Standing on the balcony with the summer wind roaring by, it was easy to forget he wasn't by himself. Happy jabbered. Lectured, really. Gray couldn't specifically say what it was that he lectured about, but the cat went on long enough that his voice bled into the background and the bottle of whisky was three quarters of the way gone. Gray had to stop himself, knowing that the next morning was going to be a heaping pile of regret. The only good that came from this shit show was that his father's mark—and his migraine—had eased back to only a dull ache, and the hole in his chest where his guilt lived felt temporarily hollowed out.

"I gotta get back, Happy." Gray said when Happy took a breath. Every word was heavily truncated and slurred. It had been a long time since he'd been so drunk, and being the only one feeling this way now wasn't entirely pleasant. It was easier when Lucy was there, sharing the burden. That way he felt less like an alcoholic. And if it was her that was the cause of the drinking, well... Everyone had a vice.

Happy said something that slid over the ice mage. Vision doubling, tripling, he lurched for the balcony doors and clumsily tore them open. Inside the motel was stiflingly hot compared to the breeze and rain that ruled the outside. Happy didn't follow.

His feet took him down the hall, the walls supported him when gravity visited and coordination abandoned. Room twenty-two came into view. That was where Lucy was. He felt sick just thinking about her behind that door. He kept on, staggering drunkenly like one of the regulars at the Thorn and Thistle. His whisky clacked loudly against the wall. Gray lifted it numbly and looked at the jostling amber liquid in mild disgust. He was drunk enough that he felt gross. Drunk enough that drinking more seemed like a good idea.

Don't be an idiot.

"Gray-sama?"

Juvia's voice was liquid fire in his icy veins. Lifting his gaze, he found her. She seemed rather tall. Then he realized it was only because he'd slumped to the floor like a fucking waste of skin. Grunting with effort, he pressed his hands against the ground, spilling some of his whisky—the cap had gone somewhere—and righted himself. Juvia came to him, blue nighty clinging to her embellished curves. She looked sleepy, like she'd just crawled out of their bed.

"Gray-sama, what's wrong? Are you hurt? Or—" She saw the whisky bottle and trailed off, understanding coming over her. Using gentle fingers, she pried it from his hand. He let her because it was obvious he couldn't help himself.

She asked, "Can you walk?"

"I'm fine," Gray slurred and started off again.

"Mmm... Our room is here," Juvia told him, guiding him back to the door he passed. He checked. Forty-seven. It seemed like he was just looking at twenty-two.

"Oh."

Juvia opened the door and proved that he was in the right place. His coat was thrown across the small, beat up kitchen table, his boots were in the middle of the hallway, exactly where he'd left them. He never used to be so slovenly and couldn't quite recall when the change had come upon him.

Bringing him inside, Juvia closed and locked the door. Gray leaned into the sliding mirror closet and waited for her. The room was dark; she was a blue-tinged shadow. She came back to him, eyes wide and questioning. She held back the torrent for the moment, set the whisky on the ground, and started unbuttoning his shirt. Her fingers were skilled, making fast work of the buttons she'd learned well long ago. To get the material over his shoulders she pulled him from his slumped position. The shirt fell to the ground and stayed there. She worked on his pants, next.

"I can undress myself," Gray told her finally when the deed was almost done.

"I know," Juvia conceded. "I do it because I want to."

"Even when I'm a mess."

It was a statement, she answered anyway. "Because I love you."

He scrubbed his face. "I feel so fucking gone."

She knew what he meant. "I love you even when you're lost."

Of course she did. She loved him too much. Gray stepped out of his pants and lurched towards the bed. Juvia followed. She didn't speak again until Gray had collapsed on the mattress, taking up most of the room, and she was laying down beside him.

"Was it very bad?"

He stared up at the ceiling. "What's that, Juvia?"

"The girl you found. Was the scene very bad?"

He meant to look at her from the corner of his eye; he could only see the ceiling. "Yeah. It was bad." When Lucy deigned to leave his head, all he could think were those torn panties, the blood.

She let it drop. "How is your mark?"

"It hurts."

Light pressure landed on his wrist. Juvia teased her fingers up his arm; her touch left behind warmness that bit into both the drunkenness and the constant cold. She came up on her elbow and helped him see her. Even in the dark she looked sort of sad. He wondered if it was because of his state or the events that helped lead him here.

"Does this make it feel better?"

"Yes." Gray found he could still use his body. He pushed her ocean-blue hair back from her delicate face. Shadows made hollows of her cheekbones, kissed her lips into a deep plum. Her lashes fluttered; she leaned into his touch.

