AN: Quarantine's given us all time to work on abandoned pet projects. Anyway this was an old story of mine written back in 2014 or 2015, and recently I've rewritten it, the same as with Firelights of Summer. This final project will be shorter than the original and takes quite a few different turns, so if you didn't quite like the original, give this one a sporting try. Thank you for reading.

Chapter 1: The Strange Mage, Lucy

And all shall be well

And all manner of things shall be well.

When the tongues of flame are in-folded

Into the crowned knot of fire,

And the fire and the rose are one.

—T. S. Eliot "Four Quartets"

Fire is a field of contradictions. It serves as a source of heat, warming cold bodies, burning away bacteria from edibles, and chasing back the looming shadows of the night. And just as quickly as it gives, it takes; gobbling down entire forests of trees with centuries of stories, shriveling and peeling and husking everything up to human skin, and poisoning the air for generations to come. Natsu once thought magical fire was different, that because it could be regulated so easily it wouldn't hold the same drawbacks, only positives.

His fire dances in the slight night wind, soft orange glow illuminating the creases and callouses of his palm. The embers—tiny, weak hatchlings, no bigger than his thumb's nail—drift away only to be instantly snuffed not a single pace away from their mother's warm breast. The light is cast across the dirt where a slim shadow darts out of view just a second too slow. The corner of his mouth skews and he clenches his fist, reducing the flame to nothing.

"Go away." His voice is tight, leaving no room for arguments. His accoster, on the other hand, takes no heed.

"That's a little rude, don't you think?" Nonetheless she sits next to him on the bench. He puts as much space between them as possible. "I heard Magnolia is full of the friendliest people you'll meet."

"I'm not included."

"Don't say that," she says, and he can hear the smile in her voice, but he chooses to ignore her. "You look like a nice guy."

"Looks are deceiving."

"Well, I consider myself a good judge of character." Really, this girl.

"For all you know, I'm a serial killer and you're about to be my next mark."

"I'm pretty good at defending myself. I'm a wizard, you know." She puffs her chest out with a smug smile. That is a point he was going to bring up. Mages smell different from normal people.

"Hey, good for you, blondie."

"Lucy."

"Good for you, Luigi, but I was kinda enjoying my solitude—"

"Lu-cy," she corrects with pouting lips. Her ponytail brushes his face as she leans back and he gets another mouthful of her smell. "And what drew me in was your magic. It's a cold night, in case you didn't realize." He pauses and looks over her from the corner of his eye. Though he cannot truly determine if it's colder than usual, her skimpy clothing would expose her to the elements in any circumstances. He doesn't see why he should save her ass from her bad dress decision.

"Okay look, I don't like company, and I reached my social limit." He rises to leave and her voice draws him back.

"You're sitting out here late at night staring at the moon. I'm guessing you don't have better places to be." Which is very true. "There's solace in numbers, you know? It must be lonely."

"I'm not lonely." But she doesn't give in yet.

"Why are you out here staring at the moon? You don't have a home?" He wavers and answers again despite himself.

"I have places to sleep, but those don't really count, do they?" She blinks, opens her mouth, then shuts it as she debates her words. His better judgment tells him to leave, but his mind wants to stay and see what's going to come from her mouth next. It is not so much as her being interesting—she's persistent and stubborn, those traits he is sure of—but his humanity is starved of social interaction despite the risk. Like Tantalus, who is eternally thirsty and hungry with food and water inches from him, Natsu is desperate to speak to anyone and yet cannot.

"Places to sleep?"

"Yup."

"Don't you eat?" she questions, then gives a little sigh like it's a lighter question.

"I do, but—" his stomach loudly reminds him of why he planned on leaving in the first place and he winces a little, "—it's…hard." More like impossible, what with him being a Mage without a Guild to rely on financially or anything. He can sometimes make money from odd jobs, but that's what they are: odd. As in infrequently seen.

"Then come on." She brushes his shoulder as she walks past, her ponytail swishing against the back of her blue top. He stares after her.

"Come on?" She huffs.

"To eat! I'm not gonna invite you again." He wants to refuse, but his stomach pumps his feet to chase after her before his brain can work up a decent case.

