.
.
"And I could hear the thunder and see the lightning crack
All around the world was waking, I never could go back
Cause all the walls of dreaming, they were torn wide open
And finally it seemed that the spell was broken"
- Florence and the Machine, "Blinding"
(:)(A)(:)
To the Flame
Chapter #11: Il Risveglio
(The Awakening)
(:)(A)(:)
She watches, transfixed as the blood runs down his fingers and begins to pool in his palm. He holds them up to her lips, and she tears her eyes away from the blood to look at his face. He is smiling softly. "Go on, Luce. I didn't cut them for nothing."
At first she hesitates. She doesn't like the idea of feeding off him because he is Natsu and not just a body full of blood, but the coppery scent of him is drowning her thoughts, and her stomach gives a painful, hungry lurch. With shaking fingers she brings his cupped palm to her lips and tilts his hand as if it were a chalice. The blood is hot and thick, and it coats her throat in pleasant fire. She wants more. The desire to feel warm again is as overwhelming as the hunger.
Fervently, her tongue drags across his stained palm before her lips wrap greedily over his cut fingers. She hears him take a sharp intake of breath, but she is too lost in the hunger to think about stopping. Sluggishly, the pads of his fingers bleed and pulse against her tongue, slowly filling her mouth with sticky, syrupy heat. It is too slow though, and she is too desperate. She sucks and swallows her rewarded efforts with a pleased hum.
Four swallows in and she can feel a phantom warmth spreading from her stomach. Seven swallows and she feels the heart in her chest tremble and stutter. Ten and she realizes that the hand against her mouth is shaking and the man attached is panting for breath.
She tears herself away from him, terrified that she drank too much, but when her wide eyes land on him his face is flushed instead of pale. "Natsu?"
He swallows thickly, his eyes dark and dazed. They seem to be focused on her mouth. "That ... was probably a really bad idea on my part," he mumbles. He clears his throat with a cough and lifts his hand. Blood is still weeping from his fingers, but it is weak. "Are you still, uh, hungry?"
Yes, she thinks. She is starving and would love to continue drinking until long after the sun rises, but instead she bites her cheek and shakes her head. She doesn't know how much is too much, and she refuses to find out. There is still some of his blood at the corner of her mouth. She fights to urge to lick her lips and instead wipes it away with the back of her hand.
He frowns, seeming to see right through her. "You sure? It didn't seem like you took that much."
She nods, uncomfortable under his scrutiny. "It is enough."
For a moment he says nothing, wrapping his damaged fingers in a paper towel as he tries to stem the flow of blood. He frowns, but it seems to be more thoughtful than upset. "Does it have to be human?" He asks, eyes lifting from the blood stained cloth to look at her. "I mean, can you drink pig's blood or something?"
She shrugs, her eyes straying back towards his hand without her permission. "I don't know."
There is a silent pause. When her gaze finds his again he is looking at her strangely, as if there is something he wants so badly to know but is afraid to ask.
"Luce... What did you eat before?"
She looks away, suddenly feeling ashamed.
It is strange... Minutes ago she had no qualms about what she is, but suddenly, with the taste of his blood on her lips, she feels a loathing brewing where the heat of his blood is warming her stomach. "I am broken," she reminds him. She wants him to know that she has never tasted anyone else – that she would never hurt for her hunger. Suddenly she realizes that he has every reason to fear her, and it breaks her weak, quivering heart. She does not want him to be afraid. Not of her, not ever.
He shakes his head, stepping towards her. "No - I know. That's not what I meant. I know you would never hurt anyone." His brow is furrowed with a mixture of concern and sadness - pity. She wants to smooth the lines away with her thumb. "I mean, what have you eaten? A cat, a dog, a-a rat? Anything?"
She shrinks, looking away from him. Her arms wrap around her middle. "A Cheeto," she whispers. "Just a Cheeto."
"A Cheeto," he repeats. His face is drawn back in horror, his complexion paling. "Shit. How-"
Suddenly he looks angry, his grimace changing into a heated scowl as he throws his hands into his hair. "Fuck!" He turns to her, and she flinches under the heat in his gaze but doesn't move away as his hands grip her shoulders. "Damn it! Why the hell didn't you say anything?!"
