought I could feel you there in a way. Maybe that's silly.
Or maybe not.
My day got kinda crappy after we got back, though. In usual Dad fashion, he was really mad Loke and I just disappeared. Like… really mad. He threatened to take my keys away. I begged him not to. He listened eventually, after I told him they reminded me of you. He locked himself in his office after and didn't talk to me for the rest of the night or most of the next day. When he came out, he hugged me without saying much, and then it was like the argument didn't happen. I don't remember him being so crazy before. Loke says its because Dad's under a lot of stress and he misses you, too.
I've asked to go back to the celestial realm but Loke won't take me. He doesn't want Dad to take my keys away.
I wish you would come home.
Love,
Lucy.
The first letter left a lot to be desired. There was some obvious angst but no grit. Natsu studied the neatly trimmed words, seeing how Lucy's D around Dad was embellished with little loops and whirls that were so very… her. Unnecessarily flamboyant. Disgusted, he set the letter aside and finished the dregs in his beer. It had gone warm and tasted bitter. He glanced at Lucy from beneath his lashes as he tipped his head back, getting every last drop. She was still asleep, one hand now tossed over her head. In rest, she somehow managed to look worried.
Natsu dropped his empty beer bottle to the table and fished out another letter. This one had been crisp and white before he'd gotten his hands on it, now it was stained red and sticky, totally saturated with blood in some places, dotted in others. He opened the letter as carefully as he could manage and still tore it through the middle. Most of it was readable.
This, too, was addressed, Mom.
Why did she never send them? Natsu dug through his memory, pulling up every tidbit of information he knew about the Heartfilia's. It occurred to him that Layla Heartfilia was dead, and had been for some time. He chewed over that. Lucy's been writing letters to her dead mother? That was a little bit morbid. Probably unhealthy, too. Just his cup of tea.
He dug in.
Mom,
I had an accident today when I was training with Loke. I was really pushing it, I guess, trying to call three spirits at once, though Loke told me not to. I did so well calling him and Virgo, though, I thought I could try Aquarius, too. I lost control of the spell and passed out, making Loke and Virgo go home.
It was a mess. Dad flipped. He'd been watching from his office. When I woke up, he put this lacrima in my arm. He called it a 'magical governor.' Really, it's just a magic sucker. It's supposed to give me my magic in controlled quantities so I can't hurt myself, but I haven't been able to call Loke. Dad said that once I get used to it, it'll get easier. I hope he's right. Gray's started training at the police academy and doesn't return my calls because he's too busy or something, and without Loke, it's kind of lonely.
I know. It's barely been a day.
I'll try to summon him again tomorrow.
Love you, miss you,
Lucy.
Natsu scrubbed his hand through his still damp hair. It helped him think. He'd never heard of a 'magical governor' before. He studied the sleeping Lucy. She still didn't look like much. Buxom and soft. She did have magic, and maybe one day with some training and discipline and drive, she could be strong, but she wasn't the most powerful mage he'd ever seen, not by a longshot. Is it really worth trying to bung up her magic? Maybe she'd strain herself, but she'd bounce back and get better, mages were resilient.
With no clear answer, he set the letter aside. It offered some insight to Lucy's mutilated arm but it wasn't incriminating. It didn't tell him where Jude Heartfilia kept his dirty secrets, it didn't tell him about properties the Heartfilia's owned, it didn't offer any real clues.
Maybe they're all like that, Natsu thought, and was again tempted to throw them into the garbage. Zeref, as ever, was in his head, telling him to be smart.
"Yeah, yeah," he muttered and took out the next.
Mom.
Surprise, surprise.
I miss you.
Blah, blah, blah. Natsu skimmed through the first paragraph. It didn't reveal anything interesting. He very nearly moved onto the next letter, but seven words caught his attention and held them.
He came into my room last night.
He started a few lines above and read, slower this time.