"You're beautiful, Juvia." He wished he wasn't slurring.

She smiled. It was a smile he always wanted to see but he felt like the opportunity to do so was slipping through his fingers. She sat up, pushing the blankets back, and grabbed the hem of her nighty. Gray was transported to another place, another time. 'Take it off.' It had been a different girl then. One that didn't love him. One that was aching like he was. His bad decisions lined themselves up in a neat row. Walking her home. Kissing her. Touching her. Not walking away sooner. Running away after.

"Stop thinking about other things," Juvia said in a soft, insistent voice.

"Juvia…" He wasn't sure what he was going to say. Maybe the truth. Then she brought her nighty's material up over her crystalline skin. His mouth dried up as always, like she'd taken his ability to speak. Nude now, she locked eyes with him and trailed her fingers down the centreline of his body all the way past his bellybutton. He got harder with every inch gone past until he was straining against his shorts, not yet drunk enough to have that hindered. She grabbed him through the material and rubbed slowly.

"Does this also make it feel better?"

The pain in his arm was a distant memory. "Yes." He allowed himself to touch her, though he didn't think he deserved it. Her breasts were just as soft as always, hard tipped with excitement and cold. She tugged down his shorts, smiling like a fox when he bounced out, rigid.

Head spinning, Gray attempted to sit up, thinking to lead as Juvia usually wanted. Perhaps recognizing how drunk he truly was, she pressed him down by the shoulders and shimmied so she was on top of him. His hardness slid between her legs, brushing against her but not penetrating, not yet.

Gray took her by the hips and lifted his gaze. Still smiling, Juvia gathered one breast up and teased while she slipped her free hand between her legs and massaged herself. Persephone, he thought again. Lulled into loving him.


Levy let the heat from the fire kiss her skin. It was cold for mid-summer. She blamed it on being in the lowest part of the valley. Gajeel settled down next to her, shoulder so close it was brushing hers.

"We should keep up with our lessons."

Levy checked her silver watch. "It's nearly eleven."

Gajeel didn't look perturbed. "If we didn't stop to look for something to burn, it'd be earlier, wouldn't it?"

"Seriously? It was cold," Levy complained.

Gajeel quieted, his face nearly unreadable in the dancing firelight. "Come on, Levy." He picked himself up like he was tireless. On the opposite side of the fire, Lily curled around his sword and snored softly, basking in the heat. I'm not the only one that was cold, Levy thought but didn't say. There was no point; it was an argument that was lost on Gajeel.

"Fine." She stood. "But let's be quick. I'm tired."

Gajeel took off his council-issue coat. Beneath he wore a dark tank. He was just as fit as ever. Levy was so busy admiring the broad stretch of his chest, she missed when he came for her, shoulder tucked down, arms thrown wide. He caught her around the waist and would have slammed her to the ground if she was prepared. The threat of her head getting cracked in half like a melon on a piece of granite stilled his movements. He set her down more gently than he'd planned, on her feet once more.

"The hell was that?"

"Sorry." Levy's cheeks were red. "Try again."

Gajeel turned and took a step in the opposite direction, brushing himself down as he went. His body was singing, and it wasn't just for the promise of the physical exertion this could potentially offer if Levy stepped up her game. Meaning to catch her off her guard, he swung around sharply, lifting his leg in a high roundhouse kick. She blocked it. Gajeel expected that to be the last of it, but suddenly he was looking at the night sky, hard rock under his back, the breath out of his lungs. She wasn't so worried about his head.

"Oh!" Levy sounded surprised by her success. She appeared, towering over him. "Are you okay?"

Using a quick movement, Gajeel rolled and swiped Levy's legs out from beneath her. Her fall to the ground was the least graceful thing he'd ever seen. Her elbows went out, one digging into his shin, the other into the rock. Coming to rest, she winced and bit her lip hard, her face several shades whiter.

The bottom fell out of Gajeel's stomach. "Shit. Are you okay, Levy?"

She grunted and sat up. "Yeah… just hurt. I think I bruised my elbow."

He swore. "Sorry. I thought…"

"It's okay," Levy told him. "We're training, right? Accidents happen." She touched it, fingers coming away red. Her council coat was torn and damp.

Seeing the colour, Gajeel told himself she was right; it didn't make him feel less guilty, though. "There's a cold stream just over there. Come on, we'll go wash it out."

Levy tried to brush him off. "It's okay."

