.

.

And I don't want the world to see me

'Cause I don't think that they'd understand

When everything's made to be broken

I just want you to know who I am

-Goo Goo Dolls, Iris

(:)(A)(:)

To The Flame

Chapter #4: Tutto Hallows Vigilia

(All Hallows Eve)

(:)(A)(:)

On her way to her bench she sees approximately one devil, two angels, a cowboy, five different versions of a princess, a bride, at least ten super heroes, and three ghosts. It is only as she sees Super Man trading candy with one of the ninja turtles that she remembers there is a holiday for this sort of thing, and that the world must not be going completely crazy after all. When she turns the last corner to get to her park, she smiles as she passes Snow White and wonders if her prince is nearby.

When she arrives at her bench it is empty, and she pushes away the feeling of disappointment before it can fully form. There have been several occasions where he has arrived after her now – something about a change in his 'shift' (whatever that means) – so she will hold onto the little thread of hope until dawn burns it away. Neatly, she opens her notebook with tender hands, carefully turning to the next blank page. Her pen taps against the paper. She can't decide if she should give a story to the broken plastic tiara she saw about a mile back or the pair of tennis shoes she spotted dangling in the tree on the other side of the play ground with its laces tied. Eventually she decides on the tiara, knowing that the shoes will most likely wait for her at least until tomorrow.

She is just starting the second paragraph when a shadow passes over the page, blocking the yellow light from the street lamp. When she lifts her eyes she is greeted by a woman with long dark hair and darker eyes. Her lips are stained a deep red, her eyes lined with smoky coal, and her face powdered to perfection. The crimson dress she is wearing is adorned with intricate black lace, and hugs her provocative curves tightly. It doesn't shy away from showing her ample cleavage and toned thighs. Her black leather boots end just above her knee and have a dangerous point to the heel, but the look in her eye is sharper.

There is a sick turning in her stomach, but Lucy can't seem to figure out why.

"Well, well, look who I found." A slender finger runs lightly against the line of her jaw, and Lucy withholds a shudder. The woman's hands are not like Natsu's. They are beautiful, but they are cold and hard – like marble.

Like her own.

Lucy recoils from the contact, but the woman grips her chin between her fingers before she can fully flee, her nails digging into her flesh as she forces her russet colored eyes to her dark ones. Lucy withholds a grimace. "Who am I? You've forgotten haven't you?" Lucy says nothing. She has no words, no concrete memories of the woman before her – only the sick twisting in her stomach associated with disgust. She can smell blood on the women's hands. She wonders if she paints her nails with it.

The dark haired woman scoffs – a dainty sound, but it is heavy with disgust and tinged with malice. The hand on Lucy's chin tightens, and she feels her face contort into the smallest of winces before she forces her expression to become impassive. Instinct tells her that submitting to this women would do more harm than good.

Her face is released, the woman's hand snapping back and sneering as if she is disgusted by her. "I don't know why I'm surprised. You always were so pathetic. Really, it's a miracle that you're still around at all." The woman raises a haughty chin, staring down at the blonde with cold, calculating eyes. "Though you really must have lost it to choose here of all places." Red lips curl darkly at the corners, as if she is laughing at a silent joke that Lucy has no chance of hearing.

Lucy's mouth tightens into a frown. "This is my bench," she says firmly, her eyes hardening in defiance.

The woman laughs, but it is dark and it pierces the air around them with the subtlety of a knife. "Oh Kitten, you really are too amusing."

Kitten ... The word strikes a chord in her, something deep that echoes of hard times past. Memories clamor and overlap each other, and it is like the rapid revisiting of a long forgotten photo album. This woman of tainted smiles and sharp eyes had always loved taunting her with that little nickname – found vindictive pleasure in reminding her that she is nothing but a helpless, crying infant with nothing but baby teeth and pinpricks for claws. "Minerva." Her name burns like acid on her tongue.

A single sculpted eyebrow raises. "Oh, you remember now do you?" Hands with filed, sharpened tips for nails plant themselves on either side of her, gripping the back of the bench and caging her. Minerva's cold marble cheek brushes against hers with terrifying friction, and Lucy feels the hairs on her arms stand on end as cold breath hisses past her ear. "As you should. Pathetic scavengers like you would do well to remember their betters."

Lucy is hardly listening, her ears are too trained on the familiar sound of approaching footsteps. Her spine stiffens in horror just as his voice confirms her suspicions. "Luce?" Minerva pulls away from her just enough so that Lucy can see the conflicting look of confusion and suspicion furrowing his brow as he glances between them. "Everything ok here?"

It takes less than a second for Minerva's expression to change from a twisted sneer and into an enticing smile. "And who might you be?" she purrs, straightening and sashaying her way over to where Natsu is standing warily. Lucy does not like the hungry look in the woman's eyes, nor does she like the way Minerva casually settles her hands around his neck - her fingers coyly playing with the strands of pink hair at the nape. "You look good enough to eat."

Natsu looks uncomfortable, his eyes flicking from the woman draped over him to Lucy. He must see some of her fear in her expression because his face hardens and he is quick to unlatch the dark haired woman's hands from behind his neck. "Not really any of your business." Once he's escaped her hold, he steps back and gives her minimal clothing a skeptical glance. "What are you suppose to be, anyway?"

Minerva's smile is dark, full of amusement that Lucy knows he won't understand. She openly runs a tongue across a too pointed tooth. "Why, a vampire of course. Couldn't you tell?"

His nose crinkles. "Not really, no. You look more like prostitute. Maybe you should try harder next year."