After crying for most of the day after receiving Gray's 'Don't contact me, Lucy,' letter, Dad bought me this gold necklace with a pendant that kind of looks like a galaxy to cheer me up. (It's really nice, I think you'd like it a lot.) Then he sat down with me and asked if I wanted to talk. I was going to tell him no, because I didn't want to think about stupid Gray and his stupid new life trying to be a peon of Dad's, but… I guess it was bothering me more than I thought. Dad was…
I don't know. I guess he was nice about it. The nicest he's been in months.
Maybe things will be okay.
I love you,
Lucy
Natsu actually threw that letter in the garbage. He didn't care how starry Lucy's relationship with Daddy was.
The next letter was chosen for the deep score marks Lucy's pen left behind. This one was written in anger. It didn't start out like the others, no Mom, I miss you, it just went right into the meat and potatoes.
Dad's mad at me. I told him I don't want this lacrima anymore because I can't call any spirit, not without it seriously draining me. He wouldn't listen, though, so yesterday I went to Miss Porlyusica. She kept saying that 'your father knows what's best.' More like, she's afraid of being fired. I was so mad I took the sewing scissors you used to make Michelle and (it's gross) I cut it out myself.
Freedom was glorious. It didn't last long, unfortunately. Dad found out within the hour. Honestly, I feel like sometimes he has me spied on. He got Miss Porlyusica to put in another lacrima (seriously, where does he get these from?) and he got her to put a tracking lacrima in beside it, too. He told her I needed that one because he was worried about people trying to kidnap me to use me against him. Isn't that a joke? No one would dare stand against Jude Heartfilia, Magnolia's Chief of Police. They're too afraid.
Even me.
It's annoying.
He told me if I try to cut them out again, there's going to be 'serious consequences'. You know, in that tone. I asked what. He didn't say anything, but he was looking at my celestial keys. I don't know if I think he'd take them away for real. Maybe.
The next letter Natsu opened seemed to be in sequence with the last.
Dad came to say sorry last night.
I was hiding beneath the sheets because I didn't want to look at him. He laid down with me and hugged me. I didn't want to cry. I did, though. He told me he was worried about me. He's had some nasty feud with some of the gangs around town, apparently there's been threats to us. That's why I have to have the tracking lacrima. I get it, I guess. He wants me to be safe. He's really worried now since you've been gone. We fell asleep like that and stayed there the whole night. It was the best I've slept in months, actually. In the morning, he didn't talk to me, though. I haven't seen him all day, either. He's locked himself in his office. I wonder if he's mad again.
These last few months have felt like one huge rollercoaster. I'll be happy when it stops. Loke says Dad's being weird because he misses you. "Everyone grieves differently," he said. I cry, Dad gets mad. We're quite the pair.
Love you,
Lucy
Natsu thought about how he grieved. He got angry, it was a trait he'd picked up from Zeref. Maybe it wasn't his most stellar quality but it got the job done. Why cry when you could get even?
The next letter had almost no sustenance and no context. All it said was, When I woke up, Loke had my bags packed. Dad knew somehow and caught me in the back forty. He took my keys.
The family drama thickened. What would make Lucy suddenly want to run away? Natsu pulled out three letters and flipped through. Two were signed 'Love, Lucy,' one of which was tear-stained, the ink smeared, the last was written with such force that the pen slid through the paper.
He skimmed that one, jumping to the bottom where he slowed.
I pretend to be asleep. I don't know if that helps or not. Maybe it encourages it. I think about telling him no, but the words get stuck in my throat. I hate it, and yet, I don't do anything to make it stop. I hope it'll just go away. Loke says if I don't do anything, it'll never get better. He's my father, though, and that should mean something. He loves me.
The next letter said,
Mom,
Dad called me Layla today. I don't think he realized it. I let it go because yesterday, when I walked by his office, the door was open a crack and through it, I think I saw him crying. I guess we're more alike than I thought. That night, he bought me a pink dress like yours and we went to a play. It was nice. He was a little happier. He wants to go out again this weekend. I don't have anything else happening, so I guess I'll go. I just hope he doesn't think about you the whole time. You guys used to go out like that all the time, remember? He gave me a bunch of your clothes, too—mostly your nightgowns. I don't know if I can wear them. Not only are they yours… well… I don't know. They show off a lot, Mom. Like, a lot. I'm embarrassed just thinking about it. That's stupid, isn't it? I don't think Dad wants your stuff thrown out, so I took them and smiled. They still smell like you. Maybe I will try one on.
