AN: Guess who's back! *throws confetti*

Disclaimer: I do not own Fairy Tail or its characters – Hiro Mashima does.

Chapter XXVI

He was late.

Turning his gaze from the old clock on the wall to the empty glass in his hand, Gajeel felt his shoulders sag as he considered the prospect before him. He'd received the note calling him to Ivan's office, and knew the fella wasn't likely to be very pleased with him being intentionally late for it, but still he'd finished his drink, and made no move to be hurried about it. And then he'd spent a good five minutes looking into the glass, willing it to fill back up. But Cana was at the back doing inventory with Mira, and he wasn't risking any limbs helping himself to the hooch. The clock ticked by; the sound almost annoyingly loud amongst the soft murmurs around him. It was barely an hour past noon, but the place was far from empty, and he wasn't the only one sitting at the bar.

Unclenching his fingers from around his empty drink, Gajeel slid down from his chair, avoiding the glances of the people present as he made for the back door. It had been a week since the incident with Jose, but it would appear that he was still considered quite the spectacle. It was almost like they half-expected him to put on some kind of show any minute, with the way they were openly staring. His little "entrance" had caused quite the stir, and he'd earned himself a bit of a reputation because of it, although that hadn't really been his intention. On top of his victory against the Sabertooth brat, it had effectively pulled his name all the way out of the shadows it had crawled into during the course of the past two years. He didn't really know what he felt about that, either. Years ago he'd probably have been appropriately smug about it, but now he almost missed the time when his name didn't cause talk to break out whenever it was mentioned.

Pulling a cigarette from his pocket, he lit it as he pushed his way out the back door, shoving his hands into his pockets as he made his way towards posh town. The stitches on his brow were healing – and itching enough to give him a bad time – and the bandage was off, but it didn't look half as bad as it had a few days ago. The gunshot-wound was faring well, too, regardless of the kick Jose had aimed at it. The bruises were fading, and he could actually stand upright without feeling the need to sit down immediately afterwards.

Muttering to himself, Gajeel continued his way down the criss-crossing maze of alleyways. He hadn't asked about the specifics of what had happened to Jose after he'd handed him over to the old man. He didn't really care, so long as he was out of the way and done causing trouble. He had enough on his hands with one nutter – two was pushing it. If anything, he figured, the mess they'd made when they'd broken out of Jose's compound would keep his scattered thugs off their backs. Idiots or not, without the head crackpot spurring them on, Gajeel didn't think they'd risk it. Some of them were weak, but not all of them had sawdust between their ears.

Taking a long drag of his gasper, he surveyed the street ahead of him. The great clock looming above the rooftops ahead of him signalled that he was now unforgivably late, and he'd just about decided to actually pick up his pace when his eyes caught sight of another potential distraction.

He'd just made it out of the Alleys and into the central square when he caught sight of her; the blue of her hair bright against the crowd mingling around her. She was laughing, and the pervert at her elbow wore an amused smile as he listened to her talk. By the direction they were heading in, he figured they were going to the library, and he smirked, shaking his head as he turned his course so he was heading towards them. The milling crowd of the square moved wordlessly out of his way as he pushed through it.

Ivan could wait five more minutes.

He knew the lecher had seen him approach, but Levy hadn't, and his grin widened at her startled jump when he draped his arm around her shoulders. "Hey."

She made a noise of surprise, and he caught Leo shaking his head beside them. "A warning would be nice!" she chided then, but there was laughter in her voice, and she tilted her head to look up at him from under the brim of her sunny-yellow hat. Then she scrunched her nose up, distaste written clear across her face, and a gloved hand reached up to push his face away. "Eck, you smell."

He snorted, but let the cigarette drop to the ground, and before he could even think about what he was actually doing, he'd already stepped on it. He didn't get a chance to complain, though, before her resulting smile distracted him enough to forget.

"Good boy, Redfox," Leo purred from beside them, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips, and Gajeel growled, ready to tell him off when Levy beat him to it.

"Don't point fingers, Loke – I know you don't smoke in front of Lucy."