He was already standing, though, and pulling her to her feet. His hand dropped low to her narrow hip and stayed there as he guided her over the rough terrain, holding her up when she stumbled in the dark night. Levy let him stay close, mostly because she was too paralyzed to push him away. Her skin was chirping, not just in pain. He smelled like metal and sweat and faintly like cologne, but after a day of traveling, that scent was nearly gone. She breathed him in and didn't even pretend all that hard that she wasn't, not so shy when it was just the two of them and there was no light to watch herself stumble through this odd game they'd been playing.

The sound of the river was the first noise in thirty long seconds. It burbled over rocks happily, fed by fresh spring water. It smelled like iron. In the light of the sun the rocks would be red, stained with the mineral, but for now, scent was all Levy had to go off of.

"Here." Gajeel chose an overlarge boulder and guided Levy to its surface like she was hurt much more than she actually was. Levy let it happen, enjoying the attention more than she cared to admit. She watched the dragon slayer pull out a rag from his pocket and wet it. He came back and crouched before her, taking her coat and rolling it up her arm. The air was even colder. Levy shivered. Gajeel leaned into her legs and the chills stopped. Using hands that were infrequently gentle, he levitated her arm and started cleaning it.

"Does it hurt?"

"A little," Levy said.

"It looks like just a scrape."

"I think it's mostly bruised," she agreed.

"You did good, though."

Levy smirked. "Falling?"

"Before that," he said. His compliments were rare. Levy accepted it with a small smile. He dabbed the cut. "I got some bandages in my pack."

"It's probably fine, Gajeel, you don't have to worry about that," Levy told him. The moment was coming where he'd rise from between her legs and the body heat would be gone. She tried to prolong the inevitable. "Thanks for training with me."

"I'm not much good at it." He met her eyes.

"Well, I think you are," Levy said.

"This is the third time you've needed to be patched up," he reminded her.

"We've been doing it for weeks; that's not that bad. And, really, it was falling that did this, not you," she told him. "The only thing you did was teach me how to throw you to the ground." She smiled triumphantly.

He grinned some. "That was a good one." Then he sobered. "Maybe we should ask Lily to take over. He's more patient."

"I want it to be you," she said immediately.

His ember coloured eyes locked on hers. "…Yeah?"

She nodded. Her neck was hot; it was a good thing the darkness hid it. "I like it."

His hands had abandoned her arm to rest beside her hips. "Alright." He started to stand.

Levy surprised herself by grabbing his forearm and holding him in place. She could feel his studs stapled into his skin, raised and warmed by his body heat. "Wait."

Gajeel went right back to the way he was before. Well, mostly. He'd shifted enough that his hands were pressing into her hips, not quite grabbing, but lingering. Levy met his eyes and wetted her lips. He wouldn't be the first man she'd ever kissed, but he'd be the first one she'd geared herself up for so much. His labret rings shone in the moonlight, silver and stark. His eyes were mostly shadowed, but she could see the way they focused on her lips. Before she could think of a way to move next, he leaned into her and pressed their mouths together in a chaste kiss.

Surprise made way for enjoyment. Levy let her eyes flutter shut, and because of that she didn't see the shadow move to her right, she only felt the after-effects of its presence, the deep chill that filled the air, magic, the cold hard ground as she was thrown from her boulder and deposited on her back. In seconds, wind whipped around her and her coat was eviscerated.

"What the fuck?" Gajeel demanded as he went from kissing a girl to kissing nothing but air. He was tasting blood a second later as sharp edged steel swung his way. There was enough time to harden his skin with his scales, but there was nothing to do with the force of the blow. His lip mashed into his teeth. Blood filled his mouth. Off guard and off balance, he fell back and stayed that way for too long, stunned and wondering how close he just came to getting his face cut in half. To dying.

Get up and fight. The presence was gone, though, as if it had never been there at all. Growling, Gajeel clambered upright. His head spun, his vision hazy. He found Levy sprawled on the ground. Ice shot through his veins. His first thought was that she'd been hurt, her coat was a shredded mess around her, but then he saw her blinking vapidly, just as dazed and confused as he.

"Levy?"

Levy studied the sky, still breathless while she gathered her wits. The pieces were slow in coming together. We were attacked. Her blood got pumping. She met Gajeel's eyes. He still peered down at her, looking scared half to death. His mouth was bleeding freely, dripping down his face and soaking his shirt.

She took too long in replying, so Gajeel repeated himself and took a step closer.

Levy grunted. "I'm…" She did a mental tally. Aside from her earlier wounds, she didn't feel injured. "I'm alright, I think." Yet when she patted her side, she found the broken bits of the protection lacrima the magical enforcement unit was gifted. It had done its job, disbursed the attack that befell her, but it was unquestionably ruined now. Useless. She'd never had one shatter on her before.

