The Scars That Make You Whole

By CrimsonStarbird

Breaking the Boundaries of Life, Part 1

-All That You Need-

Three Days Later

The sun was shining, the sky was blue, and most importantly of all, Fairy Tail's request board was overflowing with jobs.

Lucy wished she could say that this was due to the enduring popularity of her guild with the townsfolk. Or to a general consensus across Fiore that it was preferable to join the queue for Fairy Tail than to have the job done immediately by a different guild. Or even – dare she say it – to an ingenious new marketing initiative implemented by the Seventh Master.

Unfortunately, it came down to the fact that no one had any time to do the missions that were coming in, because rebuilding the Fairy Tail guildhall was already a full-time job.

And not just in the aftermath of the war, either. For most people, it felt as though 'rebuilding the guildhall' was the only thing they'd done since Fairy Tail started getting back together – or longer. This was, what, the fourth total rebuild since Lucy had become a member? As guilty as she felt for leaving her friends to do the pre-Alvarez War rebuild on their own while she was frolicking around the kingdom on her guild-reuniting quest, she was secretly glad that she hadn't wasted the effort.

And yet, despite the pretty clear lessons of the past, the thought of not rebuilding it hadn't even crossed their minds.

This was to be a new guildhall for a new age, and Lucy was determined that this one was going to last. She'd asked Freed and Levy to research the possibility of incorporating protective runes into the foundations. She'd encouraged everyone to feed into the architectural designs in order to foster a sense of ownership, all in the hope that it might make them think twice before smashing it to pieces in another drunken brawl. She'd also signed off on the purchase of more expensive building materials than Makarov had ever approved. While her predecessor had been pragmatic, knowing it wouldn't be long before it was torn down again, Lucy had to wonder if writing off the nth version of the guildhall before it had even been built was part of the problem.

They were small steps, and they wouldn't make much of a difference in the marathon that was keeping this guild in line, but she was trying.

"Lucy."

She had been so wrapped up in her thoughts that the voice startled her. Sabertooth's Guild Master had his hands in the pockets of his jacket, trying far too hard to look casual.

The smile with which she greeted him wasn't an easy one, but after three days, she was getting used to it. "Hey, Sting. I didn't realize you were here."

"We decided to close our guildhall for a bit, and come to Magnolia to help you guys," he shrugged.

Lucy glanced around. There were a great many carts scattered around the building site – wheelbarrows, wagons of timber, vans full of borrowed tools – but strangely enough, the line of Sabertooth mages was only forming in front of one of them. The one branded Manly Meals On The Move.

"You know," Sting was saying, inching across to block her line of sight, "we really wanted to show our support for the rebuilding, and stuff."

She arched her eyebrow. "Then I'm sure the additional 50% 'restoration levy' that Elfman is charging on any lunch sales to people who aren't working on the building site won't bother you at all."

"Y-yeah, not at all," he tried to laugh. "Uh, anyway… do you have a minute? I know that this might not be the best time, but I've gotta tell someone…"

"Of course."

Lucy patted the bench beside her, and he sat down gingerly. They sat for a moment in silence, watching the Fairy Tail mages swarm around the skeletal guildhall with an abundance of energy.

It was ironic, in a way. Both she and Sting had found themselves as Master of their respective guilds almost by accident – a quirk of fate, an impulsive decision, the least worst option at the time. Sting had seized the mantle to ensure that no one who clung to Jiemma's way of thinking could take control. Lucy had done it out of a sense of obligation; she had blamed herself for the fact that the guild was facing imminent war, and had taken responsibility in the only way she'd known how.

Neither of them was particularly well-suited to the job. In fact, she was fairly sure that neither of them would even have been considered for it under normal circumstances. But the circumstances hadn't been normal, and both had been landed with the challenge of rebuilding: Sting, the mentality and beliefs of his guild; Lucy, the aftermath of war for hers.

And Sting had managed it just fine, hadn't he?

Sitting side by side with him like this, watching the building works progress, should probably have been more encouraging than it was.

She was relieved when Sting finally came out with it. "Did Zeref ever mention a woman called Irene to you?"

"No, he didn't," she answered, not a hesitation, not a tremor. "Wendy did, though – she said she was an Alvarez Dragon Slayer captured along with her and Gajeel, who helped you against Acnologia at the cost of her own life. Is that right?"

