.

.

"There's a drumming noise inside my head

That throws me to the ground

I swear that you should hear it

It makes such an almighty sound

Louder than sirens

Louder than bells

Sweeter than Heaven

And hotter than Hell"

-Florence and the Machine, "Drumming Song"

(:)(A)(:)

To the Flame

Chapter #13: Lo Stesso

(The Same)

(:)(A)(:)

She showers instead of bathing.

The thought of sitting in blood tinged water makes her stomach curl unpleasantly, and she doesn't want to risk staining Natsu's tub – even if it is currently lined with soap scum. She turns the heat up as high as it will go until the water turns scalding. Steam fills her vision and coats her lungs with every breath she takes.

Breathing is a habit for her, a comfort rather than a necessity, one that the others used to snicker at. She remembers how Minerva would turn up her nose and accuse her of pretending she was still alive when she had the gift of immortality and power at her feet. She wasn't wrong, though Lucy never said as much. Then again, she never had to.

From the very start it was clear she was different. She woke up starving and panicked with the smell of blood being as tantalizing as fresh baked bread just as they all did, but the lust for violence never followed. The appreciation for human life never disappeared. Her humanity, even though it was lost in the physical sense, stayed with her. She died and came back as herself when all the others had changed.

Her murderer, the pale faced demon that calls himself Maurd Greer, was the only one who saw her differences as intriguing instead of shameful. She was a curiosity to him – the fledgling he never meant to make. It was the only reason why the others let her be, and the only reason she attracted Minerva's disgust. She never had any patience for his toys and creations, even though she herself was one of his favorites. For the first month she could feel his eyes, black as coal and cooler than sharpened ice, follow her every movement. Sometimes he spoke to her, but his velvet voice only made her cringe instead of beckoning her closer. Eventually he grew bored with her, as he did with most of his projects, and let her be. She made a point to stay in the lower level rooms – far away from his top floor dwellings.

Her hand rests against her steadily beating heart, feeling the thrumming of blood beneath her palm. The water from the shower head sprays against her back and shoulders.

If she were to go back there, if he were to see her, he would know. There is no way she could hide her reawakened pulse. Not from someone as old as him. Probably not even from Minerva. She would have to avoid them at all costs. No doubt the change in her would re-inspire the master's unwanted attention...

But her books.

She would have to go back for her books. She couldn't leave them and her stories behind. Not when they have made up her entire existence for the past twenty years.

She would have to go back.

Her skin feels cold, but it takes her a moment to realize that it is because she has used up the hot water and not solely because of her dark thoughts. The knob groans weakly as she shuts off the flow of water. As she reaches for the folded towel on top of the vanity, she realizes that the only sound is that of droplets of water sliding off her body and tapping at the floor. There are no murmured voices from the living room. Somehow she knows it is not because Gray has left.

She doesn't bother wringing out her hair, but as she wraps the dingy white towel around her body she realizes she has made a minor error. The only clothes in the bathroom are the blood stained ones she has just changed out of. She shifts her weight, feeling both awkward and embarrassed, but she forces herself to step out into the hallway. The steam trailing after her warms her back, but she still feels the cool air brushing against her exposed skin. She feels all too bare and, by the redness of Natsu's cheeks and Gray's averted gaze, she is not merely being modest.

She draws the towel tighter against her chest. "I didn't... The clothes," she murmurs, words fumbling over each other in her embarrassment. It is a small miracle that Natsu understands without further explanation.

"Oh, right. Um, just, you know. Help yourself to whatever's in the closet. And, uh, there's sweats and shorts in the dresser."

Nodding her thanks, she quickly retreats into his bedroom. It doesn't take her long – her only preference in clothing is only to find something big enough and baggy enough to hide the fact that there is nothing underneath. She wonders where the bra she wore coming here went and realizes with uncomfortable certainty that Natsu must have washed it with the rest of her things. She pushes down her embarrassment with a shake of her head and makes a point to put her used towel in the hamper by the door despite the excess of clothes strewn carelessly across the room. She is determined to ensure that she doesn't cause anymore trouble than she already has.

When she steps back into the living room Gray's cautious gaze lacks the venom it held earlier, and she knows that Natsu has told him, if not everything, then enough. She is glad to be saved from giving such an explanation even though she is still unsure of how she feels about someone other than Natsu knowing.

The pink haired man smiles up at her, but she can see the strain of it thinning his lips. Sometime when she was in the shower he must have changed, because the clothes he wears now are free of blood. "Hey, Luce. Feel better?"

She nods, taking the seat beside him on the couch. Despite her troubled thoughts, it is a relief to feel clean. Even though the smell of spilt blood from the kitchen still follows her like a hungry ghost.