The letters were out of sync but the picture Natsu found himself trying to paint was one that made his stomach feel heavy. You're making leaps without any evidence. Zeref would tell you to be smart. Which meant finding another letter and doing some more research.
In the passenger seat with the window down to combat the car's sour smell, Erza kept her eyes peeled to the passing street. "Are we going to Dutch's Garage?"
Gray grunted his affirmation. Dutch's Garage wasn't actually a garage, or even a carpark for that matter. It was a wide stretch of concrete that eased into Heart Lake. It was supposed to be a boat launch but after it was converted to such fifteen years before, the town started charging for its use. Less and less people wanted to pay, so more and more, gangs and thugs found use for it. And why not? Right off the pier, the lake was sixty feet deep, the current took anything that was dumped in it and dragged it out into deeper water still. It was the perfect spot to hide things that didn't want to be found. No normal citizen haunted those parts now, not unless they wanted to buy some rock, a hooker or they were seriously lost.
"If the car was taken there, it was dropped into the water already, Erza."
"Yes," she agreed, "But I bet there is someone there that can say if they've seen it or not—and, more importantly, who dropped it in."
He gave her a plaintive look. "You're trying to get me shot." Cops weren't welcomed in Dutch's Garage; it was no secret.
"I'm trying to help you do your job better," Erza said. "You can rough up a few guys, can't you?"
She knew how to get to him, whether intentionally or not. "Yeah, course I can, but who's going to stop the next one from putting a bullet in my gut, eh?"
"I will," she said confidently. "I'm an excellent shot. Between the two of us, we'll get someone to talk."
"You're ruthless." Not to mention out of her mind.
"I'm pragmatic," Erza said. "That's why I'm such a good constable."
"You're not a constable."
"In training."
"That's a stretch."
She scowled at him. "You told me you needed my help."
That was not how the conversation went. Gray said, "You haven't ever shot a gun—"
"Yes I have. I took your spare last year. I practice with targets every night."
"You did what?" Gray took his eyes off the road to see if she was joking. She looked abashed, actually.
"You weren't using it."
"Do you know how much shit I got in for losing that gun? That's probably why the Chief can't remember my fucking name."
"I'm sorry," Erza said, "But it was worth it. Because of your sacrifice, I'm probably the best shot on the force."
"Unbelievable," Gray muttered.
Erza smiled. "So, here's the plan. We'll leave the Tudor on Vanguard Street. I'll take your gun and get to high ground."
"I need my gun."
"Your spare," Erza clarified.
He glowered. "You took it."
"I know the Chief issued you a new one, stop being a baby," Erza said.
Gray sighed. "Uh huh."
"So, I'll get to higher ground. You don't have your civvies here, so that won't work, but if you ditch the hat and the coat, you might pass as a civilian for long enough to get close, as long as you don't do that Cock Walk."
"Cock Walk?"
"Like a rooster," she explained. "That's what me and Levy call it. All the cops have this strut; I don't know why."
"And let me guess, you've been practicing," Gray griped.
Erza's beam was infectious. "I'll show you one time."
Gray sucked on his tooth, half wanting to laugh, half wanting to take her home and pull everything out of her house even remotely related to the constabulary.
"Don't start looking at me like that," Erza said.
He schooled his features. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"I'm not a damsel in distress," she said. "I'm femme fatale. Like Marie Windsor in The Killing."
Gray looked at her sideways again.
"What?" Erza challenged. "You don't think I am?"
"Marie Windsor died at the end of that film, Erza. She was crooked as they came and because of that, her no good lover shot her."
"Okay, the parallels are weak, but, she had spunk. Why are you giving me such a hard time? You don't think I can do this?"
He kept his eyes on the street. "Just… worried about you. It's a tough job."
"And I'm tough," Erza said.
Gray turned the headlights off and slowed the car to turn down Vanguard Street. After a sharp right, he put it up in the parking lot of a mill and cut the engine. They sat in silence for several long seconds.