Her escort blinked at her lightly chiding words, and then shifted his gaze to something at the opposite end of the square. "Yes, well..."

Gajeel smirked, and tightened his arm around Levy's shoulders, revelling silently in the scandalous mutters from some of the women mingling around them. Usually he didn't give a flying monkey what anyone thought when they looked at him, but now he couldn't help his morbid curiosity when it hit him. There was the three of them – Levy was easily pegged as upper classed with those rags, and with his sense of dress and manners Leo could have pulled off being her date without anyone batting an eyelash. And even if Gajeel was dressed in his best, as Ivan expected, his shirt was still only partly tucked into his trousers, and his jacket was loose, exposing his suspenders. He hadn't bothered putting on his tie yet, either, so the top buttons of his shirt were open. Had they been doing anything else, people might have thought he'd just run into them and was giving them trouble.

But there was the unavoidable fact that Leo was standing at an appropriate distance, whereas Gajeel was effectively trampling on any and every social boundary imaginable. Next to Levy in her white dress and yellow hat, he had to look like some sort of alley rat that she'd somehow deigned worthy to put his hands on her. The fact that he did, in fact, have his arm around her shoulders in a gesture of intimacy that was enough to give posh town's prissy residents a collective heart attack, had to be quite the sight. Half the women who passed them by threw him ugly looks, but he met their gazes unflinchingly and with a challenging tilt to his chin. Levy didn't even seem to notice the stares, and the fact made him straighten a little, feeling oddly smug. Leo only shook his head, an odd smile on his face, and Gajeel glared at him, before turning his attention back to the girl beside him.

"You going to the library?"

Her smile was bright as the sun as she grinned up at him. "Is it that obvious?"

He only raised a brow, meeting Leo's amused look. "She being a hassle?"

"Hey!"

Gajeel grinned, ignoring her protests, and Leo laughed. "Miss Levy has been nothing but good company," he said with a small bow of his head.

Gajeel snorted. "The hell did ya do to get her to act like that? When I was watchin' her she was going out of her way ta make things difficult for me."

"Oh, I made things difficult for you?" Levy exclaimed, pursing her lips in playful indignation as she nudged his side. "I seem to remember that you were the biggest hassle. I was the one to had to propose a truce!"

He grinned. "Had ta see if you were worth yer salt," he said with a shrug. "If ya'd been too posh fer me ta handle, I'd have shipped ya off on someone else the next day."

"You say that as you though were my ideal pick for an escort."

Gajeel gave Loke a sly look. "Well, ya got what ya wanted in the end, didn't ya?"

She nudged his side again – his uninjured one. "Don't be cheeky – I might get ideas."

"Oh yeah?" he challenged.

She turned her nose up. "I quite like Loke, and we get along well together. You should watch it, or I might just want to keep him." She couldn't have hid her smile if she'd tried, and Gajeel snorted.

"Gotta become a better liar before ya'd make me believe that, Shorty."

She pursed her lips. "You're no fun."

"I ain't paid ta be–"

The clock overlooking the square chose that moment to remind him that he was treading on dangerous territory, keeping Ivan waiting. With a grumble, he released her shoulders. "I need ta head uptown," he said, letting his hand brush against the bare patch of skin at her collar, and she looked a little disappointed.

"Oh."

He smirked, and deciding that if he was going to cause a scandal he might as well do it properly, he caught her chin with his hand, pulling her in for a kiss before she had a chance to protest. She laughed against his mouth, and slapped his chest playfully.

"Public!" she hissed when he pulled back, her cheeks tinted with colour, and he grinned wickedly, noting that despite her protests, she was smiling.

"Better get used to it," he rumbled as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. Sharing a significant look with Leo, who looked too damn amused for his own good, Gajeel raised his hand in a casual salute. "See ya later. Keep her out of trouble, yeah?"

Leo smirked and nodded and Levy rolled her eyes, but he caught the tightening of the skin at the corners of her mouth. No doubt she'd picked up on what 'heading uptown' meant; she knew him well enough to know that he didn't willingly go to that part of Magnolia unless he had a good reason to.