"For a nice girl, I wouldn't expect you to know bars," Natsu says, resting his elbows on the polished wood to stare at her across the table. She smirks coyly and raises a finger.

"Who says I'm a nice girl?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, you're obviously a national criminal kindly taking me out to eat with your own money. I'm sorry, I'm stupid." She gives him a tight but still amused smile.

"Hello Stupid, I'm Lucy." She's damn hilarious, he thinks with a grin he can't quite fight off. A waitperson comes by and drops a glass of alcohol-orange juice mix for her, a plate of roasted chicken for Natsu.

"You should know, Stupid is, in fact, my maiden name." He grins, tit-for-tat. She laughs a little, her eyes sparkling as she takes a sip.

"I should warn you, bar food sucks." Whether it sucks or not, the roast chicken is the first real food he had in so long and it tasted like it came from the gods themselves, like baby angel wings smothered in butter or something. He inhaled it and asked if it's alright for him to order more. "Yeah, it's fine."

"Where did an angel like you come from?"

"Is that a flirt?" She doesn't take herself too seriously though, glancing around the bar. It's about as packed as a bar would be early in the morning, stragglers gulping beer and making a general ruckus. "I'm here for a Guild." He waits until the server returns with two more plates, one ramen and one steak, before speaking again.

"Let me guess—Fairy Tail?" he asks through a full mouth. She chuckles.

"Well I guess it's kind of obvious. They're one of the most well-known Guilds in Fiore. Are you in a Guild? Or—are you even a Mage?" The question makes him stop, his next bite inches from his lips. He drops the fork a little too quickly.

"A Mage," he repeats, the question bouncing around his skull as a mass of words. He gulps, and tries again when the food sticks in his esophagus, then he says cautiously: "I use magic, but I don't consider myself a Mage."

"Why not?"

"It's…private." More like terrifying. He stuffs his mouth to avoid speaking again, which Lucy thankfully picks up on. She twirls the orange slice about her drink idly before taking it between her pink lips and sucking the juice off. She has big, full lips, Natsu notes, and thick eyelashes. He assumes she would be considered pretty, maybe beautiful, by average men, but his romanticism is in worse condition than his social skills. Besides, the only romancing on his mind is with the food.

"You know, I've never caught your name." He didn't throw it out there to begin with, but he decides he's already dipped far enough into the pits of Hell, giving his name won't matter as much.

"Nazuu."

"Could you…swallow first please?"

"Sorry. Natsu."

"Natsu. That's a nice name." He flushes a little, unused to compliments, and turns away. She smiles, then her large eyes turn concerned. "Why don't you have somewhere to be?"

He starts to dodge the question, then he fires back his own: "Why don't you?" Although it comes out sharper than hers. Her eyebrow twitches and her lips press into a flat line as she debates the answer, winding the straw of the emptied glass around her finger.

"I have had a house for my whole life, but I haven't had a home in ten years."

"A house may not be a home, but it's a place to stay, with food and beds and—"

"Nobody who cares about you?" she fires back in a second. "With those stipulations, a house could be anywhere, anything. A home is what I really want."

He snorts, stirring his finger in his root beer float before sticking it in his mouth. She glowers but doesn't say anything for a moment. "It's not what you need though. I know the reason I don't have a house: I have no family, no one left… You, on the other hand, do. I don't like that you abandoned them, whether they care or not."

"You have no one left?" He pauses before shaking his head slowly. "I'm sorry."

No, I'm the sorry one. I'm the one who caused their deaths, and I'm the one who still dares to live on the planet knowing I killed them and because I'm too much of a coward to end it. Lucy, you're apologizing for the wrong people.

"It's…not okay. But you don't need to apologize."

"But I want to." Her eyes sparkle a little. "I've lost my mother when I was a little girl, and my father not too long ago. I know how much it hurts."

I doubt you killed them, though, so you do not, in fact, know how much it hurts. See, Lucy, it's the worst kind of burn. It started here in my chest with Igneel, and with every victim after, it crawled through my blood vessels until it feels like I'm burning from the inside-out, a constant second heart beating—or rather, ticking—inside of me all day every day, and won't go away until I do…

"You're gonna get brain freeze," she says as he spoons ice cream as swiftly as possible into his mouth, trying to soothe the permanent scorching pain.

