.

.

"And I thought it was strange you said everything changed

You felt as if you just woke up

And you said "this is the first day of my life

I'm glad I didn't die before I met you

But now I don't care I could go anywhere with you

And I'd probably be happy"

- Bright Eyes, "First Day Of My Life"

(:)(A)(:)

To the Flame

Chapter #12: Riflessioni

(Reflections)

(:)(A)(:)

Lucy doesn't know how long she sits there, a crumpled mass of tears and tangled limbs, but she thinks it feels like hours. Outside it is still mostly dark, a few stars shining brightly in the face of the city lights and the approaching dawn hesitating at the horizon. Natsu holds her close, his back against the kitchen cabinets and his arms wrapped securely around her. At some point he has pulled her into his lap, and with her face pressed intimately against the solid wall of his chest she can hear every beat of his heart. Sometimes she thinks she can even hear the thrumming of blood traveling through his veins. She isn't sure yet if it is a comfort or a curse – even while his warmth surrounds her with assurances of being cared for, the sound of his heart reminds her that her own is only beating on borrowed blood.

Natsu's hand softly caresses her hair, his words an aching whisper against her crown. "Tell me what to do. Please, Luce. Just tell me how to fix it."

His words bring more tears, but she keeps them silent. "I can't be fixed." She has already told him that. Last night, when he had tried to convince her to go to the hospital. Only this time she isn't talking about her mind. The blood has done its job, has filled the voids that were pulling her into darkness and hiding her memories. Now that she can see, she wishes she had stayed in the dark. "I can't undo what I am."

His breath exits his lungs in a rush. She can feel the heat of it fan against her hair. "I... I know. I didn't mean –" He pauses. Underneath her cheek she can feel his body tense, his arms puling her closer. "I... I just want you to be happy. How can I make you happy?" There is no small amount of desperation in his voice, and when she pulls away enough to study his face it is twisted into a grimace as he gently wipes away a tear sliding along her jaw. "I don't – I'm not good at this stuff, remember? Just – just tell me what to do."

Happy? How could she possibly be happy after what has happened to her? After what she has become? Words rest on the tip of her tongue – bitter and full of pain – but she stops herself from speaking them. It is not his fault that she is what she is.

Besides... since Natsu sat down at her bench and interrupted her lonely existence, she has been happy. Her mind was broken and the nightmarish memories that haunt her now were hiding behind her hunger, but overall she was content. If she could be happy then, without her memories and without her mind, then maybe, with his help, she could be happy now too.

He seems so pained by her misery that she feels that she must at least try. If being happy will make him happy, then she will do her best to keep herself from wallowing in the past.

She bites her bottom lip, a habit the maids back home used to scold her for, and tastes some of the blood that lingers there. Her hand swipes at her chin the same time her eyes travel to Natsu's white shirt. It is stained with a mixture of blood and tears. Both are her fault.

Suddenly she remembers what she must look like – covered in the blood that she was unable to greedily devour. She must have looked like a rabid animal, but when her gaze finds his she only sees concern. "You aren't afraid?"

He frowns, a line developing between his brows. "Well, no... Should I be?"

"Yes," she answers. It is only the truth. He has every reason to be afraid of her. He knows what she is now. "I could hurt you."

He gives a little shrug. "Yeah, but you won't. You aren't like that."

His words are honest and without even the slightest hint of uncertainty. Lucy wonders how she could have ever instilled such faith when she has done nothing to deserve it. He should not be so quick to trust her, not when she isn't even sure if she trusts herself. She may not wish to harm him, but she knows she is capable, and that alone makes her someone to be wary of. She is a monster in the shape of a human. The only reason he is still alive is the same reason Minerva and all the others call her broken. She was made wrong.

Still, in the face of his conviction, she can't seem to summon the courage to warn him. Maybe it is selfish of her, but she does not want to drive him away – not when he is the only one to ever see her as she is. Not when he is the only one she can call 'friend'.

Natsu gives her the tiniest of smiles, but somehow there is still enough warmth in it to make her feel at ease. "Let's get you cleaned up, ok?"

Hesitantly, she nods. When she stands it is with a grace that she isn't accustom to. She had never realized how weak she was, how sluggish, but with the blood circulating through her system she can't help but notice the difference. She feels strong.

Natsu fishes an old dishtowel from the back of one of the drawers and fills a large bowl with warm water. When he turns back to her he nods toward the kitchen chair behind her. "You wanna sit?"

She shifts restlessly, unable to meet his eyes even as she pulls the chair away from the table and takes a seat. While Natsu mirrors her motion, setting the bowl on the tabletop, she focuses on the floor and counts the individual nail holes marring the boards. When she feels the warm wash cloth caress her cheek she forces herself not to flinch.