"What is it?" Gajeel asked. His voice was muffled by the rag he used to mop his face. It only half worked, his mouth was still bleeding too damn much.

"My protection lacrima is broken."

Gajeel's mouth got flat. "What?"

She pulled out a piece of the shattered crystal as proof. It looked benign now, not a powerful piece of spelled stone but something fragile.

Gajeel asked, "Can you stand?"

Levy waited until she was on her feet to confirm. "I'm just shaky." She dropped the piece of lacrima to the ground, then emptied the others from her pocket. It wasn't going to help her anymore. The pieces blazed with the moon.

Gajeel took his own lacrima out and handed it to her. "Here." His hand shook irritatingly. He willed it to be steady. All of his senses were strained, listening, smelling, peering into the deepest shadows. They were alone.

"I can't take that, Gajeel," Levy said when she realized what he was offering her. "It's yours—"

He shoved it into her hand and let go, leaving Levy to either grab it or let it drop. She grabbed it. Satisfied, he stepped back toward their camp, hoping that Lily was alright. Levy caught up with him. He started talking before she could argue anymore about taking his lacrima. "We need to head out, find this person before they realize they didn't kill us."

Levy's heart fluttered like a bird in a cage. If there was one thing to be said about working for the Magic Council, it was that attempts on her life were becoming a startlingly frequent thing. "In the dark?"

"Yeah, Levy, in the dark. We gotta go now while we have the advantage. They think that did us in. We're lucky it didn't. Nearly cut my head in two."

Levy's eyes were again drawn to all the blood. Gajeel didn't complain, but he kept tonguing the hole in his lip. "Do you think it was whoever was doing the magic draining?"

Gajeel spat out a glop of congealing blood. "You know, I hope so." Prepared or not, he was ready for a fight.


Over much debate, Erza let Wendy take the first watch while she stretched out on a bedroll she yanked from her armoury.

It took the redhead all of five minutes to fall asleep. Wendy sat with her knees tucked into her chest and counted the stars that dotted the sky like diamonds in a duchess' gown. Carla came to her side, her sub-human form on her body.

"You'll use up your magic," Wendy reasoned in a quiet whisper.

"If I don't practice, I'll never be able to hold it," Carla told her, equally silent.

Wendy picked at the rocks littering the ground. They were flecked with fool's gold. It was everywhere in this part of Fiore. The silence between them felt nearly pregnant.

"Wendy."

Wendy knew that tone, even delivered as it was in a covert whisper. Carla was about to go digging for information. Whatever it was, she knew she didn't want to answer. She did anyway, because Carla would expect it. "Yeah?"

"Did some boy kiss you?"

Wendy clenched her teeth tight, remembering Cheria's mouth on hers. The memory brought up a swirl of emotions, pleasure, panic, she was perturbed and pining to go back to that night, relive the moment so she could dissect it. Telling Carla about it would be cathartic. She wouldn't understand, though.

"No, Carla." It wasn't even that far off the truth. Some boy didn't kiss her, it was her best friend, and she wanted to do it again and again, though she didn't know what that meant.

"Well…" Carla hedged. "Was there someone you wanted to kiss?"

She was trying to be understanding and helpful, Wendy knew, but she didn't want to talk about it anymore. "No, Carla. I was just curious about kissing, is all." She gathered her hair over her shoulder. It was knotty from a long day of riding. Her brush was buried in her pack, though, and would likely stay that way until they got to Magnolia tomorrow. If we can get out of these valleys.

She shoved the thought aside. Raven Canyon was on the opposite side of a rockslide, far enough away that she couldn't see or hear the ravens that lined its steep walls, waiting for things to wander in and die. When have you known rock to keep out ghosts? She shivered involuntarily and snuck a little closer to Carla. The cat's eyes were glazed. Sleepy, Wendy thought. As if in confirmation, Carla yawned hugely and lay back so she was facing the stars.

"Very well. You can talk to me, though, Wendy. That's what best friends are for."

Wendy smiled. "I know." Just as soon as she herself figured out what to think about Cheria's kiss, she'd let Carla know. Maybe.


Boredom made her sleepy. Carla had reverted back to her usual form and was softly snoring. Erza had turned her back to the dragon slayer and breathed deeply. The night was quiet, save for the soft click clack of boots over stone.

It took Wendy a long time to process that. Her eyes came open and she realized she'd been drifting.

The sound was still there, however. Click clack. Boots with heels. She shook the sleep from her body and was just about to grab Carla when she was picked up into the air and thrown hard into one of the valley walls. All of the breath exploded from her lungs in a weak whoosh. She slid down the wall, knees giving out on her.