"What the hell is that?"

"Never mind." Then it seems to finally occur to her how much he has eaten. "Wow. How long has it been since you last ate?"

"Dunno. I don't really keep track anymore. Sometimes I get fish, but I haven't in a while…should be concerned about that…" Lucy remains silent as he plows through three more bowls before sighing in relief. He pushes the dirtied dishware away, not quite satisfied but reluctant to press for more of the angel who gave him a free meal in the first place. "Thank you for the meal." He fully intends on stealing into the night, but she halts him as he leaves the bar. The night air is cool on his skin and numbs his excited senses from the extensive stimuli of the crowded bar. "I have to go."

"Wait." They step aside as a group of three men exit the bar, look towards the horizon, and all take off running. Natsu can detect a hint of smoke and figures there's a bonfire going towards the edge of town. "You don't have a place to stay. Why don't you stay with me?"

"That's awfully naïve of you. Either way, no. But I really am grateful for the meal." He tries to leave once more and she latches onto his wrist. Definitely annoyed, Natsu trudges ahead with long strides, forcing her to stumble in her efforts to keep up. By the time they cross the corner of the avenue where the bar was, he is utterly fed up, and he superheats his wrist to force her to let go.

"Hey! Ow!" She stomps her foot and blows on the reddened skin. "Seriously! Do you want to sleep in the cold?"

"No," he says honestly, stepping aside when another couple of people come racing by. "But it's better than the alternative."

"Which is?" He looks away and doesn't respond. "You know…I've slept in the cold a few times. It was a long trip here from my hometown and not everyone falls for my feminine wiles," she added a bit petulantly, "so I know what it's like, and I wouldn't wish it on anybody. You seem like a good guy, so let me help. The heavens know there aren't so many people who'd be nice to you."

"I'm flattered, Lucy…really, I am…but I can't accept. Just trust me on that, okay? Besides, the air's getting a little too rancid for me. I think I'll sleep in the woods." Lucy's nose wrinkles in response. It's a convenient excuse; the smell of smoke has thickened enough for even her faint human smell.

"It's not that bad. Come on, please?"

"Why would you invite a strange man into your house? Don't you think I'm maybe a bad person?" She doesn't hesitate.

"I don't believe you." It seems she will cost him more time than intended. He shifts restlessly, then notices the high heels she's wearing. He leads her to a cold, slightly-damp bench edging the canal and they both take a seat. "You look a little weird, sure, but not really like a bad guy."

"Bad guys have a look now? Am I supposed to me twirling my mustache and laughing into a cat?" She tries and fails to hide her giggle. The sound is…cute.

"I didn't say that."

"But you thought it, I bet."

"Don't think I haven't noticed you dodging the question," Lucy says semi-seriously.

"If I'm nonstop dodging the same question, won't you take the hint it's something bad, or something I don't want to talk about?" he says, wearily dragging a hand across his neck. Lucy spares him a slight smile.

"I'm stubborn, you know?"

He groans inwardly.

"Do you believe in stories?"

"Absolutely," she says without hesitation.

"They tell the stories of dragons that existed long ago, who had near infinite magic and terrorized people. But some say the dragons would spirit away human children and add them to their hoard. Some even say they would raise the child to be a dragon."

"I've heard them," she says with low conviction. He takes a deep breath—this is the hard part.

"Well, what would you say if I told you I'm one of them—no, that I'm the last of them?"

"I'd say your pink hair dye is leeching your I.Q. points." He fights back the instinct to recoil at the mention of his very natural salmon hair. (He tried dying it a few times, but his body heat always charred his hair back to pink somehow. It is the oddest magic of all.) "Dragons disappeared years ago, and even if they still existed somehow, they're massive reptiles, not handsome young men." He's a bit taken aback by the remark.

"I'm handsome to you?"

"You're not bad-looking." She doesn't really answer the question. "My point is, dragons are not human-looking at all. Well, not unless you're talking about Acnologia, but that's a special case." Natsu snickers.

"Is that what you think?"

"It's what I know."

