I'm in the cafeteria scanning the food flashed before my eyes, being pushed in tens of directions by smelly guys screaming happily at each other. An elbow is pushed in my ribs and soon after an arm covers my vision, but I point at the vegetable salad like nothing happened. The cafeteria lady nods at me nonchalantly, like the whirl of people around us, the blizzard of human bodies pushing, running, screaming and laughing like in the climax nucleus of a kindergarten, were none but an ordinary display of elegant behaviour. What is annoying about the picture is not the noise, nor the brutality in which you must be undoubtedly dragged, and not even the atrocious perfume produced by the healthy perspiratory glands of the male specimens. What is annoying is that now, when all that I want and need is a moment of peace, I just have to participate at lunch in the midst of the animal gathering of food-carving, beastly creatures that supposedly call themselves trainees.
I get my salad and as soon as I'm about to point to the potatoes right next to the meat, a horrid guttural sound bursts precisely in my ear and maybe if I hadn't been deafened by it, I would've taken a moment to appreciate the accuracy of the man's mouth beside my ear. And maybe I could've shown some understanding if, let's presume, he were the victim of a racking source of pain which couldn't be helped but be expressed through raucous groaning. However on account of the fact that the source of his unique way of articulation is not pain but the meat that he sees instead, I'm afraid my patience has come to exhaustion.
I turn slowly and look at the guy. He's a curly-haired guy with a dumb expression on his face as he's excitedly waiting for the meat he so adores to be put on his plate. When his eyes meet mine, he instantly freezes. My effect might be even greater than I expected because soon he gets so silent that it gathers attention. His face starts getting pale and step by step, the space around me widens.
Just like a radio button being turned softly to the left, the volume growing silenter and silenter by the second, the same way does the cafeteria fall under my murderous, blood-thirsty, dark glare and the voices die down. It's amazing how in such a short time it can get so silent. Soon there's such an order in the way the people get their food, that I can actually hear the clatter of the cafeteria lady's scoop when she drops a pile of steaming potatoes in my plate. And I can turn and start walking towards a table without getting elbows in my back or stumbling upon human legs and feet. What still attacks me even now when it's so silent and spacious, is the fixed stare of most of the people; however, I can feel neither them, nor their eyes.
It would've been funny to watch what would happen next. But it's like my thoughts materialise into thick vapours until there's a cloud of questions, ideas, voices and flashbacks of the past so that I'm unable to comprehend my surroundings anymore. Confusion overwhelms me to the point that I can't even concentrate on the food in front of me, as hungry as I am. I start massaging my temples, telling myself how I need to find a moment of peace and quiet in order to think things through. I close my eyes, breathing deeply, trying to blow off Natsu's voice in my head, and then Rita's voice, even louder than his. But then I remember Natsu's teary eyes when he once asked me if there could really be hope for him. I loved him; I loved him to the point I could die if I didn't have him with me. Is it true that he's no longer the same? Did something change? And if it did, why? How? When?
Oh, Lord, my dear God… What's happening? I can't understand anything! Whom can I trust? To whom should I listen to? What am I supposed to do, what would be the right thing to do in such a situation?
Tortured by the pressure inside my chest and having my eyes squeezed tightly behind my shaking hands, I don't notice when a person stops and sits at my table.
"Hi," his voice says, breaking me out of my reverie with a flinch.
I jerk my head up and see a familiar face with a pair of mat brown eyes and a square chin above which thin lips smile at me. I have the feeling for a moment that I can't remember his name, but then it naturally comes on my lips.
"Killian," I speak surprised.
It's silent for a moment and he averts his eyes. He looks down at his tray of food questioningly, frowning as if he's not sure what it's doing in his hands.
"M-may I sit here?"
He still has his fingers under the tray, ready to lift it in case I didn't want him there. I study him for a moment longer; he looks awkward. I make a movement with my hand, as if telling him to go ahead.
"Please do," I answer silently. I hesitate not knowing what to say, still surprised to see him here. "Hi," I dumbly wake up.
"It's been a long time," he ends the phrase with a few unintelligible words in a mutter. I look in his eyes, but he's studying his food instead of returning my look.
"How are you?" I ask as if doubtful. I didn't want him to interrupt my thoughts, but seeing his familiar, innocent face brings me a soothing feeling.
"Oh, I'm fine," is all he says, nodding awkwardly.