She doesn't respond, only looks up at him with wide eyes. As suddenly as it appeared, the fury in his gaze dulls and leaves him looking lost. On her shoulders his grip weakens until it is suddenly replaced by his embrace. She stands, frozen, as his head rests against the juncture of her neck and shoulder. His words whisper, hot and full of guilt, against her collar. "This whole time. This whole fucking time you were starving..."
Tentatively, because she is both worried and surprised by the amount of pain lacing his voice, she returns his embrace."It is alright," she murmurs. She does not know what to say to make it better. Even with his blood warming her heart, she still can't seem to grasp why he feels guilt for something he isn't responsible for. "I cannot die," she reminds him.
His hold on her tightens, his voice raw and edged with anger. "It's not ok - you suffered. No one should have to go through that."
She does not deny it - she cannot. She remembers the pain of hunger more than anything else.
He strokes her hair and for a moment she imagines she feels a dampness on her skin. "I'm so sorry, Luce. So, so sorry." He gives her a comforting squeeze. It feels like a promise. "I'll never let you go hungry again. I swear."
Part of her, the part that is humming with his blood, thinks that never is an awfully long time, but she doesn't let the words slip past her lips. Something tells her that it is better for him to believe.
Eventually he pulls away from her, his callused palms grasping her shoulders. "You'll tell me from now on, right? When you're hungry?"
She nods. If he wants to know then she will tell him, but she will not feed from him again. She refuses risk him to her hunger, no matter how much it hurts.
"Are you still hungry now?"
She hesitates, realizing that he will catch her in her earlier lie if she answers truthfully now. "I am fine," she says carefully.
He frowns. "That's not an answer, Luce. Are you hungry? Yes or no?"
Her bottom lip pinches between her teeth, and she fidgets in his grasp. "Yes." When he starts to remove the napkin twisted around his fingers she stops him, shaking her head. "No."
His nose crinkles. "What? Do I taste bad or something?"
Her lips quirk into a smile before she can help herself. The idea of him being anything but good is laughable. "I do not want to take it from you - it is yours." She places a hand over his chest, feeling the strong thrumming of his heart. "You need it."
For a short moment he looks like he wishes to argue, but he sighs instead. "Ok, alright. I'm gonna go run to the butcher's then - I'm pretty sure the one down the street is open till eight ..." He gives her a hesitant look. "You'll stay here, right? You won't leave while I'm gone or anything?"
"I promised I wouldn't." She doesn't understand why he is asking.
He releases a breath, tension easing from his shoulders. The smile he gives her is soft but sincere. "Wasn't sure if you remembered."
Her head tilts, a little line developing between her brow. "I remember every promise I give you," she admits softly. She chooses to refrain from telling him that she commits their interactions to memory by reliving them every night. Somehow the thought of him knowing that she spends hours thinking about him is embarrassing.
He answers her with a smile. "All right, wait here for me then, ok?"
She nods her agreement, following as he steps toward the door and watching as he pulls on his coat. As he wraps the scarf around his neck with one hand and grabs a set of keys off with the other, he nods toward the deadbolt. "Lock the door behind me, ok?"
She frowns. "But I am here." His apartment is safe, she would not let anyone take his things.
For a moment he pauses, studying her curiously. "Well, yeah, I know." His hand wraps around the knob, turning. "That's why I want you to lock it. So no one bothers you while I'm gone."
"Who would bother me?" She asks, watching as he opens the door.
He shakes his head, a lopsided smile curling ever so slightly at the corner of his mouth. "Never mind, just - lock the deadbolt for me? I'd feel better about leaving if you did."
She still doesn't understand, but she nods anyway. If it makes him feel better to do such a simple thing then she can see no reason to deny him. The smile he gives her seems one part grateful and two parts relieved, and he mutters a quick, "be right back" before he steps into the hallway and closes the door behind him. It is only when the bolt slides into place that she hears his footsteps carry him away.
Time still escapes her, so she can not tell how long she stands in the entry way. With Natsu gone she is unsure of what do with herself. She looks around, searching for something to occupy her. From the corner of her eye she sees the manila folder sitting on the counter, dirty and faded with age. It calls to her.
Her feet bring her closer before she can tell them not to. Part of her wonders if it is alright for her to investigate the curious looking file – Natsu did not tell her to leave it alone, but he did not tell her she could look either. However, any hesitancy leaves her as she finds herself staring down at the worn folded piece of card stock.
On the frayed tab are letters written in fine black ink. Letters that she can read - 'Case#5971'.