He felt like he could explain at least part of himself to her, but he can see it would take time and effort, two things he doesn't like to expend frivolously.

"I'll be seeing you then.."

"Wait!" she calls, racing after him. He breaks into a run to see if he can lose her, and he knows he's a fast runner, but remarkably, so is she. She gets out of breath after a short while though, not long enough for him to break a sweat, and he brakes out of pity. "Just because I don't believe your made-up story?" she pants, hands on her knees.

"Yes, because you don't believe my made-up story. It's not made up!"

"What?" Lucy questions dumbly, blinking. He sighs and wonders why he's going through the trouble.

"Dragons. One Magic. All that shit." She gives a little frustrated groan, and all he can think is Me too, man.

"Natsu—"

"I'm a dragon, damn you!" Natsu says, not caring about who hears. "I'm a motherfucking dragon!" he shouts even louder, his voice echoing into the night sky. "I'm the last dragon and it's my fault the rest of them are rotting six feet under! By my hand—because of me—I'm the last dragon because I killed all the others!"

She looks very distraught, momentarily dredging up the sandy wisps of memories he has long since tried to trample and shove into the crevices of his mind. His fists clasp and unclasp in his frustration, which builds with the silence until it's all too deafening. He spins on his heel, fully intent on disappearing into the night and hopefully another city, then her voice returns, small and feeble:

"I don't believe you."

He lets out a cutting laugh. How could he not, faced with such an outrageous situation? How stubborn and adamant she is!

"Why? Why the hell can't you?" He's positively burning on the inside, he can feel the ground sizzling beneath his sandals, and it's hard to keep his body from shaking. He doesn't know why he's upset and why he feels like punching a flaming hole through everything he sees.

"Because just by looking at you, looking in your eyes, I can tell you're a good guy, and you're lonely." She's so sure of herself, it aggravates him further.

"What does lonely have to do with anything? I don't want to be with you—end of story!"

"Natsu, you're lying." She says it with such stone-cold conviction it chills him a little. He stops moving even as the fire in his belly refuses to remain still.

"You don't know me well enough to say that."

"Maybe I don't," Lucy says, "but I'm a good judge of character."

"What are you, a freakin' psychic? A bad one at that, because you're obviously getting horrible reception."

"Stop playing this off as a joke," she sighs. "Seriously. You look like you were dragged through the street, and no offense, but you don't smell that nice either. How long have you been sleeping in the cold?" Natsu frowns and holds his tongue. Lucy makes a vague gesture to something in the distance. "My father would never allow any beggars into the home, no matter how many empty rooms or extra plates we had. Every night I would see dozens of people shuffle off into the cold with no warm bed for the night. Maybe it's selfish of me, but I'd like to help every person that I couldn't back then. That's part of why I want to become a wizard, to help those in need."

She's so pure hearted, Natsu realizes with a jolt. That's more reason for me not to stay here. I can't deprive the world of someone like her. Not again…

"I…" He tries to speak, but his voice cracks a little. He isn't sure he knows what he wants to say, if he can say the right thing. He feels entirely accosted, drawn into a situation he needs to get out of but wants, dearly wants. He contemplates running, but he hasn't regained control of his body, still shocked into the unyielding pose of a statue.

"Who cursed you?" It is his turn to be punch-drunk. The question throws him so much he stumbles on air, but he regains his physical bearings quickly.

"What?"

"Who cursed you, I said. Do you not speak English?" she mocks, frustrating him.

"It's…nothing. Don't worry about it." He backs away, but for each step he takes she takes double, maintaining a point-blank distance between the two of them. He sighs. "Are you serious?"

"Very. I won't let you go until you tell me."

"You're aware I'm much stronger than you are? That this isn't a fight you can win?" He doesn't want to expend any energy, especially on the person that's went out of her way to buy him food, but he doesn't believe he has a choice.

"I don't care."

He rolls his eyes and seizes her around the waist, hoisting her over his shoulder like a regular bundle. She screeches and thumps his back while her feet swing madly to little effect. Initially, he tries to drop her a few feet away, but her thrashing boots land a kick a little too low and he staggers. She slips from his grip and falls noisily into the river. He waits a few seconds, then she come up spluttering and gasping. While she attempts to climb to the bank he runs ahead, leaving her behind as he makes a roundabout way through Magnolia, tearing down the streets he is used to but despises. He has nothing, and he's doomed to always have nothing as long as he lives.