Her weight has barely settled on the cushion when Gray pins a serious look, voice crisp. "Are there more of you?"

She hesitates, stealing a glance at Natsu for comfort only to find an equal amount of curiosity in his gaze. "No... Not like me," she mutters. As uncomfortable as it is for her to talk about, she wants them to know the unpleasant truth. "They aren't broken."

Gray's face twists. "What the hell does that mean?"

Beside her, she hears Natsu release a shaky breath and knows he understood. "It means she's the only one getting dinner from a carton." His eyes meet hers. "Right?"

Slowly, she nods.

For a few tense moments all is silent. She can feel Gray's eyes cutting into her, but she refuses to meet them. She knows what his next question is before he even manages to give life to the first syllable. It is the same question his father asked. The same one she refused to answer.

"Do you know where they are?"

Her arms wind around herself, seeking warmth even though she knows she won't find any. "You do not want to find them."

Natsu fidgets next to her. "Luce... If the police can –"

"The police have no power there," she snaps, her eyes determined and sharp as she meets Gray's seriously. "You, your comrades, you will die."

Gray scoffs. "I'm not talking about a few guys here. We'd get a whole S.W.A.T team out to –"

She shakes her head rigorously. "It doesn't matter who you send, how well they are trained. No one walks through those doors and comes out alive."

"So it's a building then?"

Her mouth snaps shut, her body stiffening. Gray looks pleased with himself – smug. Lucy knows it will get him killed. "You think you understand, but you don't." Her eyes glaze and she withholds a wince. "You don't know what they are capable off." What she is capable of.

"Then explain." His voice is harsh, leaving no room for argument, but Natsu retaliates for her.

"Damn it, Gray! Stop pushing her." He turns to her, a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "You don't have to answer anything you don't want to, ok?"

"Bull shit she doesn't! If all this is true then there are innocent lives at stake!"

Lucy remains silent. She does not want to talk about this, does not want to admit what she is capable of, because saying it out loud makes it feel real.

Natsu seems to understand, because the next moment he his glaring down at his friend, voice stern. "Will you knock it the fuck off?! She's kind of had a rough night! Just, leave it alone."

Gray's mouth tightens in what seems to be an effort to keep his thoughts from evolving into words. After a long moment he stands, back as rigid as his expression. "Fine. Juvia is probably starting to worry anyway."

Natsu snorts, but it seems to be more amused than anything. "Juvia always worries about you."

He runs a hand through his dark hair, cringing. "Yeah, yeah. I know." His eyes land on her and he gives her a short nod. Her chin tilts in response. There is a promise in his expression – one that tells her that their conversation is merely postponed and not altogether canceled. It is an undesired truth but not unexpected – his father had been equally stubborn.

Natsu walks him out, cursing as he tries to prop the broken door shut. The words he mutters under his breath are less than flattering, and she is silently thankful that Gray's ears are not as good as her own.

Natsu finally settles for propping one of the dining chairs against the door knob, his features set in an annoyed scowl. When he turns back to her their eyes meet and a awkward silence, not unlike all the others that night, settles between them.

There are still questions swimming in his gaze. She can see the way he struggles to keep them under the surface. Some of them are more prudent, more important, than others. One in particular, she knows she should not wait to give him.

"It isn't the teeth you should be afraid of," she whispers, eyes sliding to the window, "it's the eyes." Light is beginning to bleed onto the horizon. Soon it's rays will reach her bench. "They turn people into puppets."

Natsu hesitates, seeming to chew on her words. They must be tough though, hard to swallow, because his nose crinkles at the bridge. "You mean, like, possession or something?"

She shrugs. She doesn't really know the finer details of it, but possession doesn't seem quite right. She herself has only used it once, accidentally, on a man with a lewd grin who thought he was the only monster in the lonely alley way. She had looked in his eyes and willed him to stop taunting her, to leave her alone, and his eyes had glazed and he had obeyed. It didn't feel like possession though – it felt like submission. "They call it a thrall."

For a short moment Natsu is uncomfortably quiet. When he finally speaks it is with a careful consideration that makes her feel at ease. "You don't have to tell me this, you know. I get that it makes you uncomfortable. I don't want you to feel like you have to tell us anything... You don't have to say anything you don't want to."

She knows. With her, Natsu has shown the utmost patience, but what Gray said is true. Her kind put innocent people in danger.

She doesn't want Natsu to be one of them.

"It's important," she murmurs, eyes tracing her bench. Now that she remembers what happened there – how she bled, how she screamed – the sight of it should fill her with terror. It doesn't. Perhaps she has seen too many horrors since that hot summer night that she has become numb to it. Or maybe the nights spent next to Natsu's warmth has warded off the chill of her own death. She can't be sure, but for whatever reason the sight of the worn wooden planks under the lamplight only brings her comfort.