Her dark eyes flash, and Lucy quickly jumps in between them before the Minerva's temper flares. Immediately, the angry twist of her painted mouth is replaced by grim amusement. "Oh Kitten, do you really think you can keep him from me?"

Behind her she can practically feel Natsu bristle. "I think you really ought to leave." His voice is edged. If he was addressing anyone else Lucy thinks he'd almost sound dangerous, but she knows what this woman of marble and satin smiles is capable of.

Minerva doesn't even spare him a glance, her eyes are pinned on her own russet colored orbs. Lucy stares right back, her voice calm even though her body is rigid. "You are trespassing." She does not belong here. This is her bench, her park. Minerva knows better. It is their way.

She raises a manicured eyebrow, seeming one part skeptical and another part impressed. "Ah, so the little kitten still has some claws after all." She waves her manicured hand flippantly, her body already turning away from them. "No matter, it's only a matter of time before they rot with the rest of you" She gives Natsu another cursory glance. It is deliberately slow, and even Lucy can see the suggestion behind it. "Let me know when you get tired of playing story time with little Lu Lu here." She sends him a dark wink, "I'll make it so good you'll be begging to stay."

Her hips sway sensually as she walks away, the sound of her heeled boots echoing ominously with every predatory step. Lucy watches carefully as her form bleeds into the shadows and feels only a small amount of relief. It is only when the sound of her heeled boots begin to fade that she lets herself relax

The moment she is out of their range of hearing, Natsu's hands go to her shoulders and gently turn her so that she is facing him. He looks one part baffled and another part angry. "Ok, I'm definitely missing something here." His mouth dips into a stern frown. "What does that mean? The whole 'you're trespassing' thing? And who the hell was that?" His eyes flash with the same intensity as when she told him she was broken. "Was she bothering you?"

She shakes her head. He is asking too many questions when she only has some of the answers. She decides to focus on his first inquiry.

"This is my bench," she explains, her eyes tracing over his face. She knows it is more than that - knows it isn't just about the bench being hers or the park being the closest thing she has to sanctuary. By their laws, Natsu was hers the moment he sat next to her, the very second she spoke to him and called him by name. But she knows he wouldn't understand, and it is not something she feels she can explain. It is feeling, instinct.

She can tell by the baffled look on his face that he still doesn't understand her simplified answer. He shakes his head. "Right, of course." The way he mumbles makes her think that he is annoyed with her, but he continues softly before she can apologize. "Luce, seriously, who was that?"

She doesn't answer his question, even though she knows the importance of names. There is an anxiety clawing in the emptiness of her chest whispering that if he knows her name then he might be tempted to go find her. She has already seen what happens to the men who do, and she is not willing to risk him to the same fate. "She is dangerous. You must not seek her." She steps away from him and sits back down on her bench, trying to calm the unexplainable tremors in her hands. She picks up her abandoned notebook to occupy them.

Still standing, he gives her a strange look - a mixture of confusion and skepticism. "Wait, hold up." He shakes his head, his hand gesturing towards where Minerva only recently passed into the shadows. "You think I'd actually go looking for her?"

She tilts her head, regarding him curiously. He is upset, she can tell, but she doesn't understand why. "She is beautiful," she says simply. She has seen many men fall to Minerva's dark charm, she has seen even more simply fall. She feels that her warning is justified.

Natsu seems stunned. "So are you!" he blurts. The moment the words pass his lips, color floods to his cheeks. "I mean, that is – well. Yeah." He runs a hand through his hair, looking away from her in embarrassment. "And, you know, even if you weren't ... she's obviously a bitch to you. So ..."

She blinks. It's been many years since she has seen herself in a mirror, but she remembers that she is pretty. What she doesn't understand is how Minerva's treatment of her should affect anything. "Why does that matter?"

He looks at her like she is stupid. "Because you're my friend! Like, maybe even my best friend." He sits down next to her, his arm brushing up against her elbow as he shakes his head. His eyes are dark, serious and edged with determination. "Luce ... I wouldn't just abandon you like that. Not ever."

She doesn't know what to say. His words have made a phantom ache bloom in her chest, but it hurts in a good sort of way. It almost feels like she has a heart.

Natsu fidgets under her stare, a look of anxious embarrassment passing over his features. "You, uh, feel the same way ... right?" He gives a weak little laugh, his hand awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck and his shoulders hunching. "I mean, it's not just me?"

She has the sudden strange desire to touch him, to feel his warmth beneath her fingers, so she takes his hand in hers. There are calluses on his palms that speak of physical labor and scars on his knuckles that seem to be reminiscent of old fist fights. They are flawed, hot and sweaty in her own cool palm, but Lucy thinks they are more beautiful because of it. She examines them closely, tracing over every puckered scar, every earned callus before her fingers slip between his experimentally. It feels different but good – warm in ways more than just temperature.

Her eyes lift to his. His face is flushed, his lips slightly parted. He seems to be searching for an answer in the lines of her face so she gives him one in words just in case he can't find it from her expression. "It is not just you."

The relieved smile he gives her is soft, almost tender, but it still somehow makes the lamp light seem dim in comparison.

AN: Happy Halloween! Hope you enjoyed this holiday themed chapter (and the quick update)! The next update may take a while – I got to focus on the next chapters of "The Good Dog" and "Ignite", plus a one shot or two for the Jerza Love Fest (cause I seriously need to work on expanding my OTP horizons). Shouldn't be more than a month wait though. ;)

As always, if you like it enough to fav/follow then please take an extra moment or two to leave some feedback!