When he is in one of the shadier portions of Magnolia, content he lost her, he falls against one of the ramshackle buildings panting for breath. He has run farther than intended, and even his well-trained body has its limits, and he hasn't tested them in so long he feels out of his element. He slides to the ground with a grateful sigh, knowing she can't have followed him. Grown men struggle to match his running pace. The downside is he's closer to that rancid burning smell—he's starting to think there's a minor forest fire going on—but at least he can spend the rest of his night in exile—

"I caught you!"

Her loud voice frightens him and causes him to fall on his side in surprise. She's standing there, somewhat red and with damp hair but majorly unmoved, and…with a long green dress? When did she have time to change? And how did she travel so quickly? His questions are answered as an odd, fairly metallic scent fills his nose.

"Thanks, Virgo," she says to a pink-haired woman in maid's clothes. She bows humbly in response and Natsu takes a tentative sniff of her. She reeks of that weird metal smell, and it takes a moment, but he eventually pins her as a celestial summon. A Spirit.

"There is no punishment today, Princess?" she inquiries with unblinking eyes and a straight face.

"Punishment?" Natsu asks, raising a brow. She flushes terribly and raises her hand, waving off the whole affair.

"Gate closed!" she declares, and Virgo the maid disappears. "Now it's the two of us again."

"Damn it. You're like a bad itch—can't get rid of you."

"Maybe if you weren't so stubborn, I wouldn't have so much reason to follow you around," she states very matter-of-factly, as if it's the answer to the whole situation.

"Me?" Isn't that what is commonly known as irony?

"Yes, you. Although you don't want to admit it, you want a friend. I know what it's like to be lonely without another soul to be with you, and I don't want you to feel like that. You understand?" She looks very sincere, which surprises him a bit. He doesn't recognize humans for their sincerity.

"I don't want your charity."

"But it's not charity. I really do want to be friends." She smiles, and something in his heart pulls and tightens like a guitar string being fastened and tuned. He is suddenly hyperaware of her gently curving body, ample bosom, and wide hips, more so than he has been aware of any other female in a long while. His hand twitches vaguely in her direction, which she notices with a little smile and takes his fingers in hers. "Promise," she adds with a broader smile. Despite himself, he emulates it. I'm starting to get convinced to become friends with her…

"Lucy…"

"Fire!" someone in the distance screams. He feels his stomach plummet as both their heads snap towards the opposite end of the street. The horizon is gradually gaining an orange hue, and at the same time the distinct tang of smoke wafts through the air. She scrunches her nose up in revulsion while his breath catches in his throat. Oh, no, nonono, is all he can think, his heart racing in his chest.

"Natsu?"

"No," he whispers before his breath fails him. She follows his eyes, pink lips parting in shock as comprehension strikes her.

"That's… That's my apartment!" she cries. "The landlady was sleeping there!" She pulls out a golden Key and thrusts it forward, leaving a wispy trail of white in its wake. "Open, Gate of the Lion! Loki, come help!"

A flash of golden stars blinds him for a minute. When his vision returns, he sees a spiky-haired man in a spotless suit and azure glasses. He spots the fire and jumps into action. "What to do?" he asks her.

"Take me to my apartment! Fast!" He nods and takes her up into his arms before running off down the street. He's fast, though Natsu thinks he's faster. But, as he tries to follow, his legs are too shaky to work, and he stumbles and falls on one knee, eyes blinking furiously to fend off the tears.

Wendy whispered a quiet, "Oh no," and the ground below them crumbled into pebbles.

"Please, tell her she was the best mother I could ask for."

"Wendy, I don't—"

Done for? Wendy? She can patch up any injury. She's been covering my sorry ass for three and a half years now.

Wendy, my little sister.

Nothing, nothing was left. Not of the Mage, who was reduced to a lump of coal which quickly disintegrated, nor of Natsu's heart.