Erza held out her hand. "Give me your gun."
Gray turned to look at her head on. Her hair was bright in the light of the slowly brightening sky, her skin as pale as milk. "What if things go sideways and you get shot, Erza?"
Her eyes were black in the shadows. "I won't."
A promise and confidence wasn't a good shield. "You might. You're—"
"Not a cop, I get it," she said. "And you are. But here's the thing, we're out here and I'm your backup. Trust me. Give me your gun, I won't let anything happen to you."
Gray was still immobile.
"God sakes," Erza cussed. She took off her seatbelt and threw open the door.
Gray reached for her and missed, she was out of the car and closing the door already. He hurried to follow her, at first forgetting to unbuckle his seatbelt. He scrabbled to rectify it, leaving the door open in his wake. Erza was already ten metres away, heels snapping on the pavement. "Erza, what in the hell are you doing? Get back here!" Gray hissed lowly. She slowed and turned at the side of the mill. She looked like a ruby haired doll, unrealistic in the strange light.
"I'm getting the job done. You cover me."
That was, perhaps, an even worse idea. "Get the hell back here."
She didn't listen, of course, not Erza Scarlet.
Gray jogged to catch up with her, grabbing her wrist and yanking her back against the mill seconds before she could step out on the other side of the building and find herself standing on the outskirts of Dutch's Garage. She hit the wall with an oof. A second later, a man several meters away passed by the alley. He didn't look their way. With his body pressed against Erza's, Gray couldn't tell whose heart beat harder.
"Let go," Erza whispered. Her hot breath broke over his cheek, smelling like bubble gum.
"No, Erza. It's too dangerous. You don't know what you're doing. There are guys out there that will kill you for—" Gray trailed off, feeling Erza's hands slip around his waist. His heart beat faster still, and then he realized what she was doing, fussing at the back of his belt for that goddamn Smith and Wesson six shot he had tucked away. She had it out of its holster and in her hand before he could make a protest. Then she was tugging up her dress to reveal a leg holster that she should definitely not have.
Gray barely heard his own voice. "Where the hell did you even get that?"
"I had it made for occasions just like this," Erza said.
"You just wear it every day?"
She secured the gun then dropped the dress (thank god) and tapped his cheek. "Told you. Femme fatale. Like Marie Windsor." She slipped from his grip and into the parking lot. Gray looked after her in disbelief. Then he realized that he had two options: get out there and blow her cover and potentially get them both shot or get to higher ground and cover her.
You better hope your aim is good. And that Erza didn't venture too far away. With a pistol, it was hard shooting far away targets with much accuracy.
While Erza knew what she was doing was dangerous, she couldn't help but feel more than a jolt of excitement as she clopped over the concrete of Dutch's Garage toward a group of men that congregated in a circle around the water. She pulled down the collar of her dress and put an extra swing in her hips, planning out her course of action. It wasn't very beguiling to pretend to be a nightwalker, but it was in her experience that men of this caliber were, for the lack of a better word, stupid. Especially when it came down to two very important things. Drugs and girls.
The flick of a lighter caught her attention. Someone laughed. They're smoking, she thought and prepared for the nose-burning scent, but then someone whimpered, the smell of gas came to her nose, and she had a very different perspective of what was going on. Her heart beat twice as hard as before.
"No screaming now, Evie, if you do, I drop this zippo and… guess what? You lose your chance to walk away. Now answer me, did you or did you not give Orga up to the cops?"
"N—no Gajeel."
One of the men shifted, revealing a thin man confined to the ground. The concrete around his body was saturated in gas. Even disheveled and in his civvies, Erza recognized Eve Tilm, a constable at the constabulary. Her tongue felt frozen and her lungs were too small watching that lighter get closer and closer. They're going to kill him. She felt paralyzed.
A man with various ornaments stabbed through his face ducked so he was nose-to-nose with their prisoner. "That's funny, someone told Jellal that they could have sworn you were the one that pulled Orga in. You know what Jellal thinks now? You've forgotten that you're not a real cop. He thinks you're trying to go straight on us."
"No—I swear. I'm loyal," Eve spewed reassuring words that went completely unheard.