Dazed, Wendy blinked. She was hurt, she just didn't know where yet, or how bad. Her arm was numb, and her neck felt hot. A shadow moved, drawing Wendy's glazed eyes. A woman stepped from the darkness, one with coral coloured hair. She couldn't see her eyes, but Wendy imagined that they were pinched in a mean expression.

The woman crouched so they were level with each other, then spoke in a quiet voice. "A girl falls into the valley, like those wishing to die, but nobody saw it happen, so nobody has to cry." She clutched Wendy's lapel and effortlessly lifted her high. Then she was being dragged recklessly toward the ledge. Beyond was nothing but air and more air. Then the hard ground.

Wendy found her voice. "Erza! Carla!" She had no idea if they heard her or not. She reached for her magic next, though she was slow; always slow. Too much dazedness, too much fear. The ledge came up fast, and suddenly her feet were dangling. The woman met her eyes and held her gaze. They were green, Wendy saw, the green of fresh summer grass. The green of emeralds. Her mouth was painted blue, like flax flower. She opened it to say something else, but only blood came out, encouraged by an iron spike protruding from her chest. Some hit Wendy's cheek, warm and wet and stinking. Wendy gasped with the woman, and then she was falling, like a star right from the sky. Wendy didn't know if she screamed or not. It seemed likely, because that's what scared people did, but her lungs felt locked up tight. Rock whirled past her, faster than she could register.


In his dream, Natsu's hands were smaller than he remembered. His feet, too. Beneath his bottom was warm sand. He crossed his legs and fingered his big toe. It was coated in dirt and damp. He looked up and saw Zeref. The older boy's hair was wet with river water, his chest bare and smooth, the muscles there visible but yet underdeveloped. Sometimes, though he told mother he wanted to be a scholar and have a good life, unlike the miners and blacksmiths and railway workers that would be chorded with broken backs, Natsu caught Zeref flexing and judging himself in the mirror. Once, after a visit with the baker's daughter, Natsu even saw his brother trying to do a push up.

"Here, but don't swallow the seed." Zeref held out a cherry plumper and redder than Natsu had ever seen before. He took it from his brother and popped it into his mouth. It was sweet, too. Perfect. 'A good year for cherries,' Valentina had said on their last visit just before she snuck Zeref both a handful of the sweet fruits and a kiss to his cheek. She'd been sure to give Natsu the same treatment, too.

Zeref dropped himself to the ground; beach sand stuck to his wet legs. Sunlight danced through his hair. It was midnight black, like a raven's wing. Like their father's. The older boy held out a cup of dark purple juice. "Here, mother packed this for you."

Natsu took it and swallowed a huge gulp. Grape. It wasn't as sweet as the cherry, and it was warm, but it was still delicious.

"Not so much if you want to go swimming again." Zeref took it away and lay back on the sand. Natsu smacked his lips and lay down, too, too warm and content to be upset that his juice was taken away. They lay in silence, Natsu playing with a small black beetle that had found its way onto the beach. At his back, the river meandered quietly, seemingly eternal. Birds chirped and played, a frog croaked.

A wave of sweat came over Natsu. His stomach cramped. It passed. He forgot about the discomfort just as soon as it wasn't an immediate obstacle. "Can we play all day, or do you have to study again?"

"No studying today," Zeref replied. "Tomorrow, though, for my exam."

"What's an exam?"

"Where they test your knowledge," Zeref explained.

"So you know how smart you are?"

"Something like that," Zeref agreed.

"What do you learn?" University was just this thing that took up his brother's time, but Zeref seemed to like it, so Natsu wanted to, too.

"Natural sciences," Zeref said. Natsu scrunched up his face in disinterest, so he clarified. "Magic." And there was the wonder he'd come to expect.

"Can you do magic, too?" Their mother could make the ragdolls she sewed dance, but she didn't do it very often. Her magic wasn't very strong.

"Not yet," Zeref admitted, "But one day..."

Natsu's smile was dimmed. The grape juice was heavy in his stomach.

"What is it?" Zeref asked.

Natsu sat up, sweaty and suddenly ill. "I don't feel good."

Zeref's mouth puckered in a frown. "You look a little peaky." He too sat up. Just as he was reaching for Natsu's forehead, Natsu's grape juice revisited, soaking them both. Zeref didn't get mad. He didn't get disgusted, either. He wetted their towel and used it to wipe Natsu down enough that they could get home, then carried him the whole way, leaving their things on the river bank.