"Yeah. But… there's something Wendy doesn't know about. I was with Irene when she died. She clearly had a lot of regrets about something that had happened between her and Zeref in the past – some unfulfilled debt that had forced her to work for him. As she was dying, she used the last of her magic to cast one final spell."

"Which did what?" Lucy prompted.

"That's the problem. I don't have the faintest idea."

"What?"

"I saw her cast it. Felt it. But nothing happened. It certainly didn't save her, because she passed away a few seconds later." A deep breath eased the growing sharpness out of his words. "It felt a bit like the soul-switching enchantment she'd been doing earlier, the one she taught Wendy, but it just didn't do anything. I certainly haven't noticed any animals acting strangely. The only other people close enough to have seen would have been you and- well, your lot, but…"

As he tailed off, Lucy voiced the words he had been expecting to hear. "I didn't notice anything. I might not have done, given what was going on at the time, but I can assure you that everyone who was there with me is still themselves."

Sting let out the breath he had been holding. "Right. Yeah, thought you'd say that. I was just a bit concerned, because it was obviously very important to her, so it's weird that it didn't seem to do anything. Maybe it didn't have time to activate properly before she died. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know in case you knew anything about it, or about her."

"I'm sorry, I can't explain it. I'll see if I can catch August for five minutes in between the negotiations. He might know Irene well enough to guess what she had tried to do."

"Thanks, Lucy." The relief was evident in his voice as Sting jumped back to his feet. "Knew you'd be able to help. I'd best go and-" He gestured over his shoulder with his thumb, realized he was pointing towards Elfman's food cart, and slowly rotated his wrist towards the guildhall. "Uh, help put that scaffolding up."

"Then you probably don't need to know that the Chef's Special Gyoza are particularly good today," she grinned.

"Not at all," he grinned back. He turned towards the guildhall – well, close enough – and had taken two steps before he paused. "Lucy," he began again, even more hesitantly than when he'd first sat down. It wasn't the bond between two equally awkward Guild Masters causing it, though, but the nebulous connection between those who had shared experiences, yet who knew that their respective feelings about those experiences would always be irreconcilably different, however hard they tried to understand each other. "Are you- are you okay?"

Her smile didn't falter. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks for asking, though."

"No problem, Lucy. See you round."

Lucy watched him disappear into the crowd. For a moment, she considered trying to spot him in the lunch queue, but her enthusiasm for it faded long before he got there.

She found herself staring up at the guildhall once again. Already, it was looking impressively tall, but she knew most of that was scaffolding hiding an empty shell, a façade slapped over a gaping void.

That was okay, though. These things took time.

"Lucy?"

After Sting, she shouldn't have been so surprised at the interruption, but she jumped anyway. She brushed her hair back behind her ear, trying to make it look intentional, as a proper Guild Master ought. From the apologetic look on Jellal's face as he took a step backwards, she wasn't up to proper Guild Master standard yet, not by a long way.

"Is this a bad time?" he asked.

"Not at all," she assured him. If he was willing to take the risk to be in Magnolia in broad daylight, especially while Rune Knights were still helping to clear the rubble in the town proper, there was no question that she would hear him out. He wasn't the only member of his guild who had fought to defend Fiore three days ago, and she'd secretly hoped that something would come of it, but… well, she supposed the King and the Magic Council had a lot to deal with right now.

Besides, the fact that Jellal was among those who had rushed to Zeref's side at the end hadn't helped their black-and-white view of the world any. Apparently, not even the fact that Acnologia's defeat had resulted from their teamwork justified forming that team in the first place.

"It's done," Jellal said.

There was such solemnity in his voice that she believed him at once, even though it took her a moment to remember what she had asked him to do: she had given him the cursed sword and beseeched him to destroy it.

Perhaps it was a selfish request. Perhaps she should have handed it over to the Council. Perhaps it should have been made available for specialists to study and learn from. Perhaps she should have given more weight to the argument that without it, Gray would be lost to them, and Zeref would not have been able to give the Book of END enough power to overcome Natsu's draconic core. It was only a tool, no better or worse than the person who wielded it.

Yet she couldn't forgive it for the pain it had caused them. The thought that someone else might have to go through what Zeref did in her arms – twice – was more than she could bear.