Excitement bubbles up within her, tightening her chest with a happiness so great that it physically hurts. She can read. Shaking, her fingers trace the ink. When she is finally able to tear her eyes away it is only to search out other words. She has the sudden, undeniable urge to confirm that it is not only the words on this mysterious folder that she can read.
It isn't.
She is able to read all of the titles of books on Natsu's shelf, every brand decorating the appliances in his kitchen. On his fridge is an advertisement for pizza whose logo matches the one on the box still sitting half full on the coffee table. Everything that is made up of letters, everything built with words, she can read. A smile, so wide that her cheeks ache from the force, spreads across her face as she stares back down at the folder in her hands. She wishes Natsu was here, she wants share with him that she has gained back what she has lost.
She opens the file with careful fingers and stares at the picture sitting on top of the pile of yellowed papers. Staring back at her is a faded photo of a pale young woman with bright, doe brown eyes and a head of blonde hair that is styled in a side ponytail. Her smile is pretty, but it has a forced quality to it that tells her that the photo was staged. Underneath she spies a newspaper article, the last word of the headline peaks out from behind the photo - bold and dominating compared to the smaller print around it. It reads 'Murdered'.
She stares at the photo for a moment longer, her fingers tracing the yellowed edge. It takes her longer than it should for her to realize that she is staring at herself. When she does she feels a prickle of anxiety at the discovery, still she continues to stare down at the image. She has not seen herself in such a long time ... she had forgotten what she had looked like. She thinks she is pretty, but it has been so long that she has been a judge of beauty. Natsu has told her several times that she is, though, so she thinks that maybe it is true after all.
Her eyes slip past the photo and focus on the bold text beneath. Anxiety swells beneath her breast, and she closes the folder just as carefully as she opened it. She doesn't know how, but she knows that the story beneath her photo is not one she wants to read. Even with the card stock separating her from the article, the word 'murdered' stains her vision as if it were imprinted on her eyes.
A knock sounds on the door, followed closely by the muffled sound of Natsu's voice. "Luce?"
With one last lingering look at the folder, she hurries to the door and lets him in. In both of his hands are take out bags that are weighed down by the styrofoam containers inside. Lucy can smell the blood even through the scent of plastic and for a moment it makes her pause. Natsu doesn't seem to notice.
"Got some weird looks from the butcher – told him I was making an amateur horror film," he quips, shutting the door behind him with his foot and making his way into the kitchen. He deposits the bags on the counter before giving her a grin over his shoulder. "He seemed to buy it."
Her brow furrows. "Buy what?"
"The story," he answers, distracted as he takes out a total of four containers. "I didn't know how much to get ... I got pigs blood because, I don't know, they always use pigs on CSI and stuff. For their experiments, you know? So I thought maybe it'd be similar enough..." He gives her a sheepish smile. "I guess we'll find out, right?"
Her mouth curls in response, but it is strained. The smell of the blood is stronger now that he has released the containers from their plastic prison, and it makes her stomach lurch hungrily. What Natsu has given her has filed down the sharp edge of her hunger, but the dull pain still remains.
He peels back the lid of one of the containers before hesitating. "Uh, should I warm it? Or -"
She doesn't answer him, her gaze is piercing through the cheap styrofoam in his hands. With the lid removed the scent of blood hangs heavy in the air and settles on her senses like a crimson veil. She swallows the saliva that is pooling on her tongue.
Natsu's face is a bit pale as he stares down at the congealed blood sitting at the top. "We should put it in the microwave. It - it'd be more like if you, you know, took it naturally, or whatever." He looks up at her, giving her an evaluating look. "Don't you think?"
She nods even through she wants to rip the container from his hands. She does not care if it is cold, she is too hungry to care. Still, she will be patient and she will wait. She does not want Natsu to see how hungry she truly is. With sharpened eyes she watches as he puts it in the box above the stove and continues to stare as it rotates. It feels like it takes forever, and the way the smell begins to grow heavier as the blood warms makes her stomach tighten in anticipation. By the time he removes it her stomach is clenching painfully.
He holds it out to her carefully, and her hands visibly shake as she takes it from him. He keeps a steadying hand on the bottom, his face pinched in concern. "Just - go real slow, ok? Start with a couple sips. We don't know if it will work the same as human blood..."
Again, she nods. She hears his words, understands the reason for caution, but as she takes her first painfully hesitant sip the world slips away from her.