And a psychopathic boss was a pretty damn good reason.

Turning on his heel, he headed back the way he had come, eyes on the looming building in the distance that held Ivan's office. Fumbling around in his pockets, he searched for another cigarette, only to realise that the one he had stomped out had been his last. "Damn it!" Grumbling to himself, he shoved his hands even further into his pockets. Now he had to go through a meeting with the loon with a craving. Pulling his rumpled tie out of his pocket, he set about fastening it, grumbling to himself as he buttoned his shirt. Even if Makarov never shut up about him leaving his shirt untucked, he'd never gone so far as to demand how Gajeel dressed. But then he was the kind of boss who allowed his employees to be themselves, even if half of them were alley rats.

It didn't take him long to reach his destination, and he stomped up the stairs with as much reluctance as he could muster. The tapestry was still ugly as death, and the glaring face of Ivan's secretary didn't do his mood any favours. Upon his entrance, Flare looked up above the rims of the cheaters perched on her nose.

"You're late."

He snorted. "What are ya, paid to state the obvious?" He nodded towards the corridor. "He still in?"

"Mr. Dreyar has been waiting in his office for the past hour," Flare retorted with a clipped tone, nudging her head in the direction of the office. "I trust you can find your way."

Gajeel sneered at her. "I don't need my hand held, if that's what yer askin'."

She sniffed. "Good. I don't make it a habit touching dirt off the streets, anyway." Meeting his glare with one of her own, it was like she dared him to make another comment. Lifting a hand, she adjusted her glasses, pushing them further up on her nose. Gajeel's brows furrowed as his gaze caught the violent purple bruise covering her wrist when the sleeve of her blouse slid down.

She noticed the stare, and started, pulling her sleeve back up and hiding her arm behind her desk. "Keep your eyes to yourself!" she snapped. But now that he'd been made aware of it, the next thing he noticed was the fading, yellow-green sheen by her temple that she hadn't been able to hide with her hair, as well as a healing cut on her lip that looked too severe for her to have done it to herself.

"You are keeping Mr. Dreyar," she ground out then, and his eyes left her temple to meet her furious glare. She fidgeted with the pens at her desk, hands clenching against the rich wooden surface, but she seemed more embarrassed than anything else.

He said nothing as he turned on his heel, but he felt her eyes follow him as he turned the corner down the corridor leading to Ivan's office. He'd been pretty peeved before he'd walked in, but now...now he didn't even know what he felt. It wasn't sympathy – it couldn't be. Not for a woman who'd done nothing but treat him like dirt since the day he'd walked in to find her behind the desk in the reception. Hell no. He grumbled to himself, and shook the thought away. Her beeswax was her own, and not for him to stick his nose into. Working for Ivan wasn't just a hazard for those who fought in the ring for him or worked as his errand boys; she had to have known that when she'd accepted the position, especially if she wasn't just a run-of-the-mill secretary.

Still, even if she was annoying as hell, he wondered what she'd done to earn it.

The overly-elaborate doors loomed before him, but he didn't pause before pushing them open. Knocking would only be considered an insult now, with how late he was. At least Ivan would take it as an insult – Gajeel knew him well enough to know that. And he was already on his bad side, so he wasn't about to push his luck too much.

"Ah, Gajeel. How kind of you to join us."

The tone was pleasant enough – anyone could have mistaken it for the polite kindness it mocked – but Gajeel heard the underlying note of irritation and anger. He also noticed the 'us', but by the time the thought had settled he'd already caught sight of Laxus sitting in one of the two chairs in front of Ivan's overly elaborate desk. The blonde man looked up from his drink upon Gajeel's entry, and nodded once, acknowledging his presence but letting nothing else slip.

Gajeel smirked. "The prodigal son's returned, huh?" he asked as he took a seat himself, trying not to slouch as it made his midsection smart. He wasn't offered a drink, although the crystal decanter sat invitingly on Ivan's desk next to an empty glass. The significance of the gesture smarted like a physical slap, but Gajeel ignored it.

"Yes," Ivan said, fingers pressed together in front of his face as he quirked an odd smile. "An interesting analogy, but fitting, I suppose."