They'd puzzled over the problem of how for a couple of days, until Jellal had come up with the idea of throwing it through the rift in space. There, in the conceptual nothingness between the worlds, not even it could cause any more harm.

"Erza and Gray were both witnesses," he confirmed. "It's gone for good."

Selfish, perhaps, but one of the hundred or so weights latched onto her soul had just evaporated. "Good. And the rift itself…?"

Jellal gave a rueful smile. "Sadly didn't implode when we threw the sword in."

"Worth a shot."

"Worth as many shots as it takes, I think."

Lucy winced. "How bad is it?"

"It's a lot larger than it was when we fought Acnologia on the airship. Frighteningly so, in fact."

"I can close it," she promised. "I know how. I just need to wait for Loke's and Aquarius's keys to regenerate. Then I can find them, and I should be able to use them to seal the rift. In the meantime… well, it's in a very remote location. The odds of someone finding it by accident are low, and it's not the kind of thing someone is going to trip and fall through, is it?"

"No, I suppose not. It's just…"

"Another loose end, right?" Lucy finished for him. "Don't worry. I'll assemble all the Zodiac keys as soon as I can."

"I know you will. And I'm sorry to dump this on you, when you've already got so much to deal with…"

"It's fine, really." She tried to dismiss him, but he was still watching her with that steady intensity, just a little bit too good at this to be deflected the way Sting was. She went for a different tactic. "Besides, it seems we all have a lot still to do. What did Zeref mean, when he told you he didn't know what the answer was? I don't recall you asking him a question."

As she had thought, Jellal glanced away from her at once, pensive. "He told me, a while ago, that if it wasn't him the Tower of Heaven had been built for, it would have been someone else. It wasn't about him, per se. It was about having a figurehead, an idea, that appealed to the cult's greed and satisfied their ambition. If he had never existed, the cult would just have invented one. And, in all honesty, that's what they did. Their Zeref wasn't any more real than the one in my head."

She didn't say anything. Didn't react to the name, the sentiment. Just waited, with the patience of a Guild Master, for him to continue.

"I've lost track of how many dark guilds Crime Sorcière has defeated over the past year," he admitted. "Because, the thing is, it doesn't matter. There are always more. The Balam Alliance fell, and Avatar seized it as an opportunity. You defeated Avatar, and all across the kingdom, dark guilds are already beginning to rise from the ashes. The destruction of the great dark guilds isn't taken as proof that evil never wins – it's a sign that those left behind must fight harder! Fundamentally, they're not driven by greed or cruelty or some innate evil… they fight because they think the world is wrong. They fight for all the same reasons we do."

"But not in the same ways," Lucy pointed out, curious to see how he would respond. "Avatar attempted to massacre the people of Bishop's Lace. That's what sets dark guilds apart from us."

He met her gaze unflinchingly. "It's the people at the top who drive that. People like Brain, like Hades, like Arlock, like me." She tried to interrupt; he silenced her with a swift shake of his head."That belief in the unfairness of society… they can't create it, but they know how to spot it, and shape it for their own ends. I've seen the file on Avatar. Arlock was a madman with a grudge against the Magic Council, but Avatar had thousands of members! It wasn't charisma or the promise of power that drew them to his banner. It was something fundamentally wrong with the world, which he promised to change for them. If they'd known exactly how he was planning to do that, sure, they might have turned away from him, but they wouldn't have given up – they'd just have found another leader."

He tapped his fingers against the bench, every one ringing out louder than the sounds of the building site.

"It doesn't matter how many dark guilds we put away, Lucy," he admitted. "Nothing will change. But if there's an answer, I don't know what it is, and neither did Zeref. So we just keep fighting, day by day, defeating the dark mages, confiscating the dangerous artefacts, saving the world from doomsday plots… and never getting any closer to winning the war."

"I don't know the answer either," Lucy murmured. "I'm not sure there is one. But the last thing we should do is let that stop us from trying. Even if we can't win the war, we at least have the power to make the world that little bit better."

"I agree. We-"

"Oi! You!"

Both of them were on their feet at the shout, twin blurs of colour as they whirled around. A man was emerging from a nearby alley. The hi-vis jacket identified him as one of the men drafted in to help Magnolia with the clean-up; the pike in his hand, levelled towards Jellal as he advanced, identified him as a Rune Knight.