Then he doesn't say anything anymore and starts nibbling at his organic fries. I see the itch on his face to speak about something. But it's almost like he's ignoring me, even though I'm obviously the subject of his thoughts. Like he's having a battle inside of him and I'm supposed to wait for the result: will he talk or will he not?
"How's the training going?" I ask friendly.
"Oh, the training?" he asks bubbly as if I surprised and amused him with my question. "It's going very well. I learn fast."
"Are you taking any special lessons in the medical section?"
"No, not yet, but I signed up for it," he replies quietly, nodding again very softly.
I think about making a joke to lighten up the mood, but I'm not sure if it would work.
"They could use some more neurological specialists over there," I smile at him, but he's still not looking at me.
Suddenly his cheeks go red, all the way from his neck and through his jaw and ears. He keeps quiet and I'm left wondering what he's thinking about.
"Um… " he starts, but he never continues.
I take a big mouth of my food, knowing that this might take a while.
"How are Strategy classes?" I ask him after I swallow.
"They're alright, I guess… But I like the physical training and shooting classes more."
I check him out curiously and notice that it's starting to show off on him. He was muscular when he came here, but now it's even more obvious. I look at him nodding approvingly.
"Good. It's very useful," I say simply, slurping at a cup of water and looking in his averted eyes. "Has Gray helped you while I was gone?"
He can't breathe for a few seconds, which makes him look even redder.
"Yeah, he helped me so much," he huffs. "Thanks, I guess, for, you know, recommending him or whatever. He's awesome."
"Isn't him?" I ask cheerfully. "He looks like a cold macho," I chuckle. "But he's really so kind-hearted and loving."
For the first time he shoots me a look, his lips slightly parted. His expression mirrors curiosity, confusion, desire to discover something.
"Have you made any relationships? Any friends, or have you become close to a specific teacher?" I continue, ignoring him seeing that he doesn't have the intention to ask me whatever is on his mind.
"Yeah, I've made some friends. How…-" he makes a pause to breathe. "How have you been?"
I stop chewing and my eyes are drawn like a magnet to his face. He's so embarrassed he could die. Good, it's the first question that's been on his mind. I swallow, then I nod like saying I've been so-and-so.
"Surviving," I reply nonchalantly. "You know, going though life."
"C-can I, um-"
The pressure in him is so big that his head is completely red and his fists are clenching around the tray of food. He's still holding a french fry between his fingers but he must've forgotten about it because he's squashing it in a way that looks rather comical.
"Can I just ask you something?"
I straighten my back with the beginning of a smile, preparing myself for it. Resting my elbows on the table, I throw him a large, generous smile.
"Of course, go ahead."
"What medicine were you talking about?"
The sound of the question leaves me speechless. I'm able to watch his every movement through widened eyes, but I'm unable to reply to him. At first I don't feel anything about it, but then my heart starts beating faster with excitement. He's the first one to ask. He paid attention to my speech. He received part of the message.
"When we last met," he continues flustered, but with a tone of relief. "You told me that you will survive. And that you'd come back being the most popular trainee."
"I kept my word," grinning, I flash a victory sign with two fingers.
"Yeah, but I saw…" he needs a break in order to breathe. "I saw you there."
He's blushing so much that he starts sweating.
"I saw you during your mission, and um…"
"You've probably never seen anything like it, right?"
I laugh at his face, as I have guessed exactly his thought.
"It's fine. It's common among the newbies."
"I'm no longer a newbie," he contests. "And they've shown us some mission in class, but this…"
He gets flustered again and I wonder which part of my mission makes him this embarrassed. It's pretty easy to guess.
"But anyway, I saw in what state you came back here."
He must be thinking about the videos in Section C. I wait for him to continue.
"I know what it means to have a neurological illness," he laughs once. "It's not something which is cured everyday."
I'm starting to understand where he's getting. I continue to study his face. Now he's able to look into my eyes.
"I really, really know what it means," he emphasises as if trying to convince me. "It's what I was studying in college. And I've seen real-life cases, who had been in the same state for years."
"But I was cured in five days," I whisper with a smile. The fascination in me still hasn't shrunk since the first day I became healthy. I'm still equally amazed, and just the same amount of shivers slither through my veins when I realise what kind of miracle happened inside me.
"How?" comes the desperate, the thirsty breath of air, as he bends above the table and towards me.
