Lucy winced, a barely audible breath escaping as she climbed into the bed, one hand on the side of her stomach as the other pushed the heavy blankets back. She didn't really know what it was, but over the last few days, her back had been hurting a little bit, she'd had some of the most annoying, aching cramps, and she'd never actually known her boobs could hurt until then. Thankfully, bigger bras had helped a little bit – though why she had multiple sizes was a mystery to her, but she was thankful for it because it made it just a little bit more comfortable.

But of course, she'd put it all down to her favourite monthly visitor that she assumed would be making its presence known shortly. After all, they had been there for just shy of exactly a month.

Bickslow lifted his head slightly, looking up from the papers and documents he had in his lap. "You okay?" he mumbled around the highlighter pen in his mouth, seeing the discomfort on her face.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said with a small smile, sliding down the bed and making herself comfortable on her side. "What are you reading?"

He looked back down to the pages in the binder, instantly making his headache worse when he tried to focus on the words. "Some stupid company policy that Freed is making me read. He says I need to do something with my time instead of sitting in my office all day and playing on my phone, so I need to actually be productive and do what I get paid to do, whatever the fuck that is," he said. "Apparently these are supposed to help but I don't see how they are."

Reaching out, she lifted up the front cover of the binder to see which policy it was, raising an eyebrow when she saw the title. "Discrimination and Sexual Harassment in the Workplace?" she read, the corner of her mouth lifting up into a small smirk as she dropped the cover and tucked her arm back under the blanket. "Already hitting on your staff, huh?"

"No," he scoffed. "I'm not hitting on anyone, thank you very much. My secretary is the one who needs to be reading this shit."

"Oh?"

"She flirts with me whenever she comes into my office. It's actually getting kind of annoying." He said, furrowing his brow when he realised just what he'd said and who he'd said it to. Here he was, basically telling his wife about the secretary that was hitting on him even though he was married. Technically.

But really, after only a week of the constant accidental brushing up against him, the seductive smiles and the barely audible whispers that made no sense, he really had started to find it annoying. She was almost desperate, and under normal circumstances, Bickslow honestly wouldn't have cared. Sure, on the first day he'd spent a fair majority of it wondering just what she'd look like bent over the desk he was supposed to be doing work at, but by the third day, he just didn't care. He wasn't interested in playing out what was really just a fantasy to him – just like sleeping with Lucy was a fantasy – and that was something he'd never had happen to him.

That wasn't to say he wouldn't go along with it either, because he'd also started to find it entertaining. Bickslow wanted to see just how long she'd keep it up until she gave up and did what she was paid to do, because even he knew that flirting with her boss was not one of those things.

Plain and simple, he just wasn't interested in her, and the worst part was that ever since Lucy had brought up the fact that they had become their counterparts, he found himself wanting to spend more and more time with her and Ingrid. It was weird.

"Well, maybe the other you was sleeping with his secretary all along?" she mused, the amusement evident that time even though when she thought about it – thought about the possibility of the other Bickslow cheating on the other Lucy – she felt a sharp pain in her chest; a pang of jealousy. Betrayal, even.

But she had to quell those feelings, because they were irrelevant to her. They weren't even hers to begin with.

Bickslow looked up, dropping the highlighter pen once again. "Doubt it," he scoffed.

"How come?" Lucy asked.

"Because anyone would be a fucking moron to cheat on you." Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Why the hell do I keep saying things like that?! I can fix this… Play it down…

Lucy's eyes widened slightly and when she felt the distinct heat on her face from her blush, she pulled the covers up more and ducked her head slightly, leaving just her eyes and above visible, and of course, she was staring back up at Bickslow who was quite obviously regretting his words – again. He'd been doing that a lot and Lucy couldn't help but find it entertaining.

"I just mean…" Clearing his throat as he looked back down to the pages in his lap, he said, "I just mean that the other me would be a total idiot to cheat on you, 'cause I mean, he got the hot as hell wife and kid, and I don't know about you, but every photo I've seen, he seems pretty happy with that to me." Oh god… That is not playing it down. Fucking hell, what am I even saying anymore? That is not what I was supposed to say.