Even in his diligence Natsu is gentle, and soon the water bleeds pink as he wrings the cloth out before moving to her neck. He is so careful with her, he always has been, but suddenly it makes her feel ashamed. Her hand reaches to grasp his, and their eyes meet. "I can do it." The words are clear but they still hold a tremble. She is capable of taking care of herself. He does not need to take care of her as if she were an invalid. Not anymore.

He hesitates, though it seems to be more out of surprise than anything else. "Oh, right. Sure. I just thought - never mind." He shakes his head, handing her the damp washcloth. "Here. Do you - I mean, the bathroom has a mirror. You know. If you want."

The cloth is warm under her fingers, and softened from use. She wonders exactly how much of the warmth is from the water and how much is from him. She wipes blindly at her neck. When she pulls the dingy white cloth away it is saturated with blood. For a moment she just stares, then his words register and she tries to hide her frown. "I don't have a reflection..."

"Oh." The air around them feels awkward - heavy. If oxygen was something she needed she suspects her breathing would be tight. The pressure on her chest assures her of it. "Right – I, uh, I didn't know that was a real thing."

She doesn't respond. She suspects he didn't think her kind were a real thing either.

Between them it grows so silent that when he finally does speak his words sound too loud for the small amount of space between them. "You sure you're feeling ok?"

She raises her eyes. "I don't know how to answer that," she admits. He looks at her, a confused frown tugging at his mouth. There is another question burning at the tip of his tongue - she can see it as if were a breathing thing. She elaborates before he can ask. "I remember now – all of it," she confesses softly, "I wish I didn't."

A second, maybe two, and understanding casts shadows over his eyes. "I'm sorry... I didn't - I thought I was helping."

She gives him a strained smile, but they both know it is more for his sake than anything. "You did. It just – it hurts. Healing hurts."

Nervously, he licks his lips and brings his hand up to her jaw. His thumb swipes at a spot just below her chin. "Missed a spot," he mumbles, as way of explanation. "Do you – I mean, I can fill up the tub for you? If you want?"

She looks down at herself and is reminded of the amount of blood sticking to her chest. It is more than she can expect the little rag in her hand to clean. Silently, because she doesn't really know what to say, she nods.

Moments later she hears water gurgling through the pipes in the walls, hears the roar of water as it splashes against the cast iron tub. Occasionally there is an indistinguishable mumble, and small yet genuine smile teases her mouth. She has noticed for a while that Natsu has the tendency to talk to himself, but only now does she recognize that she has grown quite fond of his little habit. Perhaps it is because she has been alone for so long. Maybe she still unconsciously craves the sound of another person's voice, but she suspects that it might just be him. He comforts her in ways that no one other than her mother could.

The sound of running feet outside the walls of Natsu's apartment is the only warning she is given before the front door is violently kicked in. Wood cracks and splinters with a ferocity that would make lightening jealous. It takes her only a second to recognize the dark eyes that turn on her. Gray – the man that gave Natsu her file. The one Natsu considers a friend. He had been suspicious of her before, she remembers, but now the look he is giving her a mixture of horror and hate. His jaw is clenched so tightly that her ears can pick up the groaning of his teeth. Then his hand reaches to his side and draws a gun she has only just now noticed from the holster at his hip. She watches, unmoving, as he points the mass of deadly metal at her heart.

"What the hell did you do?!" His words are loud and full of fury, and suddenly she understands. She is still covered in blood. In her he sees what Natsu should have – a monster.

She stares down the end of the steel barrel. There is a nervous thrill buzzing under her skin – adrenaline – but no traces of fear. She wonders what would happen if he were to pull the trigger. It is a morbid thought, but it is there.

Short of decapitation, or prolonged exposure to sunlight, her kind doesn't die – not really. She remembers seeing one vampire bleed out from a gunshot wound to the chest that she didn't dare inquire out. His body had gone still, his eyes glassed over and lifeless. She had thought he was gone, but hours later his pretty little offspring poured blood down his throat and the brightness returned to his eyes and his limbs began to function. For them, as long as there is blood, there is life. They could be buried seven feet under and if enough blood soaked the ground they would rise.

Still ... she wonders if it would hurt – dying all over again.

Coming back again.

In her silence, Gray's face contorts and his voice raises. In his hand, the gun trembles. Lucy knows that it is only from restraint. The steel edge in his eyes is sharper than a blade. He would have no regrets pulling the trigger. "Damn it! Answer–"

"What the hell are you doing!?" Natsu's voice thunders clearly through the apartment, a mixture of horror and hot anger. A moment later he is shoving her behind him protectively. Over his shoulder she can see the relieved, if not a little shocked, expression of the off duty officer, but Natsu doesn't seem to care that the barrel of the gun is now pointing to the floor. "What were you thinking pointing that thing at her?!" His eyes slide over the entry door, narrowing at the way the wood split from the force of his friend's treatment. "And my door! What the fuck!? You couldn't just knock?!"

Gray gapes openly, struggling to find his words. When they finally come they sound weak. "I thought... I thought she killed you."

"Why the hell would you-?"