I look in his eyes and see it as obvious as if it was all written with words. He stares at me with amazement, with disbelief, with the desire to touch me but afraid to do so as if I were the fragile wing of a butterfly. As if I'm the miracle that doctors and students don't even dare to talk about during college lessons. With the languishment of a scientist looking for that inexplicable phenomenon, amazingly fascinating to him, Killian looks hungry to dissect my case.
I smile at him and notice that I have tears in my eyes. I swallow the lump in my throat.
"Actually," I tell him, wiping the tears away, but not the smile. "I don't have any medicine."
The disappointment in his eyes is unmeasurable when he hears my reply. His smile dies out. I chuckle amused.
"But I know the one who does."
His eyes lighten up again, like a torch.
"I feel like I can't bear it anymore," he confesses in a whisper. "I want to get out of here."
His eyes are teary and his voice is strangled.
"Please, I'm begging you. I'll do anything. I just want to be happy again."
"You want a piece of the medicine?" I ask him still grinning from one ear to the other.
Killian blows a "yes" like saying it out loud is not even worth it anymore. Still gawking at me in a tensed state of waiting, he tells me again that he'd do anything to receive my secret.
"Well there are some things that I need to tell you before I can give you the medicine," I can't stop giggling, as if I were playing a game with him. Although I know it's serious, his strain amuses me when the answer is so simple to me now.
"What is it?" he asks breathlessly.
"First off, Killian, if you really want the medicine, you'll have to follow some steps, alright? Do you think you can handle it?"
"Yes, I'll do anything you ask me," he says assured.
"Okay," I prepare myself, straightening my back and sitting better on my chair. I open my mouth to speak, but instead I take a big gulp of water. Killian can't handle the wait anymore. "First step is that you have to realise something."
"What?" he asks.
"That you must stop training for killing. That what you're preparing for is wrong."
His jaw is tight and the burst of frustration in his eyes is so immense that it brings tears to his eyes.
"You think I don't already know that?!" he yells in the lowest tone he can handle. "You think I enjoy following my father's wishes like a dog?!"
I remember that he was sold to BLS by his father, who wished to have a personal hitman to kill somebody. So he gave up his own son like a slave. The rage in Killian's eyes is something which makes me shiver. I feel the temperature drop around him and his tight muscles and the fire in his expression make me scared. I immediately feel intimidated and the smile vanishes from my face. I try to regain my train of thought and to continue speaking to him with faith and courage.
"But still you look at me like you want to kill your father," I whisper so quietly and intimidated that my words don't have any strength.
"If he were here, I wouldn't even hesitate doing it," he confesses hatefully. "It's the only motivation that keeps me going."
"So you're saying when you get out of here you intend to kill him?" I ask pale-faced.
What happened to the boy who was on the verge of crying a few seconds ago?
He combs his hair with flexed, strained fingers. His frustrated movements are brusque and violent.
"No," he says, a little more calmly. "I don't know. Yes. At least sometimes I feel like I'd actually do it. But then, just like you said, I'd be doing exactly what he wants me to do: become a hitman."
When he lifts his face again, I realise that the tears never left his eyes. He's grimacing angrily, but he's so lost and confused that I feel my heart soften and twist with pity for him. I wish I had some nice words to encourage him right now. I clench and unclench my fists in my lap, starting in the distance.
"So then what do you want to do?"
"I want to get our of here; but at the same time I want to get revenge on him. No, I just don't ever want to hear of him anymore. I don't know."
I let a big break of silence keep us both staring in some spot in the distance. I don't say anything for a while, although I have hundreds of ideas of what to tell him. The freedom I've experienced is something which I can't keep in myself. The fact that he's curious about it makes me so eager to share it with him that I almost can't keep my mouth shut. Choosing my words carefully, I continue my initial idea:
"If you want to taste the medicine I talked about," I begin and he immediately looks at me. "Then you have to forgive your father."
At first he doesn't say anything and although I can guess what his face looks like, I don't look at him.
"That's absurd," he eventually states in a whisper. His voice is more doubtful than I expected. "What does that have to do with your disease?"
"And that's not all."
I look in his eyes trying not to let myself be intimidated again.
"You have to start opposing control."
If at first he's mutely staring at me, it's not because he's surprised, but because he doesn't understand.
"What control?"
"Killian," I say. "Open your eyes. What you feel against your father is not only fuelled by BLS, but it's a weapon that if they found, they would grasp and yield like a sword against you. They would use your hate to control you. Believe me; I know a case very similar to yours which didn't end well."