"'Hot as hell', huh?"

"Shut up," he grumbled, looking towards her from the corner of his eye. He'd basically dug himself a hole that he was not getting out of any time soon. But… Bickslow realised he couldn't really make it any worse, so why not have some fun with it? "Besides, Veronica doesn't even hold a candle to you."

Lucy honestly just wanted to pull the blanket over her head and curl into a ball of embarrassment. It was probably the first time Bickslow had ever actually complimented her – sort of. Lucy had always been confident with her body and so there had been times where she'd tried using it – her sex appeal, that is – to her advantage. Although, more often than not it had failed and she'd found herself in a slightly depressed state occasionally and letting her mind trick her into thinking no one will ever find her attractive (even though she really knew she was). But Bickslow had just sat there and straight out said she was attractive, and honestly, she didn't know how to feel about that because it was Bickslow after all. The guy was known for being the guild's resident pervert and he really did live up to that reputation he had, but in the time they'd been living together in that world, Lucy realised that it was almost as if he'd toned it down. Whenever he'd say something even close to being out of line or flattering he'd usually change the subject. That, or he'd just roll with it and keep on going, like he just had.

"Uh… Thanks, I think…?" she mumbled finally, pulling the blanket up even further as Bickslow let out a short and loud laugh, picking up the highlighter pen again as he turned a page in the file. "But… With your secretary," Lucy began then, just pulling the covers back enough so she wasn't mumbling into i., "It's not really like you have anything stopping you… From actually sleeping with her, I mean."

Bickslow raised an eyebrow, slowly turning his head. "Eh?" was all he could manage since he wasn't entirely sure he was hearing the right words coming out of her mouth.

Ignoring the burning heat in her cheeks, Lucy went on, "You say the other you probably wasn't sleeping with her, and fine, whatever… I just mean that there's nothing stopping you from sleeping with her, because to me, it kind of sounds like she's actually flirting with you and has obviously been doing it for quite some time..." With a sigh, she rolled onto her back and looked up at the ceiling, realising she was kind of rambling. "Okay, look. You don't seem like the kind of person to pass up on some very obvious advances and I know it doesn't really have anything to do with me because it's your life and there's no us in this world, so… I don't know… There's nothing stopping you from being you, I guess…" she mumbled and then rolled onto her other side with her back to Bickslow.

Bickslow could only stare at her back as he tried to get his head around what she was trying to say. And sure, he got the message – loud and clear – but to Bickslow, it seemed like Lucy hadn't meant it, and that confused him.

But she was right – there was no us or them or anything in that world. There was no relationship between them. There was nothing actually stopping him from being, well… him, as Lucy had said. There was nothing stopping Bickslow from bending his secretary over his desk and giving the woman exactly what she wanted. Nothing except for the fact that he really wasn't interested in doing so. But Lucy didn't know that.

Maybe she just meant in general? Maybe she was just reminding Bickslow that there was nothing tethering him to her. But that wasn't really the case, was it? Because legally, they were married. Morally, it was wrong for him to cheat on her… But in a way, he wasn't really cheating.

Bickslow really just didn't know what to do or how he was supposed to feel. He just didn't.

So with a slight shrug, he looked back down to the file and mumbled, "Maybe I will…" And it was the truth. Maybe he would and maybe he wouldn't, but what he might or might not do didn't matter, because if anything, it was just him trying to get a reaction from Lucy, not that he really knew why because she was the one who'd said it all in the first place. Why would she even care what he did?

"Alright then," Lucy whispered, finally reaching out to switch off the lamp on the nightstand beside her and make herself comfortable – as best she could anyway, between the dull ache in her lower back and the fact it felt like she'd had a knife stabbed into her heart.

Even though it had been her suggestion, her idea, her words, there was a part of her that wished she hadn't said them, and she knew why. Because in that world in that body, that same heart belonged to Bickslow. That was the key thing she had to remember, though; that it wasn't her body. None of those feelings were truly hers. It seemed almost unfair that she had to deal with the pain from even thinking about someone who was technically her husband having an affair.