The blood fills her mouth, and she swallows it down greedily. She can vaguely hear Natsu urging her to slow down but she can't. She can't. She has been so hungry for so, so long and this time there is no risk to the man beside her, no reason to keep herself in control. The veins branching out underneath her skin are thirsting for life, grabbing greedily at every drop she swallows. She feels them swelling, feels her heart beginning to race in her chest - faster and stronger with every ounce of blood that slides down her throat. Under her fingers the styrofoam container feels more solid. Sounds are sharper, and when she opens her eyes the blood looks richer. At some point she must have sunk to the floor because she can feel each individual groove in the wooden planks biting into her knees.
This is what it feels like, she thinks, this is what it feels like to be alive.
Memories flicker behind her irises, like an old black and white film that has seen more years than care. They are fuzzy, random, and muddled, but they are there. She recognizes faces, remembers moments, and understands that they are her own. She remembers playing in the willow trees on her father's estate, remembers her mother's soft smiles and her fathers tendency to only be seen at dinner. She remembers long empty hallways with marble floors polished so brightly that she could see her reflection, remembers thinking they were more cold than pretty. She remembers crying at her mother's funeral and being escorted back by the nanny instead of the man she called father. She remembers, she remembers, she remembers.
In that Manila folder that lays open on the counter, is a picture of her and with the news articles and case notes of her death. She knows what the headline reads, she knows because she remembers Minerva taunting her with it weeks after she had risen – 'Sole Heir of the Heartfilia Fortune Found Brutally Murdered'. It is a title that says everything and nothing at all. It paints the picture of how they must have found her broken body sprawled over her favorite park bench, tells how investigators are urging anyone with any information to come forward. They only know her story's beginning and end – they know nothing of the in between.
She wonders if the case files are different, if they show the sheer amount of terror she felt when he ripped her shirt just so that he could hear her plead with him to stop. Maybe the bruises in the shape of his fingers on her neck and face told the investigators that the man that murdered her was more interested in playing with his food – to listening to her scream – than anything her body could give him.
Warm hands are cupping her face, and when her eyes refocus she sees Natsu kneeling in front of her with his face pinched in fear. He says her name, and she realizes that he has been saying it for a while now, but she has only just now heard him. At some point she has emptied the container and brought it down to rest in her lap – she can feel some of the blood running down her neck and making the shirt stick warmly to her skin. She stares down at the crimson stain spreading across her chest.
"Lucy?! Luce, look at me!" She does, pained by the terror in his voice. It rims the edges of his eyes and makes his pupils seem smaller than they are. Of her? Is her afraid of her? He should be. She is covered in blood. Only monsters wear blood like it is wine. "Can you hear me?"
Slowly, miserably, she nods.
The callused hands encasing her face twitch, and he releases a shaky breath. "Are you ok? Does anything hurt?" Hurt? Why would she hurt? He gives her a strange look, one mixed with worry and confusion, and she realizes she has said her thoughts out loud. "You're crying..."
She reaches up to touch her cheek, just underneath her eye. It is wet, but when she pulls her hand away to stare at her damp fingertips it is not with blood.
Crying makes you human... Her mother used to say that – she remembers.
The tears come faster, harder, and sobs rip at the heart that only just started beating. Not even Natsu's warm embrace, his reassuring words ("it's ok, everything is going to be ok") can calm her, because she knows better now.
Crying does not make her human. Not anymore.
Not ever again.
AN: You guys literally made me cry from happiness, and I don't completely blame it on the hormones. The amount of well wishes and support you all gave me last chapter was overwhelming in the best ways possible! I woke up at 5am (because apparently that's the point where my bladder goes and quits on me) the following morning after posting the last chapter and I had 37 email alerts for this fic - that is mind boggling and amazing and ohmygodIcriedhappytearsofjoy.
Then, on top of all of that, so many of you were SO supportive of the idea of this someday being rewritten into an original. Thank you. Thankyouthankyouthankyou. You have no idea how much that means to me. I was so nervous to say anything about my plans (at some point I second guessed whether or not I should even attempt it) because I was afraid of being perceived as, I don't know, somehow betraying the fandom or something. You can rest assured when I go to rewrite this as an original the characters will be revamped and rethought (I will not just be switching out names), and that I will definitely let you all know if it does get published... there is no one I would rather share my excitement with than those that have supported me along the way. :)
Again, thank you with all my heart! I hope you enjoyed this much anticipated chapter!