"W…What case?" he asks very quietly, curious and confused, but ready to listen to me.
"This guy's father," I begin with a sigh, "was a terrible man who brought his own son to BLS when he was barely a toddler."
My eyes lose focus when I remember the story. It's like I had forgotten about it but suddenly it's all coming back.
"He grew up between criminals when all he wanted was to live a normal life. He grew up along with his hate stirred by the life his father stripped him of. So, in the end, he became the murderer this man wanted him to become when he murdered his very own father out of revenge. He ended up regretting it his whole life. Ever since then and up to today, people try to control him through the hate which still lingers in him. What he did and what can't be healed is a mean of control for the organisation. They never hesitate to remind him of what he did and sometimes they even make comparisons, declaring their preference for the deceased father."
I wait for a while, intending to continue the story, but something lightens up in my head, an idea which is starting to hatch. I can't put my finger on it, but something regarding the organisation and the hero in my story are turning some wheels in my head.
"Who's the guy you're talking about?" asks Killian in an unsettled, curious voice. "Is he still alive?"
"The President," I whisper as if surprised myself. Killian reacts even more so, expressing it in exclamations.
Wait a minute…
"So you're saying I need to oppose the control the organisation has on me? But I never realised anything…" he says honestly. Then he frowns. "Wait, there's something that's off here."
I see an expression on his face that mirrors exactly my puzzled thoughts right now.
"If even the President is being controlled by the organisation which he represents…"
I stare at Killian with surprise and enlightenment. We must be thinking the exact same thing, because with every word he's saying, he's putting my thoughts into phrases.
"… Then who is the organisation?"
Natsu is being controlled by the organisation through the means of his open, suspensive issues.
I feel my eyes grow, my head slowly putting two and two together.
Who is the organisation? That might be the only question which needs to be answered. I was so fixed on deciding which party to trust, that I didn't even realise I had no idea who the parties were.
"I don't know…" I reply blankly, staring at him puzzled.
"Wait, then what do I have to oppose?" Killian asks silently, his brown eyes narrowed but trustful.
"When they lie to you," I reply at first absent-mindedly, leaving the sentence hanging.
He didn't see the video. All along he thought I was betraying him. But why would he think that? He's the president. There must be only one reason why they didn't show him the video and why they implanted in his head the idea that I'm the traitor which played with his feelings. They lied to him.
"When they encourage you to be revengeful,"
He threatened to kill me if I were to continue with Rita's and my plan. But I know that he also wants to rebel, even though something is keeping him from parting with the organisation. They made him give up the fragile idea of forgiveness and love, making him hate me instead, although I never stopped loving him.
"When they train you to be heartless and to put your strength into battle against other people, even if they are guilty or innocent,"
Like they made me do in the mission, something which drove me mad. I shoot my eyes up at Killian, nailing him down with a determination so fresh and powerful that I can't even sit down anymore.
"Fight it, Killian! Fight it! Don't let them have your heart! Anything but your heart! And let go of the hate! Whatever you do, don't let it make you gather bitterness or hate! Let it go!"
I don't let him continue as I stand up, the little left of my food forgotten on the plate.
"When you've managed to pass that stage, come and find me! I can't wait to tell you of the next stage!" I tell him fast, flashing a grin and I smack his shoulder encouragingly.
"Wait, where are you going?" he asks confused and expectantly, also standing up.
I know that the conversation is not over yet. I haven't said half of the things I wanted to tell him. But I have something that I have to do no matter what.
My fists unconsciously clench and I feel my entire being, both body and soul, vibrant with energy. I feel my strength expanding with every passing second.
"I'm going to find out who 'they' are," I reply grinning widely, excited and fierce in my determination. "To find out who the organisation is."
It's curious how I haven't asked myself this before. They've done an awfully good job at putting a low profile until now, but I think that that era's come to an end. Even if it's the last thing that I do, I need to find out the truth and to make things right. Even if my hope is futile, and Natsu is actually guilty. I want to find out the truth.
I exit the cafeteria in a rush, prepared to boost the organisation, prepared to turn tables and to shout out the truth victoriously…
But something happens before I manage to go through the doors exiting the cafeteria.
My vision flashes a bright silver that blinds me for the next seconds. I loose my footing, a tingling numbness striking from the soles of my feet and up my legs in a flashing speed. I continue to hear the rumour around me, but with my eyes wide opened, I see pitch black. Suddenly I'm laying on the ground breathless.