But she'd have to get over it. She'd have to at least try and hide how much it hurt because even though it hurt more than she'd expected it to, whether or not Bickslow did actually end up sleeping with his secretary – or anyone, for that matter – had nothing to do with her. It was his life and his alone. Lucy didn't want Bickslow to know just how much it hurt – how much her heart had been affected, because it wasn't fair.

And even though she'd tried to hide it, Bickslow could sense something was wrong, just from those two little words that she'd barely whispered. But there wasn't really anything he could do about it because he didn't know what he could do. Bickslow doubted that he could make it better, because he knew that it was somehow his fault in the first place. His words had done it and he wasn't going to try and make things better because he knew he'd just make things worse.

But when he looked back down at the words on the pages, he wasn't reading them. He wasn't even focusing on them, because all he could focus on was Lucy and what it was he'd said to make her feel and act that way.

When he saw the movement out of the corner of his vision in the dim room, he looked up from the pages, realising he'd been staring at the same page for… well, he really had no idea how long it had been. Turning, he saw Lucy sitting up on the bed, pushing the covers back before grabbing the pillows from behind her and only after he heard the sound of something being place on the nightstand, she got up and headed towards the door, pillows in hand.

"What are you doing…?" he asked quietly.

She tried her best to force a small smile when she stopped by the door with her hand on the edge of it, ready to pull it closed behind her. "I'm tired and you're obviously going to be up for a little while longer so I'm just going to go sleep on the lounge. So goodnight, Bicks," she said quietly and before Bickslow could even form any words, she'd pulled the door closed just as quietly and made her way back out to the lounge.

It wasn't the truth. Not entirely, anyway.

Lucy just didn't want to be in the same room and the same bed, because for the time being, she knew that it was going to hurt too much. It was going to hurt until she learned how to get over it, and she wasn't going to get any closer to doing so if Bickslow was only a couple of feet away from her. She needed to do it on her own.

So when Bickslow finally pulled his gaze from the door, still trying to figure out what was going on, he looked towards the nightstand and saw just what it was she'd placed on it – her rings. The same rings that she hadn't taken off since dinner at Claire's a little over a week earlier.

Just seeing them there made Bickslow realise just what it was he'd done – what he'd said. It had hurt her. Whether it was the thought of someone she was supposed to care about betraying her in a such a way, or him saying he might do something like that, he didn't know, but it had hurt her. Bickslow realised that it wasn't just him who was experiencing the feelings he didn't quite understand. She was too, and for whatever reason, he hadn't even considered the possibility that she was feeling as confused and conflicted about everything just as much as he was, but after all, she'd been the one to bring it all up in the first place and made Bickslow realise that there was a logical reason (sort of) behind everything.

Every feeling he couldn't describe that wasn't really his… She felt the same.

It wasn't just his own heart that was getting involved in things it shouldn't be, but it was hers too, and neither of them could control it.

Bickslow stared at the time and date in the corner of the computer screen, watching as the minutes ticked by as he impatiently tapped his fingers on the desk with his chin resting in his free hand.

Friday 13th March, 9:28 AM.

Every morning, Veronica would walk in at exactly 9:30 a.m., coffee in hand and a stack of papers he apparently needed to sign or go over, as well as his appointments and meetings for the day. Only two more minutes until she'd walk in, shamelessly flirt with him and he'd usually flirt back, just a little bit because that's the kind of person he was and he had nothing else to do with his time.

Just two more minutes.

9:29 AM.

Bickslow groaned as he leant back, letting his chair swing back a bit as his hands ran down his over his face. He'd been staring at the clock for the last twenty minutes, just waiting for it to finally tick over so he could get what was arguably the worst part of his day over. Well, second worst for that particular day.

Lucy's hand went to her mouth as she dropped the spoon on the table, her other going to her stomach. It'll pass, she told herself. It— nope, it's not. Pushing herself up from the chair and letting the legs slide along the floor as she pushed it back, she ran down the hall, keeping one hand over her mouth as her other slid along the wall before reaching the bathroom door and pulling it open, then slamming it closed just as quickly as it had been opened.