The street is a vein of noise and motion clouding the backdrop of a growing blaze behind it. Folks huddle in five-person groups near the river, whispering furiously in wait for more Mages to come by to aid. He catches one woman saying: "I'm sorry, I left the pot on too long, I'm s-sorry, I didn't mean for it to catch on f-f—I don't know how it happen—" but he disregards it. He feels the thinly sewn edges of his stability and self-will slowly unravelling, and although every instinct in his body cries out in objection, he makes his way towards the burning building, towards Lucy.

He can smell them, her sweet strawberry scent and the lion's otherworldly odor covered by cologne—they're originating from the second floor of the fiery apartment. Without dedicating another misused second to thinking about it, Natsu pushes forward, and with three steps he leaps into the air. For a moment, the exhilaration burns through him, and his eyes widen into the wind and pungent, scalding smoke, right until he hits the window. His attempt was to land through it, but his head crashes against the metal framing instead, and he's inches from blacking out and plummeting to the ground when a male hand snaps out and, seizing his jacket, jerks him inside. He blinks into the subdued colors of the area before his tear-blurred eyes can focus on Loki's haggard face.

"Lion," he says, beginning to thank him, but he sets his hand on Natsu's mouth, shushing him.

"I have to restrain myself from killing you right now." His words astonish Natsu, but only just. "This whole mess is because of you, after all. This is your fault."

My fault. My fault. His jaw falls at the prosecution as it bounces around within his skull. He feels his mouth go dry and his hands shake, but he hides it by scrunching his fingers into fists and swallowing. "…What did I do?" he questions, still out of it.

"Your curse," he says, "is what you've done." Natsu gulps air but can't quite manage to release the breath again, faced with Loki's taciturn, detached gaze. He lets the information sit for a moment before pressing on, his glasses glinting like fire flint in the light of the inferno. "Look, I don't know the fine details of it, nor do I care to know."

"I…" His words die on his tongue, and gratefully so, for Loki is like an immovable rock.

"I do know, however, although this isn't your direct doing, it's because of you Lucy's lost her home and may lose her life." Frustration builds in the space the numbness has left, and Natsu explodes in Loki's face.

"Then why haven't you done anything, huh? You're her protector or whatever, so why didn't you help her?"

He's still annoyingly cool as he responds, "This fire is unnatural. It cancels out my magic so I can't do anything myself. It's all I can do now to be here, look." He holds his hand up and draws down his sleeve. His skin flickers in the light like glass, sometimes solid, sometimes not. Natsu immediately deflates as Loki's look sharpens behind his specs. "I know you can help."

"I can, but…" But will he? Will he push past his fears and trauma and go to rescue what is surely a lost cause by now? He doesn't think he'll be able to bear it. He'll snap, he'll surely snap at the pressure. Loki sees his mental turmoil and frowns.

"I know you're not a bad guy, since Lucy holds you in high regard." What? She does? "But I can also imagine this is hard for you. Nonetheless, I'm not here to coddle you and give you some grand speech about the consequences and gains you'll get from this." He sweeps a hand around at the scene before bringing it down heavily on Natsu's shoulder, startling him. "To make this as concise as possible, considering we have no time to waste, if you don't act now, Lucy will die." With that, Loki vanishes in a show of gold and white sparkles.

If you don't act now, Lucy will die.

Whereas his legs were frozen stiff before, they're now pumping despite himself, following the trail his nose has given. His mind still feels sluggish as if it's slogging through tons of mud, but his heart has a clear idea of what's to be done. His heart is, after all, the one part of him unchanged by his past, and within it is borne the one remnant of Igneel's teachings: "If there is someone in trouble, Natsu, regardless of who they are or what they may have done, if you have the ability to help, you go help." And go help he does—he goes to help the first human to have shown him caring and generosity in a long time, and the first human who has made him feel human too.

Even though I'll die, I'm gonna make sure Lucy lives.

He charges through the fire, using it to satiate his hunger as he throws burning debris from his path like a madman. Somewhere along the way, the last of his jacket perishes and he tosses it away, leaving his t-shirt and canvas pants he picked up at some dingy store. He finds the stairs, except they're crumbling like dirt as the foundation is eaten at by sparks, and he doesn't realize it until he sets his foot on the second one and it falls apart, causing him to drop headfirst to the ground. It appears Igneel was right: he does, in fact, have a head like steel.