I feel a cold hand on my shoulder, jerking me once. Killian, who followed me when I stood up from the table, shouts my name. I can hear him; I can hear him loud and clear. I can also hear my hectic breathing and panic shooting like arrows cutting through flesh.
I'm blind. I can't move my legs. They're paralysed. I have my eyes so wide that they're tearing up after drying out. But I can't see anything. I hear shouts and rising voices, calling for a medic, I feel the agitation raising in the room. The panic in me is bursting, ascending when I realise that I can't feel my legs, when I hear the buzz of daytime but am unable to see anything other than darkness.
I realise I can't breathe regularly and I end up whimpering so loudly in my panic that Killian is shouting at me to calm down.
"I can't see!" I call out and the clearness of my voice is striking against the darkness. I try to move my legs again, but they're completely paralysed. I find my hands pinching my flesh, digging my nails in my muscles, but it's like I'm touching an alien body. I can't feel my legs.
"Somebody went to search for a medic in Section C," a girl assures me in the midst of the commotion, her calmness intending to soothe me. But the effect is opposite; I realise how serious the situation is and I am unable to accept it.
The shock of me losing my senses is abruptly increasing. Tears are wetting my hair as I lie down, but at this point tears are stripped of any meaning and expression. My chest is moving up and down as I pant through my teeth trying to calm down, but my heart is beating so hard with so much fear and panic that I find my head spinning and losing any reason.
I start screaming. I throw my clenched fist at my thigh, but it falls in numb flesh. I don't feel anything. Hands are all around me, holding me carefully, but agitating me even more. They're too many. I can't breathe. I can't see any of them. Their voices are coming from all around me.
Overwhelmed by everything, the only thing that my mind registers in the midst of the blowing desperation and shock is voices screaming to "Take her urgently to the medical department."
"No, don't move her!" screams Killian harrowingly at that person. "This is a cerebral attack; you can't move her!"
"What happened?!" scream other new voices.
"I can't see! I'm blind!" I feel my trembling voice yell desperately. I have problems breathing in, as if around my mouth a thick rag was tied and I was forced to suck the air through it.
"Can you feel your legs?" asks Killian with the secureness of a doctor.
"No!" I yell a few times in a row, tossing my head in denial. My shaking hands are tightly clenching around flesh which I suppose is my own.
"We need to put her to sleep."
"Can you stand up?"
"Help her up in sitting position."
I'm about to lose consciousness and for a moment I actually stop hearing the voices, sinking in an immemorial, only that I come round immediately, my mind fighting the weakness of my body. Some hands are helping me up, but my blindness makes it impossible to orientate so that I can't tell where up is and where down is anymore. Unconsciously and in my conniption I'm fighting the hands around me.
"What happened?" sounds a unique voice, which stands out from all the others, just when I felt that I was losing consciousness again. I recognise it, but the panic is blocking it out of my head.
I sink in a moment of darkness and even though this time it didn't seem likely that I'd come back, my mind is fighting and I awake being carefully lifted from the ground, my legs numbly attached to the rest of my body like the limbs of a muppet. I feel the hands holding my armpits, then another pair of hands lifting my ankles, where I can't feel them.
"Hold her head steadily!" calls Killian fast and my hanging head is carefully lifted.
The mass of hands at some point retreats when I'm placed in somebody's arms, my blood-drained head resting against a shoulder.
"Did she faint?" one of the voices asks as a response to my distant calmness and she isn't far from the truth.
"Watch out," Killian says from another direction and in my haze, in the fluctuation between darkness and the present, I understand that he's not the one holding me. "Please be careful trying not to move her too much. At this point any brusque movement could paralyse her for life."
"I understand," the same unique voice from earlier resonates in my ear powerfully, but delicately at the same time, seeing my ear is glued to his chest. It sounds as if I were listening to a voice from inside a box.
Feeling a burst of nausea with blackness overwhelming my head, I lose consciousness for a few more seconds, losing the following piece of conversation.
Then distantly and yet closely, I hear the same voice talking, the vibration in his lungs tickling my cheeks. It's so familiar that it seems like a dream from a very, very far away place and time. It almost makes me remember the warm feeling of being held as a baby. I keep feeling the chest moving and vibrating against my face. Two regular beats paired up and distanced by a bare moment from the following pair, sound like a drum in my ear and it's very difficult for me to recognise it as a heartbeat.