It was the second day in a row she'd found herself sitting on the cold tiled floor of her bathroom with her head resting on her arm on the toilet, trying to regain her composure and breath before she emerged again. More than once a day that happened, and honestly, she could only be glad that Bickslow had been at work the day before so he hadn't been around to hear her retching for most of the day.

So by the time she was finally able to emerge from the bathroom, Bickslow had already taken her seat at the table and was finishing feeding Ingrid. He looked up when she walked back over to the kitchen, filling up a glass of water when she reached the sink. "You alright?" he asked.

"Yeah, fine," she said, forcing a smile before she took a sip, "Probably just something I ate, I guess."

And that had pretty much been the extent of their conversations over the week – since Monday night, anyway. No matter what she did, she couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal and it frustrated her to no end. Lucy didn't want to be feeling that way; she didn't want to be hurt by something she had nothing to do with, but she just couldn't help it. It wasn't really her pain to begin with, but she was the one who had to deal with it and she had to do it alone.

But Bickslow being there every morning and every night was making it so hard to do. During the day, she was okay, for the most part, because she could just focus on Ingrid and learning about the world they now called home. She could occupy her thoughts, but then, every evening when he walked back in the door, it all came back. All of the pain that came from just the thought of him even sleeping with someone else.

Lucy knew it was stupid, she really did, because she really had no reason to feel any of that or think like she had just a little bit of a claim to Bickslow's life. There was nothing between them – nothing stopping him from being who he was and doing what everyone knew he did. If Bickslow decided he wanted to fuck his secretary, then it had nothing to do with Lucy.

She knew that.

But it didn't matter how many times she told herself that because it was her goddamn heart that was making everything worse for her and making her feel that way, and there wasn't a single thing she could do about.

Glancing up at the clock, she put the glass down and moved over to the highchair, picking Ingrid up and walking over to the small play-mat just in front of the sofa and then placing her down gently. "You should go," she said quietly, not looking towards Bickslow.

"What? I've got like another fifteen minutes before I need to leave."

"So?"

"…So why should I go now? I've got time, I can play with Ingrid while you go—"

"No," she said flatly, only lifting her gaze to show Bickslow that she was serious before looking back down to Ingrid, holding the stuffed rabbit just in front of her.

"Excuse me?" Bickslow said, slightly confused. He didn't know what was going on. "You can't stop me from playing with my own kid."

"You're right," she replie., "But I don't want you here, so can you please just go?"

"…What?"

With a sigh, Lucy stood up and folded her arms across her chest and looked directly at Bickslow. She'd already said more than she wanted to, just with that one sentence. Fuck it, she thought. He was practically pushing her to saying something they'd both regret, so why not just get it out there? Hell, maybe saying it will help her get over it.

Probably not, she reminded herself.

"I don't want you here, because… Well, it's too hard when you're here," she admitted, looking down at the rug between her toes as she wrapped her arms around herself. More than anything, Lucy didn't want to get Bickslow involved in her stupid personal problems – and sure, they existed because of him, sort of, but she still didn't want him to know.

But that was too late now.

"I don't… I don't understand," Bickslow mumbled, his brows knit together as he looked at her – the woman was obviously in pain, but for a week, she'd been trying to hide it. It was probably the most he'd gotten out of her the entire week, and it wasn't what he'd been expecting. Bickslow had wanted to know just what it was exactly that he'd done to make her feel that way – since their talk on Monday, at least – but he still hadn't known what to do, so he'd left it.

But maybe he'd left it for too long. Maybe leaving it and her alone had made things worse. He just didn't know, but he had a feeling he was about to.

"It doesn't matter anyway," she muttered, sitting back down on the ground in front of Ingrid.

"No, it does."

"Just leave it, Bicks."

"No."

"Please."

"No, Lucy," he said as he moved over to the lounge, resting his hands on the back of it, "We've barely said two words to each other all week, then you go and say that it's too hard when I'm here and you don't even explain it? That's not fair, come on."

"Nothing's fair."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

She stood up again slowly, continuing to look down at Ingrid. "It means that nothing in this world is fair. Nothing about this entire situation is fair."