Gajeel said nothing to that, but shifted in his seat, trying to get comfortable. The room was too warm and his new shirt itched, and he clenched his fingers against the arms of his chair to stifle the urge to loosen his tie.

"Were you delayed, Gajeel?" Ivan asked then, as he refilled his own glass, and the scent of quality liquor hit his nose as it mingled with the ice in the glass. Gajeel resisted the urge to glare.

"Ran into someone in the square," he said instead, meeting Ivan's challenging stare with his own.

"Must have been someone interesting, to keep you so long."

"Not really. Was one of the geezer's brats, askin' questions." He shrugged. "Had to keep up appearances."

Ivan's smile was slow and forced. "Indeed."

Gajeel didn't say anything else, and didn't glance over at Laxus where he sat, equally silent beside him. As expected, he played his role flawlessly, but then for a guy who kept a straight face in most situations, that didn't really surprise him. He wanted to ask why he'd been called in, but figured he'd let the nutter take his time. He knew he was being punished for taking his own time in coming over, and he pushed his impatience down as he focused his attention on an especially ugly painting at the far end of the room.

Finally, after taking his sweet time inspecting his crystal tumbler, Ivan turned his attention back to Laxus and Gajeel; a strange smile on his face that had the hairs on the back of Gajeel's neck stand out. "So, I imagine you're curious as to why I've called you here...Gajeel."

"I'm guessing it's something important," he said, trying not to be cheeky. One wrong word, and being refused a drink would seem like a joke compared to what the man would dish out.

Ivan smirked. "You guess correctly," he said smoothly, placing his glass down before him as he laced his fingers in front of his face. "I'm going to assume you're not so close to Makarov that you know of his plans?"

Something about the way he said it had something heavy drop into the pit of his stomach, but Gajeel merely shrugged. "That would depend on what it is."

Ivan smiled, and gestured to Laxus. "Why don't you tell him, my boy."

His expression didn't so much as twitch, but Gajeel saw Laxus' fingers tighten around the glass in his hand. On the surface, though, he was as aloof as ever, and Gajeel figured Ivan didn't know his son well enough to read his reactions. The 'my boy' had to have the same effect on him as it did on Gajeel – probably even more so, considering the fact that he was even closer to Makarov.

"The geezer is going to name me heir," he said then, at length, meeting Gajeel's gaze. "To the company...and the speakeasy."

"The old man knows his time is running out," Ivan cut in before Gajeel could speak, his tone smug. "And it is, especially now that Laxus here will be announced the sole heir. Once it's in the will, I won't have to wait any longer. I'll have both the company and the speakeasy under one Dreyar, at long last. And Laxus will be made heir to the lot." He grinned, spreading his hands. "The way it is meant to be. Makarov is old news in this town; it's time for the new generation to take over from the old..."

Gajeel said nothing as Ivan went on about his new empire, only smirked and nodded at appropriate moments. All the while dread was settling further and further down into his stomach, until he felt sick. Did the old man know about his plans? It was hard to tell from looking at Laxus. Other that the tense set to his shoulders, there was nothing that suggested the news upset him. Gajeel would have to ask him later. Either way, if they told him, what good would it do? If Makarov didn't announce Laxus heir, Ivan would know something was up; or that someone had leaked the information. But if he did declare Laxus as the sole heir to the company and the speakeasy, he would be painting a target at the back of his head. Like Ivan had said – he wouldn't have to wait any longer.

"So, Gajeel. Any news from your side of town? I heard you had a rather...unfortunate run-in, was it last week?"

Gajeel didn't bother point out that Ivan probably knew every single detail, down to the hour of his meeting with Jose, and shrugged. "Smoked out some rats," he said simply.

Ivan's smile was somewhere between pleased and amused. "I'd like to say 'good job', though it was on no order from me. Regardless, Jose Porla has been a bit of a...nuisance. His removal has been most fortunate."