When he starts walking, my brain gives up at the painful motion, which concentrates in a single spot at the back of my head. I faint and this time I don't wake up until way later.
-.-.-.-.-
Opening my eyes, the mild light from a table lamp, coloured between an intense orange and salmon, strikes my sensitive eyes. I blink slowly until I get used to the blurry images around me. For some reason, my head is pumping painfully and I feel exhausted. My legs are tingling numbly like thousands of needles pinched my muscles, from the soles of my feet up to my thighs. At first the only movement which I'm able to make is to twitch my right foot's toe.
Slowly the blood starts pumping faster in my body and I'm able to feel my muscles again. My vision also gains focus and I'm able to see a figure standing on the edge of my bed.
I feel my lungs suck on air abundantly and the calmness it gives me, relaxing and making my muscles want to stretch, is amazing. I look more carefully at the wide back sitting near me, and I recognise him as Gray's. Next to him, Killian is standing and looking at a computer where there are images of a sketched brain contoured in different colours per section.
"Where am I?" I ask lightly, with an aerial confusion in my voice.
The heads whirl around surprised and when their eyes meet mine widely, they remain the same for a while. Relief materialises on Gray's face and Killian is simply struck, dumb-founded.
"Can you see?" asks Gray softly, but at the same time breathlessly, in suspense.
In the cliff-hanging moment that follows, I remember everything that happened. How I lost my eyesight and how my legs were paralysed. I shiver powerfully and my heart starts drumming defensively, as if such a shock were to happen again and I should get prepared.
But looking at Gray and Killian, and stretching my legs with every nerve diligently sending me notifications of the soft sheets or of the warmth of the blanket, I understand that there's nothing to be afraid of anymore.
"What happened?" I ask with tears in my eyes. Then I add in a trembling voice: "That scared the crap out of me."
Killian starts walking back and forth in the room, very slowly and in deep shock.
"That's the thing, we don't understand," Gray tries to clarify me. "A miracle happened."
I look at Killian again and I start to understand why he's quiveringly covering his mouth with lost, wide eyes, his hands appearing to tremble.
"The doctors don't know what struck you," Gray continues to explain. "But it was serious and supposedly irreversible. The lower half of your body was paralysed and you had lost your eyesight."
"It was irreversible?" I ask shocked. "I had lost them for life?"
The bare thought of it makes me want to die. But I can see. I can feel.
"What happened?" I continue in the same manner.
"You fainted and during your tests you healed."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know, Lucy," he replies pale-faced, which is a rare sight for Gray. "You just healed. Just like that."
He rubs his bare arm after he flinches. He's shivering. And Killian is still walking through the room in a faze of shock.
"What are you doing?" he eventually asks after a break of silence. He goes to the computer. "What are you doing, what are you taking, that you heal the irreversible diseases?"
He points at a section in the brain.
"This part of your brain was struck. Alright? When the nervous system is struck, chances of healing are null. Do you understand?" he asks accusingly, looking pointedly at me. "But you slept and the second test results came out perfect. Okay? The first results showed that this part of your brain was damaged and the second ones showed that you're as healthy as a horse."
He then changes to another part of the brain, one more towards the middle.
"Then we have this part of the brain. Here it looked like you were burnt, like the nerves were overcharged and blew up like an electrical circuit. But on the second test results it looked perfectly normal. What happened? You tell us what happened, Lucy."
I keep silent, shocked by the unbelievable information I just received. So unbelievable that if it hadn't happened to me, I wouldn't have believed them myself.
"Killian, this is not why we came here," Gray scolds him and they both look somewhere in the distance with deep frowns. "It's not like she knows what happened. I'm just glad you're fine, Lucy. It's all that matters to me."
A break of silence follows. Both him and Killian are motionless while I pull myself up in sitting position. I stare at them, at the computer on the desk beside Killian, at the medicinal devices beside me that I didn't need to use. Then Gray turns his eyes and sets them upon me.
"Actually," he starts slowly and hesitatingly. "It's not really all that matters to me."
He stands up and faces me. Killian stands beside him.
"Whoever is on your side, Lucy," he starts awkwardly. "Whoever doesn't want death to get you and keeps making these miracles for you…" he tries to find his words staring at the ceiling. "Obviously the organisation is no match for Him. And by no means I'd like to be on the opposing team of Him."