"I still don't—"

"Jesus, you just don't get it do you?" When he just gave her a blank look, she continued shakily, "In this world, my heart belongs to you whether I want it to or not, and I really don't, but there's nothing I can do about it."

"Lucy—"

"No, let me finish. You don't understand how much it hurts to even think about the possibility of you sleeping with your secretary – or anyone for that matter – and when you're here, that's all I can think about." She paused when she realised she had been raising her voice and she tried to regain her composure, calm herself down some before she continued. She didn't want to yell, especially not around Ingrid. So looking up to a dumbstruck Bickslow, she went on, "It's not fair that I'm the one that has to deal with all of this. I'm the one that has to deal with how much this sucks. I don't want any of that, and I shouldn't have to feel any of it, but I do and there's not a single thing I can do about it."

Bickslow's throat was dry and he could feel the guilt rising inside of him. The entire time, that's what it had been about. All week, his being there had been hurting her and he hadn't even known it was that bad. He hadn't realised just how much his words had hurt her until that very moment. Bickslow knew that it wasn't just about the other version of himself having an affair – which was something he still believed hadn't actually happened because he really did think anyone would be stupid to cheat on Lucy of all people – but it was about him, too.

Their attachment wasn't limited to Ingrid – it was to each other as well. In that world, Lucy's heart belonged to him and his to her, and if anything, that was the one thing that was stopping him from doing anything that would ultimately hurt her more, just because it would hurt him too. His own heart had got involved and he hadn't been able to stop it. He'd just been trying not to think about it.

Hearing the words from Lucy's mouth just made him feel so much worse than he had been feeling all week.

"So… What do you want me to do?" he asked quietly, staring down at the cushions of the lounge he was leaning over.

"Nothing," she said simply. "I mean, just… Do whatever. I'm the one that brought it up in the first place, so it's my own fault I'm feeling this way. It's your life, anyway. Live it the way you want to. It has nothing to do with me."

"…I don't think it's your fault. You're the one who said that you couldn't do anything about it so how can you blame yourself?"

"Because I can't blame you."

"Yes, you can." And Bickslow really did think she could, because he wholeheartedly believed it was his fault she was feeling that way, and maybe, just maybe, if he could get her to blame him for her pain then she'd be able to forget about it or move past it. Maybe.

"No, I can't, Bicks," Lucy sighed. "I can't blame you for something I brought upon myself. I was the one who said that there's nothing stopping you from sleeping with her. If I blame you then I'll be letting myself believe that I'm allowed to get hurt over it, and I'm not. I have no right to feel this way and neither would you if this situation was reversed."

"So what? I'm just supposed to stand here and pretend that I don't care about the fact that you literally just said I'm hurting you just by being here?"

"Yes, you are," she shot back suddenly to Bickslow's surprise. "Because you're not supposed to care about me in the first place. There is no us here, there's nothing between us at all. I don't get to be jealous and… And betrayed. And you don't get to care. What we do and how we feel has nothing to do with each other—"

"But you literally just said it was because of me—"

"Oh, whatever, Bickslow! Who cares anymore?" she shouted before leaning back down to pick Ingrid and the stuffed animal up. "I don't want to continue this conversation, so please, just go already."

"I care."

"Don't." And before Bickslow couldn't even open his mouth to say anything, she cut him off, "Please, Bicks. Just leave."

"But—"

"Bickslow, please. Just go to work already. I can't do this right now," she whispered, then, turning to head down the hall and towards the nursery to get Ingrid changed out of her onesie, she muttered under her breath, "Go fuck your secretary."

"What the fuck was that?" he called down the hall. Bickslow had heard it and even though he was shocked at the language – just because it was from her – it still honestly pissed him off. Lucy still didn't know he wasn't actually interested in fucking his secretary, but that didn't matter anyway, because Lucy wasn't really letting him get a word in edgeways.

"I know you heard that so why don't you go do it, huh? You probably already have been anyway for two weeks," she spat back from the nursery, slamming the drawers shut when she got out Ingrid's clothes.