"Then who arrested Orga?"
A tall and wide blonde man interjected. "Gajeel, if Eve says he knows nothing but you're still not sure, stop wasting time and kill him."
"Wait! Wait!" Eve rushed to say. "I think I know who. His—his name is Hibiki Lates." Eve's partner. Erza willed him to be silent as much as she willed him to keep talking. If he talked, he might be able to talk his way out of this bind. "The cops picked him up last year out of Clover. He specializes in intelligence collection. He's their ace in the hole. He lives on Het Avenue—house number—ah—"
Maybe he didn't have to talk that much. Erza found she could move after all. "Evening, gentlemen."
The words stopped. The lighter burned for another moment, then the man holding the flame—Gajeel Redfox, if Erza knew her baddies as well as she thought she did after hours of secretly pouring over Gray's files—flicked the lighter closed.
"What's this?"
Erza shrugged. "Someone was whispering in my ear that I might be able to find a man out this way that owns a 3-window lowboy Deuce coupé."
Gajeel studied her. "Can't you see we're busy here, doll?"
Erza stepped closer and squinted. She audibly caught her breath and pretended she saw Eve for the first time there on the ground. "My."
"Get on now," Gajeel said. "This ain't nothing a lady like you should be seeing."
Erza nibbled her lip and tried to make herself look genuinely pathetic. "Of course." She grabbed the hem of her dress and started away as quickly as her high heels would allow for.
"Hang on," came a voice from the group.
Erza kept going.
"Hey, I said stop."
The click of a hammer going down really pulled her up in her tracks.
"What are you doing?" That was Gajeel.
"She's running." And that, the blonde. Laxus Dreyar, Erza thought, another one of Magnolia's infamous.
"I told her to get out of here."
"It'd be rude of us not to escort a lady back to her car, don't you think?" Laxus asked.
Gajeel took in a breath.
Erza faced them, trying to look ingénue. "Is there a problem, gentlemen?"
Laxus didn't try to hide the gun he had trained on her. Erza feigned ignorance. It was believable, in the weird not-quite-night-and-not-quite-morning light, she could barely see the gleam of the metal. "My friend here changed his mind, he's going to show you his car. Ever been to Monnet's Point?" A high bluff and a popular body dump amongst criminals. The bog below it's sheer face took everything it was offered.
Erza's heart beat with excitement and fear. This was what she craved. "No, but it sounds lovely."
Gajeel rolled with the change of plans. "I think you'll like it." He put his lighter in his pocket and came to her, wrapping his arm around her waist. He smelled like smoke and gasoline.
"You'll never see a nicer place." Laxus jammed his foot in Eve's side. "Get up."
"Up?" Eve repeated dumbly.
Laxus glanced at Erza. "Pretty faces make me feel generous." He hauled Eve to his feet and sliced through the ropes binding his wrists together. "It's your lucky day. I suggest not fucking it up."
Eve mumbled his gratitude, swore they wouldn't regret letting him go, then took off, hobbling past Erza without a glance in her direction. Either he, too, was very good at acting, or that was the last she was going to see of him. Maybe he'd be on the next train out of Magnolia, deciding that undercover work just wasn't for him.
I can do it, Erza thought and had the chance to prove that as Gajeel guided her away and asked, "What's your name, doll?"
She batted her eyes. "Barbra, but my friends call me Barbie."
"Cute."
Erza beamed. "Can we just go to my car for a sec? I left my purse in there and I'd really like to get it."
Purses meant ID. ID meant trails. Gajeel, predictably, smiled. "Sure thing. Lead on."
Erza kept her steps even, as with her breaths, masking all of her nervous tells as Dutch's Garage fell away and the mill cast its shadow upon them.
"So, Barbie, you like hot-rods, huh?" Gajeel whittled. Erza didn't know if he was making conversation to break up the silence, because he felt obligated to get to know the girl he was very shortly planning on killing, or if he was trying to flirt with her, maybe sweeten the deal before he got her blood on his hands.
"Always been a passion," she gushed. "There's just something about the engine, and the wind going through your hair."