"I agree," Killian speaks hoarsely. "Gray explained to me while you were asleep what you actually meant by your 'medicine'."
"I thought that if by taking your medicine I'd betray the organisation, then even if I care for you I couldn't do it," Gray confesses. "But then I realised that your medicine was the medicine for the heart, not just a call for battle. We decided that in order to experience the freedom from the slavery of the organisation, we need to be on the same side with you and with your healer."
I didn't realise when a smile started growing on my lips. Such happiness and peace fill my heart that I'm sure nothing can shatter it.
"So even if it means betraying the organisation-"
"No," Killian interrupts. "Especially because it means betraying the organisation in order to fight beside you."
"Yeah, so, we kinda want to really listen to what you have to teach us. And be part of your little army on the way of doing so."
I find myself grinning.
"Rita told you."
"Yeah," Gray replies. "But honestly what made me take this decision was seeing you so peaceful after I got to know what you experienced in the mission."
"Oh, Gray, if only you knew…" I say putting my whole heart into this phrase. "If only we could forgive more easily, and oppose the things we must oppose… It's so simple!"
And if only we could put our trust in You. If only I could do it always, like I should. You just saved me again; I can't believe You're still not my first choice to run to when I'm in trouble.
"What do we have to do?" asks Gray hesitatingly.
I realise I'm not sure, so I decide to direct them towards Rita. She's much more prepared than me regarding our plan. She should know how to tell them to act for the following days in order not to be suspected. I tell them so, only that I don't get to finish everything I wanted to tell them, until the door opens and the voice - his voice sounds in the little hallway of the room, where I can't see him.
"Get out. Now," he commends to Gray and Killian and the two jump surprised.
"Mr. President, we need to-" Gray tries to argue his rights to spend more time with me, but the President cuts him off strictly and repeats his command.
I find myself standing up from the bed, intimidated. I'm in my normal gym clothes, my hand is still bandaged after I cut it with the handcuffs in the activity with Rita, the only different thing about me being my bare feet, feeling the coldness of the tiled floor. I realise even this is a miracle and suddenly I feel a wave of gratefulness that I can stand up, that I am completely normal and quite energetic too. What is not normal about me is the speed of my heartbeats, doubled at the sound of Gray and Killian exiting the room fast, the door closing behind them and-
Well, Natsu enters my vision. Which is enough to make my strength turn to weakness. To make my stomach churn and twist mercilessly. I didn't even imagine he'd be here. I didn't even imagine he'd ever be alone in a room with me anymore. He's tall, taller than I remember he was. He's wearing a blue button-up shirt which I remember felt uncomfortable against my face when he held me. His hair is still combed back, a single rebel strand falling on his forehead. His chin is lifted and if I didn't know him, I'd say it's lifted proudly, but it's just his way of standing. The real emotions are shown by his fleshy lips, which are partly separated in shock. His eyes are looking directly into mine, boring intensely with a power I forgot he was capable of having.
"You can see," he observes, his voice resonating in the silence of the room, where now it's just the two of us.
I don't know what happens. Maybe he forgot his position. Maybe he forgot he was trained into boxing his feelings and restraining from acting on a whim. Maybe it's just a moment of weakness. But when he's suddenly beside me and he's holding my face between his hands, I'm taken completely, entirely by surprise. I'm dumb-founded and I can't react to his touch but with stillness.
"You can stand," he continues to state, absorbing my look, my seeing him, like it's the most beautiful sight he could witness.
I nod dumbly, attacked by emotions so sudden and irrational that I fear I won't be able to have a lucid thought throughout this conversation. Or whatever is going to happen in the following moments.
"You're not paralysed."
"I'm completely fine," I say and my voice sounds surprised.
I notice the doubt in my heart, the reservedness that keeps me from being happy of his presence. Rita's warning rises like an alarm in my head. But Natsu is looking at me. He's touching me. He's so close that I can feel his warmth.
How long has it been since I've experienced this?
Longing starts hatching in my chest along with the nostalgia of what once was between us, like a distant memory that I am offered the opportunity to experience again.
Natsu seems to be overwhelmed by the same feeling because for some reason, even after he's made sure I'm fine, he can't let go of me. He doesn't want to let go of me.