What the fuck is going on? Where the hell did that even come from? Bickslow just had no idea, because in the space of a few minutes, Lucy had gone from being somewhat calm and reasonable, to a complete nightmare that was not listening to a word he had to say. In that moment, they were both mad at each other and themselves, and honestly, they just needed their space. He could see that.

Bickslow was more than happy to leave now, because really, he didn't want to stick around to get yelled at some more.

So picking up his keys, phone, and wallet from the kitchen counter, he shoved them in his pockets and turned back to the door. "Fine then! Maybe I will," he shouted from the door.

"Alright then!" Came the bitter response from down the hall.

Pulling the door open with his jaw set, he said just loud enough for it to reach her ears, "Maybe I should've married Lisanna instead. Fuck this." And as soon as he slammed the door behind himself, he regretted even saying it. It was a low blow, especially when he knew the entire Natsu and Lisanna situation had upset her when they'd first arrived to that world. He'd rubbed salt into the wound.

But of course, there was no way he was going to go back in and apologise for it. Not at all.

Lucy looked down to Ingrid, finally seeing that their yelling had scared her. After all, she'd been yelling at Bickslow from another room and even though Lucy didn't know if Ingrid could even understand it entirely, she knew that no child liked seeing their parents fight. And that's what they were; parents who in that moment were close to hating each other, even though every fibre of their beings disagreed with that.

9:30 AM.

When it finally ticked over, Bickslow lifted his gaze to stare at the closed door to his office. Any second now and his secretary would walk in.

Any second now…

So when the door finally opened, Bickslow had to stifle his groan because he really wasn't in the mood to put up with her.

"Good morning, Mr. Theroux," she chimed, her smile in place as she closed the door behind her, to which Bickslow raised an eyebrow because it usually got left open. "Here's your coffee. Two sugars as requested."

"Thanks…" Bickslow mumbled as he took the steaming mug when she offered it to him and he took a small sip before placing it down on a coaster and sliding it out of the way.

"Not a problem, Mr. Theroux," she murmured, leaning over the front of the desk and opening up the folder with his timetable for the day and documents to read over right in front of him. When Bickslow lowered his head to read over it, her slender finger reached out to touch his chin and lifted his head back up and she leant in further. "I know you said it wasn't to happen again, but don't you think I deserve another raise, Mr. Theroux?" Veronica whispered, her face only an inch from his as her free hand worked on undoing the top few buttons on her blouse.

"…What?"

Veronica dropped her hands and straightened up, and as she walked around the edge of the desk with her fingers trailing along the edge slowly, she took the photo frame just next to the lamp and laid it face down. "I've seen the way you've been looking at me this past couple of weeks, Mr. Theroux," she murmured, moving closer to the chair before she leant over him slightly, her hands resting on the armrests. "I know this is what you want."

Bickslow kept his eyes up – he was not going to look down her shirt because he knew that that was exactly what she wanted. "This is…" Wrong? A bad idea? So fucking stupid? "I'm married." he muttered.

"That's never stopped you before," she purred, leaning even closer.

Every muscle in Bickslow's body tensed up. The last time? No. She had to be lying. There was no way the other Bickslow would be stupid enough to actually fuck someone else… Right?

"Forget about your wife, Mr. Theroux," Veronica murmured, her lips brushing against his jaw. "Take me over this desk like you used to."

Fucking son of a bitch. Fuck.

Bickslow's hands went to her waist as she forced her knee between his legs to rest on the chair, and he lifted her up as he stood, forcing her to stand as we;; as he pushed his chair out of the way and went around the other side of the desk, grabbing his jacket from where it hung over the back of one of the armchairs.

"Mr. The—?" she'd started, her voice wavering as Bickslow made his way towards his office door, but she'd stopped mid-sentence when he slammed the door closed behind him, gaining questioning glances from those who looked up from their own desks, Freed and Evergreen included as they stood outside another office.

Bickslow honestly didn't know who to hate more in that moment as he stormed his way over to the elevators, shrugging his jacket on as he walked. It was either his secretary, the other Bickslow, or himself, if not all of them at once.