This time his voice is stronger, more confident, in his self defense. "You weren't answering your phone! I called you seven times! And then the noise complaint came in from your neighbor –"

"You were listening to the freaking police frequency's on your night off?! No, you know what? Never mind. I don't give a shit what you do for entertainment at night. I just want to know what the hell made you think it was a good idea to come busting in here and start pointing a gun at Lucy like she's some kind of fucking criminal!"

The look Gray gives him is incredulous. "She's covered in blood!"

"It's WILBUR'S!" Natsu roars, his hands gesturing wildly to the remaining cartons on the counter. "I don't see you pointing that thing at Elfman for surviving on a diet of bacon!"

Silence falls heavily between them, and Lucy gently lays a comforting hand in Natsu's shoulder. She can feel his anger still surging beneath his skin. "Natsu ... The door." No doubt the neighbors have already heard every word that has passed between them, but she can feel the conversation heading into dangerous territory.

His jaw clenches, but the heat in his glare doesn't dissipate. "Right," he hisses. "Gray can close it on his way out."

The dark haired man bristles. "If you think I'm leaving without some answers then you're stupider than I thought."

Natsu opens his mouth, a scalding retort no doubt blistering his tongue, but she speaks before he can. "Let him stay."

Her eyes are trained on the surprised expression of the dark haired man across the room. Earlier he had asked if they had met, and now, looking at the sharp line of his jaw, she realizes why he looks so familiar.

They have not met, not really. But in his face she can see the shadow his father.

Months after she had been turned, a man with the same steel eyes and a somber smile had stepped into her park. He had found her sitting at her bench, the sole place she had claimed for herself not a week prior in an effort to escape the dark laughter that echoed in the abandoned hotel. The first time he saw her he paled – she remembers noticing how his hands shook as he asked for her name and how he seemed ready to run when she told him. He only visited her a few times, but they were memorable in that he was one of the few men to show her kindness. The night he left her with her old notebook was the last she saw of him, but he had given her more than just half finished stories. He had provided her with a purpose.

She hadn't known that he was one of the men working in her case, but she should have guessed... Only a detective or an investigator would have had the access needed to retrieve her blood stained journal from the evidence locker for her.

Natsu whirls on her, disbelief etched into his irises. "He was about to shoot you!"

She meets his eyes unflinchingly. "I know." She does, she has absolutely no delusions about the fact, but she can't bring herself to think less of him for it. He saw her for what she is. Even if he misunderstood the circumstances, he was not wrong in labeling her a monster.

"But-"

"It's alright." Her eyes meet Gray's, and feels an understanding pass between them. "He won't hurt me." Natsu still hesitates, and she gives him a light squeeze of reassurance. "Please."

His breath leaves him in a rush, the muscles beneath her fingers relaxing as he runs a hand through his hair. "Fine." He gives a pointed look to the other man, gaze heated. "But put that damn thing away! I swear to God, Gray, if you point that thing at her again I'm going to kick your ass! And close the door ... You better be paying for that by the way!"

Gray runs a palm down his face, flicking the safety and sliding the gun back into the holster. "Fine," he grumbles, shutting the door and propping it closed with the umbrella stand. "Not like I was trying to save your life or anything." His gaze keeps finding its way back to her, nervous glances that she would have to be blind to miss, but it still takes her longer than it should for her to realize that it is her bloodied shirt that makes him so uncomfortable.

Self consciously, she wraps her arms around herself. "I ... I will go wash up."

Natsu's eyes dart to stained cloth covering her chest as if he had forgotten it was ever even there. Lucy is surprised he was ever able to look away from it. "Oh, yeah. Right. Um, I didn't get the tub filled. I can go and –"

She shakes her head. "No. I can do it." When he seems unsure she gives him the tiniest of smiles. "I will be fine."

When he nods, she walks to the bathroom without looking back. She doesn't need to see them to know that both men are watching her closely. Seconds tick by silently after she closes the bathroom door before she hears the low mumble of voices. She forces herself to refrain from interpreting their hushed words, and instead stares at the empty space in the mirror and imagines what she must look like.

For the first time in a long time, she is relieved by her lack of reflection.

AN: This chapter was a struggle ... Originally Gray wasn't going to come into the picture at all, but the more I thought about it the more I realized that there was no way in hell any sane person would leave their friend alone with someone they know is inhuman. So some adjustments were made (obviously). I want to apologize for the wait – I definitely planned on getting this out a lot earlier but between morning/all day sickness and the cold I got stuck with last week, I've been pretty uninspired to write. Things are starting to look better though, and I'm starting to feel more energized (knock on wood) so hopefully I can get back into the swing of weekly updates again.

Thank you to everyone who left feedback and kind words! They got me through the worst of times! Also, as always, a huge thank you to madartiste for being such a wonderful beta! If it wasn't for her then Natsu would be filling up a 'tup' instead of a 'tub' (so you should probably thank her too). Lol.