Jellal watched him for a moment, and then turned back to Lucy. Faint exasperation was the only expression on his face; she didn't believe it for a second. "I've got to go. Lucy, if you ever want to talk – about anything – Erza knows how to get in touch with me."

Light flared around his body. The advancing Rune Knight froze in fear, but Lucy knew Jellal wouldn't fight in a situation like this. He would only ever run, for the sake of those who had decided he was their enemy.

Lucy grabbed his sleeve. "There are at least three separate guilds who will testify to the help you and your guild freely gave us during the war," she told him defiantly. "The King will pardon you. He has to!"

"I appreciate the thought, Lucy, but it doesn't work like that."

"But it's not fair!"

"Fairness has nothing to do with it." Every word was blunt, unequivocal, ready to defend to the death a cruelty he should have raged against with every fibre of his being. It had taken Zeref four hundred years to understand the worth of his own life, but Lucy had a feeling this man would give him a run for his money. "See you round, Lucy. Take care of yourself."

Jellal was gone in a blur of light. Almost immediately, his understanding and graceful sincerity were replaced by the clumsy hand of the law, as the Rune Knight turned his pike towards Lucy in a way that was probably meant to be threatening.

"Ma'am," he began, "that man is a known criminal, and-"

There was fire in Lucy's eyes and the rage of all the former Guild Masters in her heart as she spat, "That man is a hero. His actions three days ago helped end the war. And not just this petty dispute with Alvarez, either, but the Dragon Wars, which have been driving this world towards extinction for four hundred years! You have no right to tell him what to do or where he can go!"

"Ma'am, I don't think you appreciate that there is a warrant out for his arrest-"

"And despite that, he is here trying to help the survivors – whereas you have abandoned the evacuees you're supposed to be helping in order to wave your pike at one of the best men I have ever met!" she fired back at once.

He stepped back and she stepped forward, and the entire world seemed to advance with her. "This is my guild. My territory! If you even think about coming here again to take one of my friends away, you will make an enemy of every single mage in this guild – and if the Alvarez army itself couldn't keep us down, I wouldn't fancy your chances!"

There was astonishment and there was terror, and as they unfurled on the unfortunate Knight's face, there was the unmistakeable flash of a camera and the delighted exclamation: "Cool!"

The thought of this shameful moment being preserved for all eternity was clearly too much for the Knight to bear. "W-well, uh… be on your way, then," he stammered, and scarpered off to help the townsfolk.

Lucy, by contrast, had whipped around so quickly at the interruption that an observer would have been forgiven for thinking Acnologia had returned from the grave.

It wasn't a dragon, though.

It was worse.

Namely, the spike of blond hair, the oversized camera, and the even-more-oversized grin of the boss Lucy had walked out on and then promptly forgotten existed.

"Jason!" she gasped. "I am so sorry! I didn't mean to stay away for so long without word- one thing just led to another-"

"Lucy, calm down!" the reporter cut in – and she did so at once. The fact that Jason thought she was acting over the top had a remarkably similar effect to a bucket of ice-cold water. "It's fine. Really. As far as excuses for missing a print deadline go, 'I was busy reviving Fairy Tail, crushing Alvarez, and defeating Acnologia' is pretty solid."

She managed a weak smile.

"Besides," he added, letting his camera hang around his neck as he reached out to pat her shoulder. "I did tell you to take as much time as you needed. You just happened to need forever."

It would be a lie to say that Lucy didn't feel guilty at that. At the same time, though, she recognized in his words a truth she wouldn't have dared bring up herself. She could never have gone back to that life. She hadn't minded it, but it wasn't her. Even the bizarreness of waking up that morning and remembering she had somehow ended up as Master of Fairy Tail felt more real than the ten months she'd spent as a reporter.

She apologized anyway. "I still should have written and told you, or something…"

"Probably," Jason shrugged, still with that infectious smile, those honest eyes. "But, well, we always knew that once you left, you wouldn't be coming back. Not that you're not welcome, of course. If you ever want your old job back, it's yours. But, you know… just having you for as long as we did was cool enough."

"Thanks, Jason." Lucy gave a grateful smile. "Is there any way I can make it up to you?"

He pretended to think about this. "Exclusive interview with the Seventh Master of Fairy Tail?"