Her eyes meet his, unsurprised to find him searching her own. "It is easier for them to steal eyes that don't see past the lie. It's more difficult when they see the truth."

Again, he seems to consider his response carefully, giving himself time to fully interpret her words. "Why didn't you tell Gray that?"

"Difficult is not the same as impossible... I don't think he understands the difference. I don't think he wishes to." Her eyes fall away from his, back to her bench. "Besides, he is already afraid."

He frowns, gaze thoughtful despite his apparent disbelief. "You think?"

She knows – she could smell the fear on him, hear the way his pulse jumped with every move she made. "Yes."

"Don't know what he's got to be scared about," he mumbles. He rubs his face with a tired hand, and a jaw popping yawn follows shortly after. Suddenly Lucy can't help but notice the red rims around his eyes. "You ready for bed?"

For a moment she almost tells him that she doesn't need sleep, but she stops herself. Even though she will never feel the physical side of fatigue, the emotional toll of the past hours has made her long for the reprieve that sleep brings. Natsu seems to be relieved when she nods, and Lucy realizes guiltily that he would have probably slept long before now if it wasn't for her.

He leads her to the bedroom and tucks her in with the same care as the night before. Only, this time, she grabs his wrist before he can retreat. "Don't go," she pleads, her words escaping her in a tumble of desperation. He stills and immediately she feels embarrassed by her outburst. She knows it is not proper, she understands the implications that come with asking him to stay, but she can't bring herself to take it back. "Please... I don't want to be alone."

A shaky breath escapes him as he looks down at her. There is a war raging in his eyes, a decision he struggles to come to terms with. It makes her feel bad for even asking, but she wants so badly to escape her reality and flee to a place of disconnected dreams. She won't be able to without his heart beat to distract her from the borrowed blood pumping through her own chest.

Nervously, he licks his upper lip. "Yeah. Yeah, sure. I mean, uh, right." When she shifts her body over, giving him room to lay with her, she sees him swallow thickly. He pulls back the covers, his knees causing the mattress to sink, and she can hear his heart racing in his chest as he lays stiffly beside her. It is only the blush staining his cheeks that assures her that it is in embarrassment and not fear.

For a still, quiet moment they lay on their sides, eyes searching the others. Then, summoning up her courage, she forces the burning words from her tongue. "Would... Would it be alright if I –" she falters, her gaze sliding away from his. If she was alive she knows her face would be hot with embarrassment. "If I listened to your heart?"

A pause, long enough to make her worry that she has crossed a line, before his breathy voice assures her otherwise. "Does it – I mean ... would it help?"

Her teeth worry her bottom lip as she nods. "It helps me forget my own," she admits. In the darkness of the room the words land heavily between them despite the softness of the confession.

"Why would you..." His words trail off, and when she peeks up at him through her lashes she can see understanding darken his gaze. A determined frown settles on his lips, even as the pink in his cheeks darkens to a deep red. "Can I hear?"

She is surprised by the boldness of his question, but nods dumbly. Somehow it seems fair that the man who restarted her heart should hear the proof of his efforts. Shyly he scoots closer to her, eyeing her expression for any sign that he should stop. She doesn't provide him with one.

His ear settles high on her chest, closer to her collar bone than anything else. She can feel his breath fan warmly across her neck, and as the seconds tick by she forgets to breath. She wonders if he can tell that her pulse is quicker than it should be, but when he pulls away he shows no sign of noticing anything abnormal. In fact, his smile is soft – tender. "It sounds just like any other heart beat."

Her chest tightens. She knows for sure now that he understood all to well the implications of her earlier confession. "But it isn't," she murmurs, "It can't beat on its own."

His chin tilts as he regards her, his brow furrowed in thoughtful concern. His lips part as if to say something, but he sighs instead. "Come here." His head falls back on the pillow, his arms opening in invitation. She does not waste it.

The cotton of his T–shirt is soft against her cheek and warm from his body heat, but it is the steady pumping of his heart that makes the tension ease from her shoulders. She was right – the sound of his pulse easily drowns out her own. His arms wrap around her securely, and somehow she knows that if it was anyone else she would feel trapped, but with him – with Natsu – she only feels comfort.

"You know," he mutters sleepily against her hair, "mine isn't really beating by itself either if you think about it. Diet's just different, is all."

His words linger, settling around her shoulders and teasing her ears long after he has fallen asleep.

AN: Uh, yeah ... so this happened instead of the next chapter of Ignite (sorry! I'll get to it, I swear).

As always, thanks to everyone who took the time to leave some feedback! Whenever I'm feeling uninspired I love to read (and reread) your words of encouragement! Another big thank you to madartiste for always giving me such lovely feedback and boosting my confidence levels before posting!