He's so beautiful, with the gorgeous lines of his face, his cheekbones, his jawline, his nose and his forehead. I long for my fingers to have permission of journeying on these beautiful features. I feel like I want him to be even closer to me, like if he'd be one centimetre further, he'd leave and never again gift me with his approach like this. It's been so long since I've kept these feelings captured inside of me that now they burst with the revenge cut out for my cruelty. What would be smart of me is to ask him why he called me to his office when he wasn't there. Or what the purpose of the trust test is. But what comes out of my mouth is so irrelevant to the plan, or to my logic, or to my insecurities, that I admit I have no excuse whatsoever for wasting such an opportunity.
"Were you the one to carry me to Section C?" I whisper and tenderly, my fingers touch his cheek, caressing him with the wave of emotions that twists my logic. I feel him shudder powerfully under my touch. I feel my hands sweating. I feel his body emanating so much heat that he starts breathing heavily. My chest squeezes painfully.
His hands touch my waist, circle it, holding the small of my back and everything, everything that I've doubted, that I've tried to remember, that I've planned beforehand for situations like this, weights absolutely nothing the moment he pulls me at him.
When my arms move on their own and hug his neck, he's already kissing me flamingly against all logic, all rationality about the organisation, about our positions, about our antagonism. As if we were in a completely parallel universe, where we never stopped loving each other, we give in to the mutual attraction. And in this moment, I feel like I don't care that I'm weak-willed. All I want is to feel him this close.
Kissing Natsu feels like a miracle. Kissing Chase was a pain and effort for my will. But kissing Natsu is perfectly natural and satisfying, something that I forgot during the past month. It's like my head is emptied of any thought. Like we are on the bottom of an ocean were there's no gravity, where the objects are suspended and we are floating and there's no up or down, left or right.
One by one I step in the trap of my weakness when I choose to ignore the guilt stinging my chest. I had reached a conclusion: not to trust Natsu anymore. But as his broad hand is pressing my ribs then falls down my back, I feel like I don't care anymore; not when he's kissing my mouth like this, not when I can feel him against me like I haven't for so long- no, like I haven't before. I longed for him so much that I cast away what's left of my consciousness in order to feel his chest in my palms and make him shudder when I take his breath away like he takes mine.
I can't even take a good breath of air that he's kissing me again, glueing me to the wall where I can't run away from him like I might have gathered the will to. His will seems to be even weaker than mine because he doesn't show any restrain.
"I missed you so much," he huffs kissing my neck. My heart flutters desperately in its cage.
"Me too," I find myself confessing with my heart, in that my head is already out of service. "I love you so much, Natsu."
I know I'm going to regret this; I know it! And if I tell Rita she's going to kill me. But he's my boyfriend! How can anybody expect of me to suddenly stop feeling for him?
"I never stopped loving you," he says with so much pain in his voice that I look at him surprised. Could he be telling the truth?
But at this point I feel like I'd rather he were lying to me and I never find it out, than knowing he's lying to me. His hot face kissing my neck and his trembling hands pulling me so powerfully are telling me a thing, while his words are telling me something else. I try not to care, not to mind the possibilities, to enjoy the present.
But I realise I have tears in my eyes.
"Then why were you so cold to me?" I ask strangled, shutting my eyes tightly, wishing he wouldn't answer me. Indeed, instead of answering he kisses me, sucking my mind away with every move and touch. Oh, I shouldn't have let him inside. I shouldn't have ever let him kiss me. If only I had known how much I'd regret it now, when I can't have the slightest control over my mind and body, I would have drawn myself strict limits and never let him touch me this temptingly.
He was jealous. I can feel it in his hands, which are squeezing me and touching my skin hotly under my black t-shirt.
He was angry. I can feel it in the way he bites my lips too powerfully and pushes me against the wall painfully.
He was holding his emotions for far too long. I can feel it in the way his approach is desperate like he knows it's forbidden.
But this is not how we should communicate. This is not how we should've talked, how he should've explained to me what's going on. I was supposed to see him in his office, where he would either explain, either persuade me into crossing to his side. Or he would tell me how the organisation, how 'they' are controlling him and how he never wanted us to be enemies.
Regretfully, I want to push away, knowing that this is enough and that it cannot continue unless he gave me some explanations, be them even fake or manipulating. But we open our mouths at the same time and maybe if I had been the first one to speak I would've saved myself or a very, very long chain of unfortunate events. But I am not, Natsu taking the lead and destroying everything in this trusting, doubting, thinking or dreaming brain of mine.
"Marry me," he huffs hotly flashing me a pair of the most alluring, loving eyes I have ever seen a human wear.