"Maybe. As long as you delete that photo you just took of me threatening a Rune Knight. I can see the headline now: New Master of Fairy Tail Declares War on Magic Council."

Jason scoffed. "That's not news, Lucy. Next you'll be telling me to stop the presses because the sun has risen. What definitely is news is a Guild Master helping to stop international war… not to mention the rumours that a certain Master-to-be was spotted in the company of the Alvarez Empire's Chief of Staff at the Summer Ball only a few days before the outbreak of war…"

Lucy turned away.

Let him think she was embarrassed, or shy.

"So, how about tonight for that interview?" Jason pressed. "I could buy you dinner…?"

It was a Guild Master's duty. No, more than that – it was a good opportunity. She trusted Jason; she knew he would respect her privacy and ensure that she was fairly represented. She could talk about Alvarez. She could talk about the ceasefire and the peace negotiations. She could, maybe, throw the first stone into the torrent of national resentment, and in doing so, begin the laborious process of changing its course. She had a platform. She had authority, and she should be making the most of it before the rest of the world realized she wasn't a real Guild Master after all.

Her gaze flicked up to the top of the scaffolding, and just for a moment, she wished she was up there with Gray and Erza, laying bricks, hammering beams into place, nothing to worry about except building ever higher…

"Yeah, of course," she smiled. "Seven o'clock?"

"Cool! I'll see you then!"

With a wave and a grin, he was gone. Lucy sank slowly back down onto the bench. Somewhere in front of her eyes, the building work was still progressing, Elfman was still doing a roaring trade at his food cart, Fairy Tail was still being Fairy Tail, bright and enthusiastic as they pieced the guildhall back together… she didn't know where they got their energy from, but she couldn't begrudge them it.

At least one of the things broken in the war was fixable.

"You don't have to do this, you know."

She knew that voice too well for it to ever surprise her. Natsu was stood behind her, his arms folded, proof that she could never quite escape the enhanced senses of a Dragon Slayer.

"Don't have to do what?" she wondered.

Natsu waved his hand in the general direction of the guildhall, though his eyes never left hers. "Put up with them. The Stings and Jellals and Jasons who rush over with their problems as soon they see you've got a free moment. When you're not leading the rebuild efforts, you're worrying about the negotiations and dealing with everyone's issues for them, and there's no need for it."

"What do you suggest I do instead?" Lucy bit back, harder than she'd intended to, because his words had hit a little too close to home. "Sit around and mope?"

"Yes!" he exclaimed. "You're allowed, you know!"

Lucy did not dignify that with a response.

That had never stopped Natsu, who vaulted over the back of the bench and sat down beside her, with all the lack of respect for personal space she had entirely forgotten he held. No one had been this close to her since the final battle. The same respect for the unearned title of Master that drew people to her also seemed to push them away.

"Look. Lucy. You had to be strong for Zeref, I get it, but you don't have to do that for us. You don't have to take on all our problems as well as your own, when you've already got more to deal with than anyone! Let someone support you for a change!"

She shook her head firmly. "It's the duty of the Guild Master to help those who need it."

"Yeah, but it's not like you're…"

It wasn't the words that snagged her attention as much as the way that not even blunt, insensitive Natsu could bring himself to finish them.

"Not like I'm what?" Lucy inquired.

"Nothing," he muttered.

"No, go on."

"Well… it's not like you're a real Guild Master, is it? You only did it because of the war and Zeref and everything. It wasn't like, I dunno, a planned career move or anything."

Then he waved his hands hastily, as if he could prevent the inevitable thunderbolt from crashing from the heavens. "Not that you're not a good Master! Because you are. Really. You're great at listening to people and supporting them. Even people from other guilds respect your decisions. But…"

"But?" she prompted.

Natsu swallowed. "But it's not… well… it's not who you are, is it? You're not a responsible, wise, all-knowing mentor – you're the hero who charges head-first into adventures with us, and has all our backs, and still somehow gets into more trouble than me and Gray combined. You're not supposed to be signing off on financial budgets and deciding the colour of the new wallpaper; you're supposed to be slaying evil demons and destroying half a city to save the day! Being Master… it could be who you are, if that's what you wanted. You really would be an amazing one. But if you wanted to be Lucy of Team Natsu again… that would be amazing, too."