"Yeah?" He pulled up short against the side of the brick mill and positioned Erza so she was pinned between he and the wall. She caught her breath and made a fist, preparing for violence. This wasn't like training had been—her instructor accepted her punches or dodged, he caught her fist or he sidestepped and put her on the ground. She knew him and what to expect. Her mind was racing, trying to anticipate Gajeel's next move. Was he going to be a cad? Was he going to try to do her in right there? Her fingers twitched around the gun on her thigh. Then Gajeel spoke and sidetracked her.
"Laxus is expecting me to kill you."
She didn't have to try very hard to make her eyes wide. A little bit of fear was healthy; embellishing it helped her pretend. "Kill me?"
"You can cut the bullshit act. I know you work the constabulary's desk. Here's the thing, it doesn't sit good with me killing a girl if I don't gotta, especially one of Levy's friends—"
"How do you know Levy?" Erza blurted.
He ignored her. "So just run along, keep your head down and never come back to this part of town again, otherwise I'm going to have a mess to clean up." He released her and took a step back. Erza could tell he expected her to run; men like him were used to that kind of response, so he looked at her kind of perplexed when she didn't move.
"I have questions," Erza said. "And I think you have answers."
"I don't have anything for you except a bullet if you don't get on your way," Gajeel threatened.
"I'm looking for a '51 Chevy Impala. It might have been brought here a few hours ago." God, it was getting so… early. The sun was bruising the horizon pink. She had to start work in three hours and she hadn't slept at all. Erza didn't let that deter her, though, this was where the action was, this was what she craved. She felt more alert than she had in years.
"What would a girl like you want to know about that for?"
"It's part of an investigation," Erza said with pride.
Gajeel looked at her blankly. As her words sank in and she didn't indicate that she was joking, his mouth curled into a disbelieving smirk. "Are you telling me the cops have got girls working for them now? Are they that hard up?"
Erza bristled. "I don't see what's so funny about a woman investigator."
"Does your husband know you're out here dodging shadows?"
It didn't take very long for Erza to decide that she hated him. Movement over Gajeel's shoulder caught her eye and made her forget her retort. She tensed, thinking maybe it was Laxus coming to see if Gajeel had made good on his orders. She saw the flash of Gray's cross necklace and relaxed just a little.
Then she got mad when she realized what he was doing there, sneaking up on her perpetrator so he could take care of the tense situation. Determined to handle things herself, she balled her hand into a fist once more and hit Gajeel square in the jaw with everything she had, just like her instructor taught her.
Natsu should have expected to see a scantily clad and very catty Angel when he rudely knocked once on Zeref's door and entered without waiting for a reply, but he didn't—his head felt almost empty, mostly fuzzy. The woman had been padding her way to the washroom, a housecoat on her naked body but undone. As soon as she saw Natsu, her 'satisfied' face went to one of anger and the curses began. Natsu weathered them, seeking out his brother. Zeref was in a pair of jeans only, sitting on the edge of his bed with a beer in his hand. He looked at Natsu, brows raised, surprised but not angry to see him. "Is she making trouble?"
He'd been singular in getting there, not really thinking about what to say or how to say it. Zeref's question caught him off guard. "What?"
"Lucy? Our hostage? The girl you kidnapped? The one who, I hope, is still in Gajeel's old room, waiting to help us and then get sold off?" With every word, Zeref got more annoyed. "Or did she smack you on the head and make her great escape? Let me guess, she figured you out, twisted you up and smiled just right and that was it." He stood and shot back the rest of his beer. "I knew this was going to be a fucking disaster the minute you and Wendy walked into my office with that girl. I should have listened to my gut."
"Zeref," Angel started.
"Get out, Angel," Zeref snapped, still cranky.
Her brows came together, her lips got tight. Her scowl was practiced. She didn't fight like other girls might have, she didn't cry or get red-faced. She squared her shoulders, tightened the tie on her housecoat and then grabbed her discarded lingerie and left in a whirl of perfume. The door slammed loudly in her wake.
Quiet ruled.
"She's not going to want to come back to sing after that," Natsu said finally.