Gajeel merely smirked, but offered no comment to Ivan's obvious gloating. He wondered how many of Jose's goons were now on Ivan's payroll, and wondered if the loon's removal had been quite as 'fortunate' for the rest of the city. For Makarov, it could prove to be an even worse alternative to having Jose plotting his schemes in his dark hole of the Alleys. Of course, it wasn't through any fault of theirs that he'd gone off his nuts in the end. That was his own doing, and it would have been a bigger problem to just leave him after they'd blasted their way out of his lair. They'd done what had been the best option at the time, but in the end, they'd simply rid the city of a mongrel whose bark was worse than his bite. Their biggest problem yet was sitting in front of him, fingers laced in front of his face and a slow smile curling his lips. Gajeel tried not to grimace at the sight.

"Have you been in the ring since your success?" Ivan asked then, once again keeping up the appearance of ignorance. Gajeel bristled, but kept himself from showing what he was thinking.

"Nah," he said simply. "Took some bad hits, and then I got this pretty present," he said, motioning to his brow.

Ivan hummed. "Perhaps you should get something scheduled, once you've healed? The club Makarov's brats fight for has been rising in the ranks, lately. You know the one – owned by that jigaboo, what's his name?"

Gajeel felt his hands tighten around the arms of his chair, but forced himself to keep calm. "Lily," he ground out, even when he tried to keep his voice from betraying his mood.

"Ah, that's it. You know him, yes? It used to be just a run-down club, but it seems I've got to watch out for him now. He's making quite the name for himself."

Gajeel tried to keep his expression neutral as Ivan spoke, even as he felt sick to his stomach. Nothing was off limits in this town, it seemed, if it caught his fancy. Jose would have no doubt learnt that the hard way, if Gajeel and Juvia hadn't taken him out. Lily knew what business he was meddling with, but it still rankled him that Ivan seemed to consider everything his turf and anyone who tried to move in on it as opponents that had to be taken down. He hadn't managed with Sabertooth yet, because when it came down to it Gemma's girl could no doubt hold her own against him. But Lily didn't have a company to fall back on, and he was black, and that was never an advantage in Magnolia, or anywhere else in Fiore.

He caught Laxus' quick look out of the corner of his eye, but didn't so much as twitch. And all the while, Ivan regarded them with that smile on his face. It was the deceiving smile he showed the press whenever they printed a story on him; the one that made him out to be the best goddamn fella that had ever graced Magnolia with his presence. But Gajeel had seen the man behind the smile enough to not be fooled by the façade. There was a darkness behind those grinning eyes, and a ruthless cunning that had earned him his place in the business world. The same cunning that could, if they didn't intervene soon, bring him all the way to the top.

The thought brought him back to their earlier conversation, about his plan to take Makarov's company. Questions lurked at the back of his mind, but in order to have them answered he had to think carefully about how he voiced them. And tact wasn't exactly his forte.

Laxus surprised him then, by speaking up. "What exactly do you plan to do with the old man?" It was a surprisingly blunt question, asked to a man like Ivan who was notorious for beating around the bush, but then it came from Laxus, and in that respect, he didn't take after his old man.

Ivan turned his gaze on his son, his smile indulgent. "That's not for you to worry about, my boy. If you're to take over the company, you won't be involved with that. You need a clean name to make it in the business world."

The intention behind his reluctance was clear; he wasn't discussing his plans in front of Gajeel. And if he was serious about not telling Laxus, they had a problem. They could warn Makarov all they wanted; if they didn't know what Ivan would do, it wouldn't change anything. What they did know was that if Laxus was legally recognized as heir, the city wouldn't find it odd that Makarov's company passed on to him in the event of his death. And if Laxus handed the company over to his father, no one would probably even bat an eyelash. He was young, yet, and Ivan was a seasoned businessman. It made sense that he should shoulder the brunt of the company and the Dreyar name. It was like being on a train heading straight towards an impending crash, and knowing full well what was about to happen, but nothing about what they could do to stop it.

One thing was certain, though, even with all the unanswered questions.

They were running out of time.

It was evening when they were finally allowed to leave, no doubt courtesy of Gajeel's earlier tardiness.