He screwed his eyes shut, bracing for the storm. Lucy stared at him for a moment, the man who had faced down Acnologia without fear, and felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes.

In three whole days, she had almost forgotten the sensation.

"Natsu," she whispered.

His eyes opened a crack, letting the smallest opalescent glow shine through.

"You have no idea how much I've been wanting to hear those words," Lucy choked. "I do want to help. So much of this was my fault, and I want to do everything I can to make it better. But I don't want to keep pretending that I've got all the answers. I don't want to have to act like I know what I'm doing. I don't want…" The expectation. The responsibility. The people looking to her as a leader the way that, not that long ago, people had looked to him. "Maybe I'll be ready for it one day, but… not right now."

She practically fell onto his shoulder, and he rubbed her back comfortingly. "Welcome back to the team, Lucy. If anyone tries to pester you, I'll deal with them. That journalist can wait until next week for his interview, at least. And you don't have to go off on any great quest to find the missing Zodiac keys until you're ready."

"But I promised Aquarius-"

"She'll understand."

"…Have you met Aquarius?"

"Yeah. And she will. It's not worth destroying yourself for, Lucy."

"Thanks, Natsu," she murmured. He didn't say anything for a while, and neither did she. For the first time since the battle had ended, she just let herself be held, and Natsu patted her back, gentle and comforting and… really not much like Natsu at all, come to think of it.

"Mira put you up to this, didn't she?" Lucy accused.

"What? No!"

"Levy, then. Or was it Erza? Lisanna?"

"No one!" Natsu protested.

She lifted her head to give him the most severe look she could manage, but from the way he barely flinched, she had a long way to go before she perfected that element of the Guild Master's arsenal.

"I screwed up last time, alright?" Natsu met her gaze with quiet fire in his eyes. "You lost Aquarius, and you needed me, and I left you. I'm not doing that again. Not ever. I'm here for you and I always will be. I don't need Mira, or anyone else, to tell me that."

All the strength went out of her. She didn't need it any more. She slumped against him, and his arm wrapped around her shoulders, and she knew she would be safe here, just for a little while.

"Besides," Natsu added, "last time I left you to mourn on your own, you ended up dating the Black Mage, challenging Acnologia without me, and stealing my record for most accidental damage on a job by putting a hole in the literal fabric of reality. I'm not sure I'm ever gonna let you out of my sight again."

It felt good to laugh, but it didn't last.

It wasn't as if she'd done any of those things on her own.

The smile faded from her lips, and she murmured, "Do you still hate him?"

Natsu's response was immediate. "How can I not, after seeing what you're still going through every day because of him?"

"You know what I mean, Natsu."

This time, begrudgingly, he considered it before forming his answer. "Nah. I don't feel anything towards him. I wish I did, though."

"Why?" Lucy protested, startled. "The hatred you felt for him wasn't real, Natsu!"

"I know. But… it was proof that I was someone important to him."

"You were important to him," she said fiercely. "He loved you so much, Natsu. I know you don't remember, but…" Her eyes widened as she recalled the pendant Zeref had bequeathed to her as he lay dying; it was a mark of how busy she'd been since then that it hadn't occurred to her before now to show Natsu. "Here. Look at this."

She pulled out of his embrace and fumbled for the chain at her neck – a task made only more difficult by the fact that Natsu was now leaning into the space she had vacated, peering closely at her flailing fingers. "What's that?"

"Give me a chance, Natsu," she huffed, fumbling with the catch on Zeref's locket.

"No, not Zeref's one. That one."

A claw-like fingernail jabbed at the other object hanging around her neck as though it had done something to offend him.

"Oh, that." Letting Zeref's pendant fall back again, she lifted the other carefully between her fingertips. The silver-gold acorn, harder than metal yet as unshining as the earth, hung on the ethereal chain that the stars had woven for her.

"It's the acorn of an Aureum Oak," she explained. "Probably the last one in existence. They're very rare because of their natural ability to absorb magic, so people used to fashion them into protective amulets. It's a long story, but I got this one from Anna – my ancestor, and the co-creator of Celestial Spirit magic. I promised I would plant it once Acnologia was defeated, but I've… not found a good place for it yet."

She moved to tuck it back beneath her top, but Natsu's unblinking gaze seemed to spear it in place. "You didn't have it during the fight with Acnologia, right?"