"How can you even think about that right now?" Zeref asked. "Our plan is exploding in our face and—"
"Lucy's still in the room. She's—she's asleep." Or at least he hoped.
Zeref froze yanking on a grey polo. "What?"
"She's still here. She hasn't left."
Zeref didn't relax. "Who's watching her? Are Wendy and Rogue back? I told them to check in here first—"
"No, they're not back, no one is watching her," Natsu cut in, though he knew Zeref would be pissed with the admission.
Predictably, Zeref asked, "Then what the hell are you doing here?"
Natsu held out the letter he'd crumpled in his sweaty palm on the way over. "I think I found out why Lucy doesn't want to go back home."
Zeref snatched the letter from his hand and read what Natsu had.
Locking my door doesn't help. He always seems to get in one way or another. He doesn't call me Lucy anymore, not at night. It's always Layla. I don't know what to do. I dyed my hair brown, thinking maybe if I didn't look just like you, Mom, it would help. He got really mad and almost broke Loke's key because of it. I got Miss Porlyusica to help me dye it blonde again. I got Loke's key back after we spent the night together.
I look like you and I hate it.
I look like you and he loves it.
Natsu watched Zeref read the passage three times. He looked up finally, a tense expression on his face that Natsu, in a perverse way, was glad to see, because that meant that he wasn't making shit up, it was as he thought. Zeref asked, "Where did you find this?"
"In her closet the other day, when Rogue and I went looking for her."
After a moment, Zeref said something unexpected. "Good work. We can use this to raise her ransom."
Natsu was sure he'd misheard. "What?"
"We'll bend Heartfilia like a piece of copper, take everything he has. Something like this would ruin him."
"Zeref…"
"Don't go soft, Natsu," Zeref said. "This is really shitty, and I'm sorry it's happening to her, but we have to think about ourselves, too. Once this is done and we have our money and Happy back, this secret is going to be our security. He won't know who we've told so he'll be afraid to make any moves. We'll tell him we want immunity. Fuck, we'll tell him we want a stipend. No more arrests, no more going without when the pickings are slim, no more running. You said yourself you were sick of it."
"Yeah, but—"
"We're criminals, Natsu," Zeref said. It sounded more like he was trying to convince himself. "Any way you slice it. We do what's necessary to get by. If that means stepping on a few people—"
Natsu wasn't totally comfortable being the moral compass, that was usually Wendy's job. He tried. "It's wrong."
And Zeref knew it, too. "Before we send her off, we'll give her a gun and show her where to shoot him the next time he wants to pretend she's her mother."
That wasn't good enough. "Zeref—"
"What do you want, Natsu?" Zeref started to pace. "You want to put a bullet between his eyes? You want me to? And then what? Someone else will take his place. We're still running, we're still fighting, we're still getting shot and every day, their aim gets a little bit better. We need to do what will keep us safe. I thought we were fucked, but this, as shitty as it is, is a blessing. Don't mess it up getting all tangled where you shouldn't."
"I can't believe we're having this conversation," Natsu said at last.
Zeref stopped pacing. "Neither can I."
"If this was Wendy, his neck would already be broken."
"It's different. Wendy's one of us," Zeref said. "You don't even like this girl, Natsu. You've done nothing but be surly and tell me how much you hate her."
Natsu chewed his tongue hard, morals and long-thought bigotry fighting together. He didn't know if he could ignore this.
Zeref searched his eyes. "Whatever you're thinking, stop. It's hard, but the best thing you can do is nothing. I know that's a concept that's hard for you and this isn't ideal, but think of the big picture."
"It's a little less than 'not ideal'," Natsu said.
Zeref sighed. "You're going to cause problems for me, aren't you?"
Natsu met his brother's eyes stubbornly, not saying either way.
"Yeah, I don't even know why I ask. Everyday you're causing me problems." He pushed his fingers into his temples, thinking hard. "How about this," Zeref said eventually. "We trade her back." Natsu opened his mouth to cut in, Zeref spoke over him. "When we do, we tell Heartfilia we know his secret. We ask for a stipend like I said and tell him if he touches her again, we'll blow the whole thing out of the water. That way, everyone wins."