Laxus didn't mention it, though, as they walked together out of Ivan's office and through the reception. Flare didn't even spare them a glance as they left, an they walked in silence until they'd passed well out of posh town and into the main square. The sun had dipped down behind the rooftops of the inner city, and people were getting ready to hit the town. The street corners bustled with busy restaurants and people dressed in their finest glad-rags, but the more happy smiles he saw the more Gajeel's mood dropped.

Once they'd passed safely into the narrow, curving streets of the Alleys, he finally spoke up. "Ya sure the nutter didn't tell ya anything about the old man's removal?" he kept his voice low as they walked, and kept his eyes on their surroundings. "I get it if he didn't want ta say anything in front of me; I'm still on probation. But he trusts you, right?"

Laxus sighed, and shook his head. He looked weary, and had his hands stuffed deeply into the pockets of his coat. "He's keeping his cards close to this chest," he said at length, giving Gajeel a significant look. "He means for it to go smoothly, and then I can't be involved. There's also the fact that I'm close with the old man – that doesn't sit too well with him." He shook his head, and Gajeel heard the underlying irony. Laxus' close relationship with his grandfather was what would make him the sole heir of Makarov's company, and yet Ivan was clearly jealous about the relationship. Gajeel wasn't even going to pretend he understood what bothered the loon the most – that his own son had the relationship he should have had with his father, or that his father seemed to prefer his grandson over Ivan himself.

"He's planning ahead," Laxus said then, as they rounded a corner.

Gajeel said nothing to that, but his hands clenched within the pockets of his trousers. He heard what the blonde man was implying; the further ahead Ivan planned, Makarov had to keep up and be yet another step ahead. It had to be wearing at him to constantly keep up with his lunatic son, and Gajeel wondered how much more he could take before it became too much for him to handle. Tension had been brewing for years between their companies, but it looked like it was heading towards a culmination.

And Gajeel didn't know if they were prepared for it. Whatever Ivan chose to do, it wouldn't be anything good. And by keeping his plans secret from both him and Laxus, the old man had to pull some pretty amazing tricks out of his sleeve to keep himself informed and stay ahead. For the first time in a long time, Gajeel felt somewhat redundant. He'd known when he'd accepted the job that it wouldn't be easy, working for two different men and keeping both informed without keeping them too informed, but this was the first time he'd ever felt useless. He had nothing to give the old man but what he already knew – that Ivan was planning on taking him down. The why was a given – it was the how and when they needed.

One good thing he figured he could take from the meeting was that Ivan seemed to have given up on Levy, at least for the moment. Although the fact that he was focusing all his attention on taking down his father probably wasn't any better.

He needed a drink. A strong one, preferably, after spending so long in Ivan's company. Even Cana could dig up some sympathy for him, knowing full well what kind of business Ivan ran from her time playing her father's dutiful daughter. He wondered if Levy would be averse to keep him company without the entire guild hovering around them. They could probably use one of the lounges, and the mood would definitely be better than it had the last time he'd pulled her into one; the night his job had taken a turn from 'complicated' to 'are you bloody kidding me'. A tired smile tugged his mouth upward at the prospect, and his spirits finally lifted a little as they trudged down the last streets leading to the speakeasy.

It was almost dark when they arrived, heading in the back as the front was no doubt still in use for customers. There wasn't any music playing when they opened the door, though, and the voices drifting back from the common room were frantic and edgy rather than good humoured and slurring with inebriation. Gajeel shared a look with Laxus, before pushing through the door and stepping into the open room.

Upon their entrance, several pairs of eyes turned their way. From what it appeared, only Makarov's people were present, and most of them were gathered around a worried-looking Leo. Cana had him by the collar, and seemed to have been in the middle of yelling his ear off when they'd entered from outside. It was Blondie who spoke up first, though, catching sight of them and meeting Gajeel's eyes with her own, wide and troubled ones. And he knew what she was about to say before the words even left her mouth.

"Someone's taken Levy!"

AN: DUN-DUN...! What is this, my second cliffhanger this week? ...I'm not sorry.

gasper: cigarette

cheaters: eye glasses

jigaboo: derogatory term for an African-American