Lucy frowned at him. She'd been wearing the acorn around her neck ever since she'd received it. "Yes, I did."

"No, you didn't. I'd have sensed it."

"You were a bit busy at the time. You know, being a dragon."

"I'd have sensed it," Natsu insisted.

Her frowned only deepened. "Natsu, there's nothing to sense. It doesn't have any magic of its own. It's a memento, that's all."

"I don't like it."

A low growl was emanating from his throat, and she didn't think he knew he was doing it. He didn't seem aware of anything except the acorn in front of his eyes.

"I don't like it," he repeated. "You should get rid of it."

"I'm not going to do that," Lucy told him firmly. She hid it back under her top, and he glanced up, apparently startled by her proximity. "It's my connection to Anna… and to Zeref. It's our promise."

To her surprise, he gave a terse nod, settling back into his original position with an effort. "Right. Sorry."

"This is the one I wanted to show you." She flipped open Zeref's locket and let him examine the image inside: five dragons, five children, Anna, and Zeref.

In silence, he ran his finger over the pendant's pearl-white inlay. Igneel's heartscale. It had been every bit as precious to Zeref as Natsu's scarf was to him. Igneel had given his heartscale away long before he had adopted his son – given it to a man who should have been his enemy in a gesture of trust no human had ever quite matched.

As Natsu sat and stared at the photograph of a time he couldn't remember, Lucy longed to tell her best friend everything.

And yet, she couldn't.

Not if he didn't ask.

Telling him about everything he'd lost, knowing he had no way of ever getting it back again, was not a punishment she could inflict upon someone who didn't want to hear it.

And, just like every time the subject had almost come up between them since Zeref's death, Natsu handed the pendant back without a word.

Still, there was something almost defiant about the way he held her gaze despite it. "Lucy, are you okay?"

She tried to smile and found that she couldn't. Tried to brush it off; couldn't do that either. She couldn't keep things from Natsu the way she tried to from everyone else.

"Do you know what the worst part is?" she asked in return, because they both already knew the answer to the question he had asked. "I just keep feeling like I'm going to see him again."

"He's gone, Lucy," Natsu told her, gentler than she had thought possible.

"I know." She opened her mouth, thought better of it, closed it again, and then Natsu gave her an unimpressed look and all the words came out at once. "When I was connected to the Celestial Spirit King, I looked through time. Further than I should have done. I caught a glimpse of my own future. And he was here with me, Natsu. In a guildhall that looked like ours, but different. I thought it was another world, another timeline, one where things had worked out for us, but…"

A shaky breath escaped her. "Every day, our guildhall looks more and more like the one I saw in my vision, and I can't help feeling that he's supposed to be here, with me."

Natsu squeezed her hand. For one bizarre moment, it made her want to laugh.

"I know it's silly," she confessed. "He's gone. I need to accept that. But… it's difficult when every single day brings a new disappointment." Another shaky breath. "I will be okay, Natsu. Just not yet."

And when he put his arm around her again, warm and understanding and safe, she found that even she believed it.

"I don't know what you saw in him, Lucy," Natsu murmured. "But I wish I'd got the chance to find out."

They sat there in silence, and for the rest of the afternoon, not a single person bothered her with questions.

She remembered what she'd vowed as they had called Natsu's human self back to them through the Book of END: to challenge him; to be like him; to face him on his own terms, because that was what he responded to the best.

After a year on very different paths, she had come to accept that the only way to heal the divide between them would be for her to try and understand him… and yet here he was, trying so hard to understand her, comforting her like she always comforted others, and she knew that if this was their challenge, Natsu was already winning it.

Another day.

Another deadlock.

Invel swept out of the conference room like a gale of winter, resisting the urge to let his magic rattle the doors and paint frost across the windows with the same iron-clad control that kept his expression clear of all emotion.

He did not flinch as the camera-flashes bombarded him like machine-guns. He did not falter as microphones were thrust into his path, a test of courage that their owners always backed down from an instant before collision. They called out to him by name, by title, by less savoury monikers, and he gave no sign he had heard a single one of them.

He strode on until they had fallen far behind.

The reporters could take from his silence what they wished. No fiction they spun across tomorrow morning's headlines could be worse than the continuing truth.