"Lucy!" he shouts into the din as the ceiling starts breaking apart.

"Natsu…" He catches her weak cry a little further up, past the train wreck of bunched furniture that is the front door. He kicks away fallen beams, blackened fixtures, and disintegrating walls, until he finds her on her hands and knees, eyes red and slightly squinted even as she lays below the mass of smoke. Beside Lucy is a short, round lady with a nasty gash on her forehead, most likely her landlady—she breathes uneasily but steadfastly, putting her in better condition. Lucy must have protected her. And as he takes a closer look at the soot-covered blonde, he sees his words couldn't be truer. From her chest protrudes a large projectile made of wood and beaded with steel bolts, and it begins from between her slim shoulder blades and juts out into the air with a gently-blackening jagged end.

"Please," he urges, though he is not sure to who. "Don't do this to me again. Not again."

"Natsu…you came," she says, smiling softly as if there isn't blood running from the corner of her mouth and dripping in a growing puddle below her stomach. His heart and belly constrict at the sight and he doesn't know if he wants to throw up or pass out.

"Lucy, you…you're hurt…" More than hurt. Hurt is, in fact, a disgusting understatement of her condition. Something far more accurate: pierced through like a pig on a spit. His guts tighten again and he leans more towards vomiting.

"T…The landlady's fine," she replies, glancing over. What a pure soul she is, he thinks. Why do I have to be the one to take her from this world?

"Lucy, I'm going to get you out of here." He takes a step forward and she inches back.

"My landlady first. Please." Gods, she's too pure. Natsu feels a growl rumble deep in his throat as he bends down, tossing the heftier lady over his shoulder before taking Lucy into his arms. She gasps for breath as he rises into the cloud of smoke, but he makes the trip quick as he retraces his steps, shielding her from all detritus with his torso and moving as softly as possible. He reaches the stairs and realizes they are an entirely lost cause, so instead considers the window he entered from. There is no possible way for him to slip through with two extra bodies, but he can scorch his way through, especially with all the fuel behind him.

"Fire Dragon's Roar!"

Fire erupts through the front wall of the apartment, sending charred and ashy remains of plaster, wood, and glass soaring out towards the road and tributary. The crowd ducks for their safety and look up with awestruck eyes as Natsu jumps, landing without difficulty on the balls of his feet without manhandling either of his passengers. He lets the nearby Healing Mages collect them as his grip involuntarily stiffens around Lucy, and steps back to allow them to work. And though the landlady groans back to semi-consciousness quickly and uneventfully, he watches as Lucy's condition fails to improve. The main one working on her, a woman with a green bob, shakes her head slowly and looks at Natsu pitifully. No, please, I don't want your pity…no…

"I'm sorry," she says, looking at the spike still sticking from Lucy's chest. "She's already lost too much blood, plus there is a lot of internal damage from both the projectile and the smoke—" He grips it, frustrated, and wrenches it free before she can finish. It can't mean any more damage than what's already been done, after all. Lucy will still die, after all. Blood stains his hands and arms and her front from the action, but neither pay much attention to it.

"No, I'm the sorry one here." The Mage looks between them with a wan countenance. Then she begins collecting her medical tools, preparing to work on other injured, but before she walks off, she glances at him once more.

"Were you two close?"

"I wish," he says as the Mage turns back to the crowd. He doesn't know when it happened, but he's on his knees staring at her face, her beautiful face, softened into an eternal relaxation. The sight digs into his heart like the poisoned fangs of a viper. "Lucy," he murmurs, allowing himself a single touch of her soft cheek. Her injury glares at him, a wide slit between her breasts and around her arcing collarbone, still leaking blood. He growls a little at the sight, but mostly he's miserable as he returns his hand to his side. "I can't express how sorry I am with words… Because of me, all your dreams had to end today. I wish, one way or another, I could turn back time…" But he can't, and doesn't he know it. He can't ever undo what he has done today. For as much as he gripes, cries, and laments, Lucy is forever gone, dead.

Why does this keep happening to me?