"You think it'll work?"
"I think men like Chief Heartfilia like their lives to go smoothly." Zeref delivered the insight in that way he had, the one that said he'd seen a lot and was confident his assessment was accurate.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, Natsu. It'll work."
"And if it doesn't?"
"Like I said, we'll give her a gun and show her where to shoot."
The knot in Natsu's chest eased just a little—unless, of course, he imagined Lucy actually shooting her father. After that scene in the Impala, he didn't think she could even hold a gun again. You could pull the trigger for her. What he wouldn't give to put a hole between Jude Heartfilia's eyes. You'd be going against what Zeref said. And he was right back to wanting to pull his hair out.
Zeref distracted him with something else pressing. "Now, we just need Lucy to help us find Happy."
"I was thinking about that," Natsu said. "She says she doesn't know anything, and maybe she's not lying, but I'd bet a pretty penny Jude's guys have something to say."
"Huh?"
"His constables," Natsu said. "If he's dragging people off he's doing it for a reason. It's obvious he doesn't want anyone knowing about it, which means there's no way he's just going to have these people holed up in a place where anyone can walk in and see and start asking questions, right? He's probably got them in some shitty warehouse being patrolled by his constables."
"You think the other cops are in on it, too?" Zeref mused.
Natsu shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe they have no idea and they're just doing a job like everyone else. The point is, they're going to know where their Chief sends them, right? So we just have to pull one of his constables in and get them to talk."
"Rogue said Lucy was close to one of them," Zeref said, scheming as always. "Maybe he'd be a wealth of information if Miss Heartfilia asked nicely, don't you think?"
Yeah, he did. Lucy was the kind of girl men talked for. "I'll ask her where I can find him," Natsu said.
"Are you going to tell her you know?" Zeref asked, halting Natsu's retreat.
"I don't know."
"Sympathy could go a long way."
"Or it could make her uncooperative." Never mind that he had no idea how to broach the subject.
"You should try to be friends with her, Natsu, a compassionate ear. An ally like her could be good for us," Zeref said. "Even if its temporary."
"Why don't you go ahead then?" Natsu asked. He was already waging an internal war; he didn't need to fuck up his perspective anymore.
"Wouldn't mean as much coming from me." Zeref went to the cherry red Coca-Cola fridge in the corner of the room and pulled out another bottle of beer. Natsu waited to be offered one; he wasn't. Typical Zeref. That was fine, he didn't want his head any fuzzier, jumbled as it was by Lucy's letters. Zeref popped the top and took a deep swallow. "I told you before, you get more from people if they think they're your friends. That's why Jellal cuts us the deals he does, that's why when Erik sells his shitty rock to Orga and his guys, we don't get gutted. It's what keeps our little criminal empire together." Zeref's teeth flashed white and straight. "Get out there and make friends."
Natsu felt like a kid again with that order—who knew if he was going to obey it or not? Befriending the chief of police's daughter seemed dangerous, especially now. Zeref was right when he said she had him all twisted up.
Out of the room and heading back toward Lucy, he leaned on every trick he knew to keep himself impartial. After all, she was only ever supposed to be a vehicle that took him to Happy. As with most things in his life, though, it seemed this, too, wasn't going to work out the way he wanted.
A/N: Trivia time: Did you know that even above Noir, Bleeding Stars was my favorite story to write? I mention this because I've had several people tell me this, Sweet-Rot, is the best I've done so far. I can see why it may be a favorite. It has my heart. But not my soul the way Bleeding Stars did. Not my love the way Noir did. This is an ugly little story twisted in a flowery noose of shit, a story about pain and abuse that I hadn't meant to write. Aside from all that, it has a voice, though I'm not sure I much like the way it sounds.
Anyway, I wanted to make sure to say thank you to everyone who has liked my Facebook Page, Kaitlin Corvus, supported me in my very first book release ever (hopefully not the last, the Reformation of Linnea Hail is coming along slower than expected, but still coming) and everyone that reads my fanfiction and my sometimes ridiculously long A/N's. You are, in fact, gods.
-Freyja