The Antelope Park Hotel & Conference Centre had been chosen to host the peace talks for two reasons: the conflict had left it entirely unscathed, and, being safely outside of Magnolia, it was seen as neutral ground. It was a nice enough place, though it had clearly never been used for major diplomatic negotiations before, let alone hosted a foreign Chief of Staff, or Emperor-to-be, or whatever the hell his title was now.

It was almost funny – back when people had been addressing Emperor Spriggan in his presence, he'd cared a great deal about the correct form of address being used. Now that it was him, he found he didn't care in the slightest.

There were more important things to worry about.

At least the staff here had quickly learnt to leave him alone. He was no entitled noble; he had earnt his position, and he did things himself. Once he was away from the overeager press corps, no one so much as made eye contact with him as he strode through the corridors and into the rooms that had been put aside for him. The 'imperial suite'. His lip curled at the name.

August was already inside, rising to his feet as Invel entered. "Any progress?"

Invel shook his head in disgust. "There's going to be another war at this rate."

"There won't," August reassured him, as steadfast and calm as he always was when he truly believed something. "No one wants that."

Invel's silence clearly did not share his faith.

August continued, "You weren't there in the early years of the empire. You're too young to have known anything other than our nation victorious. These things take time. You'll see."

"I don't know how to solve this!" Invel burst out. "I don't think there even is a solution! It's not about the peace settlement any more; it's about establishing the future course of the empire and our relationship with other nations, and I don't know how to make it work! Alvarez is counting on me, he is counting on me, and I can't…"

Not even here, in front of the one man he knew he could trust absolutely, could Invel bring himself to utter those words. He took a deep breath, and composure condensed in the ice crystals of his breath. "They need me," he said. "I have to be better."

"Maybe," August spoke, at last. "Right now, though, I think it's more important that you be human." Invel snorted, but the elderly man stepped forward, undeterred. "You're grieving. That's okay. No one expects you to be perfect, not right now."

"Don't you dare patronize me!" he spat. "I am your emperor-!" And then he laughed, cold and bitter. No amount of ice could seal it within his throat, just as no chill was enough to temper his unruly emotions. So it had been, ever since he had run to His Majesty's side only to watch him die. "But I'm not, am I? I never will be. You're not coming back to Alvarez, are you?"

"No," August confirmed quietly.

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know yet."

"And it's still better than working for me." Another harsh laugh. "Well, rest assured that you won't be the only one who feels that way, once word of the last few days gets out."

"Invel-"

"No, it's fine." Invel tried another deep breath, and managed to dredge up some patience that the negotiations had yet to drain from him. "I get it. It was always him to whom you were loyal, not Alvarez. With him gone, there is no need for you to stay."

"I loved him more than words can say," August said quietly. Then, surprisingly, his emerald eyes flicked up to catch and hold Invel's in a way no one but His Majesty had ever managed before. "But I love you, too." Reaching out, he pressed something into Invel's hand – an ultra-long-range communications lacrima, no longer keyed to His Majesty's device, but to August's own. "If you ever need me – for advice, for military support, or even just someone to listen – I will be there."

Invel gave a gruff nod. Although he took a step back, pocketing the lacrima, the other's gaze did not release him.

"Don't misunderstand me, Invel," August continued. "You're right, there is no longer a need for me to stay in Alvarez. But it's because I believe in you. You'll make a fine emperor, Invel."

"He'd have sorted this by now," Invel whispered. "No, he'd have had the peace agreement signed three days ago."

"He could afford to be reckless because he had you. Until you've found your second, don't push yourself too hard. You'll get there in the end; I know you will."

The simple truth of it thrummed in his magic. August didn't do meaningless platitudes. If he said something, he believed it with all his heart.

The one good thing about his moment of weakness already being well-established was that Invel had nothing further to lose by resting his forehead against the other's shoulder.

There he stayed, and for all that his shoulders shook, not a single tear slipped through his defences, and that was okay too.

A/N: Thank you all so much for your comments! Hopefully this week's more muted chapter was less traumatic than last week's, although I am quite proud of how this one came out - Lucy and Invel in their respective leadership roles, convinced that they have to carry on as if nothing has happened, and Natsu and August trying to show them that it's okay to slow down and grieve and take time for themselves. Two more chapters to go. ~CS